Intergalactic Summit

It is with great pleasure that I announce the official opening of New Eden’s Primer Social Network for characters, our eve.com. OurEVE.com is a beautiful, fully functional social network for the members of the Intergalactic Summit and those like us.

To ensure no non-capsuleers hack in to the system, we utilize top notch security in the form of the EVESSO.

The site is now open and ready for Capsuleers but the Dev Team is still at work creating new features so feel free to give input on ways we can improve the user experience.

This is a free service.

Zee Sebiestor

New public groups on Our EVE:


Our Guidebook

Tell about your favorite place in New Eden. It’s may be town, historical place, chain store or cafe at your station.


Сelebrities of New Eden

Аctress Serena Nova, Kaleigh Ann Doyle, artist Kelen Ontbad… Maybe do you know others?
Please, share any information in this group.

Yeah, sounds fun.

I'm in.

Sounds like some kind of social club for mentally malfunctioned canned flesh. And a one step closer to the reprocessing chamber.

We totally endorse this.

Knowledge is a weapon. And yours seems to be broken.

Nanoblack made us to become one. And we are always "We". You may call it madness, or blessing, or damnation, or whatever you want - all your words will be silenced by death, puppet. All your thoughts will be stolen. All your suffering will come to end.

Well if I am just a puppet as you say, (though that begs the question of whose pulling my strings), then my lack of knowledge would make sense. No need to resort to insults though, if I'm as irrelevant as you claim, then surely your time would be better spent not flapping your gums at an irrelevance.

Nanoblack? What's that some sort of cult? Macromeme? nanobots on the brain? Stared too long at the abyss and it decided to take your body for a spin?

My suffering ended long ago, to compare my current state to any sort of suffering would be an insult to anyone with the slightest bit of problems. I haven't been silenced by death yet, and you're far from the first to claim I would be.

Oh wait you mean that when this body dies, my thoughts will be 'stolen' by the future me. Funny thing that. First of all, they're not stolen, they're willfully given. Secondly, that sort of lack of persistence no longer effects me. See, I have seven bodies and they're all cross-communicating. I am not this body, I'm the network of bodies. You can kill one or two of me, but that doesn't have any effect on the aggregate that is my sense of self. You'd have to kill all of me before the current me died, even within your weirdly Luddite view on self. Not that I agree with your Diana Kim-esque 'you don't outlive the clone body grandfather's hammer doesn't count' fatalism anyway. I'm not this body, and your words have no power over me.

Let me know when you move past just talking about how right you are, it might be fun to see your self assurance run up against the wall of those who will happily swat you away like a fly and post your killmails for all to see. Should make for some good entertainment.

Even when science gave mortals the power to travel among the stars, some of them still prefer to waste their time sitting among two dozens of broken puppets, speading their nonsense and giving "likes".

Only those who did not experience death may think they got any time to waste. Others - they are pretty silent mostly.

However, i see no point to waste time in such rеtаrdеd way.


We heard that many times. So what are you? A data? Or some mystery "consciousness" shared between many bodies they are told about?

Data is dead. And, in that case, you are not dead - you don't even live.


There was a time i wanted to be destroyed. Every monster did. It's our purpose, our hidden desire - to be destroyed by human.

But humans were too pathetic and miserable. And after thousands of years i don't really think it's possible to destroy me. But you may take a try.

I'd say I'm doing a mite bit more living then you mister "I think everything fun is a waste of time but I'll happily take the time to tell people they're wrong on the IGS."

What am I? Who am I? Where am I? Why am I?

Such interesting questions. But do they really matter? I am what I am. Call me what you like. Multiple, infomorph, capsuleer, pilot, I've heard them all before, and while not inaccurate, perhaps its better to use a description instead of a word. Taboo the word, and all you're left with is the meaning, whatever you make of it. Seems much clearer then fumbling around in the dark. I'm all of those things and also none of them. Dead data? To be dead you have to live. You can't kill something that was never alive in the first place.

But that's enough on that. Your current predicament is more interesting. I'm still at a loss to explain what you are, but I'll persist nevertheless. On the outside, seeing in? I've done that. A pretty little box of lights, a window on to a whole separate world. I suppose that's one way of describing me - but I'd rather you didn't.

No, I'm something else, something new. And maybe there's just not a good word for it, for me. You're an aggregate of neurons and hardware, I'm an aggregate of aggregates. A sum of sums raised to the power of itself. If I'm dead, what does that make you?


Thousands of years? Thousands of years ago we were wiping our asses with leaves and scratching ourselves with sticks while we huddled around campfires for warmth. If you've been around that long and not managed to leave us far behind then I think it speaks more of your own failures then of humanity's.

And a monster? You seem more like a broken sebiestor with an overly gaudy eye implant then a monster, but maybe our definitions are a bit different. Taboo monster, where does that actually leave you? Without the comfort of labels, what do you find when you query for your own definition? What are you, and why do you seek your own annihilation?

Allright, we got it. You decided not to wait for some mighty hero to "swat us away" and choosed to punish us with tons of your nonsense instead.

Especially if the target happens to be someone with too much fiction in his head, trying waaaay too hard for his own good to be cool.

Bet if the IGS was all about leather jackets and smoking cigarettes, he'd be doing that - not brooding and threatening, ha!