Log 031

Log 031

-Author: Rinas Rylos
-Rank: C.E.O.
-Corporation: Rinas' Raiders (R.R.A.S.)
-Date: 115.06.19

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned this before, but there's a certain perspective one really only gets when you're sniping, though I suppose if you go high enough in aerial vehicle than you could gain something similar. That said, I think I'd prefer to stick to the former, as it lets me go without quite as many explosive projectiles being flung at me. Usually.

Anyway, there's a certain point of view gained from the usual ridges and structures most snipers take that lends itself to seeing the battle in a bit of a different light. Between the height and distance between you and most everyone else, the battlefields might almost seem peaceful for a bit, up until someone blows up a tank or another person remembers that they have grenades along with their gun. Everyone's reduce to a speck if you can manage to see them at all, and there's a certain...I don't know, calmness to the whole war and death stick we're usually stuck wielding that it winds up almost being a bit startling. I can't speak for every merc out there, but when I'm out on the battlefield, any thoughts beyond killing, tactical maneuvering, deciding what my next dropsuit will be, or where I can find a medic just about goes out the window. For those brief periods, there is nothing beyond my comrades, my equipment, our enemies, and the battlefield where we fight.

But when I'm sniping, it breaks the immersion in such a subtle fashion that I almost don't realize it. It's as though a switch flips back on in my head, and I can ponder things beyond our bloody trade again. One of my favorite things to do is look out at the battlefield; Not in terms of flanking, and viable cover and all that, but its colors and geometry and the wide open sky above us. We wage conflict across so many beautiful landscapes, ones that almost have me pitying capsuleers for being unable to see the gorgeous planets that are so far below them. That is to say, before we leave them littered with broken equipment and dead bodies, a lot of these places could even be considered pretty...Though I guess they're returned to that state after they send out the cleanup probes, so it isn't too great of a loss.

Another thing is the silence. Our helmets block out the sound of wind (assuming there even is any) which means that if I'm not hearing my teammates over the com and I'm not close enough to pick up the gunfire and explosions, then it's dead silent except my own occasional shot, even if I'm counter-sniped then I don't live long enough to hear the shot before it gets me. It's not quite as nice as the view for me, if I'm going to be honest, but that's because I'm a...well, I -was- a city gal. Back there, if things were dead quiet than it was either three in the morning or something was seriously, seriously wrong, and usually it was both at the same time. I gained an appreciation for silence in small doses, because anything that could help me was a blessing and was cherished to the highest extent I could do so, but prolonged quiet would just make me uncomfortable, because odds were the shit had hit the fan, and that usually troubled me in at least -some- way.

So I got used to the noise. You kind of have to, ya know? Sound meant things as usual, it meant city life and people and food and music and all sorts of other shit, blended together into the ambient background that was my city's going-ons. Even in battle, the chaotic cacophony that is us killing each other is still activity, it's still a sign of us moving, thinking, feeling, it signals that under all the armor and weaponry we're human beings moving with a purpose, however abhorrent it might be to others. When you're so far removed from that, yet still a part of the whole thing, it leaves me feeling disconnected, as though we're just robots or pieces in a game or some shit. Whatever the reason for fighting, there's still a person behind that reason, putting it into motion, and each bullet I put into their heads is another impediment...

But that's how it goes, y'know? A mercenary is paid to kill, not to wax eloquent about how I'm killing people with thoughts and feelings, even if they'll wake up not too long afterwards. Thinking about it too much isn't going to make my job any easier. I think that might be what's wrong with me, though.

-End Log.