As I came in to land at Keflavik International Airport, I stared intently out of the small cabin window. Partly out of fear – I’ve never been a great flyer, and I was consciously trying to avoid clawing holes in the arm-rests. But also partly out of fascination – as our plane followed the shoreline, no fields or forests came into view. Instead, I was confronted with rough and craggy black rock formed from solidified lava flow, tightly blanketed in a thick green moss. It seemed primal, barely post-creation, and utterly alien to anything I’d seen before.
It’s in this remote location that CCP held its annual EVE FanFest, inviting players from across the world to meet developers, renew friendships and, above all, celebrate the game. For five days the city of Reykjavik became the nexus of culture surrounding spaceships and the pilots that fly them. Stories were traded. Alliances were discussed. Pacts were forged. And many, many beers were drunk.