"You know," said Arthur, "it's at times like this, when I'm trapped in a Vogon airlock with a man from Betelgeuse, and about to die of asphyxiation in deep space that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young."
"Why, what did she tell you?"
"I don't know, I didn't listen."

"Space," it says, "is big. Really big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mindbogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist's, but that's just peanuts to space, listen..."

Bob values courage and tenacity and has little patience for weakness. Bob wants you to take fights even though you know you're going to lose and He wants you to just dive in and cause as much damage as possible.
Bob is cruel and unforgiving.

His world is pain and despair, an eternal warp bubble, extending endlessly in all directions. His word is ECM that always rolls, His touch is projectile alpha somehow always catching you at 0 relative, His gaze is the probe that exists right between your dscan refresh and His breath is always neuting you to 0.

Bob provides, true, but Bob also, always, takes everything away from you and, in the end, we're always presenting ourselves in front of Him in the only way that truly pleases Him: in a bright shiny pod, with no implants, somewhere in a hisec station, adrenaline still pumping and our capsule full of salt.

Praise Bob.