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Eve Online: Retribution patch trailer

This is Vic.  Vic makes a lot of mistakes.  Vic pilots a Widow.  View full article »

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Not dead yet

Just resting. Wonderful plumage, the Norwegian Blue has. 🙂
Joking aside; I’ve just been grinding out some long skills and taking a little bit of a rest. Starting next month though, it’s back to the active job hunting; this time with marketable skills!

GTFU

A whole fleet of Threadnaughts have undocked and entered Siege Mode.  Thousands of players have locked down the secondary trade hubs of Amarr, Rens and Dodixie; while in Jita even more protesters burn CCP Zulu in effigy.

To the players of Eve Online: Grow up.

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Out of Control

“You bought a what?”  Kyreana’s voice penetrated the jammed-shut hatch of my station quarters far better than the plasma lance of the maintenance crew trying to cut the malfunctioning door.  I winced and pinged her comm implant.

“You heard me.  You know how I am with ISK and shiny things.  And it’s not like it was something expensive like a monocle.”

“What do you need it for?  Can you even fly it?”

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On cowardice

“I’ll kill a man in a fair fight; or if I think he’s gonna start one.” – Jayne Cobb, Serenity.

I’ve said it before, I’ll probably end up saying it a million more times: Fighting fair is not fighting to win; and that’s the same as not fighting at all.  You’re just going through the motions.

My favorite frigate?  Amarr Sentinel-class Electronic Warfare Frigate.  Neuts, Tracking disruptors, a flight of 4 EC-300 light jammer drones, and it can still fit a point and propulsion.  Second place is a split between the Manticore stealth bomber and the Kitsune EWar Frigate (both Caldari).

Favorite Cruiser?  Falcon.

Favorite ship overall?  Well duh.

What these ships all have in common is that they do not fight ‘fair’.  They don’t say “All right, we’ll both fly in circles taking turns to hit each other until one of us goes pop”.  That’s not combat, that’s not even wrestling.  That’s dancing.

Yes, I’m a coward.  Fully admit that.  I realize that unlike lesser MMOs, PvP  in Eve has consequences.  Loosing, frankly, sucks.  So I go right ahead and take every advantage I can get.  Cloaking, E-war, hot-dropping, dual boxing. (Dual-boxing cloaking e-war even)  Will I hide from a single opponent?  Certainly; I have every reason to assume he’s got reinforcements avaliable, just as I do.

I wouldn’t give anything less than my best possible effort to destroy an enemy through any means necessary; and I expect the same in return.  Not out of respect for my target; but out of respect for myself.  A half-assed job reflects poorly on me; just as e-honor whining reflects poorly on others.  Give me your best shot, because you’re getting nothing less than mine.

You bought a what? (redux)

It wasn’t a particularly exciting volume of space.  Some hydrogen, some cosmic microwave background, a lone neutrino going about its business.   The local stellar body was sufficiently distant to seem an overly-bright star; no planetary masses disturbed the spacetime curvature.   It was, in fact, as close to the middle of nowhere as it was possible to be inside the confines of a star system.  And in a brief ripple of collapsing cloak-field, it had an occupant.

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I’m not going to comment on the latest Threadnaught to undock over in the Eve Forums; or on CCP’s monumental stupidity.

But a thought has come to mind in regards to an integrated system aboard the ship from which I derive my Nom de Blog.

What do you call it when something is almost, but not entirely, unlike what you call it?

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There’s always something missing, it seems.  You never get to where you’re going without thinking “Crap, I forgot…”  And while being a specialist is all well and good, and the Widow will always be my favorite ship; I recognize that it’s not always the perfect ship for any situation.

Time for some cross-training View full article »

Room for rent

The Concord registry clerk shuffled the last stack of papers from the previous applicant into a folder and looked to the lineup. “Next?” An eyebrow raised slightly as a slender woman jumped the queue; but as she turned to sidle past an obese tramp hauler captain, a glint of metal from the base of the skull just below the bleached-white mowhawk. A small camera-remote bobbled along behind the capsuleer, undoubtedly feeding into the pod-pilot’s implants wirelessly, as she had her eyes casually closed.
“Ahhm, yes; how can I help you, Captain…?”
“Cerebus.” Fingers fumbled a moment with the tab on a vest pocket before withdrawing a sheaf of clumsily-folded papers. “Vessel registry; private ownership. Rhea-class Jump Freighter.”
“Certainly; certainly. Let’s just see here…” The printing was clumsily scrawled, where it’d been filled in at all. “Hmm, seem to be a few boxes overlooked… System of origin?”
“Classified.”
“Ahhh. I see. And your corporate affiliation?”
“Independent.”
That brought the clerk up short. His job may have been as anachronistic as chemical rocketry, but he was still a Concord official. “Independent? And you’re registering a Jump Freighter? Ma’am, those aren’t exactly inexpensive little runabouts. Can I ask the source of your funds?”
“Classified.”
“Now see here…” He immediately regretted his choice of words as milky white eyes snapped open, blindly staring.
“Write it down, file it; don’t ask any questions, clerk. I’m going from here directly to Epsilon Dock Control to supervise some final loading. When that’s complete, I will be spooling up the jump engines for an immediate departure. File your paperwork, clerk; or I’ll do it from inside the station. And no, you don’t get to know my cargo or my destination, either.” View full article »

You bought a what?

Ahh, the unending addiction that is Internet Spaceships. After a little chat with Rixx in the Eve Bloggers channel I’ve decided to follow his advice and pad my post count a little with an explanation as to why I dropped slightly over two hundred dollars through the PLEX market to get myself a ship that I, frankly, loathe.
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