25/08/10 15:39 PM
| Jaspet | 55.92 |
| Omber | 55.99 |
| Hemorphite | 62.18 |
| Pyroxeres | 68.21 |
| Hedbergite | 74.04 |
| Veldspar | 65.77 |
| Kernite | 88.68 |
| Plagioclase | 84.13 |
| Scordite | 68.17 |
| Spodumain | 75.94 |
| Dark Ochre | 95.49 |
| Gneiss | 95.24 |
| Crokite | 172.65 |
| Bistot | 216.26 |
| Arkonor | 270.56 |
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On Using Alts to Make Life Easier
Keeping up with everything has never been easy. Being 2 billion jumps [autopilot never lies!] from any particular known space system only serves to make it a bit harder. Several of the Wormhole Engineers have left behind not only friends and family, but also productive production lines, mission agents and research jobs to kill Sleepers, harvest gas and occasionally [rarely] mine some ore. Several people have suggested alts, but while they are good at putting up some market orders, I’m really not comfortable yet taking training time away from my pilot just to be able to do some missions, mine some ore or make some stuff to sell. I am jealous of my training time and the mistakes I make with it. It was hard enough to give up the time for some scanning skills.
I recently came across another spreadsheet someone had produced for EVE a long time ago, and it got all my creative number juices flowing again. I took it in and gave it a home and began rewriting some of the information both for formatting purposes and for modernity. It had not be updated in several revisions of EVE Online and needed some tender loving care. So I jumped in with aplomb and started throwing formulae around like there was no tomorrow. It was loads of fun and the results were nothing less than stupendous. It is approximately at this point in time when I realise, “This looks familar.”
I pull up my previous sheets and — baring some formatting and organisational categories — I have pretty much replicated my previous production spreadsheet. This triggered an almost compulsory desire to get out a recipe and stick something in an oven somewhere to cook. A few seconds later and I realised that would require not only killing the current wormhole, but also scanning for another and then tracking down where it went, who might want to kill me along the way and hoping it was somewhere at least relatively close to an oven I could use with ingredients I might need. For those who have actually seen my production output, this might be fairly humorous as they would know I have managed to produce exactly *squat* in the last year. Prior to that I produced a lot of ships and modules and I’m proud to say that I never sold a single thing for profit. For those that don’t know me, just understand I’m in love with the idea of production and spreadsheets, but prefer not to get bogged down with the messy details of actually being industrial on a large scale.
So catching the train back to relevancy, I briefly toyed with the idea of a functional alt to manufacture stuff with and decided to just get back in my pod and recalculate the woman hours involved in building a carrier complete with fittings from scratch.
On Saying The Same Thing
A lot of the questions that we get both from new pilots in our organisation — as well as other pilots that we fly with — regard the terminology we use to describe our environment. I realised that the last post would fall into this category as well. It basically describes something that some of use regularly and others of us will use more often. Our resident information super-goddess has compiled quite a list of terms that we use internally and posted them for all to share and learn from. It is a great resource and reference for our pilots and we all hope you enjoy them as well.
Moar Bloot
| A contraction of ‘blue loot’. The loot recovered from the wrecks of Sleepers has a blue colour on its graphics, allowing us to distinguish it from other loot. Bloot is separate from any salvage recovered from the wrecks. |
On Finding and Using a Common Reference Point
While working in space has its perks and for the most part is a wonderful experience, we are in part hampered by the interface built into our ships. I firmly place any and all blame on the Jovians as part of their desire to maintain a position of aloof superiority over us by seeding small technological wonders attached to inane and sometimes incomplete user interfaces. I could probably wax eloquent over multiple examples, but would only be “preaching to the choir” as it were. None of the pilots I fly with or talk to would recommend the user interface we use on a regular basis for any purpose other than masochism.
Having written all of that, we are flying around in a multi-dimensional space with the only real point of reference being a false horizon given to us by the tactical overlay. Flying around planets, suns, moons, et cetra are all inconsistent measures of location and often difficult to describe in a place where concepts like UP, DOWN, STARBOARD, PORT, AFT, BOW are rendered meaningless in light of both the interface and third-dimensional travel. [As an aside for those who might have flown a spaceship in a "twitch" type of environment, a barrel-roll really loses it's meaning without a horizon, but that doesn't negate it's usefulness.] So how can you organise yourself and others [especially fleet commanders] to use a common point of reference without everything going down the drain in confusion over directions and terms.
REALITY – You can’t. There will always be someone to misunderstand any given command. “Warp to 30km and hold,” will invariably be understood as, “Get to the gate and jump. Jump! JUMP!” by aforementioned schmuck. In another life, we had a fleet-mate who always turned up oriented 180˚ degrees vertical to the rest of the group. Ultimately it didn’t matter as she would at least be facing the right direction. The best we can do is develop a consistent point of reference and be insistent that people reference it for direction. Anything else will largely just be lucky, random happenstance.
Something reminded me the other day of how we were taught to find reference points in fleet operations while giving a new corp-mate the grand tour. Dazed and confused by the overwhelming flood of information coming at him upon joining our little patch of home, he queried, “How do you all know where you are going?” Admittedly he was referring to finding and keeping track of the ever shifting network of wormholes, but it was a good reminder about getting oriented and one that I had completely forgotten in moving into a wormhole. The point of this is to get everyone a common frame of reference that they can use to describe position and interpret directions.
[caption id="attachment_754" align="alignright" width="230" caption="Finding North"]  [/caption]
The method is fairly easy and refers to an arbitrary direction that we will call, Norbert. To find Norbert and get oriented to Norbert, you simply full up the otherwise useless system map [via the F11 key unless you've remapped it somehow]. In the lower right hand corner will be a map of your current system complete with relative planetary orbits and the star in the centre. Somewhere on this little map will be a red circle that represents your current position. extending outward from this circle is what can best be described as two overlapping, semi-transparent triangles. These indicate the current horizontal “field-of-view” of your camera drones. The direction your ship is facing is irrelevant as is your vertical declination above or below the plane of the tactical overlay horizon. Remember Norton? It is this field-of-view that we use to define Norbert. Norbert is arbitrarily defined as the top of the little system map. Everything else can now be defined relative to Norbert. You warp to a wormhole at 10 o’clock knowing that your cloaked stealth bomber buddy is 30km 6 o’clock. Stealth Edit. 
On Reviewing The Ships That Make It All Possible
I saw Rixx Javix post about what he has in his hangar and naming conventions and thought it was a wonderful idea to review what I had as well. I’m late the party, but likely not the last. I absolutely love naming ships for practical as well as aesthetic reasons. I also have to admit that I’m going to play a little bit loose with the term “hangar” as I live out in unknown space where things are not as well defined and most all of my ships are in a Ship Maintenance Array. Living out of an SMA, reduces the number of spurious hulls we have on hand, but I usually have duplicate hulls already purchased in k-space.
Click on ships to see their descriptions
Buzzard
This is probably where I spend 75% of my time. It’s a tight little beauty that has been a good friend for a long time. Her name is Wrangler, a reference to the popular Jeep vehicle. It is the third buzzard I have owned with the previous two being Jeep and Cherokee, respectively. The fitting it fairly straight forward with covop cloak, mwd, nanos and grav-cap rigs.
Manticore
A very cool ship that I’m only recently getting experience with. I was waiting for a better grasp of bombs and training for torpedoes as well. The ship was originally named Hello Kitty, but is slated to be renamed Penticore after my stealth bomber role model.
Maller
This ship is a dual purpose gas miner and bait ship. When fully plated and resisted out, it has about 60,000 ehp and +70% resists across the board and completely passive. For mining gas, it works well with T2 harvesters as it has sufficient cpu, has a spare utility high slot [hello combat probe launcher] and cargo space. The first iteration was named Gas Man Cometh but version 2.0 has been named Tetris Reject in reference to it’s somewhat more angular shape [at least for a Amarri vessel].
Drake
Even after all these years, it still remains a combat favourite of mine. Everyone debates the efficacy of missiles in PVP, but honestly for small to medium gang roams, camps and hunting, they are fine. The buffered heavy assault missile drake is very nice and has a lot of utility. It makes a great second tackle, brings a fair amount of DPS and gets ignored enough to apply both damage and utility. The biggest problem with any ship is its pilot, and too many pilots are at fault for not adequately fitting this ship for use in a group. I used to name all of my battlecruisers with punctuation, so the first few were named, @, #, :, ., !, et cetra but later started giving them different names. The more DPS heavy HAM setup was Dramage [Drake + Damage], but it died and was replaced by Green Drakes and HAM which was eventually replaced by Baked and then Half-Baked. The second string was Safina Thania [Arabic for second ship] and a proto-type remote shield gang ship affectionately referred to as [] which harkens back to punctuation days. This is the only ship I have multiples of, though they are all stored outside the wormhole with the BPO somewhere.
Nighthawk
All I can say is wow. This ship is everything I ever dreamed it would have been when I was a little Bantam pilot in nappies. It almost makes me cry with delight and it’s just plain beautiful. Her name is Hag and she is every bit as mean as her name. I’ve run a couple level fives in her [where she was massively overtanked], have hunted for ne’er-do-well’s in wormhole space and refit at least 100 different ways. I’m growing more confident in her usage and like the idea of keeping her light and nimble.
Scorpion
I have a tri-mark armor rigged Scorpion in Jita to use in the wormholes, but have never actually flown this one. I’ve borrowed a corp-mates a couple time and have trained to use the full range of T2 ECM skills. At somepoint I’ll get out and get it imported. It’s currently named Sc 2 x Tri 1 x P
Guardian
If the Buzzard represents 75% of my flight time, this beauty is nearly the rest. It is a dream to fly and a nightmare to fit. I’ve written before about my respect for the Herculean effort required to get everything included on it that you want/need, but it is a wonder to fly. It seemingly creates cap out of thin air and makes the rest of the fleet fly with impossible tanks. In tandem with my Guardian buddy, it is a significant force multiplier. The first was named Fers Al Nahr Jo’an and was beautiful. It was lost to what I can only consider CCP mangled warp interface dynamics when the rest of the fleet didn’t warp with me. The replacement, Stop Dying, has been much more resistant and accounts for a lot of our wormhole fleet tank. This was the first ship I started keeping multiple copies of, as it is essential for us running the higher class wormhole sites.
Hulk
As a carebear, where would I be without my trusty asteroid obliterator. I’ve lost a fair share of them, but keep using them as it only takes a couple of hours of mining out in the wormhole to replace it. It isn’t rigged, the tank won’t survive a gank, but it mines and mines and mines. And when it’s done mining, it sits in the SMA without making a peep. This is the only ship that has been through so many names that I couldn’t begin to tell you them all. Both because I’ve lost a fair few and I tend to rename it often while I’m mining. The current one is named Banner’s Brain Child and the first one was named Lou Ferrigno
Charon
It’s big. It’s slow. It’s really big and slow. The Luxury Yacht has been with me longer than just about any other ship. She’s made multiple trips from Gallente to Amarr space and back hauling everything from ice and ore to ships and once an entire load of garbage.
Orca
The first Orca was a splurge. I didn’t really have the means to replace it if I lost it and wasn’t entirely sure what I would do with it, but I wanted no, NEEDED that ship. I loved that ship so much I gave it away to a corporate spy/thief. Disaffected and disturbed I tried to be bitter but knew I had learned another lesson I needed to know anyway, namely: Every last one of you are lying, cheating, disgusting scum who deserve to be shot in the back of the head with an auto-cannon. Er…, no wait, that’s a different post – lesson learned – don’t fly it if you can’t afford to lose it. The backstabbing cheating part is only partly in jest. I later bought another Orca, not to replace it, but to defy pirates and sell it in Aunenen for a hefty profit on their scam order. Managed to slingshot the Orca past the perpetual gatecamp with a web and dock at the offending station to find that someone had filled the contract about 15 minutes before. So what do you with a massive, slow ship in a system full of deranged pirates looking for juicy kills? Web it and fly it back out just because you can. Because it survived that trip, I decided she must really like me and decided to call her Keeper. She is.
And that sums up the list of ships I keep. I used to have a lot more, but now I tend to limit them to what I’m using currently and a couple of backup hulls kept in Jita.
On Waking Up After Being Deprived Of Your Pod
Ouch. Blinding pain. My ship … is, why can’t I feel my ship. And … um … I can’t … seem to focus … on the present. Station … docked? Sleepy … groggy … slow.
Not unlike post-election interviews with the runner-up, waking up after a binge, stepping in it in the park or waking up in a new clone, the process of recovery is sometimes short and sweet and more often filled with emotion, pain and suffering. How you handle losing it all speaks more volumes about you than the epitaphs shouted in comms, kill board statistics or isks spent on your last ride. From an early age people need to learn some important EVE life lessons.
1) It’s a ride. It does not have emotions. It doesn’t care if you are in, on, afk, logged, asleep at the pod, finger in your nose, smiling or frowning. It is quite oblivious to anything you care about. Pets, asteroids, spouses, corp-mates, local taxes, sovereignty fees – they are all irrelevant to the EVE Train.
2) It is independent. It goes where it will. You are able to affect its direction to some extent, but more than likely it is less Butterfly Effect and more akin to Clear Skies or Carebears Attack in the ability to affect the larger picture. You look out for you and yours and things go swimmingly.
3) You will die. You will lose a lot of ships if you are actually playing the game with any level of interaction. It doesn’t matter if you are in high security, low security, null security or wormhole space – you and your ship will soon be parted. Today’s Headlines: Death Coming. Tomorrow’s Forecast: Mostly ganky with an increasing chance of podding. The only unknowns are when, where and everything except how well you handle yourself.
This is not some HTFU rant about people who can’t hack the harsh, kill-or-be-killed world of New Eden. It’s a realistic gut check for pilots who think the worst thing that can happen is getting your current clone senselessly splattered on the nose-cone of a Terror Assault missile or perforated by Repulic EMP. It’s all senseless and it will continue to happen as long as there are people flying other ships. There is always someone bigger, faster, stronger, smarter, wealthier or prettier who is able to relieve you of your capacity to be in a ship.
I’m not saying don’t be upset about losing a ship. I cry over every last one. Most of them I built. I fit them, flew them, trained them, repaired them, crashed them. All of them I loved. My ships are my life and every last one of them is important to me, from the disposable frigates to the disposable battlecruisers. They surround me, they hold me, they give everything they have to me – could I give them less. And as for my pod – that rather frail hunk of metal filled with snot and keeping my clone from feeling the effects of strenuous accelerations and combat – it too serves its purpose and no more. I have bought several clones. I will buy several more. God willing, I will not forget to buy one when I die tomorrow.
So when an overwhelming force of pilots gank you, get up, get back in a ship and keep going. Or not. Either choice is valid. The people who shot you out of the sky won’t really care one way or the other. Ranting – not likely to get you much response. Wild and derogatory remarks – again not likely to help put implants back in your head. Best case scenario – ask if it was them in the reverse situation, what would they have done. They might offer useful suggestions. The worst case scenario is they might just laugh and say, “Die.” Either way, use it to get better at flying your spaceships.
To put this in more of a personal context – the Wormhole Engineers have been attacked, off and on, since they first started living in wormholes. Mining maulings, hauling hijacks, gratuitous ganks and overt overkills have been the norm and not the exception. We learned important lessons all along the way. We first learned how to hide better and then we learned how to run away better. We learned how to be better aware of the situation not just around us, but beyond our little corner of the world. We began to learn how to resist and tank and eventually even how to shoot back. We learned how to take ammunition from out tower and distribute it more effectively on the hulls of other pilots. We haven’t had a lot of kills and we’re still not afraid to back down. However; if we shoot you, it isn’t personal and we’re not out to bully the pilots we see around us.
One of the lessons we learned the hard way was there are no innocent people out here in the wormholes. Letting an unknown covops pilot buzz around in plain site is a sure way to buy a new clone and it is still worth getting an overwhelming force out to catch and pop them. Sending the pilot back to known space is the only way to assure they aren’t scouting for a larger party. The larger force may still be there, but they’ll have to survive with one less set of eyes. They may only be scanning for exits, but that’s what we were doing until we saw someone else’s probes.
On Going Backwards For A Bit
First, a Public Service Announcement from WHEN. Pro-Tip: Cloak, THEN scan. Recently while scanning, two of my corp-mates cornered a day-tripping scanner in a nearby class 1 wormhole and sent him home, express postage paid. Even in a Tech 1 frigate, fit a cloak if you are going to be scanning. Additionally keep your eyes peeled and on the d-scan. Your first sign of danger shouldn’t be the sound of ammunition pummelling into your hull!
The Wormhole Engineers have done a fabulous job of clearing out the anomalies and signatures in our home system. The standard mode of operations is:
- Scan out the static exit.
- See how deep the rabbit hole goes.
- Prioritise the resources located.
- Secure the area.
- Collect as much as feasible given personnel, skills and equipment.
Numbers one and two happen almost automatically now. It’s become an engrained response to the place we choose to live. Number 3 is somewhat amorphous and can change dynamically [It's the nature of priorities.]. Number 4 can be difficult as there are times when we can easily tell we are out-matched and our best course of action is closing the w’hole as quickly as possible. Sometimes number 4 involves shooting other ships, as was seen in the recent expedition into the nearby class 1. In addition to the uncloaked, and possibly AFK scanner, a salvage-Stabber was chased down and shown the door.
Second, a Public Service Announcement from WHEN. Pro-Tip: Don’t leave a salvager behind to clean up. Especially don’t leave a salvager behind to clean up when:
- A Corp-mate just got podded,
- the wormhole you came in through is end-of-life,
- The poor salvager doesn’t have a probe launcher fit,
- The straggler doesn’t have bookmarks for the other w’holes in the system.
Having done all this, we eschew the neighbouring class 4 system with its relative dearth of anomalies and sites to pursue the cheap candy covered thrills of the class 1 conveniently left behind by the previous, unfortunate visitors. A few minutes are spent debating the relative merits/demerits/benefits/challenges of flying various fleets to best capitalise on the class one in the most efficient manner. In the end, efficiency really becomes less of a concern when dealing with things that can be handled solo. We each hop into our preferred ships and head off to clean up the Sleeper detritus infecting said system.
With the static highsec exit left unscanned/warped, we are able to work in relative safety. Our motley crew ends up being a heavy missile Drake sporting siege warfare links, a heavy assault missile Drake equipped to both hack and analyse [2 magnetometric sites and 1 radar site present] and an Ishtar we half-jokingly refer to as the Salva-Tar for it’s ability to clean up the wrecks as we go along. After a few quick moments we realise that we are not only overkill for a class 1, we are way over tanked as a fleet and begin to split up. Salva-Tar goes back and grabs a specialised salvage boat,the HML drake goes on to the next site and hack Drake finished up on the cans. Joining the HML, the hack-Drake helps make short work of site two and the scenario is repeated for site three. All-in-all, the Drake really proved itself as a wonderful jack of all trades for cleaning up a class 1 wormhole.
In the end, the spoils were average for a class 1, and seemingly low in comparison to doing the same sites in our home class 4, but the evening was in reality a resounding success. We tracked down and killed two defenceless carebears, avoided reprisal, ran several combat sites that were quite beneath our level and left with all of the candy. It was good to feel confident, in control and powerful – if only for a moment. I know that soon we’ll be podded by bigger boys in badder boats and ganked by girls with guns.
On Killing and Being Killed In A Wormhole
If you are going to fly in a wormhole, you are going to die. A lot. For a good summary of how that can happen, check out miningzen’s wonderful post on the subject. The reality is that you are going die everywhere you fly. Like the somewhat over generalised statement, “There are two types of capsuleers: Those that have been killed and; Those that are soon going to be.” Until Incarna, you are safe in the stations, otherwise, you are likely to have a deep and meaningful relationship with the subroutines that automate the transfer of consciousness into your next clone. As an impartial and biased observer, I can fully admit that I am very good at the whole dying game. As an industrial backgrounded character, my Osprey cruiser was as ineffective at resisting incoming damage as it was at chipping veldspar off of floating rocks. Very.
Flashing forward quickly to the present – I wake up in my pod [AT THE POS - I'M NOT DEAD YET] and am greeted with the news that my corpmates have recently stalked down and liquidated a salvage Hurricane and a Brutix in a nearby class one system. It seems that WHEN. pilots have finally shed any residual carebearistic tendencies and are fully blooded now. Well, with the exception of myself. Remember the part where I die a lot – usually first and before being able to contribute towards a successful attack? I was determined to not let that happen again. Ok, determined not to let that happen, every time.
A couple days before, our good buddies sometimes allies, Revival of the Talocan Empire had managed to screw up their settings for the fourth or fifth time and shot my Drake into tiny, tiny little pieces. Probably could have avoided any real hostilities if I had just idled in the tower, but I was incensed. The cheeky bastards bombed my tower! So I threw wads of flaming isk at them in protest. I had managed to bring a new ship into the tower and was considering how to refit for PVP even though I was well aware the the Core Defence Field Purger rigs that it still had on it were less than ideal for combat against other capsuleers.
In the aftermath of the ‘Cane/Brutix killing and clean up operation, one of our pilots noticed an odd dance of sorts going on. It seems that a couple of stealth bombers from the system’s current occupants were trying to harass a Nighthawk that was out running combat sites. They would warp in, drop a bomb and fly away all the while not doing a very good job at being stealth in either their approach, bombing or running away. At one point, the Nighthawk and a helper managed to catch one of them and quickly pop them. At this same time, a couple of our real friends pop up in chat and ask if we have anything they can shoot at. Bingo.
An ad hoc fleet goes up, and are met at the high sec side of the wormhole. I quickly jump into Shhhhh, a corp-mate‘s Manticore class stealth bomber and after loading the bookmarks am off at all speed to meet them. Two wormholes later, I am able to warp within 100 km of them and maintain my cloak the whole way. I begin motoring in toward them and looking for the best position to provide a drop point for our fleet. They finish up the site and start idling while a friendly Pilgrim and destroyer show up and begin looting and salvaging. Noticing that the fleet’s incoming wormhole is out of range of the directional scan, we call the fleet to jump through into the system and make ready to pounce. I managed to fly under their formation and come up, directly underneath them. Each of them is about 4-5 km from me. My heart is pounding and I’m absolutely sure they will launch drones or twitch and decloak me. Just as we say ‘GO’ they finish and warp away! Huh?
A combination of the locals trying to be aggressive and them finding another site to run, they had moved on. Quickly warping to the next anomaly on the list doesn’t show them and the fleet is sent off to a out of range planet to reform. The other stealth bomber has them and warping to him at 70 km manages to preserve my cloak but put me 105 km from them. I begin the crawl toward them and at 60 km the other SB is in perfect position to have the fleet engage. The fleet warps in, bubbles up and open fires. I drop cloak and start unloading torps as fast as I can, trying to burn toward them. The Pilgrim was just on the edge of the bubble and manages to get away, but the Nighthawk is right in the middle and soon goes up in a small but very satisfying ball of flame. Switching targets to the Prophecy, I am suddenly relieved of my ship and decide that it’s time to get into something a bit more secure than my pod. Before I am able to even reach the wormhole headed back to our tower, the comms light up with the news that the large, brick-like, Amarrian battlecruiser has also gone down.
So I managed to finally get a kill, and a Nighthawk at that. I am very grateful to all of our friends for their help and for flying with us. I still managed to lose a ship in combat, but at least I was able to contribute to a successful outcome. We salvaged the rest of their wrecks and were able to come out a head after replacing the two stealth bombers we lost.
Addendum: It was all a short-lived lie. Three days later I managed to find a Sacrilege, Vagabond, Devoter and a Jaguar waiting for me at a new wormhole. It was one of my shorter engagements. A few days later I ignored a yawn at the tower and flew off to support a couple corp-mates at a wormhole camp. I think I fell asleep mid-warp [it was +120 AU] and woke up in a new clone somewhere else. Apparently we had been ambushed from behind as third group of participants had found another hole into the same system and decided we looked tasty. Well, I did. Fortunately the others were able to get out of harms way.
On Using Battleships In Wormhole Operations
Full disclosure: I don’t typically fly a battleship. I am predisposed to a battlecruiser or cruiser sized hull. Having said that, we use a lot of battleships in our wormhole operations and they are essential to have if you are going to try and harvest or live in a class 4 or higher wormhole system. They can serve nearly every possible function from combat to mining to logistics with the right fitting and pilot. Having said that, some battleships tend to perform better in wormholes than others.
Amarr
Armageddon: Generally not as much damage as it’s brethren, but a very tankable, fairly easy to fly battleships for wormhole operations.
Apocalypse: Middle of the road – without a damage bonus pilots would likely be better served in either the ‘baddon or the ‘geddon.
Abaddon: The king of the DPS. Paired with a remote battery like the Guardian, it can seriously bring the hurt. It tends to be something of a lame duck with regard to capacitor.
Caldari
Scorpion: THE electronic warfare boat for running w’hole sites in a remote repair gang. It can run in either an armor or shield gang and still keep the Sleepers tied up in knots.
Raven: With a fair bit of rigging and some plate, it can make an ok torpedo boat for killing things, but would benefit from a shield gang to really dish out DPS.
Rokh: Not particularly good at Sleeper PVE combat. Could be useful for some PVP given the right skill set. Typical w’hole pvp doesn’t involve a lot of sniping.
Gallente
Dominix: The workhorse/mule/ox of w’holes, the Dominix brings its intrinsic flexibility to the wormhole in spades. The ship can be used for RR, neut/nos’ing, DPS, gas mining, just about everything in a pinch.
Hyperion: Bringing the largest base armor amount for Gallente and a 5% bonus to damage per level, the Hype should be able to really dish out some DPS by bringing 8 turrets to bear. If you are running a RR gang, the ‘thron might be a slightly better bet.
Megathron: For killing Sleepers it works well and doubles as a very good PVP boat.
Minmatar
Typhoon: After years of training, the Typhoon brings some of the best combination of tank, DPS and alpha strikes known to New Eden. Serious. Train. More.
Tempest: A great ship to bring to bear against the Sleepers. It only requires the large projectiles for decent damage and can fit into either a shield or armor gang with relative ease.
Maelstrom: Ever so slightly favouring shields, the Maelstrom is another effective way to throw hurt at the sleepers.
Again, I stress that my own lack of experience in flying battleships may let some of the finer nuances of using them against sleepers in wormholes escape me. If you use one currently in a wormhole and care to comment, please let me know. I’m more than happy to redact posts to reflect the changing reality of EVE.
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