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 |
|
On Measuring the Value of Ships
As a confessed and confirmed JOAT, I manage to get into a lot of things, but rarely do them well. As my corporation mates would probably affirm, I’m not the one to call for overwhelming DPS, scanning, stalking, mining, PI, hauling, racing, 1 vs. 1, or drone support. IF however you happen to need all of those things in moderation at the same time, then I am the one to call. This is symptomatic of having 55 million skill points in 279 skills. I like to do a lot and be able to fly a lot of ships no matter where I go. It’s a matter of taste that I don’t really have any battleship skills to speak of other than the very limited ability to fly a Tech 2 fit EWAR Scorpion. But for ships of smaller classes, I can at least make a showing, but am far from good.
With that background in mind, I think I am fairly qualified to speak on most ships and the whole gamut of possible roles those ships need to perform. To begin with, I recently had the opportunity to pilot a good friend’s strategic cruiser. Through a series of PVE and PVP encounters it worked well and performed above my expectations, even given the obvious stats and potential. It demonstrated the ability to adequately tank a larger amount of damage than expected, manoeuvre and fly with more agility and apply more of its damage potential to the targets than anticipated. Understand that I have been fairly reluctant to fly the Tech 3 ships as they are referred to, because I tend to overestimate hype and flavour. While I knew that they were good ships and competent in their ability and application, I did not fully realise how good until the other day.
After a particularly good stretch in the ship, I made the passing comment to the owner that, “This is what a 1/2 billion dollar ship should feel like.”
I look forward to picking out a couple of my own someday to fly around and abuse.
On Scanning, Shooting, Salvaging, Harvesting, Hauling and Helping
In a whirlwind rush, the list of things to get done piles up and begins to look like a impending avalanche. There may be fields of ore just floating out in our system patiently waiting to hear from our barges. There are definitely wormholes that have yet to be found, surveyed, catalogued and stored. There are gases dispersing, hoping to be harvested and stored until processing. There planetary resources to extract, refine, process and export. There are reaction to be run, research to be installed, POS arrays to be unanchored, moved, anchored, onlined and utilised. There are resources to be exported, sold, contracted and traded. There are fuels, modules, ships, ammo and skills to be imported. There are possibly neighbours that would like us to alleviate their shields, scour their armour and generally remove their hulls from them.
And none of that even begins to include the number of people that need to be thanked, congratulated, hailed, ignored, watched, befriended, shot, reshipped, berated and/or bereaved. Throw in some ongoing conversations about the nature of the universe, whether ships really fly in space or swim through it, who did what to whom and where to go to get some good, hard spiked Quafe.
The world we live and fly and fight and engineer in is rich, deep and very, very personal. It takes more than just a passing interest in spaceships and spreadsheets to appreciate it fully. This is not to say it’s perfect. The interface confounds me on a regular basis, my ship seems to occasionally have a mind of its own, the drones only respond 100% correctly on the second Tuesday of each week and occasionally my overview tells me I’m somewhere else.
We are busy little Wormhole Engineers. We like our part and the jobs we do. If you are looking for a stable source of income and relaxed, arm-chair piloting – keep flying. There is none of that out here.
The silence was unbearable. Millions of neurons screamed in absence of any sensory input. It was as if the whole universe had been ripped away like a free will of a Sansha or the salary of a Caldari merchant. Dark, echoless space surrounded me and sheer endless black stared back at my soul. Before was a relative concept that was beginning to lose its cohesive shape and after was as distant as a point singularity. There was only the faintest of amorphous sensation surrounding what should have been now. The weight of thousands of days training and tens of thousand experiences demanded that something, anything, happen.
It was time to make a change – to rip open the veil and tear back the sky.
Electrochemical connections surged with pain and relief as long dormant paths of study were pulled to the fore of consciousness. What was once routine seemed muffled and disconnected in light of more recent solitude and stillness. The energy needed and required was straining my systems to their very core – and it was good. Today was going to be a good day. Who knows? If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll even get to die.
The first sensation is one of swaying stillness and the sound of a million silent voices. Suddenly there was a gut wrenching sliding and a visual influence and indication that an e-warp was underway and my ship was soon to be at its former location. I had only the faintest recollection of where that might be and was still busy checking my systems and their responsiveness. Or in my case the lack there of. Fully half of my ships modules were offline and the ones that were on seemed to be unwilling to respond. Why was everything still so slow.
Realisation dawned with the sickening force of a collapsing wormhole. I was finally jacked back into my ship and until I had finished the initial e-warp, the ships systems would be unable to comply. I quickly pulled up the camera feeds to try and get a bearing while simultaneously asking the computer for a quick and dirty 360˚ sweep of the local theater for anything remotely telling. Skills were like old friends that you hadn’t seen in years – you knew what they were then and it was going to take practice. Practice like time, was something that I might be out of.
Ships. Tens, hundreds, thousands of ships were cluttering up my inputs, demanding my attention and stealing my distracted mind to narrow alleys that would be less than profitable if traversed. As I neared the end of my warp bubble, I flipped to overview Gamma and started looking for exits. I threw as many distractions as I could quickly grab into the corner and tried as hard as I could to ignore the rest. My priorities were to get safe, get back online and get back to where I truly belonged. This was madness and I couldn’t be farther from the reality I understood and grasped.
Finally finding something that looked right I punched up the destination, diverted the cap to the drives and hoped the local group would just ignore my half functional ship and its limited cargo. As I landed on the gate, I realised I had miscalculated and was 15 km off the back of the gate and my propulsion was one of the stupid modules that wouldn’t respond. Pounding the interface didn’t seem to help make it active so I put the last remaining cap into the one remaining hardner and turned toward the gate. With blind luck I might make it before someone decided to liberate my conscious from my capsule… I don’t mind so much as I hate not being able to participate in the festivities. If I am going to die, I plan on at least leaving some ammo behind in their hull.
I hit the jump range and mash it, waiting for my systems to catch up with the trans-luminal displacement my ship has just experienced. As the scans loaded and I was able to get some rational data I realised I just jumped into…
On the Prevalence of Drakes in Alliance Tournaments
I have noticed that on more than one occasion, the commentators for the Alliance Tournament VIII and in previous year lament the presence of Drakes on combat teams. Reasoning varies from low DPS to just extending the inevitable. Over the years, one thing that has held fairly consistent is the appearance and usage of Drakes by teams in the Alliance Tournaments. There are always multiple teams that field multiple Drakes. They are in fact, one of the most often fielded ships and account for a whopping 44% of all battlecruisers and more isk was spent on Drakes than battleships. Whatever else they might be, they are certainly present on a large number of teams. In the Alliance Tournament VII they were the third most popular ship behind the Rook and Ishkur.
[caption id="attachment_828" align="alignleft" width="150" caption="Dead Duck"]  [/caption]
As the general consensus is that Drakes are poorly suited for PVP combat, why then do they show up so much? The certainly aren’t a requirement for victory as multiple teams have finished well and strongly without any Drakes on the field. Losing teams that fielded Drakes lost every one of them. Winning teams that fielded them lost 2 with a 87.5% survival rate and those were lost in the first match of the tournament. There is a lot of Drake-hate across the board.
This animosity towards the Drake extends far beyond the tournament. If you show up in a Drake for non-Drake fleet roams, you likely face ridicule. If you post a fitting on Battleclinic for a Drake you will get flamed and the fitting locked [more of an endemic problem with using Battleclinic in the first place] and posting to Scrapheap Challenge often results in cries of “Ban 09′s” and now “Ban 10′s” [referring to the registration date of the poster]. People associate the Drake with low-skill, new players who want to run missions and without worrying about anything other than F1, F2, F3, F4, F5, F6, F7 [though now with grouping it has become even easier] and with Caldari Carebears who can’t be arsed to train for a real ship.
Maybe some of the FC’s with tournament experience can shed some light on this. I fully acknowledge the tournament doesn’t accurately reflect normal EVE PVP play. There are rules, there are boundaries, there are no Caps, there are relatively even numbers, there are no poddings…. Thus the expectations for what to bring may very well differ significantly than for a PVP conflict outside the tourney. In spite of all this, I think there are some valid reasons for their inclusion of the much maligned duck:
- Tank
- It will likely take more than one opponent shooting at it to be taken down.
- It can often stay on the field for a long, long time.
- It is not as cap unfriendly as the other tank options.
-
[caption id="attachment_829" align="alignright" width="150" caption="Incoming!"]
 [/caption]
Damage
- It can still produce a fair amount of damage:
- Heavy Missiles can generate between 330 [EM/Exp/Therm]-400 [kinetic] DPS
- Heavy Assault Missiles can generate between 450 [EM/Exp/Therm]- 570 [kinetic] DPS
- It can apply it’s damage over +70 km range for the Heavy Missiles
- Alpha strikes exceed 2,500.
- Drones can add another 80-100 dps with good skills.
Combined, this tank/damage combination causes two things to happen.
- Opponent FC’s hesitate to primary Drakes for the relative difficulty in removing them.
- Drakes are able to apply their damage over a longer period of time than similar ships.
Unless something changes significantly to affect the Drake’s tank or its bonuses, we will continue to see a lot of them fielded in the Alliance Tournaments.
On Moving Slowly And Taking Notes
[caption id="attachment_813" align="alignright" width="309" caption="Sisters of the Guardian"]  [/caption]
We managed to scan out our static and a connecting class 5 wormhole with some nice gas and anomalies. The static was a class two, which no doubt affected the desirability of said wormhole. After some random dithering and discussion, we decided we had sufficient fleet strength and numbers to check out some of the combat opportunities. It helped to sway us that the system contained a Cataclysmic Variable spacial anomaly that works heavily in favour of our chose remote repair strategy. In fact, it means that the large remote armor repair modules mounted on our Guardian logistics ships are 85% more effective!
The Vital Core Reservoir is known to have a couple of Sleepless Keeper battleship sized drones in it and we haven’t faced this particular kind before. Our initial plan of attack involves a fleet of Mr.’s Maelstrom, Scorpion, Dominix and Rook, and finally the Sisters of the Guardian2 for the first encounter. Since the person who scanned down the site had warped to it previously, the enemy was right at hand and waiting to be studied and evaluated. The Guardians quickly set up their logistics lock while Mr.’s Scorpion and Rook began to jam the two battleship class ships. Someone somewhere was writing all this down and making notes about comparable lock times, ECM resistance levels and initial alpha strikes from the ships. Once the initial observations were made, first one and then both battleships were allowed to regain locks and incoming damage assessment began. We were pleasantly surprised with our results and proceeded to just pummel the poor ships after gaining our data.
After gathering some basic intelligence reports from this Ladar, we opted to do the same with a combat site. The results were similarly enlightening and led to some nice discussions about the prospects of future class 5 wormhole colonisation. One of the things we noticed was the slight change from a higher alpha strike to a more sustained DPS. Whereas when we moved from a class 3 to the first class 4 site was the noticeable increase in the first wave of incoming damage. This was probably due in part to our slightly lower skills, unknown expectations and difficult fleet composition. The intervening months have taught us a great deal about how to operate together more efficiently. We were later joined by our Ms. Abaddon pilot and Mr. Frigate Ganking Harbinger. The increased DPS mitigated some of the ECM needs, so Mr. Rook flew off to expedite the salvage operation.
While not an overall cake walk [buy ticket, listen to music, note number, pick up cake] it was certainly an enjoyable exploration of a possible future direction. Little Mr. Harbi took one in the chin as without an explosive armor hardner, even the 8 combined, staggered, drone-assisted, Cataclysmic Variable boosted remote repairs from the Sisters of G2 could help survive the incoming damage. He ping-ponged in and out of structure [full armor, then 95% structure, full armor, 80% structure, full armor, then still lower structure, full armor, 25% structure, full armor, 5% structure] until finally entertaining us with a nice puff of atmospherics and some light. It helped that it was a highly profitable evening with the combat portion of the exploration hovering around 1 billion in revenue for a couple hours work and research.
To cap off the night, a couple of ran back and harvested the 300 million isk gas cloud as there are some friends who would like those polymers. Good deeds and all.
On Running Out To High-Sec For Some Groceries
As I slip into my ship, I get an incoming com from one of our pilots. He’s actually the only other pilot right now. He mentions that there’s a four jump exit to high-sec and he’s going out to grab some Quafe as it’s getting dry here at home. I am also rather keen to grab a new book or two to read as I’m nearly finished with the current series I’m reading, Recon. It has been a really good series with lots of fun times and some new information along the way, but by the fifth one in the series, it was getting a bit long winded. I am usually patient about finishing the books I start, but for some reason Recon drug by. The Exhumer series seemed to go much faster and even finishing up reading the Astrometric Rangefinding series rather quickly, though it was published under another title.
[caption id="attachment_799" align="alignleft" width="150" caption="New Mini Game?"]  [/caption]
As the other pilot hit the last system before k-space, he reports back that there is small bubble on the hole but poorly placed. Knowing that he’s intending to bring a ship back through, I volunteer to do some bubble popping. I decide that since it is not absolutely essential that I clear the bubble out quickly [other pilot has several jumps to get his ship picked up] and I do not really want to waste any ammo on the stupid thing [sig-rad is tiny on those things] I opt for a pulse Coercer. For those that maybe know some of the ships I usually fly, this is a fairly wide departure [not because it is Amarr] because I am exceptionally unskilled at laser turrets. This almost seems counter culture to flying ships in space, but the reality is, they just never appealed to me all that much. So I trundle the three jumps to the bubbled hole and jump through. Sure enough, a bubble greets me, but I am immune to its psychological effects and uncloak and lock it up. I start flying with the beams of light and watch as the shields on the bubble start to melt satisfyingly, albeit not too terribly fast.
Suddenly, there is a sound, a flash of light [or darkness], and there is a Tengu sitting 10 km off my stern and beginning to lock my ship. Ack, alas and alack, I am in a destroyer fit with racks of heat sinks and some cap rechargers. This is not going to be a fight, it’s going to be a little blip in the pond. Salvo 1 and the shields are gone. Salvo 2 and I am trying to remember if my clone was up-to-date. Salvo 3 and at 30% shields it dawns on me that I have not moved since I jumped into this system and the wormhole is still right there. I start spamming the jump button hoping that my poor ship [actually someone else's poor ship that I borrowed] will hold together until the session change starts. Lo, there is sound and light again and I’m sitting in a distinctly different location though with about 2% of my armor left and thankfully no structure damage.
Not waiting to see if Mr. Don’t Harsh My Bubble decides to follow for the kill, I immediately start heading back home to rethink my strategy in light of the change in situation. I update the pilot out on his shopping spree and he is easily swayed into agreeing that we should ‘defend’ ourselves [ignoring the fact that we may have, um, started things] and try and catch the sneaky, wormhole camping strategic cruiser.
[caption id="attachment_802" align="alignright" width="150" caption="Strats on the Brain"] [/caption]
As a bit of an aside, I have been thinking a lot about the ‘strats’ both from the perspective of picking one up myself as well as their reputation. Though they deserve the kudos they get for being good at a lot of things and their ability to quickly specialise at something extremely well, they are still ships. They can and do die with increasing frequency. From this I have a couple of electrifying bolts of insight:
- There are a lot of really bad ship fittings in the universe.
- Everyone and their clone is buying ‘strats’.
- The sheer number of possible fittings is confusing to say the least.
- Someone is bound to get it wrong, sometime.
and
- How much of their reputation is based on fear.
So we decide to ship up in something suitably pointy and head back and ‘defend’ our right to fly through a system they are living in. The ship shopper contacts another pilot and he slips into our well crafted bait ship to draw the Tengu pilot into engaging. In this case it is a Harbinger that we managed to forget to refit before heading out. It has lasers… well, it has lasers. Ship shopper jumps in a Lachesis to get the long range point and damp the Tengu’s range. I waver between using the Pilgrim that I just finished studying up for or something else. In the end, my rather uncommon sense wins out and I opt for a Rook because the Tengu did not have any turrets when he attacked me. We move out, hoping that we can still catch him and that he does not have a scout on our side of his wormhole [we would have] or backup [we are not likely to think about having backup until we see structural damage].
At the wormhole, things seem quiet and so we engage in some tribal war calls and Bait is sent through to begin bubble burning and we sit in quiet contemplation of the swirling colours around us. In a few seconds we get the call, “Tengu uncloaked at 60km and locking,” to which we indecisively wonder if that is within our engagement range. Bait is ordered to try and kite him in the other direction for a few seconds and we prep to jump. As Bait’s shields finally disappear, we jump in and begin racing for the Tengu. He’s closed to within 50 of the hole and Ship Shopper is able to get a point. I’m able to lock but the first round of jams all fail which causes a bit of distress for Bait. About this time a fourth pilot joins us in his Curse. His neutralisers are welcome, but I’m unsure how effective. His drone on the other hand are very good at what they do.
In order to keep this from going too well, Tengu’s tango partner, Dr. Maelstrom lands 100km off an starts pinging at Bait as well. The ECM kicks in on round two and I try one on the Dr., and manage to get off a lucky strike [Caldari racial jammer on a Minmatar ship] which saves Bait who by now is flaming. Tengu has not been able to do anything since Ship Shopper and I got him damped and locked down and we begin to see his shields crumple. At about 10% shields the Maelstrom warps off just as Bait returns from the nearby planet to get in range of the wormhole [which was still bubbled, but remember, poorly]. The rest of the skirmish flashes by as the bubble-baitings, cloaky camping, terrible Tengu shatters in a sparkling shower of light and we fail to get a lock on the pod. Curse, Ship Shopper and I manage to loot the wreck on the way out of the system. Fearing a larger reprisal, we opt to not target the bubble and head back to our own home. Before we jump, the Tengu pilot lets fly with a ‘gf’ in local and we respond by thanking him for sticking the fight. As we’re warping through another system, Curse asks what a ‘Smokescreen’ Covert Ops Cloak is.
On Remembering Everything You Should Be Doing
So you are out roaming with your friend(s) hoping to find some juicy targets to jump on and clone them back home. What all do you need? Too many things pop into my head – match-up evaluation, situational awareness, environmental factors, meta-game factors, relationships, insurance, cost-benefit analysis [just say no]… and it all makes my head hurt. We’re primarily carebears, so our version of PVP usually involves something along the lines of [edit - fictional conversation following, names have been changed to protect the idiots and events have been altered for greater emphasis on the often humorous way we approach life in general]:
<pilot 1>: I got a <insert ship name> on d-scan in the C<number> two holes out.
<pilot 2>: At a tower?
<pilot 1>: Checking… Nope, want I should scan him down.
<pilot 3>: Reshipping to something pointy.
<pilot 2>: Get a warp-in and we’re on our way.
<pilot 1>: kk – can do.
<pilot 2>: ok, I got my Pilgrim – what are we doing again?
<pilot 1>: hunting wabbits – and get something more pointy as <insert different ship name> is a tough nut to crack
<pilot 3>: Huh? I thought we were going after a tower?
<pilot 2>: How about my Onyx?
<pilot 3>: How’s it fit?
<pilot 2>: HAMs and triple extenders, single WDFG.
<pilot 3>: Meh, won’t be much good against the tower.
<pilot 1>: oooh, you got a tower to shoot? I’m coming back to get the pulse ‘geddon.
<pilot 3>: I thought you had a tower to shoot?
<pilot 2>: I have an Imicus scrammed at our hole!
<pilot 1>: no, I was looking at a <insert still another different ship type>, but it’s unmanned at the tower.
<pilot 3>: Oh – I see, well time to go pick up the significant other at the airport, good luck with the killing.
<pilot 2>: no no no, omg, no – I’m dying to an imicus!
<pilot 1>: huh, you’re in an Onyx, how?
<pilot 2>: No, went back to the Pilgrim but forgot to online all my modules.
<pilot 2>: Gah – new implants for me… goodnight, see you all later.
<pilot 1>: Grah – newbs.
<pilot 4>: o/ Hello Pilot 1, how goes it.
<pilot 1>: you just missed 2 get waxed by an Imicus in his Pilgrim.
<pilot 4>: *snap*, anything else up?
<pilot 1>: got a couple of barges at a grav in c3, 2 jumps out, bms in the can, I’m manoeuvring in for a warp in.
<pilot 4>: cool – omw, HIC ok?
<pilot 1>: great. WH is off dscan so jump in and hold for warp in.
This doesn’t actually reflect any given conversation per se, but the contents are indicative of the great B-film classic, When Carebears Attack as seen somewhere dark and seedy, I am sure. We tend to do a lot of things to excess – too much discussion, too much consideration, too much talking, too much DPS or too much tank, too much flying around in circles, too much laughter and way too much fun. We tend to lack a good sense of: when to engage, when to run away, when to call it quits, what to fly at any given moment, what kind of wine goes good with the cafeteria’s mystery meat and how we managed to get along as well as we have without being utterly wiped out of the wormholes we live.
Mad props to our friends who help us along the way. Kudos to the people who are scanning stuff down faster than we can process them all. Congratulation to those pilots who’ve only managed to lose a couple of ships recently and even more to the ones who’ve taken their opponents down first.
Initially when we moved out into wormhole space, it was to explore, tap some of the untold riches and just see if we could survive. We managed to survive, so then we started practising getting better at “running away” and “not dying” as much. Lately we’ve moved from the running away [though we still do on occasion] to initiating conflict [sometimes at an alarming rate] and learning some lessons about how to actually have more ships than the enemy at the end of combat. At then end of the day, we’re happy when we live, resigned to the losses we incur and determined to carebear our way right through the next fleet we see.
On Making Stupid Mistakes & Learning
As I looked over the last year or two of posts, I realised that I very often only present the upside to the efforts and events that we go through. I don’t often mention some of the accidents, problems and outright stupid mistakes that my colleagues or I make on a seemingly regular basis. To further entertain you, I’ll try to recall some of them and tell you what we’ve learned in the process.
Hmmm…. Nope…. Can’t think of anything.
Wormhole Mass
We learned this very early on and it is a lesson that has been repeated for us several times. Wormholes have a dedicated amount of mass available for ships to transit after which they summarily collapse.
On our very first expedition, Project Move In, we managed to try and squeeze a freighter through a wormhole leading to a class 3. Oranges can’t fit through drinking straws and survive. The battleships jumped ahead and the freighter went back to downsize to an Orca which, according to research, should fit through. Paring down our crap into 1/10th of the space was a bit of nightmare, but a helpful second Orca accompanying the replacement Orca made the essentials fit.
Right – we’re idiots. The essentials were some small guns, medium tower, week of fuel, cargo array and ship array. The electronic warfare batteries were too big to fit so we left them in the staging station, as was the rest of the fuel. I think we also might have miscalculated the fuel ratios and didn’t really have a whole week.
The Orcae returned to the wormhole to find it strangely wibbly, but this was “unknown” space so there had to be things we couldn’t know. The first Orca with the tower and some fuel jumped in to the wormhole. End of story. Really – no more wormhole, no more connection. Just some very confused pilots floating around in Amarrian high security space trying to figure out what had happened for sure. The lesson we learned from this first experience were really good and helped us to prepare for some future operations and moves…, but not completely. The main lessons we learned were.
- Too Much Ship = Do Not Enter
- Too Many Ships = No More Wormhole
- Bring the combat/industrial ships in after the tower is ready.
- POS + Fuel should likely travel in same ship.
- Wormhole MASS is often the limiting factor in large moves.
Offline
Apparently it is possible to time the rebalancing of fuel in the tower at the precise instant the tower decided to “cycle” through its hourly fuel needs. Should this cycle happen at the exact moment when say, some of the coolant was being moved out to make room for more isotopes, nothing bad should happen. When you accidentally split the coolant stack with an extra digit and move ALMOST ALL of it out right as the tower cycles – bad things do happen. First thing you might notice is that the wibbly, wobbly shield bubbled between you and oblivion is no longer floating around out there in space. The second thing you might notice is that the array next to you is offline. In point of fact, you may notice that ALL of them are offline. And finally, you may notice your disembodied consciousness looking down at the interior of the arbitrary station where you had installed a medical clone [you did update your clone right?].
- Double check your digits when moving fuel.
- Keep an eye on the fuel levels when moving.
- Try to add fuel in balanced ratios to begin with.
Combat
You will die. A lot. Hopefully over time you will die less often. Some of our losses were due to a superior force with better ships and fittings and skills than ours. Most were just stupidity, laziness and incompetence on the part of high sec industrialist trying to learn how to harvest resources in null security space. To say we were ready for 0.0 is true, but these were wormholes and we were IN them. So were the pirates, gankers, griefers, some more pirates, bigger territorial industrialists, and solo PVP artists. Other times we just didn’t know the ships we were used to flying and what they would/could do when faced with certain situations.
- Be willing to use and lose your ships.
- TRY and learn from each death. [This is very hard. Expect to fail at it as well.]
- When attacking a POS, warping to the nearest celestial object will fail.
- Going after a bait ship is dangerous.
- Chasing a bait ship into an enemy’s home system is not dangerous, it’s a free ticket to your medical clone [You did remember to update your clone, right?].
Industry
Ore takes up volume. Calculations of yield are based in m3/time, so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that all of those cubic meters add up. Remember our first lesson about wormhole mass. Two corollaries are spun off from it that apply in this situation. A) It takes a lot of industrial ships to collapse a wormhole. And, B) not much high end ore fits in an industrial [at best about a jet can]. An Orca helps both of these situations immensely, but also suffers from being highly susceptible to being intercepted along the way. Losing a fully rigged and fit Itty V is mere pocket change compared to replacing the Orca that didn’t make it back to the POS.
- Intensive Refining Arrays are a good investment for any corporation that is mining in wormhole space.
- Losing 25% of your yield/profit/potential is better than flying multiple trips to known space.
I’m quite sure I could come up with more examples of our incompetence, but would likely ruin our reputation for flawless execution.
On Learning That EVE Mirrors National Geographic
They hunt and kill each other. Some of them are sneaky and just blend into their surroundings until the right type of prey happen to come by. Others sprint from place to place picking off their prey as they can. Some always roam in packs and overwhelm their victims by sheer force of numbers. Still others use high specialised attack roles and come at the prey from multiple vectors attempting to confuse and separate. And lastly there are those that are just bigger and leap at the prey, scattering the herd and smashing the victim into dinner.
Tigers? Cheetahs? Dingos? Wolves? Killer Whales?
Capsuleers
The Stealth Bombers, Covert Ops, Force Recon and to a lesser extent Black Ops ships are sneaking around behind you even now. They are lining up for the perfect shot and jam and will patiently wait for you to be ready to die. They pick and choose their battles learning which ships pose the biggest threats to them and which will be easy picking.
The Interceptors and to some extent Destroyers and Tech 1 frigates are the speedy, chase it down and kill it ships. Their pilots are used to moving fast and striking hard, then moving on again. Sitting still they tend to twitch and start to rock back and forth in their pods. Several faction ships also fall into this role.
Frigate and cruiser blobs are like swarms of locust, descending to devour their prey and attempting to cut a wide swath of destruction through enemy forces.
Force Recons, Electronic Attack Frigates, Assault Frigates, Heavy Assault Ships, Interdictors and Heavy Interdictors combine their effective and impressive array of abilities to engage other groups of pilots, even when out numbered can come away with impressive kills. They disorient, confuse and distract their targets all while bringing great amounts of damage to bear.
Though the Orca bears its name, the battleships of EVE represent her true killer whales. They drop in on a ship, open their arsenals and pick through their remains. The can fight in packs or solo and can be a real force to behold.
This isn’t the be-all, end-all list of animal kingdom comparisons. What others have you noticed?
On Cleaning Up The Moons Of Wormhole Space
I happen to wake up in my Buzzard next to the tower to a flurry of activity. Seems one of our pilots has found a tower that is offline a couple of wormhole jumps away. This is little cause for flurries or activity, unless said tower has of particular value to it. And wouldn’t you know it, this tower has a Corp Hangar Array and Ship Maintenance Array as well as, 2 refineries, about 30 gun batteries and a dozen or so various electronic warfare batteries. Rapid structural eliurination reveals a dozen shuttles and several larger boats from the SMA and the CHA produces a lot of Tech 2 equipment and tower arrays and batteries. Several quick transport runs are made due to the presence of potentially hostile forces in a nearby location.
Fully intent upon cleaning up the wayward detritus floating around this distant moon, we loaded up in as many laser ships as we could find and headed out to uproot the tower so that full salvage operations could begin. After a time, an incoming com-link was requested by the tower’s negligent owners. He explained that they had been cut off from their tower and were actually in the process of trying to get everything out when the estrangement occurred. They were prepared to pay up to three hundred million for bookmarks to the tower’s current location. Given the tower was worth more than that and there were at least another 250 milllion in arrays and batteries around it, the offer was declined. A negotiable counter offer of 1 billion was made to offset the time cost of scanning out a location and leaving everything in place. This was additionally declined. At a seeming impasse, preparations were made to fully remove the structures.
The initial fleet was battleships to the rescue complete with portable batteries [Guardian] to keep them firing continually. The change to end of life of the wormhole to our system resulted in a refit to battlecruisers across the board, so the Harbinger gank squad rolled out [plus one Coercer for a pansy industrialist without proper laser skills]. This continued until [insert rational reason for downtime] at which point we safed and planned to return to shooting and looting. One of the keys to this plan was the presence of a Badger Mk II from the aforementioned SMA. The plan was to remove the tower, yank the other modules out to highsec with the indy and call it a day. Along the way a couple things happened to kink said plan.
Firstly, the fleet wasn’t able to reassemble until much later, putting a strain on everyone’s respective schedules. Secondly, the delay allowed a fairly non-trivial portion of the shields to recoup [approximately 10%]. And finally, the static wormhole was too small to fly a covetor through. We grabbed the last of the loot we could, popped the barge and headed out. Our corp-mates had another highsec entrance for us only 12 jumps away through crazy random happenstance. In short order we were all home again and back in normal ships looking for something to do [where do is roughly defined as shoot].
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