On Being Angry With CCP and/or GMs

I’ve read a lot of rants in my life. Everything from cats eating neighbours’ birds, gimped drone bay on Rokh, dogs leaving their calling cards on the lawn, cans flipped, presidents sleeping with interns, GCC timers, GUI problems [or complete and utter failure at Human Interface Design 101] and letting people talk to Mr. G. Brown. But all in all, I’ve always assumed the majority of them are emotional responses to complex issue that don’t particularly affect me directly. So I smile, nod my head and move on.

Until Now.

Banned Wagon

I’m on the bandwagon. No, wait, I’m on the Banned Wagon. Persona non grata in EVE. I go to log in and I’m greeted with – “Login Data Incorrect” and no explanation. Huh, fair enough, I must have mistyped my passw… nope. 0/2 on login attempts. Quickly check SpaceBook, er, EVE Gate. It’s more informative, “This account has been banned.” To quote a corp-mate, “Bweh?” What is going on here. I quickly double check my email in case I missed something. Nothing I can find. I check the spam folder, nothing there. Check the servers spam que – AHA! A very generic message from a supposed Mr. GM Something or other indicating that my account had been hacked and as a security measure the account had been banned. Ok, fair enough, I’m all for them trying to run a tight ship and protect us from the evil account hackers and keyloggers.

As indicated in the email, I replied and asked for the account to be reset so that I could reset the password and survey the damage. As a corporate director, I was a bit fearful of the damage that could be wreaked on both our corporation’s wallet, our assets and those of our alliance mates. I quickly checked with them as well as the CEO. Interestingly enough, my character had not logged in since my own last activity. Additionally, the millions of isk in the corporate wallet were untouched. This is one very incompetent hacker…

24 hours pass… no reply to petition, no reply to email, no status indication at all. Additional petitions are made from other accounts to try and get some semblance of a response, acknowledgement, update. My last skill training ran out 20 hours ago [which was why I was trying to log in to begin with]. 36 hours. 48 hours, a reply to one of the players petitions, “Your account has been reset as per the email sent in response to your original petition on ….” First things first, reset the password and get to training again while surveying the damage to my personal wallet. Ok, skill set, wallets – Full. In point of fact, there was more isk in my wallet than when I logged off 2 days ago [several large contracts had cleared as well as personal donation from a very dear friend upon the loss of a close personal ship. What? Where's my 0 isk balance? Why are there still assets in my name? Why didn't the evil hackers  strip my assets, post offensive pictures on the eve-o forum, offline all our towers and kick everyone out of the corp?

Hmm. Sure their must have been a reason they Fort Knox'd my account? The sheer paucity information released leads to my rampant speculation wherein I have then two broad scenarios that I can imagine [help me if I'm missing something]:

1. My account was hacked in such a fashion as to easily alert prescient CCP/GMs to it’s compromised status and they reacted so quickly that no damage had been done while incompetent third world sweatshop hackers failed to capitalise on their access and steal the millions, nay, billions in ill-gotten gains from myself and corporation.

OR

2. CCP/GMs are clicking buttons at random over there in New Hawaii and wouldn’t know a hacked account from a large cloud of volcanic dust if it blew up in their back yard.

If scenario one is correct, I encourage everyone to take a moment and give CCP/GMs a little golf clap for their supernatural ability to ferret out RMTs, hacked accounts and macro miners/ratters with ease. I would be momentarily happy to be a part of their Unholy Rage. If you’re right, everyone is happy and the experience gets better.

If scenario two is correct [and I'm more inclined to believe this given that I can just about find macro miners in every system with ice and macro ratters everytime our wormhole exit pops up in null-sec coupled with my own recent experience], then I am just sad. OK, angry and sad. I lost 48 hours of training time for someone else’s mistake? I missed out on 200-500m in revenue and cost my corp-mates the opportunities to do so as well, due to contributing to group activities? If you are wrong, admit you made a mistake and set things right.

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.

And so it happens. There is the past that is always with us. There is the present that is always running away from us. And finally there is the future that never quite manages to get here. There will always be another ship to build, another system to swim, another skill to train, et cetra. From my past I have trained to be a good scientist. For the present I am working on a few small projects, but the future draws my eyes to the misty veil of time. What then shall I do and where shall I go? Do I need this or that skill to get it done and how best to proceed in that direction? The future is always full of questions.

One of the things that has changed radically within the universe that we all swim through is the way new capsuleers join us. As technology has improved and the cloning and pod-pilot technology matured, we arrive at our current place where not only can you improve yourself towards any desirable end, you can also improve and train in what would seem like no direction at all. Now a pilot can not only improve her ability to learn skills that improve her ability to pilot ships that improves her ability to learn/earn/kill/thrill, but that same pilot can utilize the new technology available to rearrange the very fabric of the brain to enhance certain basic attributes or reduce others.

The veil around my own future has grown quite thick, and I am left without real pictures of what it will look like. There have been some things that I have always wanted to do, but given the lack of direction, I let them wander. I also know that sitting here in this present and expecting to get a clearer view of the future will never cause the past to go away or said future to become clearer. I have decided then, to walk off into that veil of mist. I have been to the new technology, and drank deeply of its mind altering draught. I am now as balanced in ability as any and only break down and cry a little about my slightly slower skill training in science on days that end in “Y”.

From an early age, listening to my parents wax eloquent about the physics behind their Micro Warp Drives and the best way to insure success when inventing various tech 2 ships, I was hooked on science. I received my first home-datacore set when the rest of my playmates were still tinkering with frigate models. I was far from the only Achuran to be born to in Inventor enclave, nor the only one to like science and pursue that as a career. But on the other hand – I also had a great passion for the way the universe was knit together and was determined to understand it all!

I quickly graduated with advanced degrees in a broad range of science fields related to capsuleer endeavors and knew that to continue to learn and explore I would need to get out of Saisio and be able to visit the stars. I managed to barely scrape through training and prepare for the transition into the life of a “pod-pilot.” Don’t let anyone lie to you, the necessary pseudo-suicide, transneural burning scan to jump into the waiting pod-clone was painful [and it still is]. However, now I was free to swim through the stars in a super-massive space fish.

My parents, through good investments with and years of working for the megacorporation, Lai Dai, had managed to accrue a significant sum of interstellar credits and fitted me with a modest Bantam frigate and some direction to pursue. I headed for the stars and began working toward my dream as a free-lance inventor. I left the construction details to various station-side facilities, sales were done by other representative and I left the ship in the care of the knuckle-draggers. I knew how to fit a mean scanning ship or mine with the best of them, but even the thought of combat was something that was endured as a means to an end. To that end, I was spending every last ISK that I could generate on buying the skills to train and learn.

This is one of those posts that doesn’t write itself. It doesn’t leap from your hands to the page [or fingers to the keys] with synaptic firing of ideas and thoughts that must be recorded quickly. It is quite frankly, the hardest post I think I have ever had to sit down and commit. It would be far easier to just walk away from it and try to ignore it, the pain and passion stuffed under the covers. Hot chocolate, ice cream and bon bons can only go so far before it must be dealt with. And dealt with is must be, or else there is no future and nothing more to move on to.

Lou Ferrigno died.

It was quick and painful. The Manticore uncloaked off the after impeller drives and locked and pointed my valiant Hulk. Almost immediately his friends were dropping out of warp, locking and firing. It was over before I could really do more than announce it on our com channels. Our hauler had just warped way, one other Hulk pilot lost his life as well as his boat and a third got back home easily.

A quick jump into a combat ship [any combat ship] and return warp, but they had already salvaged the wreck and cloaked or moved on. We chased the ghosts of combat past around the yard for an hour or so, never quite connecting or confronting our losses. It was probably for the best, as the taste of blood was fresh in my mouth [I bit my lip] and I was likely to have made even more mistakes and lost more ships. I am not, have never been, and likely won’t be a combat pilot of much renown.

And so it ends, the faithful friend of over a year, passing into the night of stars. There were many happy moments we shared together and I am choosing to remember them as well as the loss. I have already purchased and refit another ship in Lou’s absence. It’s not a replacement, but in time I will grow to love it just as much as I love my other children. I’ve been out and active in both the wormhole [WH] system we’ve set up in as well as flying around high security space. I’m coping and manage to contain my crying to the cargo hold of Luxury Yacht.

.On a related note, I’m learning Russian… Там будет кровь.