Your money or your life!

3. Intelligence: Cut through the fog

2010-11-19T10:58:00.000-08:00

Okay, you want to engage only on your own terms, and you want to achieve combat superiority…the question now is that Hurricane ratting at the top belt. You’re pretty sure your ship is better than his, but it depends on his fit and skills. You also wonder whether he might not be bait for an entire blob. In this game of rock-paper-scissors, is he the paper to your scissors or a rock poised to smash down on you? That’s the trick, isn’t it—knowing the answers to these and a thousand other questions.

What’s wanted is intelligence (“intel”)—not something high-functioning between your ears so much as some good data with which to work. Warriors throughout history have bemoaned the fog of war; in this article I’ll suggest ways to cut through much of that fog.

The most basic source of intel available to every pilot in New Eden (except those in worm-hole space) is the local communications channel (“local”). This channel starts by helpfully counting the number of pilots sharing the same solar system. That number alone bears on a few interesting questions. If the number is high, then others have probably already observed the Incursus ratting the asteroid belts; the fact that none of them have attacked the Incursus may suggest the Incursus is their friend (and thus may have backup) or he may be a feared combat pilot. Many pilots in local always means one should consider the fact that one’s target may be able to call for quick backup. But then, it can also mean that someone is likely to be vulnerable in space, whether mining or ratting or fulfilling some mission; it’s worth looking around some. And pilots with lots of friends in local may lull themselves into a false sense of security.

In addition to the total number of pilots in space, “local” further offers the identity of each and every one. Take a look at that list. Any pilot who is subject to a 15-minute Global Criminal Countdown timer (“GCC”) may be so indicated by a red skull (whether this actually is the case depends on your overview settings). This tells you there is a pilot on the hunt in the same star system as you. It also tells you that sentry guns will shoot at him on sight—so while you’d have sentry guns on your side if it comes to that, it’s unlikely he’ll go near them in the first place. If you’ve identified any pilots, corporations, or alliances as particularly friendly or hostile, you can see indications of this next to each pilot’s name—pilots with excellent standing can have a blue symbol, for example, while pilots with horrible standing can have a red symbol. This makes it convenient to see at a glance how “on guard” you should be.

Take advantage of even more free intel afforded you by the list of pilots in local! Right-click a pilot’s name, then select “show info.” Note the pilot’s security status. A high security status means the pilot probably won’t initiate hostilities with you, unless perhaps you yourself are an outlaw. Setting out bait is unlikely to work with such pilots. Quite possibly, they’re combat-inexperienced. A low security status, on the other hand, means the pilot has a history of attacking people for no lawful reason. He’ll probably attack you if he thinks he can win, and he’s likely to be experienced and to have a plan.

There are two tabs of information on each character particularly helpful to a combat pilot. The first tab I go to is the Employment tab, which provides a complete record of a pilot’s past employment. How far back does this record go? The older the pilot, the more skills and experience he potentially has.

The Employment record provides useful intel not only about how much skill and experience a pilot may have, but what kind skills he is likely to have learned and what kind of experience he is likely to have gained. If you see a string of PVP corps in that history, you can bet the pilot is both skilled and experienced in combat. If you see a string of mining corps, he may be skilled but likely has devoted much of his studies to industrial pursuits rather than combat, and while he may or may not be experienced at evading combat, he probably doesn’t have much experience in actually fighting. Long gaps in an employment record could indicate periods of inactivity, in which case the pilot may not be as skilled as his age would suggest. However, watch out for pilots who seem to have several years in NPC corporations (corporations not controlled by actual players)—that is a sign of a player’s alternate character (“alt”), and that could mean a scout or support pilot of some kind.

After gleaning what I can from the Employment tab, I’ll check a pilot’s Bio tab. Is it full of links to contracts? Does the pilot use it to remind himself what sorts of damage rats can tank? Does it assume you’ve just been ganked, and claim enjoyment of your loss? Such information can be a real clue as to what you may be up against. Just realize that the Bio tab is less reliable than the Employment tab; while the Employment tab is generated by the authorities based on public records, the Bio tab is under the complete control of the pilot, and many a pirate has used the Bio for misinformation.

With time, you’ll find yourself collecting a body of useful knowledge. Especially if you hunt in a series of “home” routes, you’ll start recognizing people by name. You’ll look at local and recognize this pilot as a macro mission runner, that pilot as a POS maintainer, and the other pilot as a pirate. You’ll get to the point where you know what ships that pirate likes to fly, and what tactics he likes to use. I know some pilots who make written records of every encounter they have with another pilot, noting ship types, tactics, associates, etc. While I myself don’t often write this sort of thing down, I’ve never complained when a gang member informs me “he never flies alone; he always has a Falcon alt nearby.” You might want to start creating your own intel files of such useful information!

In the Tuskers, we have an Intel section of our forums for sharing information of use to us all. We have a list of known Falcon pilots there, for example. We also describe traps we fall prey to, so that our mates won’t make the same mistake we did. We note which corporations work with each other. We describe “prize targets” we’ve observed, rich vessels in space and any vulnerabilities we discover about them. We identify major threats in the area, and discuss ways to deal with them. If you have the opportunity to pool intel like this, do it!

Many pilots post records of their kills and (less frequently) losses on publically-accessible databases known as killboards. One widely-used and long-running killboard is BattleClinic. Just look at the intelligence bonanza a killboard can provide! What ships a pilot tends to fly, how he fits them, which other pilots show up with him on killmails, whether he fights (and wins) against other combat ships, or whether he sticks to weaker prey, which systems he is active in, etc.—useful intel indeed. If you’re sizing up the situation in a solar system, you could do worse than take a few moments to check a pilot out on the killboards.

Finally, let’s consider the role of scouts in acquiring intel. A scout is some other pilot who looks around and reports what he observes. “Local” provides useful information; having access to that information before you or your gang jump into a system can be even more useful—send a scout in ahead of you. As you size up the numbers in local, you may determine your gang has the advantage—but what if there is a hostile gang sitting at a gate ready to jump into your system? Having scouts watching those gates would be great. Is that pilot’s Falcon alt nearby? How many corpmates can the target call on for backup in the surrounding systems? Will the next ship to jump into our gate camp be a rich cargo vessel or a camp-busting gang? These are all questions scouts can answer.

A scout can be in most any ship type that is difficult to detect or engage. Some scouts like to fly in rookie ships, making themselves beneath notice for many. Others like to fly ships fit to tackle, so they can hold down a target while their gang warps in. Yet others prefer ships that can warp while cloaked and probe out targets.

It’s useful for a scout not to be in the same corp as yourself or your gang. You don’t want people connecting you with your scout, if you can help it. You want people to underestimate your gang and to underestimate the threat posed by the scout. Many players have two EVE-Online accounts primarily so that they can have an alt scouting for them—it’s just that valuable.

A scout can go ahead of you or your gang, looking for targets (and probing them out and/or tackling them if those are options), locating gate camps, and keeping an eye on things in that direction. A scout can trail behind you or your gang, watching out for gangs stalking you or juicy targets coming from behind. A scout can "shadow" a hostile fleet, reporting on its movements and composition. Multiple scouts can fan out through several systems, covering you from all directions or finding the best targets in the least amount of time.

By paying attention to local, keeping records, checking killboards, and employing neutral scouts, you can achieve more PVP success. All else being equal, the pilot with the best intel will not necessarily win—but the pilot with the best intel should be able to make sure all else is not equal, and that the inequalities are in his favor.

2. Achieve combat superiority

2010-11-11T16:12:00.000-08:00

It’s all well and good to fight only on one’s own terms, but what should those terms be? When should you choose to engage, and when should you choose not to? The short answer is: Engage when you have combat superiority. In this article I discuss a number of factors that enter into the equation for determining combat superiority.

First let’s consider numerical superiority. While “blobs” are often denigrated, the truth is they are a valid way to win fights. All else being equal, the gang with the most ships wins.

Next we have hardware superiority. Most pilots easily recognize the importance of flying a hull recognized for its combat prowess well-fit with the right selection of high-tech modules. As CCP constantly tweaks combat mechanics in the quest for balance, and as creative pilots and alliances test new setups in real combat situations, the flavor-of-the-month hull and setup can change. For this reason I won’t be providing lists of hulls and how to fit them, but in a later section I will suggest a philosophy selecting and fitting out ships.

Any pilot serious about winning in PVP needs to understand why each module is or is not selected for fitting. It’s better to mess around with your setup and make some stupid choices—revealed in the crucible of combat—than to ignorantly copy a setup gleaned from BattleClinic without understanding why that setup was put together.

Your goal should be to make an intelligent choice regarding the setup of your ship. Chances are, you’ll end up with a “cookie-cutter” setup (so called because they are de facto standards that many people fly)—there’s a reason why one setup is passed over by most pilots while another is appreciated by so many—but seek to understand the philosophy behind it, and you’ll recognize when game changes signal the time to re-evaluate your ship’s fit. For now, just remember: all else being equal, the ship with the most well-conceived setup wins.

It won’t be long before your planning how to fit your ship directs your thoughts to a third factor in combat superiority—skills. Many popular modules require a minimum skill level of some sort just to be fitted, and the ultimate capabilities of most ships and modules are affected by at least some skill. So you won’t be able to fit that T2 gun, for example, without having the relevant specialization skill, and the higher your skill in that specialization (and in such things as Gunnery, Controlled Bursts, Motion Prediction, Rapid Fire, Sharpshooter, and Trajectory Analysis), the more effective your gun will be—it will lock faster, shoot farther, fire more rapidly, hit more often, and do more damage per shot.

Don’t focus too narrowly in evaluating skills to train for. Many pilots concentrate on obvious weapons and “hit points” skills and overlook the so-called “support” skills; wiser pilots recognize that support skills can be just as decisive in battle. “Support skills” are skills that affect your ship’s energy grid and capacitor, your motor and warp speed, and the like. Support skills can directly impact the damage you do and the damage you can absorb, but they can also less obviously impact your ability to win battles by increasing your ability to dictate range or get out of a losing fight. Leadership skills, when they are applied as gang bonuses, can be every bit as powerful as multiple levels of gunnery skills, as useful as an expensive faction module, or as powerful as rare mind implants.

I recommend PVP pilots only fly a ship when they can fly it fully T2-fit with all relevant skills at least level IV. (Often the time taken to get a skill to level V is better spent getting some other skill to IV.) The reason is that, all else being equal, the pilot with the most relevant skills wins.

A fourth indispensible factor in the combat-superiority equation is PVP experience. While much about PVP can be learned from a book, there’s no substitute for actual practice. I’m good enough at PVP that you’re reading my guide, but I can remember vividly times when I “froze” in the rush of battle: my mind simply shut down, and I just sat their staring stupidly at the screen as the red-flashies had their way with my ship. Human athletes train so that during a competition their muscle memory and instincts take over; their experience enables them to quickly grasp what’s going on in a contest, and their minds are freed up to focus on higher-level obstacles to success. In the same way, PVP experience conditions the mind to “automatically” take certain basic actions, freeing up the mind to focus on more complicated barriers to coming out on top.

The first time you get ganked, you may be excused for freezing up and doing nothing. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, you are overwhelmed with flashing symbols and scary noises, and a hundred ideas are all vying with one another for your attention. Chances are it won’t be until minutes or hours later that you’ll truly begin to appreciate the true nature of the situation you were in and what you might have done to get away or even to turn the tables on your attacker. The next time you get jumped that idea will spring to mind—and it won’t be until minutes or hours later that you’ll truly understand what was different about this time or why some silly thing you did worked. As you gain experience, it will become harder for others to catch you by surprise, you’ll think more clearly under pressure, and you’ll be able to do multiple things right without really thinking at all.

For this reason, I’m a big proponent of the advice that inexperienced combat pilots stock up on 10-20 cheap T1 frigates and just go on a PVP spree until all are lost. It’s much more affordable to lose a T1 frigate than a T2 cruiser, and the lessons are learned just the same. Furthermore, the lessons are learned through personal experience rather than filtered through someone else’s written account. At the end of the day, there really is no substitute for experience. And, all else being equal, the pilot with the most PVP experience wins.

A fifth element contributing to combat superiority is force multiplication. If we think of the two sides of a battle as having a series of hulls of X effective hit points (EHP) and a series of weapons dealing out Y points of damage per second (DPS), we can think of a force multiplier as something that has the effect of providing more X or Y for the friendlies or less X or Y for the hostiles. One might of gang bonuses as a kind of force multiplication--and legitimately so; leadership bonuses and gang assist modules can easily enhance one’s fleet’s DPS and EHP by more than 20%. Still, electronics warfare (EWAR) and logistics most frequently come to mind when discussing force multipliers.

We discussed EWAR a bit in the previous section, in the context of evading or breaking tackle. Now consider how EWAR affects DPS and EHP. The Falcon is probably the most infamous EWAR platform in New Eden, with a full array of electronics countermeasure (ECM) modules. In melee, a single ECM module can jam a hostile vessel’s targeting system, effectively subtracting that ship’s DPS from the battle—and Falcons equip several such modules. In other words, without dealing any DPS itself, the Falcon just disrupted the DPS-EHP balance of the fleets engaging one another. Tracking disruptors diminish the hostile fleet’s DPS by decreasing the effect of their turrets; target dampeners diminish their DPS by diminishing their effective range. Target painters effectively increase the friendly fleet’s DPS by enhancing her ships’ tracking and increasing the damage dealt by each volley.

Or consider a small gang being supported by a pair of logistics ships. Most PVP ships either do not repair themselves at all, or fit one (usually) to three (rarely) repairers of some sort. Logistics ships such as Scimitars or Guardians can apply multiple remote repairers to whichever ship the hostile fleet primaries—and they can do it again and again. If each ship in the fleet drops its own local repair modules, they can use the space for other modules that enhance their DPS or tank; the 4-8 remote repairers on the pair of logistics boats are effective in repairing any ship in the fleet. Instead of being able to kill a ship in a matter of seconds, the hostile fleet may find they just don’t have the DPS to kill it at all. And if they do manage to kill a ship, taking say three to five times longer to do it, they have had to absorb much more DPS themselves in the process. Logistics ships often operate at a distance and can be hard to attack directly, but as they often operate in pairs (or more), attacking one logistics ship still leaves the second to repair its shields or armor.

You know what I have to say next: All else being equal, the gang with the best force multipliers wins.

The final factor in achieving combat superiority is tactics. All else being equal, the gang with the best tactics wins. There are so many common tactics to consider, I’m choosing to write more on tactics in a later installment in this series.

I’ve briefly discussed combat superiority in terms of numerical superiority, hardware superiority, superior skills, superior PVP experience, and force multiplication (really a subset of both hardware and skills), and I’ve mentioned tactical superiority as well. Each element of combat superiority has been described as potentially decisive—all else being equal. The problem, of course, is that all else is rarely equal. One may and often does have superior numbers and PVP experience but inferior skills and hardware; or one may count on superior PVP experience and force multiplication but not really know what they’re up against. For that reason, I consider PVP an art rather than a science; as much as we play a game of hard-coded numbers, fixed sets of hulls and modules, and a wealth of documentation, we also play a game of random number generators, frail humanity, and deceit.

1. Fight on your own terms

2010-11-06T10:28:00.000-07:00

My years of solo and small-gang PVP have convinced me that successful PVP means fighting on your own terms—choosing your fights. If you’re out in a Thorax, you may want to attack a Stabber but stay away from a Drake. If you’re in a small 3-man gang, you may want to engage a gang of 4 but not a 20-ship blob. You may be willing to pit your Dramiel up against a blaster boat, but not a Rapier. As you evaluate your chances in a given matchup, you’ll be eager to engage, eager not to engage, or perhaps not sure what the outcome might be. The point is, fight when you want to fight, and not when you don’t want to.

But what does this mean? It means you need ways to be able to force a fight when your opponent is unwilling, and to evade a fight when you yourself don’t fancy your chances. Simple enough when stated like that, but not always so easy in practice.

The technical term most often used for avoiding unwelcome attention is “running away.” Your spaceship has both engines and a warp drive; use them to flee. You need to keep a sharp eye on local (to see if there are any potential aggressors in system, and who they might be), a sharp eye on your directional scanner (perform frequent 360° scans), and a sharp eye on your overview to avoid unpleasant surprises.

It is important to be prepared to get out fast.

It can’t be that simple, right? Right. While many pilots enjoy pre-arranged duels (and that is certainly a valid form of PVP), for me, PVP is all about nonconsensual combat—I assume the majority of the ships I attack would run away if they could, and the majority of superior ships and gangs would hold me down and kill me if they could. There are modules that prevent one’s target from running away. The direct countermeasures for engines and warp drives are stasis webifiers and warp disruptors/scramblers.

Stasis webifiers, or “webs” as they are popularly known, are applied to a target ship to reduce that ship’s speed. Ships that are slower than yours shouldn’t be able to escape yours. Webs may be stacked for increased effect. If you worry about being webbed yourself, your only real remedies are to be agile enough and fast enough to keep out of web range (not a remarkably long range, though some ships have bonuses to this) or fast enough to remain faster than your opponent even while webbed--letting you increase range until you are, again, outside of web range.

Warp disruptors degrade their target’s ability to warp away. Most ships (again, there are a few exceptions) have one point of warp strength that enables them to warp; a warp disruptor removes one point of warp strength from its target. With zero warp strength, the target is unable to warp. (Incidentally, this is where the term “point” comes from when declaring a target is tackled.)

Warp scramblers have a shorter range than warp disruptors. Balanced against this disadvantage, however, are three real advantages: (1) warp scramblers remove two points of warp strength from their targets, (2) warp scramblers use less cap than warp disruptors, and (3) warp scramblers also interfere with (read “disable”) microwarpdrives, significantly reducing the speed of any target actively using a MWD.

The choice of disruptor or scrambler is a tough one. If you fit a disruptor, you’ll find ships using their microwarpdrives to speed out of range, and often you’ll find you don’t have the grid to fit a MWD yourself. If you do have a MWD, there’s always the chance your target will use his own warp scrambler to turn it off. But if you fit a scram, you’ll find yourself missing tackles as your targets warp off before you get into scram range. Few are the ships designed well enough to allow you to fit both a warp disruptor and a warp scrambler, both an afterburner and a MWD! Make your choice and build your tactics around it.

In nonconsensual PVP, so important is the ability to prevent one’s target from warping that I consider a warp disruptor or scrambler the only module absolutely necessary for PVP. In gangs, however, not every ship needs to be able to tackle; as gangs increase in size, the ability to specialize in a role becomes more important. Interceptors are specialized tacklers, and often have enhanced tackle ranges and speeds that allow them to tackle others while remaining free to escape themselves.

In null security space and wormholes, pilots must be wary of warp disruption spheres or “bubbles.” These devices create fields that can not only disable your warp drive, they can pull you right out of warp if your destination is close enough to the bubble.

If you don’t want to be tackled, you have several common choices. First, you may rely on your speed to keep out of range or escape a bubble. This means you have to keep your eyes open so you can react in time; all the speed mods in the world won’t help you if you aren’t paying attention.

Second, you could use warp core stabilizers (sometimes called “stabs,” confusing since inertial stabilizers are also sometimes called “stabs”). Warp core stabilizers add a point of warp strength to your ship, a direct counter to warp disruptors or scramblers (but not bubbles or the few ships fitting warp disruption field generators with focused warp disruption scripts). WCS are rarely used on combat ships, however, because they interfere with targeting. Only fit one or more WCS modules if it is not important for you to target quickly: haulers frequently fit several WCS, as do certain bait ships, smart-bombing ships, and less agile "travel-fit" ships merely moving from one point to another with no thought of combat.

Third, you could make it difficult for a would-be tackler to even get you on his overview. Ships have to warp somewhere, and the most common warp destinations are common celestial objects such as jump gates, space stations, planets, moons, asteroid belts, complexes, and the like—objects that are equally easy for any pilot to warp to. If you’re at an asteroid belt ratting, it is a simple matter for an attacker to warp to that same asteroid belt. But anywhere your ship can go you can make a bookmark and return; by bookmarking some random point in space, you have created a warp destination that is extremely difficult for others to reach: a “safe spot.”

The simplest safe spot is made by creating a bookmark while traveling from one celestial object to another. Anytime I pass through an unfamiliar star system, I create a simple safe spot by creating a bookmark in mid-warp as I travel from one jump gate to the next. It is basically impossible for anybody to re-create that bookmark on their own—the tools at our disposal just aren’t fine enough.

However, pilots may use combat probes to identify the precise location of your ship, and if you’re “probed out” you could find yourself in trouble even at a safe spot. For this reason, I recommend taking the time to make better safe spots. Your basic safe spot, along the route between two celestial objects, means you’ll have other ships passing by, and even if you’re not within scan range of any celestial object, you’ll show up briefly on pilots’ overview as they pass. Once they know you’re there, they can probe you out quickly if they have the tools.

A better safe spot can be made that is out of directional scanner range not only from celestial objects, but from any point along any route between any two celestial objects as well. If you can imagine a triangle in space formed by celestial objects A, B, and C, try to first get basic safe spots in the midpoint between, say, A and B and A and C; then to get a better safe spot bookmark the midpoint between AB and AC. Look for ways to do this where the final result will be outside of directional scanner range not only of A, B, and C, but of routes AB, BC, and AC as well. Your goal is a safe spot where you won’t accidentally be seen by other pilots. They’ll still be able to probe you out, but without seeing your ship in space they may not bother, perhaps making the false assumption you’re docked up or cloaked.

I won’t get into the mechanics of combat probes here, as excellent probing guides already exist. I will just say probing skills are very useful for getting fights with expensively-fitted ships deluded by a false sense of security. The life of a mission runner must be mind-numbingly boring, and it is hard for them to resist the urge to get up and stretch while their ship tanks the pitiful NPC rats and their drones to their dirty work. It is remarkably easy to probe out and tackle mission runners; you may be worrying they’ll see your combat probes or notice your ship at close range as you negotiate a series of 3-4 acceleration gates, but chances are they’re reading a manga book or changing the channel on the TV.

If you do find yourself tackled and in a battle you don’t wish to fight, all is not lost. If your ship still has some speed, you may be able to simply fly out of tackle range and warp away (good luck with that); it happens. Or it may not be so simple, requiring a series of sharp turns that your opponent fails to follow quickly enough that allows you to slip the tackle. A common tactic used by ships tackled in asteroid belts is to maneuver so that the tackling ship runs into an asteroid belt; for a few moments his speed drops to zero, affording his would-be victim a few moments to speed out of tackle range and escape (or a few moments for his would-be victim’s drones or missiles to do full DPS and destroy the tackler). You may be able to maneuver your tackler into bumping into a stargate, acceleration gate, space station, etc. Failing that, several electronic warfare (EWAR) solutions can help.

Electronic counter measures (ECM) work by jamming a ship’s targeting systems. If your ECM module or ECM drones “work,” your opponent will lose target lock on you and his tackling modules will disengage, giving you a few moments to slip away. The problem with ECM is that any given module or drone has only a small chance of working; to increase your odds, you’ll have to fit several ECM modules or a full flight of ECM drones. Using racial ECM modules makes it more probable you’ll escape one race’s ships, while making it less probable you’ll escape the other three races’ ships. No matter what, there's always just a "chance"--little or great--that you'll jam the enemy.

Sensor dampeners are another EWAR option, and their effect is not chance-based. These “damps” act by increasing the amount of time it takes for a ship to lock on to a target, or (more relevant to breaking tackle) reducing a ship’s targeting range. If you can reduce your attacker’s targeting range low enough, you’ll be outside of that range and can get out. Unfortunately, all too often it takes more damps than one has fitted to do this effectively.

A final EWAR path that is quite popular is the use of energy neutralizers (“neuts”) to drain a tackler’s capacitor. Without power, his stasis webifier and warp disruptors deactivate; and without power, his microwarpdrive or afterburner likewise shut down. Within seconds, that ship goes from being a blindingly-fast tackling god to being a dead-in-space paper-tank free killmail. Just be sure you don't "cap out" yourself in the process!

You’ll notice that these EWAR options don’t merely allow one to escape when tackled, they actually present the choice of escape or counter-attack—exactly what we want when we seek to engage on our own terms. And what terms may those be? Watch this blog for more!

The Art of PVP

2010-10-27T14:30:00.000-07:00

Watch this space! The dearth of new material here at Your Money or Your Life! does not reflect a decline in my interest in playing or writing about EVE-Online. For quite some time now I’ve been playing with the idea of writing a PVP guide. The first installment on that guide should appear within a week. You all should thank Avan Sercedos for the timing, who spurred me to get this thing going by contracting to me an Arazu with the understanding I write something in this blog.

PVP is a big topic, so don’t expect my guide to answer all possible questions. First, this guide will reflect my own personal PVP experience—lowsec piracy—and may miss some stuff that would be obvious were I a ninja salvager or nullsec sovereignty holder. Second, I intend to focus on a philosophical discussion of principles (such as achieving combat superiority) more than situation-specific instruction (regarding such things as fitting ships or camping gates).

My hope is that in spite of these limitations a wider audience will find my guide useful. There’s no good reason a carrier pilot should not be able to apply lessons learned by battlecruiser and high-tech cruiser pilots—the bait may be different, for example, but it’ll still be bait.

Your critical remarks will be welcome; once this series has been finished here, I hope to edit it and publish the complete guide at the Tusker Academy.

Good hunting!

Jolo

Payday

2010-04-18T04:45:00.000-07:00

Recently, in the course of an interview by Tusker Romeo Blakstorm, I was asked, "What is the most lucrative piece of loot that has come into your possession?" Not having had any remarkable pieces of loot drop into my lap, I declined to answer. I likewise ignored the question, "What is your most lucrative ransom payment received?"

Well, gentle reader, I'd have a good answer for him now...

A few of us Tuskers were out hunting our way towards Placid. We ended up converging in the Ouelletta system in Verge Vendor; there were a number of possible targets teasing us there. A Catalyst would appear at a safe spot; a Harpy was flitting quickly between celestials; and a Tengu was doing a Faction Warfare complex. Most of us took a stab or two at the Tengu, but it was usually 60km away from the warp-in after we activated the acceleration gate, and would simply zip off the moment one of our ships showed up on its overview. In the end, three of us in battlecruisers were sitting at a safe spot deep in space, outside of directional scanner range, while Man Barthelme in a Stabber chased targets.

A covert ops scout in Intaki was reporting cruisers, battlecruisers, and the occasional battleship target at belts, outside stations, or passing through. I was all for keeping the gang moving, not entirely happy that we'd been messing around for over half an hour around Ouelletta. But it seemed every time the gang would be preparing to move on toward Placid, some new target would briefly expose itself to Bart's directional scanner, and we'd all wait for just a few more moments, hoping for success.

And then it began.

"Point on the Tengu. Everybody warp to Bart." Noting the Tengu pilot kept returning to his complex each time we scared him off, Man Barthelme had placed his Stabber in a tight orbit around the acceleration gate leading to the complex; and to our great fortune the Tengu pilot did indeed end up warping to the gate--and Bart tackled him before he could activate the gate!

"In warp to Man Barthelme." "Warping to you." "In warp." The battlecruiser complement of our gang provided status reports as we aligned toward Bart and entered warp.

Bart wasn't overly optimistic at this point--"Make it fast! I'm taking heavy damage!" he reported. As our ships began dropping out of warp, he pleaded, "Does anybody else have point? I'm getting hurt pretty badly."

"Point!" "Point on the Tengu." "Get out if you need to, Bart, we have him tackled." As it turned out, Bart didn't need to warp out: for one thing, the Tengu switched his fire to one of our battlecruisers; but even before that, Bart had reached a tactically advantageous orbit and ceased taking much damage from the ultra-high-tech cruiser's missiles.

The Tengu's tank looked very tough at first. With all four of our ships pouring on everything we had, his shields were holding at about 95%. Fortunately, one of our gang had an energy neutralizer, and after a short time it apparently began to affect our target's ability to keep his shields up. "Overheat! Let's break his tank!" I urged.

Status reports filtered in and it looked like we were all comfortably established in effective orbits, and we were coping well with the Tengu's offensive efforts. I opened a ransom channel with the Pilot. Naive in the ways of ultra-high-tech cruisers, I asked for 200M ISK. The pilot immediately assented, and asked to whom he should transfer the ISK.

Just then I saw the Tengu's shields evaporate. "Cease fire! He's going to pay!" I shouted into battle comms--but to no avail. Literally within seconds, the Tengu icon on my console display went from low shields to low armor--then blinked out. I felt a sense of profound disappointment; that 200M ISK would have been one of the highest ransoms I'd ever commanded. Feeling guilty that we had destroyed a ship when the pilot had accepted our ransom offer, I checked to see if he had actually paid the ransom; Tusker protocol requires that if he had, we would have had to return the ransom. The pilot hadn't actually paid, so we weren't guilty of dishonoring a ransom; good enough, as far as it went. Still, I felt compelled to remind the pilot that we had provided only 30 seconds for him to pay the ransom, and urged him to pay more quickly next time.

By this point we had managed to tackle the Tengu pilot's escape capsule. Reasoning that someone who could afford such a valuable ship would probably be wearing valuable implants, I then demanded 100M ISK in exchange for releasing his pod. Only then did I note that the transponder signal indicating the presence of the pilot himself in the system was absent; one way or another, the consciousness of our target was gone. "Pop the pod. He's gone." Seconds later, we scooped a frozen corpse from space, but we knew the pilot was probably warming up to a nice cup of hot chocolate outside a clone vat somewhere far away.

Keeping on the alert for interlopers, our attention turned next to recovering what systems were still functional from the wreckage of the Tengu. With our usual avarice, as my Tusker mates grabbed modules, they began assessing roughly what we'd won.

I won't repeat here the language I heard; suffice it to say that one of the modules we recovered was judged to be worth over a billion ISK all by itself--and our pilots were, well, impressed and expressive. Soon an official killmail was broadcast, and I imagine on the bridges of four Tusker ships in Ouelletta four pirate captains scanned the Total Module Drop list again and again for several minutes. Near as we could figure, we'd found ourselves in possession of over 1.7B ISK in intact modules--a prize of over 400M ISK each!

Giddy, we hurried to finish looting and salvaging the wreck, then darted back to our safe spot. You may think our lot hardened battle veterans and calloused criminals, but a casual observer just then might be forgiven for thinking of us more a gaggle of excited schoolgirls. We began dreaming of what fabulous things we might spend our bounty on, each Tusker more extravagant than the last: Some new battlecruisers! New heavy assault cruisers! New recon ships! A full set of Snakes!

(I'm embarrassed to write it up like this here, because I know many of you readers keep 400M ISK in your change pocket, but there you have it. Tuskers often get as good as they give, and our combat efficiency is on the wrong side of 75%; the truth is it was Christmas in April for we four.)

Although we were just four jumps out from our base in Hevrice, there were no complaints when I ordered us to chart a course for home. Never was a fleet scouted so carefully; I practically held my breath the whole way home. Docking at the Hevrice V station was cause for another round of self-congratulations; Bart said, "Now I can get excited--the loot's safe!"

In that interview with Romeo Blakstorm, I was asked, "Either/or: Strategic Cruiser/150 tech II fitted Rifters?"

I answered, "I have a personal bias against T3 and faction ships. Even most T2 ships are hard to break even with. I’d probably think differently if I had more ISK of my own." It's true. With more ISK of my own, I'm out to buy an Arazu and maybe an Ishtar...

And that's my story. All that was left was for my mates to heap scorn upon me for being ready to settle for a 200M ISK ransom. No worries--I took it just fine. But heaven help you if you're the next T3 cruiser we get a point on!

It was like that one time with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid...

2010-04-11T04:01:00.000-07:00

Consider this fight: in one corner, four PVP-fit battlecruisers and a battleship; in the other corner, one battlecruiser, four cruisers, and an assault frigate. Who would you put your money on? If you backed the 5 heavy ships, you wouldn't regret it. But would you believe three of them died in the process?

Our rag-tag Tusker fleet consisted of me in my Myrmidon, a Rupture, a Stabber, a Vexor, some bozo in a Bellicose, and a Jaguar. It was a slow day and we'd wandered from our base in Verge Vendor up through Placid, through Black Rise, and into Lonetrek. Looking for a fast way home, we took our chances and slunk through a few highsec systems around Nonni before resurfacing in lowsec near The Citadel. Leo Solunar, our point man, spotted three Drakes in Mara, a system I knew to be frequented by various sorts of combat veterans. He confirmed the Drakes were all from the same corp--the Kinights Templar--so that meant we'd have a real fight on our hands; on the other hand, their security status was relatively high, which we hoped meant their thoughts didn't run toward violence as soon as ours would. We did pause for a moment to consider our chances, but concluded that we needed some excitement in our otherwise dull day. It was with grim satisfaction, then, that we learned one of the Drakes was at an asteroid belt. Our point man went in for the tackle, and the rest of us poised on the gate to come to his aid.

"Point!" came Leo's report. The Tusker gang jumped into Mara and sped to his side. As we landed, the field was all Tuskers. We lit up the hapless Drake and let him have it; by the time his backup started arriving, we had pretty much broken his tank. "Diin o is Secondary," Leo announced in a calm voice. Seconds later, bumnz' Drake succumbed to our onslaught and we turned our attention to diin o's battlecruiser. Thinking ahead, another Tusker reported, "Point on Edis Krad." All three Drakes were committed to the fight now, like it or not. And then a hostile Drake landed on top of us.

Things could get tense in a situation like this, and indeed I was feeling the pain. It seems I had been selected as the enemy force's primary target. Now I want you to know that had I been the commander of the Kinights Templar fleet, there's no way I would have selected the ship with the biggest tank as primary target; I would typically look to take out force multipliers first (such as ECM platforms or logistics ships), then I would look for ships with a high DPS relative to a low tank; if I were their FC, I would probably have primaried our Rupture, then the Stabber if we had a good tackle on it, followed by the Vexor. But what I'm coming to understand is I am Ka Jolo, CEO of the Tuskers, and I seem to get designated primary target a good 90% of the time. This might make sense if the other guys thought I was FC (in this case I certainly wasn't), but I wonder if it isn't rather a case of my modest amount of fame working against me.

Anyway, I was the primary target. My mates in their scantily-clad cruisers and frigate zipped around with impunity while my armor took the brunt of the enemy's attack. Some pilots equip their Myrmidons with three armor repairers, and in this situation I sure could have used more than the two I had. Each salvo from their missile launchers was demolishing more than half of my armor. I am well skilled in armor repair, and put everything I had into it just then. "Overheat the resistance mods!" I ordered, "Overheat those reppers!" I knew it was crucial to our success against four battlecruisers that I do as much damage as possible while I was still on the field. Mentally I began going down my escape capsule checklist, proud of the way my crew stayed on station and fought with courage and professionalism even while it became obvious our battlecruiser was doomed. My capacitor was well in hand; in a typical fight, I struggle to feed energy to my guns and tank, but things were happening so quickly this time cap was not yet an issue. My armor readouts, on the other hand, were fluctuating wildly: a flight of missiles would shake us well and truly, and I'd see red; then our damage control team would get off a couple of rep cycles, and the red would shrink--but it was a losing battle. With each cycle, the red would dip deeper and more red would remain.

Good news--diin o's Drake couldn't keep it together any longer, and we re-directed our fire to Edis Krad's Drake while his mate's capsule emerged from the debris of what had been the second Drake. As Tusker fleet reported tackle being established on Benedict III's Drake, I set my mind on contributing all I could to the fight still ahead. "Overheat those guns! Nevermind that they might burn out--let's pray we have time to worry about burning them out!" My Myrmidon's DPS--six high-tech 220mm autocannons firing advanced ammunitions, along with a mixed flight of heavy, medium, and light high-tech Gallente drones--was a significant part of the force breaking the tanks on these Caldari battlecruisers, and I wanted to get this third Drake's shield tank broken before...well, you know.

Alarms were sounding throughout my battlecruiser, the ventilator systems failed to clear smoke fast enough, and electricity arced from control panels. "This is it," I thought to myself, as I saw how little structural integrity remained--but wait, the armor repair team did it again! Time for another salvo. BAM! Gone was my armor, just a sliver of structure left; this really was it. No, wait! Another heroic success from the armor repair team, and yet another broadside into the target Drake at point-blank range. And then, confusion. Numbers on my command console froze; all indicators went red. After a few seconds' delay my console refreshed itself, and all systems were green--meaning rather than being in command of a mighty Gallente battlecruiser of the line with a crew of hundreds, I was now in command of a rather limited escape capsule, with no crew at all.

I selected a planet at random and entered the command to warp there, speed being more important than destination at this point; experience has taught me that you never know when an opponent will take a few moments from intense combat to see my frozen corpse floating peacefully in space. Relaxing slightly as my pod entered the relative safety of warp, I just had to ask: "Have we broken his tank?"

"Roger that," came the welcome reply, "His shields are gone and we're plowing through his armor". Good! My crew did not die in vain. Caldari battlecruisers tended to focus all their defensive measures on bolstering their shields, which meant that whereas my Gallente ship had lasted quite some time while taking armor damage, that Drake was already as good as dead. The three Tusker cruisers and our assault frigate soon destroyed the third battlecruiser.

With frustration I could only listen to the fight from afar. With my Myrmidon off the field, the enemy was able to start popping my mates' ships with enhanced alacrity. Perhaps even then we might have had the chance of another kill, but the pilot of our first kill rejoined the fray with a fresh battlecruiser and a fresh crew, then the pilot of our second kill returned to the scene--the Tusker fleet was still gamely carrying on--and he returned in a shiny Caldari Raven-class battleship. Without the entire DPS of our 5-man fleet, the Tuskers were unable to break the tank of the fourth Drake, and being well-tackled those who may have thought of living to fight another day found themselves rather heroically staying to the bitter end. The final battle report I heard was sent by Valgore Muerte from the con of his Jaguar, doomed but defiant to the end as two battlecruisers and a battleship closed on his position.

The Tusker fleet--a fleet of escape pods--sped away to dock in The Citadel lowsec. The Kinights Templar held the field, and we gritted our teeth to imagine them picking through the mangled wrecks of our ships and the frozen corpses of our crews to salvage whatever systems might still be serviceable. And yet our heads were held high and our eyes gleamed--outgunned, we had held up our end of the fight with distinction. "Gf"s were offered and received. If you're going to lose a fight, this was the way to do it.

Taking care of business

2010-03-02T05:01:00.000-08:00

Did you ever notice how when you go out looking for a fight, you're always in the wrong ship? You know--you're in a Myrmidon, and all you find are nano ships; or you're out in a Taranis, and all you find are battlecruisers; or you're out in an Incursus, and all you find are Ruptures. Well, that's not what happened today.

Today, several of us Tuskers threw together a pickup gang and went a'roaming, looking for trouble. And what better place to find trouble near home than Old Man Star? As we first warped into the system, things looked promising; there was a Brutix ratting at the top belt (some call it "bait"). Our light tackler--Suleiman Shouaa in an Imperial Navy Slicer--went in for the point. The Brutix was duly tackled, and then, as expected, things got complicated: first a second Brutix appeared, then a Guardian, and then another Guardian. Rather than warping to Shouaa, the remainder of the gang warped to a safespot out of directional scanner range; Shouaa used his superior speed to disengage and began flitting among safer observation points.

We ourselves have had remarkable success roaming in gangs with dual logistics support, so we knew those Guardians, warping in at about 50km from the Brutixes, were not to be taken lightly. Logistics ships, in case you don't already know, are high-tech cruisers that excel at remotely repairing the shields or armor of other ships. In effect, a target ship being remotely repaired by two logistics vessels tanks as though he could perma-run 6-8 armor repairers, requiring a high level of DPS to overcome. But over the next several minutes two things occurred. First, a couple of additional Tuskers reported for duty; and second, we came up with a plan.

Our gang by now consisted of your faithful correspondent in a Dominix-class battleship chock-full of drones and fit with energy neutralizers and remote armor repairers; Suleiman Shouaa in his Imperial Navy Slicer; Novantco, Pajama Sam, and Ronan Jacques in battlecruisers; Robert Mason in a stealth bomber; and Kopecky in a cherished Blackbird.

Our plan was simply to neutralize those two Guardians at the beginning of the fight. We had two ships, a Dominix and a Blackbird, either one of which would probably have led to the decision to engage this target gang; but combined, we worked out our plan with confidence. The key would be to fight on top of the Guardians rather than the battlecruisers--tricky, since only the bait Brutix would initially present himself. But we figured Shouaa's Imperial Navy Slicer would be fast enough to race from the Brutix fight to the Guardians' battle station almost 50 kilometers away, once they warped in to provide support. At that point, the remainder of our gang could warp to Shoua's position at our optimal ranges for an attack on the two logistics ships.

Shouaa went in for the tackle, along with one of our battlecruisers to make the threat a credible one. Sure enough, the second Brutix jumped into the fray, followed closely by first one, then the other Guardian. Our plan was working like clockwork. Shouaa sped toward the logistics ships and within seconds had tackled one of them. We warped into his position, and I landed about 8 kilometers from one of the Guardians. I locked it and began draining his capacitor with my three large energy neutralizers; the idea was that he would quickly have trouble activating his remote armor repairers, which otherwise would be helping keep his partner alive. Meanwhile, the rest of the fleet focused fire on the second Guardian. The captain of that unfortunate vessel was now in real trouble--with no local armor repair capability, he relied completely on his wingman for repairs--a wingman being taken rapidly out of the fight. At the same time, his battlecruiser contingent was struggling to get within range of the fight from their original position 50 kilometers away. And like an Olympian god, Kopecky in his Blackbird sat at a distance, jamming the targeting systems of all four ships.

But our adversaries had another card to play--a Dramiel arrived and began zipping around the battle, activating his weapons systems where they would do the most good while evading our attempts to disrupt his micro warp drive or catch him in a stasis web. Suleiman Shouaa advised that he was hurt, hurt bad. He and I coordinated with each other, and in a few moments he had approached to within 8 kilometers of my battleship; I activated all three of my remote armor repairers, and voila--his armor was as good as new.

By this time, our gang had demolished the first Guardian and was directing our weapons to the second. I continued draining his capacitor dry every few seconds, while other Tuskers began maneuvering to tackle the Dramiel and the two battlecruisers. The Dramiel captain made a timely and accurate assessment of the situation and did what Dramiels do best--he bugged out. The second Guardian exploded, and now the pair of Gallente battlecruisers came under the full focus of our seven-man gang. Minutes earlier, the Brutix pilots had been hoping for an attack, smug in the knowledge of the two logistics ships in their pocket. By now, they must have seen the writing on the wall. Tackled, jammed, neuted, and alone, the battlecruisers succumbed to a deluge of missiles, projectiles, drones, and rounds of hybrid ammo, one after the other.

And there we stood, a small fleet of seven Tusker war vessels, virtually unscathed. A few minutes were spent in combing through the debris for intact ship's systems and scooping drones into cargo holds. We basked a moment or two in the afterglow of the adrenaline pumping through our veins. And then we set a course for our next battle.

But you know what I was thinking? I was thinking how history repeats itself. I had just emerged victorious from a clash of small gangs, in command of a Dominix, the king of drone ships. My arsenal included heavy combat drones, sentry drones, speedy light combat drones, and ECM drones. But just as had happened in my first days as a pirate, throughout this intense battle I had neglected to deploy a single one.

I have seen the enemy...

2009-12-09T02:25:00.001-08:00

...and it is me.

It is possible to make a profit in piracy. I did it--easily--back when I was flying around in the old Jousting Junebug (my Incursus), and even as I branched out into T1 cruisers. Even flying some pricier T2 ships, I've had spells where a string of good kills that dropped good loot salted with some good ransoms kept me in the gravy.

But those days appear to be gone for now. Warping into the holiday season, I look over my recent losses and just shake my head. Two stealth bombers, a recon ship, a heavy assault ship, and an interceptor--my last five losses have all been T2 ships, and not cheaply fit, either. (My Incursus loss doesn't count, as that was lost in the course of a Tusker corporate tournament.)

Taking a few minutes to reflect on my losses, I asked myself, "Jolo" (I call myself by my first name at times like this), "What can you learn from these losses?" I then proceeded to answer myself: "Well, it appears I am incapable of learning. Everyone one of those five ships was lost needlessly, due to noob mistakes. You should have learned better long ago."

The first Nemesis was lost after a good fight wherein the Tuskers held their own. As I surveyed the field after the battle, I noticed an enemy stealth bomber salvaging some of the wrecks. I thought I'd just warp in at range and let loose with a couple of salvos, protecting the wrecks for our team. Unfortunately, his wingman showed up in a Rifter, at far enough range to warp to a wreck near my position and jump all over me. I'd forgotten an early lesson: Don't go for cheap kills when the enemy is capable and on the alert.

Next, I lost my Arazu. Actually, our Tusker fleet had just come out of a small-gang fight pretty poorly, but I'd managed to cloak up and save my ship. Then I saw a stealth bomber out away from the herd..."Jolo" (I can call myself that), "Let's pick him off!" I warped near a wreck in his vicinity, lit him up, and like totally pwned him. But before I could warp away to safety, or even move far enough away to cloak up, an interceptor, well, intercepted me. So I killed the Manticore, but so what? It cost me an Arazu, and I didn't even get any of the loot. Once again, I'd forgotten...er, the same lesson: Don't go for cheap kills when the enemy is capable and on the alert.

I'd been able to pick up an Ishtar for a good price from a corpmate some time ago, and eventually I was able to fit it out and pay the insurance premium. So, a few days ago, I took her out on her maiden cruise. As I approached my third jump gate, I saw a Curse in the vicinity...and just as I jumped, the Curse landed on the same gate. Then, upon reaching the other side of the gate, I found a Rapier waiting for me. At first, I did the right thing--I sat there under the protection of jump cloak and thought about my options. I decided to go back for the gate rather than trying to get out before the Rapier could lock me.

It didn't look good; the Rapier webbed me, as I thought he would, and the Curse jumped on in to join the party. I didn't think I would make it to the gate in time, though if I did, both ships had aggressed me and would be unable to follow me through. In a moment of panic, I made my mistake: I launched my sentry drones, hoping to take one of my attackers down with me, or maybe even drive one off. Almost immediately, I reassessed things and realized I could make the gate in time--the Curse was hurting me with his energy neutralizers, but I had dual cap boosters and was managing my reppers fine. So without having ordered the drones to engage the enemy,I gave the command for the drones to return to the bay and kept straining for the gate. (I didn't really expect the sentry drones to keep up, but with all the stasis webifying going on it was worth a try.)

And--I did make it back to the gate in time! Sadly, however, the gatekeepers judged I had recently been performing acts of aggression and denied me passage. I lasted but a little longer, but soon died. Although I had carefully not returned fire on my foes, for the short time my sentry drones were deployed, they had followed their programming and opened fire on a ship attacking me. I had broken the rule: Do not deploy drones when you don't want to aggress. And it was a costly lesson not to learn.

I lost my next stealth bomber after a glorious battle in which the Tuskers lost a Maller and a Myrmidon but killed a Caracal, a Myrmidon, and a Harbinger. As the other team's cavalry arrived, I took a few parting shots and warped to safety...or so I thought. As soon as I entered warp, I stopped paying attention for a few seconds; and only when it was too late did I realize I was not cloaked and being tackled by a Rifter. I'm still not sure whether I forgot to cloak entirely (unlikely, I think), cloaked but was decloaked by a wreck as I warped off, cloaked but was decloaked upon landing on top of the Rifter (I'd warped to a planet in line with my direction back at the battle), or been followed by the Rifter who decloaked me as he dropped out of warp. At any rate, in most of those scenarios had I been paying attention I could have cloaked and/or warped to a safer position. A real fundamental rule of combat is: Keep paying attention. Check and double-check.

And finally, what is perhaps my most embarrassing loss. Our gang had successfully killed a cruiser, destroyer, and frigate while some bigger targets fled. While sitting at a safe spot, I received intel that one of our targets was approaching a jump gate leading to highsec. I warped to the gate and found my target in a destroyer. I tackled him, and watched in amazement as his destroyer ripped my fragile interceptor apart. It was not until looking over the killmail later (I'm so ashamed to write this) that I realized he'd ripped nothing apart; I'd foolishly warped my interceptor to a set of sentry guns while classified a global criminal. Rookie pirate rule: You can't speed-tank sentry guns.

To recap:

Don't go for cheap kills when the enemy is capable and on the alert.
Keep paying attention.
Do not deploy drones when you don't want to aggress.
You can't speed-tank sentry guns.

These are the sort of rules meant to be learned while flying T1 frigates. And I thought I'd learned them. But to all of you smack-talkers out there: You were probably right. More than 1,700 kills notwithstanding, I fail--there's no arguing with facts.

As I skulk through lowsec, looking over my shoulder and salvaging other people's kills, a new dream begins burning in my soul: to master these fundamental lessons and start losing ships by neglecting more advanced rules. If I ever get the ISK to afford a new ship, that is...

Post the Raven? Nevermore

2009-11-24T17:50:00.000-08:00

Sometimes (though not as often as I might like) a good fight never gets posted to the killboards. And so it happened yesterday in two separate Tusker actions against Ravens.

Early in the day, I was roaming in an ad hoc Tusker gang when Suleiman Shouaa spied a Raven and a Loki in Hulmate. They actually fired on him as he undocked from the station! "These guys want to play. I'm going to try to draw them off the station," he reported. (Tuskers generally don't fight at stations or gates, as the sentry guns have a grudge against us and almost always choose to support the other side.)

So Suleiman flew his ship (I think it was an Arbitrator) to a planet while the rest of us--I in an Ishtar, Ronan Jacques in a Rapier, and new Tusker Ian Morrolan in an Ishkur--took position at the Hulmate gate in Onne. I should tell you that at this point all I was thinking was, "We're seriously trying to engage a Raven and a Loki? Dang, I'm going to lose my Ishtar." But of course, I wanted to seem cool and brave in front of my corp mates, so I went along.

For better or for worse, Suleiman managed to get a tackle on the Raven at a planet. The rest of us jumped in and sped to his aid. At first, the fight went well. The Raven's drones were hurting Suleiman, so we killed them; after that, we had no problem staying under the Raven's long-range guns.

And then the Loki showed up on our 360-degree scanners. "Get ready! Here comes the Loki. Primary the Loki when it arrives!" So we all got as ready as could be.

But the Loki didn't come. It disappeared from our scanners.

Turning my attention back to the Raven, I was happy to see his tank would not be a problem for us. With a little effort we had him out of shields. Should we ransom him? "Let's ransom him. Everyone stop shooting," I ordered. "Wait! I see a capsule...he's ejected! Stop shooting!" Suleiman interrupted. But still the Raven's hull was taking damage. Someone was still shooting at a ship we now considered our own. "Stop shooting! Get your drones off!" By the time everyone most assuredly did call in their drones and disengage their turrets, the mighty Caldari battleship has barely 50% structure left...just enough for the air machines to keep up with the leaks.

Now our problem was what a set of pilots specced for Amarr, Gallente, and Minmatar combat vessels should do with a Caldari workhorse. Ronan Jacques had to leave, so the rest of us opened up our black books and got busy. First, we confirmed that no fellow Tuskers we could get ahold of knew how to fly a Raven. Next we turned to the Tusker public channel--a dodgy sort of place populated by hopeful recruits, professional contacts, and intel-gathering opponents. It was with a sigh of relief we learned that Drummond, a pilot who was in the process of applying to our corp, was willing to help and able to sit at the con of a Raven.

So there we were, three pilots in small ships with global criminal timers, orbiting a prize ship at a celestial in the middle of Hulmate. Our savior Drummond was on his way but had about a dozen systems to navigate getting there. We began to look over our shoulder. In our eyes, every frigate was the scout for the Raven pilot's friends, every cruiser was the vanguard of a counter-attack. Nervously now and then one of us would ask Drummond for a status update. We counted our ISK (What bounty might be in the Raven's hold? With what faction modules might she be fitted?) and we counted pilots in local. Drummond was almost here.

The Loki showed up again on 360. A battlecruiser showed up on 360. Both ships stayed on 360. Local spiked. My heart pounded. "Hurry man! They're about to rain destruction and ruin on us all and take the Raven back!" Drummond docked up and left his ship in the hangar. Drummond undocked and warped our way. "Stop shooting the Raven; let's let it build up its shields a little now that Drummond will be flying her," I said. Suleiman was more helpful: "Stop targeting the Raven altogether, otherwise Drummond won't be able to board." Finally the Raven's transponder blipped and now Drummond's name was on the tag.

I warped our gang (now including a Raven) to a safe spot, imagining teeth nipping at my heels. We all did whatever pilots do to relax--had a smoke, sipped some coffee, or got a back rub from an exotic dancer. Still greedy at heart, we queried Drummond on the Raven, learning it was T2 fit but not for PVP, and that only cap boosters and ammo were found in the holds. Still, she was triple-rigged, and none of us announced his intention of turning down the loot split. Our criminal status notched down, the Raven's shields at full, we scouted her home to Hevrice. I began speccing for Caldari battleships (I already had the textbooks and manuals, just had never got around to peeling off the shrinkwrap) with the idea of fitting hull reppers on her later and saving us some ISK; in the meantime Suleiman fit some remote armor repairers and saved us a lot more. So that's why there's (temporarily) a refurbished Raven in my hangar.

The second story, I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear, is shorter. "There's a Raven at one of the belts in Old Man Star. Are any Tuskers nearby?" Issamailkin is an impatient and foolhardy Tusker but he does wrap himself in glory. As it turned out, there were no Tusker pilots nearby, but several of us were near Hevrice and announced our intention of fitting out proper ships with which to address a battleship and head his way. I organized a fleet and headed towards Old Man Star in a Blackbird.

Old Man Star is the Wild West of the Essence region. Mighty Gallente and Caldari fleets clash there often, and when they don't have each other to shoot at, they don't object to shooting at anything else with a warp drive and an airlock. Cocky pilots looking for a reputation prowl the first asteroid field around planet V picking fights. Gangs of pirates and vigilantes organize raids and traps. It is common to find oneself in a three- or four-way fight, with each side trying to figure out who to primary, who to smile at, when to loot, when to cut one's losses, and when to just worry about one's implants.

In the middle of all this was Issamailkin, sitting at the con of a destroyer and shadowing a Caldari battleship. "It looks like he's ratting. He just warped to another belt. How far away are you guys? This belt is out of scan range from everyone else in the system center." This worried me. Issamailkin has a tendency to rush in where angels fear to tread. Worse, the angels seem to like him for it. As a fleet commander, I've used Issamailkin as bait on many an occasion, and find it unnatural how he'll often annihilate an entire gang with his T1 cruiser before his backup can warp to his position from our hiding place. "I'm two jumps out! I'm approaching the Ladistier gate in Aeschee now!" I reported. Another Tusker was just one system behind me. I started muttering to myself..."Issa, be patient. You're in a destroyer and that's a battleship we're talking about. We're almost there. Steady, Issa, steady..." But to no avail.

"I'm going in for a point. Hurry up guys." I hadn't even landed in Ladistier yet.

On our way!" I confirmed, as I landed and immediately gave the command to warp to the Old Man Star gate.

"Point!" That's right, Issamailkin had tackled a battleship with his destroyer. "Oh, good, he's not hitting me at all. I'm under his guns." Based on past experience, I now feared not for Issa's safety but that the Raven would be dead before I could ninja the killmail. Of course, another part of me, based on a different past experience set, couldn't see how this would be possible. Nevertheless, I tried stalling him: "Maybe you could ransom him. Tell him you have a gang on its way." I was dropping out of warp at the Old Man Star gate.

Issamailkin liked the idea of a ransom. "How much should I ask?" he wondered. I think I suggested 50-75 million ISK, figuring the Raven was insured but maybe the pilot had implants. As I finally began warping to Issamailkin, he reported "He's going to pay. So don't shoot him if you get here in time." (That's right, he said "if" not "when.") My blackbird dropped out of warp 50 km from the action, and as fast as I could I began trying to jam the Raven.

"Is he still targeting you?" I asked. I wanted Issa to know I'd made it on scene and was Providing Combat Support.

"Yeah," was the response. "I just got him to pay me 120 million ISK. Let him go."

!!!

"Roger that" was all I could say as, seconds after engaging the Raven, I warped to a safe spot in space.

"Ka Jolo, do you want any of this ISK?" Issamailkin was being both hopeful and gracious.

"You're darned right I want some ISK. I'm a greedy pirate. But whatever you think is fair; I barely made it there in time to get one jam cycle in." It turns out Issamailkin is generous and gracious.

May there be many more days like yesterday, where I post not a single Raven killmail!

A trip down memory lane

2009-11-20T21:23:00.001-08:00

In your face, Wensley! That's right, another solo Rifter kill in my Incursus. Jolo's still got it!

Some of us Tuskers in T1 frigates and destroyers were chasing a former Tusker around Hevrice in his Rifter while keeping an eye on a menacing Thrasher also in system. We weren't having much luck, and in fact we never managed to engage either target. But as I warped to a random factional warfare outpost, apparently this Rifter pilot was warping to the same destination.

I landed a second or two before him, and had little trouble getting him locked down. At point-blank range I unleashed whatever fury my Incursus could muster, waiting to see what would develop. "Warp to Jolo! Warp to Jolo!" I let my gang in on what was going down, not wanting to deprive them of some excitement in their dull lives.

What developed was the Thrasher showed up on my overview, blinking an angry red. My damage display was also getting redder by the second. Certain I would be dead in moments, I calmly selected a destination to warp my capsule to. Hmm. The damage against my Incursus' armor was slowing, while the Rifter was literally falling apart before my eyes. "Primary the Thrasher!" I broadcast, with ever-growing hope I would be able to kill the Rifter before being killed in turn.

The Rifter finally went dead in space, leaving me with 30% of my armor left. I didn't stick around to recall my drone or scoop loot; there was still a chance I could save my ship if I bugged out fast--and lo and behold, I did. Ah, what a great feeling: a solo Rifter kill, and I saved my Incursus from the evil clutches of the Minmatar destroyer.

My smugness was dampened somewhat as it turns out the destroyer had been sitting 100km away the whole time, a detail I hadn't registered in the fog of battle. Seeing my backup arrive, he simply warped to safety. My mates arrived too late to ninja the Rifter kill, but they managed to tackle the pilot's capsule. Sheepish at having fled from an imaginary threat, I returned to the scene, scooped my Hobgoblin, and struck up a conversation with the Rifter pilot. He had some implants in his clone, so we let him go free in return for a modest consideration.

I love it that a simple T1 frigate fight still does it for me.

I mean, don't get me wrong: three-sided fights like the rolling skirmishes yesterday in Adirain and Aeschee--involving battleships, HAC's, logistics ships, and recons--really get one's adrenaline pumping. I hope for more and more good fights like that. But I'm glad my joie de vivre can come from a simple T1 frigate fight just as easily.

The Silent Service

2009-11-08T01:34:00.000-08:00

[Thank you, all my loyal readers who have sent me encouraging notes and donations of various sorts. Be assured I have not abandoned this blog!]

Unbeknown to many a hapless pilot in New Eden, there is a whole world of intrigue lurking in space, undetected by your ship's scanners. I'm speaking of the world of cloaked ships.

Just about any spaceship is able to equip a cloaking device. My "friend" uses a cloaking device on his Bestower, hoping thereby to escape gate camps when hauling a load through pirate-infested lowsec. In fact, many a hauler faced on jumping through a gate with a gang of pirates in heavily-tanked combat vessels has mastered this art: (1) Align toward the destination stargate or space station; (2) Immediately engage the microwarpdrive or afterburner; (3) Immediately engage the cloaking device. For a few precious moments, your ship is invulnerable to being locked by the enemy, even as you slowly gain speed approaching that needed to warp. But at any moment your cloaking device will shut off the microwarpdrive; as soon as that happens, (4) Disengage the cloaking device and issue the command to warp. Aligned and at speed, with any luck at all your hauler will be able to warp away before the pirates can lock and tackle.

But I digress. We can disregard any number of haulers in the universe cloaking for a few seconds to get away from gate camps. Similarly, we can set aside the smart miners and ratters that, at the first sign of a stranger in the solar system, warp to a safe spot and cloak for the duration.

You see, many a space pilot has died because he did not realize the apparently empty solar system he was traversing held invisible stalkers. Right now, as you read this, a scout for some pirate corporation could be approaching your ship, transmitting your location to his gang so they can warp in on top of you. Nowhere is safe--not a deadspace complex, not a "safe spot," not even a deep safe spot. There are many ways clever pilots use cloaking devices to their advantage (e.g. Stealth Bombers or Black Ops battleships), but I want to talk about just two of them. Both types will be using a special "covert ops" cloaking device, which cloaks their ship not only under impulse power but also during warp.

First is the Force Recon pilot. This pilot and his high-tech cruiser is able to hunt you down just as any other cruiser pilot might--only you don't see him coming. By the time a Force Recon ship shows up on your overview, chances are he's in range and has already issued the order to lock you as a target. You might see a Rupture at a nearby planet as he tries to resolve the exact asteroid belt you're mining, giving you time to call in your drones and warp to safety--but you'll probably not see a Pilgrim until he's within his weapons system's optimal range, ready to unleash a firestorm of destruction on you from his deadly drones. You may view your odds against that battlecruiser as favorable--only to pound your console in helpless desperation as a Falcon appears on your overview and jams you blind. You may count on your speed tank to dance around your adversaries--but not when a Rapier reaches out and touches you. You may count on your range to keep you safe from your foes--until an Arazu suddenly appears, tackling you from across the battlefield.

Force Recon ships are the ace up the sleeve of many a small gang. In many parts of New Eden, "Because of Falcon" is a colloquial expression meaning something like, "We had every advantage, in numbers, in firepower, and in support--but then it all crashed down upon us." Fortunately, in spite of their unique advantages and their shared ability to use covert ops cloaking devices, Force Recon ships are not particularly hardy vessels. A prepared pilot or small gang does have a shot at killing a Force Recon vessel when it appears--and losing a Force Recon ship hits hard in the wallet. Furthermore, covert ops cloaking devices have the weakness that they interfere with targeting systems. For a few seconds after they disengage their cloak (the more skilled the pilot, the shorter the delay), they are unable to target anything smaller than a Class 5 star. Use those precious seconds wisely, whether to make your escape or neutralize the new threat.

The second sort of invisible foe I want to discuss is the Covert Ops pilot. His Covert Ops frigate is, frankly, weak and puny. All it really has going for it is its speed, agility, and invisibility. Unfortunately, that's often all it needs. You may think your hauler is slipping through a system unnoticed, but a Covert Ops pilot may already be shadowing you. You may think your trap is well-laid, not realizing a Covert Ops pilot is scant kilometers away from your backup in the next system, reporting to your supposed prey the composition of your fleet and the identity of your pilots. You may think life is "business as usual," never suspecting that a Covert Ops ship is sitting 50km from your home station, recording names of your corporation's pilots, what sorts of ships they command, and what time of day they typically sortie--information of great interest to that corporation that just declared war on yours. The "eyes" of a well-organized combat gang are often a team of Covert Ops pilots.

Did I say all a Covert Ops frigate has going for it is speed, agility, and invisibility? I should have added "and the ability to find you anywhere in space." For Covert Ops ships are purpose-made to sport scan probe launchers that can pinpoint your exact location, whether you're in mid-warp, at a safe spot, exploring a deadspace complex, or regrouping 1,000 km. off a stargate. Many ship classes are capable of fitting scan probe launchers, of course, but at such a cost that they become good for little else (though watch out for certain Force Recon pilots); Covert Ops ships, with little purpose in the first place other than to observe and report, fill that role even more excellently when among the information they can report is the location of your safe spot.

What frequently happens is a Covert Ops pilot picks up your ship on his on-board scanner, and quickly realizes you are not at any known celestial body. He determines your range by limiting his scanner to various limits until he knows at which setting you can be detected and at what range you cannot be detected. He notes the general direction you are in in relation to his location or the location of known objects. Next, he launches a flight of combat scan probes (perhaps warping someplace out of range of your own scanner, so you won't see him as the launch of his probes briefly decloaks his ship). Within just a minute or two, any competent scanner will have the ability to warp directly to your location.

Now, if that was all there was to the matter, this would not be such a big deal; in fact, most pirates would welcome the sudden appearance of a Covert Ops vessel within range of their weapons. The problem is that there is all too often a gang that goes along with the Covert Ops pilot, and when they show up close enough to read your ship's ID number with the naked eye, why, they're generally prepared to lock you, tackle you, and have their way with you--were it not so, they would not choose to warp to you in the first place.

I hope this tale has given you something to think about. The next time you lay a trap, but nobody takes the bait...the next time your hauler, full of valuable cargo, just happens to be the one that gets ganked while a moment before your scout reported the gate was clear and the two other haulers you jumped through with escape unmolested...the next time you're tempted to warp to a "safe" spot and set your ship on autopilot while you grab a bite to eat--well, take another look at local and think invisible.

Location, location, location!

2009-08-19T16:13:00.000-07:00

In the cat-and-mouse game that is lowsec piracy, location is everything. Here's what that means, from a pirate's perspective:

Jump gates. Several elements are significant when fighting at jump gates. First, the presence of sentry guns, even at lowsec jump gates, determines the circumstances under which one might engage. We outlaws are at a disadvantage at jump gates, as anyone may freely fire at us with no penalty, while we ourselves will incur sentry gun fire if we initiate hostilities against a pilot who is not an outlaw. Gate-campers typically trust in their defenses to shield them from the combined power of their target and the sentry guns, but pirates in frigates are generally out of the fight.

All of my mates are outlaws; if one of us is attacked at a jump gate, the rest of us must let him sink or swim on his own. Even a fellow corp member in our gang who is in distress may not benefit from our back-up; were we to engage a ship that has attacked him, we are guilty of "assisting an outlaw" and the sentry guns open fire. This is why a law-abiding pilot at a jump gate may find himself utterly ignored by a menacing fleet of outlaws in light ships.

The second element to consider when fighting at a jump gate is the "cool down" period enforced by jump gate operators. Simply stated, no ship is cleared to jump through unless he has avoided all combat activity for at least 60 seconds. For the gate-camper, this may mean that one must be able to destroy the target before the target reaches jump range of the gate; otherwise, the target may simply approach the gate and jump through, while the attacker must cool down for 60 seconds, allowing the prey ample time to escape. For this reason savvy pirates will have a tackler on the other side of the gate. These mechanics encourage fast, agile ships; the attackers need ships that can quickly and lock onto their prey, while the supposed victim needs a ship that can quickly align and enter warp before being tackled.

There are several ways to defeat gate camps in lowsec, particularly the ill-prepared ones. Most effective is a cloaking device: simply give the order to align to your next destination, then immediately activate your cloak; when aligned, deactivate the cloaking device and engage your warp engines. This makes it difficult for the hostile ships to lock their target in time. Another useful technique is to make use of warp core stabilizers; campers can only tackle you, then, if their combined warp disruption capability is more than your warp core strength. Very fast ships may find it easy to simply speed out of tackle range before warping off, while moderately agile ships (especially ones with some significant tank) might opt to make best speed back to the gate and return from whence they came.

In spite of these obstacles to lucrative PVP at jump gates, gate-camping and fights of opportunity at jump gates remain popular. The reason for this is that ships at gates are simply vulnerable. To go from one system to another, most ships have to approach and jump through a jump gate. Canny lowsec survivors that are aware of the pilots in local and move from safe spot to safe spot just can't avoid passing through these choke points if they wish to leave the system. Add to this the extra vulnerability of outlaws, and one can understand why much anti-pirate and pirate-on-pirate action takes place at jump gates.

Stations. Certain pilots seem to specialize in fighting within docking range of space stations. This combat style requires patience and the ability to capitalize on one's opponent's mistakes. Space stations share several elements with jump gates, in that pilots may escape the fight even if tackled, there is a 60-second cool-down period to enter a space station, ships can't leave a station without passing through the undock area, and sentry guns are standing by. On the other hand, when a ship docks up it is truly safe, with no worries of what lies on the other side of a gate. Further, either party in a space station fight may have a stable of ships just inside from which to select when re-emerging from one's hangar, and often repair facilities await inside.

Fights at space stations are sometimes characterized by the term "docking games." Heavily tanked ships are content to take their chances by attacking any ship that undocks, knowing if their target has teeth they can live to fight another day as long as they can tank the return fire and sentry gun damage just long enough to outlast the cool-down timer. As ships engage one another outside a space station, it is common to see one or the other docking and re-docking to repair, change ships, or deny the other a victory.

Pilots adept at this sort of combat are alert for opportunities to maneuver their opponent outside of docking range, especially when a space station has a relatively small docking range. They may ram their target to force it away from the station (a tactic known as "bumping"), or fly well outside of docking range themselves to draw their eager foe away as well. Once the target is well clear of the dock, its impulse engines can be stasified while the attacker shifts his attack into high gear.

Take advantage of the temporary invulnerability a space station affords immediately after undocking; if you find yourself camped, remember that your foes can't touch you until that protection expires, or until you activate any module or change course. You can return to the space station immediately if you desire, but do it quickly before you can be bumped away. The best way to escape such ambushes is to have an "undock safe" already prepared: a point immediately in front of the space station's undock point, and far enough away you may warp to it. Since you leave the space station at speed, and your destination is straight ahead, you'll enter warp almost immediately even if your ship is large and clumsy.

Celestial objects. Certain heavenly bodies, such as stars, planets, moons, and known asteroid belts, are pre-programmed in every ship's navigation computer. Because every pirate out there will be able to warp directly to such objects, and because pilots are on their own in lowsec once they leave the relative safety of jump gates and space stations with their sentry guns, you are at your most vulnerable when you are at a celestial object.

Many foolhardy pilots brave the dangers and go to lowsec asteroid belts, whether to mine ores thought to be more profitable than those available in highsec, or to fight no-name pirates ("rats") that lurk nearby. Pirates are well aware of this, and the first places they scan when hunting are asteroid belts. You are warned. I would go so far as to say that if you are ratting or mining at a belt, you should just assume that any other pilot who shows up in local frequencies is probably on his way to attack you at that very moment. If your attention wanders for just a moment at just the wrong time, the first sign of danger that may penetrate the fog of your negligent brain is his red-flashing icon on your computer's overview; you have but seconds to warp away--and perhaps not enough seconds to align and engage your warp engines before his sensor-boosted targeting systems have you locked.

Two types of pilots are found at asteroid belts, really. First are pilots so inexperienced they have no idea what danger they are in; second are pilots looking for--and ready for--a fight. Pirates hope you're the former, but are typically prepared for you to be the latter. Simply by checking your employment history I have a pretty good idea which category you're in, and if you're inexperienced enough I have no problem trying to kill your ship outright no matter what you're flying, or at the very least holding you down while backup arrives. If, on the other hand, I think you're looking for a fight, I have to evaluate our relative ship capabilities and backup potential. Are you bait? If I know you're bait, and engage anyway, will you know that I know you're bait? If so, will you run away, figuring I must also be just the tip of the iceburg that is my fleet, or will you stay, thinking your trap is sufficient to the challenge? Suffice it to say that plenty of combat goes on at asteroid belts, one way or another.

One interesting feature of combat at asteroid belts is--get ready for this--the presence of asteroids. These can be helpful or unhelpful. If your attacker is in an interceptor that is moving fast enough to nullify your weapons, try to get him to run into an asteroid; he'll come to a screeching halt, and for a few precious moments your drones, missiles, and guns can pound away. On the other hand, nothing is more agonizing than trying to warp out, only to find your ship corralled by an asteroid or two.

Pilots with more experience, but without enough time in the local system to have acquired a set of safe spots, will frequently mitigate these dangers by simply never going to an asteroid belt at 0 kilometers. As they maneuver from point to point to scan for targets or threats or to pursue prey or evade pursuit, they may warp to the local sun, planets, or moons. This remains dangerous, as an opponent can pinpoint their location at 5 degrees and often determine at exactly which heavenly body you are located, and warp themselves to that same body. This in turn is often complicated by everyone's ability to warp at any range from 0-100 kilometers. Nevertheless, what with fast interceptors and multiple fleet members warping in at a series of ranges, it is common for fleets to end up engaging one another at celestial bodies.

Deadspace. Many pilots work for agents who assign them missions that take them to deadspace pockets in lowsec systems. There are also previously undiscovered asteroid belts, sites of archeological interest, criminal bases, and other uncharted points of interest. These areas are much safer than celestial objects, as pirates don't have their coordinates in their navigation systems and so often must glare with frustration at a potential target they can pick up on their sensors but cannot approach. Just remember, "safer" doesn't mean "safe."

A significant number of pirates are adept at the use of combat scanner probes; these probes are remotely piloted and, with time, can provide their user with your exact location, a set of coordinates to which they can warp. Frequently, pirates work in teams with one ship fit for probing and at least one other ship ready to press the attack. This is a lucrative specialization, as many "mission runners" or "explorers" depend on the remoteness of their efforts for survival. Such pilots therefore are often fit with expensive specialized modules, and are considered real prizes by the pirates who hunt them.

One interesting feature of certain deadspace pockets (especially those accessed through acceleration gates) is natural phenomena that disrupt microwarp drives. Mission-runners are typically expecting this and are prepared, fitted with afterburners rather than microwarpdrives; but frequently an attacker is focused on fighting in "normal" space and is gimped in deadspace by having a microwarp drive rather than an afterburner. This makes pirates in ships that rely on their speed for their efficacy, such as interceptors and nano-ships, more vulnerable than they would like.

There is no need to panic in the presence of probers. Before they can get an accurate fix on your location, they must get at least four of their probes within a few a.u. of you. Shorten the range on your on-board directional scanner, make sure combat scanner probes (including Sisters combat scanner probes) show up there, and stay alert. Check your scanner every 30-60 seconds; if you do see a probe, start checking even more frequently. If you see more than two probes within about 4 a.u., get out, even if it jeopardizes your mission.

Safe spots. The final category might well be termed, "anyplace else." A safe spot is typically created at a random spot in space. Some are "safer" than others, when factoring in drive-by sightings, range from celestial objects, etc. The only way for a pirate to pinpoint your ship's location (necessary if he is to attack you) is through the use of combat scanner probes, so the same caveats apply as for deadspace pockets (though microwarpdrives work just fine at safe spots).

Some people, I'm sorry to say, feel entirely too safe at safe spots. They warp to a safe spot and then leave the bridge unattended while they spend time with crew or family members, or even take a nap. Meanwhile, they're being probed, and eventually killed--sometimes alerted by onboard alarms reporting they're already targeted, sometimes not alerted at all until they find their escape capsule floating in space.

I've killed ships and looted their wrecks at each of these locations. I'm kinda ashamed to admit it, but I've been killed and plundered at each of these locations as well--in fact, I've lost ships at "safe" spots more than once.

Welcome to lowsec, but remember: one place is not the same as the others.

Fighting fair

2009-08-03T12:24:00.000-07:00

Oft do I hear the lament, "Nobody fights fair anymore." Well of course not!

People seem to have the idea that "a fair fight" consists of two equally-matched opponents risking it all in a thrilling space battle. But if one were to stop and consider for a few moments what "equally-matched" could possibly mean, it becomes clear that there is no such thing as a fair fight. Consider this short list of factors that contribute to one's ability to win a fight:

Skills (in broad terms, skills affect speed, DPS, EHP, agility, and the modules one may fit; in more narrow terms, skills affect speed, the damage capability of the turrets one may fit, the range of those turrets, the rate of fire of those turrets, the tracking of those turrets, the damage capability of one's drones, the number of drones, the range of the drones, the speed of the drones, the hp of the drones; they affect the actual HP of one's ship, the resists to various damage types one has, one's scan resolution, one's manuverability; they affect the size of one's turrets and the tech levels of one's modules). In other words, fighting completely fair has to start at the beginning of a pod pilot's training.
Ship and modules. Two equally-skilled pilots may make different choices as to ship (e.g. Incursus or Tristan) or modules (e.g. web or tracking disruptor). Even ships with roughly the same fitting could actually have modules with different meta levels. Further, two ships fit identically could still load different ammo. So fighting fair has to take into account one's fitting bay.
Numbers. More is better. This is easily controlled, unless you don't find it easy deciding which members of your gang don't get to get in on the killmail.
Pilot experience. At what range to fight? Traveling at what speed? Which modules to activate, and when? Which ammo type to load? Which drones to deploy? Shoot the ship, or take out her drones first? Fly into that asteroid field, or steer clear? Should I use up my own cap to suck up theirs? Good answers to these questions come from native intelligence and experience, and an intimate knowledge of the other pilot's ship, modules, experience, and personality doesn't hurt, either.

Now, tell me if you can how to balance these factors to end up with a truly fair fight? Bah, there's no such thing as a completely fair fight. Furthermore, it is foolish to want a fair fight. In the history of combat, any good commander is looking for an edge, whether it comes from numbers, armament, terrain, intelligence, politics, logistics, whatever. The people who complain about a battle being unfair tend to be the losers.

On the other hand...

I do actually believe that the combat we engage in is fair. Let's back things up a little.

As a pilot, I am free to choose which skills to train, which ships to spend my money on, and how to fit that ship. Sure, I can't have it all, but the information is available to me to help me understand the trade-offs. No other pilot in the game makes these decisions for me.
As a pilot, I am free to roam lawless space's asteroid belts, or stay huddled in my hangar. I get to decide whether to undock, and where to go and what to do if I so choose. The information is available to me to assess the risk of any activity: system security levels, recent kills, pilots in space--all are publically available information. In the system where I am--in the place where my ship is vulnerable--I have further intelligence on every other pilot: their security status, their employment history, and their tenure as a pilot.
As a human being, I get to choose whether to live a solitary existence, or whether to build relationships with others. Society with others can be a powerful deterrant, and having friends who are willing to risk themselves for my sake can make all the difference in whether I win or lose a battle. If I do have such friends, I get to make the decision whether to fly with or without them.
Finally, in many instances I get to decide whether or not to engage. The judicious use of coverts ops cloaking devices, warp core stabilizers, safe spots, and speed cover a multitude of combat vulnerabilities once one has made the decision to share space with combat-ready vessels of all types.

If I know that my ship could be destroyed within seconds of undocking, what do I mean by claiming "Unfair!" when it happens? If I know that some pilots don't honor their word, yet I agree to a duel anyway, how can I claim it isn't fair when I get blobbed? Have they somehow exploited the laws of physics or broken some civil law? If I myself seek to win fights by countering my foes' advantages with advantages of my own, how is it fair to prohibit them from doing the same?

The basis for fairness in New Eden is free will (I get to choose how to prepare myself and my vessel), full disclosure (I have access to information that helps me assess risks), and actual rules (everyone knows that anyone may attack anyone in any system of any security status).

No fair fights in New Eden, you say? "All is fair in love and war," says I.

Isht-YARR!

2009-06-04T17:58:00.000-07:00

Way back almost two years ago, when I first set out for the life of a lowsec belt pirate, I dreamed of roaming the space lanes at the console of an Ishtar-class Heavy Assault Ship. It was considered the wtf solo pwnmobile of its day. Feeling alone in the universe, I determined to work my way up into one of the most feared combat vessels available, and the Ishtar was a stand-out. Based on the Vexor's cruiser-sized hull, the Ishtar is relatively agile and manuverable. It's design centers on drones, and it has both the drone bay and drone communications bandwidth to field more than one set of heavy combat drones or even sentry drones. And so I began patiently accumulating the skills to fly Ishtars, starting from the bottom and working up.

After more than a year of tedious learning, I was poised to see my dream come true. I had laid a fine foundation of support skills, and was looking at the final stretch of learning: high-tech heavy combat drones and sentry drones--an arcane and complex tangle of physics, electronics, space traffic control, specifications, fuel computations, mechanics, and tactics. It was at about this time that, in the face of new discoveries in physics and a mass of class-action suits, microwarpdrive manufacturers brought an end to the golden age of high-speed combat. The Ishtar, until then one of the poster-boys of nano-combat, fell from grace.

Hearing the lamentations of Ishtar pilots across New Eden, I re-evaluated my path, and did not learn the final skills needed to master an Ishtar. I completed my regime to fly Gallente battlecruisers instead, and specced for Recon ships and Heavy Interdictors. Mastering these ship classes gave me the ability to pilot some notorious ships: the Myrmidon, a beast of a battlecruiser; for the first time, my fights lasted longer than a few seconds; the Arazu, one of the better ships for solo hunting when wants to pick ones fights; and the Phobos, my first ship with a real tank, allowing me to tackle anything while easily soaking up damage from sentry guns. Heck, I even went back and took the courses needed to fly Assault Ships well. It turns out the same scientific and legal issues that knocked the nano-Ishtar down a few notches elevated the Ishkur-class Assault Ships to dizzying heights.

I had my share of fun with my new toys as I acquired them, one-by-one. I remember perma-tanking a Drake I tackled with my Ishkur, waiting patiently while comms contacted potential backup ships to come and finish him off. A pesky Myrmidon slipped through my fingers once, and I jumped into my Phobos to try again; the Phobos did the trick and my gang got that Myrmidon kill. I roamed far and wide in my Arazu, and time after time I would appear on my victim's overview two or three scant kilometers away, spewing drones and death. My Myrmidon gave me opportunities to engage multiple foes single-handedly, and the flexible drone selection broadened my pool of targets.

Oh yes, I had my fun. But the fly in the ointment for me was the fact that none of them were the mythical Ishtar I had dreamed about. The Ishkur was an excellent ship, but not suitable for engaging many of the targets that presented themselves to me: I could kill most other frigates (some interceptors would manage to escape), many cruisers (I still had to watch out for well-flown drone boats), and even some battlecruisers. The Myrmidon was also a good all-arounder, but a bit slower than I'm used to flying, and I had to watch out for small gangs. The Arazu gave me confidence over any T1 cruiser I might find, but was very vulnerable if my target had backup. And while I've never lost a Phobos in battle, and it is just the ship needed when the target has warp core stabilizers fitted, it is strictly a niche ship--I use it only in gangs, and only rarely, because its DPS is, well, its DPS isn't.

The bad thing for me was that these ships were expensive. I'm a pirate, and I get in a lot of combat. Sure, the Phobos has been a one-time expense for me, and I can afford to lose my share of Ishkurs. But each loss of a Myrmidon (well-rigged) or Arazu hit me hard in the pocketbook. From a cost-benefit perspective, I grew cool toward such ships, and found myself flying Vexors and Thoraxes along with my Ishkurs. In other words, I was selecting ships primarily because they were cheap, and letting juicy targets go unmolested. That hurt.

By the time I finished achieving competence in each of those four ship classes, I had noted sporadic reports coming in that the Ishtar was still a formidable PVP ship, whether solo or in gangs. This picture did not emerge immediately, as more pilots could not agree on how to fit their Ishtars. Some continued to shield-tank their Ishtars and fit them for speed; others fit double armor repairers and swore by their tanking ability; yet others fit heavy armor plating and rigged them for survivability. Eventually concluding that the Ishtar remained a flexible and deadly option, I put the final skills needed back on my schedule and forewent replacing my latest big-ticket ships.

I formed a plan to try each "flavor" of Ishtar to get a feel for their relative pros and cons. The so-called nano-Ishtar (a shadow of its former self) does retain a respectable speed, and is able to run under the guns of ships such as battleships that sport heavy weapons. The double-repper Ishtar doesn't run under guns so much as absorb their damage, making it fairly impervious to most single opponents. But I decided to start with the plate buffer Ishtar, which can take a real pounding before calling it a day.

I started out slow. Spooked by heavy losses in Myrmidons and Arazus, I kept the Ishtar in my hangar, and brought it out when I would be in a Tusker gang and my DPS and tanking ability were both issues. I didn't really start to actually roam in an Ishtar until May 15, and even then it's taken me a long time to get a feel for the ship. Many of my early fights were fights I would have won in my Thorax or even my Incursus. I'd make foolish decisions regarding range and drone deployment: I'd warp in 30 kilometers away from the target and deploy sentry drones, unable to help tackle and often without landing any shots. Several brave Tusker pilots went down in flames as I experimented. But I learn.

At this point my confidence in the Ishtar is growing by leaps and bounds; I find myself cautioning myself not to become over-confident, as my Ishtar faces each new battle situation and comes out on top. The Ishtar's DPS is good, but not stellar; my current configuration can dish out up to about 480 DPS, compared with my gank Thorax's 575 (both my Taranis and my Ishkur do about 210). The EHP on my plate-buffered Ishtar is also good--over 62k, compared to over 70k on my dual-repped Phobos or almost 46k on my blaster Myrmidon. Next, this flavor of Ishtar is speedy enough, with boosted speeds of over 1100 meters per second, about the same as that Thorax and beating the 900 that Myrmidon can do. Finally, the Ishtar has flexibility in deploying drones. If I'm fighting something fast or small (or both), out go the light drones. If it's big and heavily tanked, a full flight of heavy drones do their thing. If it's big and can outrun the heavy drones, or if there are multiple targets not right on top of one another, I can deploy five sentry drones and hit targets out to about 100km.

The thing is, this Ishtar is the whole package; while not really shining in any one area, it does well in all. More than once I flew my Ishtar into a trap. Not only was I able to warp away once the trap was sprung, but I've also been able to kill the bait first. What I like about the Ishtar is it seems to be a forgiving ship; I can make a few mistakes, take too long to figure something out, and still be fine.

For example, a few days ago I was ganking a destroyer when a Hurricane dropped in and I started taking heavy fire; my shields evaporated, and he was making steady inroads into my armor buffer. I finished off the destroyer, then dropped heavy drones on the 'Cane as I opened the range to get out of his optimal. This worked well for a few minutes, and I knocked him down to about 25% armor. Then he stopped taking damage, and after another couple of minutes I noticed he was actually regenerating his shields. Why did my drones stop hitting him? I checked, and saw that my drones were about a hundred kilometers away; I was having no problems keeping up with the battlecruiser, buy my Ogre II's were huffing and puffing to no avail. So I abandoned them, dropped sentries, and went in close to web him so he couldn't get away from them in time. It worked--I still had 15% of my buffer left when he popped. I spent my Global Criminal Countdown looting wrecks and scooping drones over a 200+ kilometer battlefield.

Over the past three weeks since I started flying almost exclusively in my Ishtar, I've done quite well. In terms of solo kills, I've killed 5 frigates, 3 destroyers, 2 industrials, 1 covert ops, 3 assault ships, 9 cruisers, and 4 battlecruisers; in fact, I managed to lock 5 of the capsules in time to kill them as well, and extracted a ransom from a Retriever mining in lowsec. On top of that, in small gangs I helped score another 2 frigate kills, 2 more destroyers, 2 assault ships, 4 cruisers, 1 recon ship, 1 battlecruiser, 2 battleships, and 4 more pods. We let a battleship go for ISK, and we let a battlecruiser pilot keep his implants in exchange for his ship.

50 kills and 3 ransoms--but that's just one side of the story. To really understand my growing infatuation with the Ishtar, we have to ask the question, "How many Ishtars did I lose in the process?"

Zero.

I'm still flying my first Ishtar. That's right, I'm getting some nice kills, my hangar is filling up with T2 and faction loot, and my biggest worry is when will I have to fetch more cap boosters.

Ishtar? Isht-YARR!

To shoot or not to shoot...

2009-04-20T07:51:00.001-07:00

To shoot or not to shoot--that is often the question of the moment in New Eden. Take just now as an example.

Feeling in the mood for something a little different, I hopped in a Phobos and went to an isolated point in space, far out of range of the directional scanner of any ship near a charted celestial object. I had my mind set on a little gate-camping. A friend of mine, quite law-abiding as far as the authorities are concerned, flew his covert ops ship into the next system, a high-security system where I myself would have been shot at on sight. My pal cloaked a couple of hundred kilometers off the Hevrice gate in Raneilles, a perfect vantage point for watching ships approach the gate.

Our plan was for him to alert me when an interesting target would approach the Hevrice gate, so that I could warp to the other side of the gate and attack the ship before it could warp away. In the meantime, ships entering and leaving the system would notice nothing unusual. As new ships entered Raneilles from other highsec jump gates, my comrade ran their pilots' names through public databases to assist us in identifying targets.

It wasn't long before an industrial ship--a hauler--showed up on the overview in highsec. This was the first time we asked ourselves, "To shoot or not to shoot?" In the event, we let the hauler pass; he was known to us as a local who typically hauled such cargo as garbage or refugees. Since my planned attack on the gate was almost sure to result in punitive sentry gun fire, we determined this ship was not worth it.

And so it went for half an hour; ship after ship passed through the Raneilles-Hevrice jump gate, but none was deemed a worthy target. Some frigates were judged too fast for me to tackle; most were local haulers, though, and we were waiting for more lucrative targets.

And lo, one appeared! Our first warning was a new pilot showing up on the local comms net in Raneilles; my mate ran his name, and found he was a member of a corporation neither of us was familiar with--in other words, not a local short-run hauler. But was he bringing a cargohold full of bounty into low-security space, or merely conducting business at one of the space stations in Raneilles? This question was answered as the pilot's ship itself--a Mammoth--showed up on my mate's directional scanner, approaching the Hevrice gate. Again, we asked ourselves, "To shoot or not to shoot?"

This time I sprang into action. My Phobos was already set to warp to the jump gate, and all I had to do was give the go order; within seconds, we were in warp to the gate. As we came out of warp, the Mammoth was already aligning to warp away, but unfortunately for him he was within range of my heavy interdictor's warp disruption field generator. With the aid of a high-tech sensor booster, I had him locked and had his warp drives disrupted within seconds. Two sentry guns anchored near the stargate opened fire on me as I closed range with my target, but again my heavy interdictor was able to control the damage quite easily. It was but the work of a moment to blast the industrial ship beyond repair.

My search of the wreckage was rewarded by a couple of high-tech ship modules...and a couple of POS modules worth millions of ISK! I jettisoned some of my capacitor boosters to make room in my hold, before realizing that my Phobos would never have enough room for such massive structures. My mate offered to come for the loot in an industrial of his own, and I gave the order to return to deep space.

When my mate returned to the scene of the crime, the question now was, "To loot or not to loot." For there in space sat a Cyclone-class battlecruiser, piloted by none other than the pilot of the Mammoth I had destroyed. My mate approached the wreck, counting on the Cyclone's reluctance to incur sentry fire for protection, but decided not to loot; taking the loot from the other pilot's wreck would strip him of any protection from the sentry guns, and the Cyclone would be free to destroy his ship. Now the question was to me--"To shoot or not to shoot." Well violence may not be the answer, but it is the question--and for me the answer was, "Yes!"

I warped to my mate--scant meters from the menacing Cyclone, and certain of a hostile reception by the sentry guns, which still had me as a target. I took a few token shots at the Cyclone, but really had no taste for a fight against two sentry guns and a battlecruiser. Instead, I jettisoned a cargo container into space and transferred the treasures from the wreckage directly into that "jetcan." Doing so made me a legal target to the Cyclone--not that it made any difference after I'd just destroyed his hauler and was already under sentry fire.

As I hovered, anxiously managing my armor repairers and feeding my capacitor booster, my mate transferred the loot from my jetcan to his hold. In the eyes of the law, he was now stealing from me, not the Cyclone pilot, and so he had nothing to fear. With our financial security assured, he warped off to a space station. I also then gave the order to warp to deep space, halfway expecting to find the Cyclone had me scrammed; but my warp engines engaged and I was off to the space station to join my pal.

At first, the space station would not grant me permission to dock; I was still showing on their computers as an active combatant. As I waited for their computers to update themselves, the station's own sentry guns inflicted further damage on my Phobos--but the Phobos can take it. Soon I was granted permission to dock, but as I did so the Cyclone arrived on scene.

My mate and I examined our booty and made some repairs to damages taken during the attack, and pondered that Cyclone orbiting the space station. I didn't want to face him down with the sentry guns still hungry for my blood, but if we waited a bit my global criminal status would expire and we might be able to get something going.... We made our preparations.

As my global criminal status expired, I was at the helm of my Myrmidon, while my mate conned his heavily-armored Maller. My partner undocked first, and immediately locked the Cyclone, just to get its attention. To shoot or not to shoot? Nope; our target was neutral to my buddy, and we didn't want the sentry guns against us. And then the Cyclone pilot answered wrong to the question, "To shoot or not to shoot"--or rather, one of his drones did. Incredibly, my partner reported taking fire from the Cyclone's drones--bringing the sentry guns into the fight on our side! My gangmate scrammed the Cyclone, double-webbed him, and opened fire with five small pulse lasers all fitted with close-range crystals.

I undocked as fast as I could. Good! The Cyclone was already flashing red on my overview, a response to his unprovoked attack on an innocent pilot (remember, in the eyes of the law I and not my friend had stolen from the Cyclone's former ship). I gave the order to lock the Cyclone--and it disappeared from my overview!

My first thought was that he'd docked up. I've been in a lot of fights at the docking bays of space stations, and that's a common occurrence. I was disappointed, because I didn't think he should have had enough time for the space station's computers to realize he was no longer an active combatant. And then I noticed a new wreck on my overview, and realized that my mate--in a low-tier low-tech cruiser--had already (with the assistance of sentry guns) destroyed the Minmatar battlecruiser! We scooped yet more loot into our holds, and docked up, satisfied with our day's work.

"To shoot or not to shoot?" The answer can mean death and destruction; it can mean fame and riches. Choose wisely.

Arazu: Gallente Force Recon vessel

2009-04-04T00:29:00.000-07:00

A lost another Arazu today, and it got me to thinking.

I really like the idea of these Gallente Force Recon ships. A cruiser-sized covert ops vessel, the Arazu is able to move, observe, and warp undetected. With my skill in Gallente recon ships, I am able to move while cloaked at about the same speed as uncloaked. I can sit at a safe spot with no danger of being probed out. I can warp to an asteroid belt or station or gate to take a closer look at ships detected by my on-board scanner--and even if I had a global criminal timer, the sentry guns would leave me alone.

There are two ways I like to fit my Arazus. First, I like a blaster Arazu, a stealthy cruiser that is also tough enough to take a respectable amount of damage. With heavy blasters, a trio of damage enhancing ship modifications, and a mixed bag of drones I am able to dish out a capable DPS of over 400, while an innovative passive shield tank provides me with almost 30,000 EHP. I enjoy roaming solo in my blaster Arazu; my victims rarely know their doom is upon them until I suddenly decloak within just a few thousand meters of their ship. With the Arazu's built-in bonuses to warp disruption technology, I am able to disable my target's warp engines and microwarp drives from about 20 kilometers; my own afterburner allows me to outmaneuver my thusly disabled prey.

Imagine yourself in a T1 cruiser--your favorite model--as you're killing a battleship rat at an asteroid belt or scanning for targets from a planet. Suddenly, my Arazu appears on your overview. Your speed drops as your microwarpdrive disengages. You throw at me everything you've got, but it's not enough. We fire broadside after broadside at one another, but my ship is tougher and the numbers work in my favor. Within a minute or two, you're dead. That's a blaster Arazu.

When I fly with a gang, however, I go with a force-multiplying configuration. This flavor of Arazu is more conventionally armor-tanked. The distinguishing characteristic of this Arazu is a set of three remote sensor dampening modules, each of which reduces a target's targeting range by over 40%. If I activate all three "damps" on a single target, his targeting range is drastically reduced. Another feature of this setup is a faction warp scrambler with which I can shut down both warp engines and microwarpdrives from almost 24 kilometers. I typically fill my drone bay with fast and light Warrior II scout drones.

Now picture yourself as a dreaded Falcon pilot. Your mates are under attack by a gang of Tuskers, and you warp in at 100 kilometers. You drop your cloak and proceed to target the Tuskers, jamming several of the most dangerous ships. Suddenly, my Arazu appears on your overview, maybe 80 kilometers away. As a flight of light drones speed towards you, you lose your lock on your other targets; with your sensors dampened, the main fight is taking place outside your targeting range. Your choices are to speed closer to the fight (and risk your expensive ship in the process) or warp away and try to warp back in at a closer vantage point. But the truth is often that by the time either option works out, the fight is over and Tuskers hold the field.

Or how about this--imagine you're an interceptor pilot, and you've just tackled a cruiser orbiting a planet. You're prepared for a long battle of attrition, or perhaps you have mates a couple of jumps away who are coming to help resolve the situation. Suddenly my Arazu uncloaks near your target. As you carefully ensure you are out of web range but still close enough to keep your prey tackled, a flight of Warrior II's start chasing you. No problem--your speed provides a measure of protection from even those speedy little bastards. But wait--what's this? Although still 20 kilometers from the Arazu, your microwarpdrive has deactivated. Those drones have caught you and start poudning on you relentlessly--and you can't take much of a pounding. Adding insult to injury, you lose your targets, as your already puny targeting range has been more than halved. In a panic, you align your ship to a celestial object, and hope that your natural high unassisted speed is enough to get you out of tackle range before those drones finish what they've started, even as my microwarpdrive-assisted Arazu is making top speed in your direction.

It would appear that life is good for an Arazu pilot, wouldn't it? And so it is. Unfortunately, there are two small flies in this ointment. The first is that it takes several seconds after disengaging her cloaking device for an Arazu's targeting systems to cycle through their start-up routines. An interceptor or even a cruiser with his wits about him should be able to warp out before being tackled, and a sharp-eyed Falcon may have time to target and jam an Arazu before he himself is targeted and damped.

But the second issue is even more serious; I've simply not found Arazus to be generally cost-effective. I can gank any number of T1 cruisers, mining barges, and industrial ships solo, and with my Tusker comrades even prevail over some very nice combat ships--and still end up with an pwned bottom line from losing just one 150M-ISK dampening Arazu or 175M-ISK blaster Arazu.

A lost another Arazu today, and it got me to thinking. As much as I enjoy flying 'em, I won't be going right out today and replacing the one I lost.

Yo ho!

2009-01-29T19:01:00.001-08:00

One fleet consists of a Harbinger, Ishtar, and Falcon. An Ishkur, Maller, Vexor, Thorax, and Incursus compose the second fleet. Which would you bet on?

Last night, five intrepid Tuskers teamed up to hunt together. At first I in my Ishkur, Gilad Ayn in his Vexor, and Cap'n Tickles in his Incursus went to Agoze to escort kor anon back to Hevrice in an unfit Devoter; after an uneventful trip, kor anon and I struck a deal and I received his Devoter in exchange for one fully-fit Maller and the promise of two more in the future. So kor anon hopped into his new Maller and off we went.

I assigned the scout role to kor anon, based on the awe with which I regard his ability to get fights. In his Maller of Doom (tm) he's a force to be reckoned with. In fact, on his second jump he was attacked at the gate by a Lachesis! As much as I would have loved to have helped my mate, I respect the laws of CONCORD regarding assisting outlaws, and so the rest of the gant hung back and let kor anon take solo credit for a Lachesis kill. With his T1, tier 1 cruiser. The Maller of Doom (tm). Next kor anon started trying to pinpoint the location of some ships his onboard scanner was picking up--and a Taranis attacked him, again under the watchful protection of sentry guns. Once again our "scout" scored a nice solo kill.

Not getting a good fix on his bogeys, kor anon piloted his Maller to an asteroid belt, as if out for a pleasant spell of ratting in pirate-infested space . . . and it worked. Another Lachesis attacked! Our gang promptly jumped into the system, learning as we rushed to our comrade's aid (and hoping to get there before he hogged another killmail) that a Rapier had joined in the fray against us. We dropped out of warp near enough, but the Rapier had picked us up on his scanner and was already getting out; he left his mate to his own devices, and most of us managed to get a point on the Lachesis before it popped. This was shaping up to be a good hunt!

Tusker Aldour Larrt joined our gang in an Incursus at about this time, and we larked about for a bit in Ouelletta. An outlaw Jaguar and a respectable Rupture wanted to play undock games at one of the space stations there; we tried engaging them, during the course of which Cap'n Tickles lost his Incursus, but they would just dock before we could kill them. However, just before we moved on the Rupture engaged kor anon's Maller (!) as he undocked from a station. My crew jumped into a Myrmidon kept ready in the station, and we undocked to assist; the station's sentry guns opened fire on me as my drones sped to the Rupture. At this point the Jaguar arrived on the scene and opened fire on me as well. It didn't take long for him to cease all aggressive actions, however, and duck back into the space station as other members of our gang dropped out of warp. The Rupture went out in a burst of flame as gases vented through super-heated breaches in its hull.

I cooled my heels in the space station in Ouelletta, mindful of an all-points bulletin issued on me for assisting an outlaw (never mind he was attacked by that Rupture first). Cap'n Tickles went to pick up a Thorax to continue hunting in. The rest of the gang looped up around Stacmon. When my Global Criminal status expired, I re-embarked on my Ishkur and sped in their direction; we met up in Alperaute, as they were returning towards Verge Vendor.

Upon jumping into Agoze, kor anon scanned out a Harbinger. He made a couple of futile attempts to tackle the Harbinger, only to find the Amarr battlecruiser always one step ahead. Falling back to a tried-and-true ploy, kor anon flew his Maller to a nearby asteroid belt, as though out for a bit of ratting in pirate-infested space. It worked! The Harbinger jumped to point-blank range, and kor anon had him tackled. Our gang was speeding to the fight when kor anon reported a Falcon on scan.

A Falcon! Pilots from one end of New Eden to the other curse the day that class was ever developed--unless, of course, one of their mates is flying one. Falcons are able to uncloak on a battlefield and jam multiple opponents, causing them to lose lock on their targets, from the safety of a hundred kilometers away or more. I begin to get a bad feeling about this fight. Nevertheless, with two drone boats we had a chance to finish off the Harbinger; quickly Gilad Ayn in his Vexor and I in my Ishkur and Cap'n Tickles in his Thorax unleased our drones against the hapless battlecruiser. We were in time! kor anon was more or less perma-jammed, but the rest of us got points on the Harby and watched as his shields and armor dropped, painfully slowly. At this point an Ishtar dropped right on top of us.

An Ishtar! A heavy assault ship of some repute, Ishtars are deadly damage-dealers. As a rookie pilot, it was my dream to some day fly an Ishtar, seeing it as the epitome of solo piracy. However, just as I was ready to spec for advanced Gallente cruisers, vulnerabilities discovered in systems popular with high-speed setups such as the Ishtar was known for led to the grounding of entire classes of ships. I began to spec for heavy interdictors and recon ships instead of heavy assault ships. Now that those vulnerabilities have been "fixed" (no ship will ever fight at the speeds they once did), Ishtar pilots are developing new strategies (or falling back on old ones). I was just thinking to myself it may be worth getting my Ishtar papers after all. Anyway, when this Ishtar dropped on us I lost my nerve and gave the order for the fleet to get out.

Cheeky as ever, kor anon countermanded me, insisting we could do this. I was filled with shame as I reminded myself of Tusker values, and confirmed that we would stay and face the Harbinger, Falcon, and Ishtar to the bitter end. The Harbinger was in structure by this point; I reaffirmed him as primary, steeling myself for the worse and activating my afterburners as the Ishtar targeted me. With one salvo he sliced through my shields and bit into my armor. Aldour Larrt in his Incursus engaged his microwarpdrive and sped toward the Falcon; miraculously, the Falcon pilot panicked and warped away. I activated my armor repairer, willing the Harbinger to hurry up and die already; after what seemed way too long, he did.

I was relieved not to be taking further damage from the Ishtar as I shifted my blasters and drones in his direction, settling into a fast, tight orbit around him. Gilad Ayn reported he was taking heavy damage from the Ishtar, but it was clear to all of us this Ishtar was not prepared to take damage. Webbed multiple times, his warp drives scrammed several times over, it was do-or-die for him as well. Even the return of the Falcon, and the subsequent loss of target lock for a couple of our gang members, could not save the fearsome heavy assault ship. As the Ishtar lost structural integrity and imploded, the Falcon pilot ran for his life.

Casualties? Pilots began reporting their status in fleet comms. Our light fleet of three cruisers, one assault frigate, and one frigate had killed a battlecruiser and heavy assault ship at the cost of--nothing, actually. We all survived! With glee we picked through the drifting wreckage of our enemies' ships, shouting out each time we recovered intact a piece of high-tech gear; we even found a pricey faction module. We rendezvoused at a random point of remote space, jamming the fleet frequencies as we recounted our victories of the day and dreamed of what we would do with the booty.

Yo ho!

Excuses, excuses

2009-01-20T21:03:00.001-08:00

I've written before about the polite offering of a simple "gf." Lately, I've come to appreciate that simple courtesy even more. You may assume that, if a foe does not transmit "gf" in a public channel after a fight, the most common alternative might be some smacktalk. And yet, while smack is directed my way on a regular basis (even from people whose ships I have killed), the most common alternative to a respectful "gf" is in fact an excuse.

Quite commonly the pilot claims to not have been paying attention: "Napping is bad." "That's what I get for watching TV." "Was AFK." "Eating and EVE don't mix." Normally, for my part I just leave it at "gf," but here I'll tell you what I'm thinking. Do they really think they would have beat me if they'd been right there, ready to go? Would I have attacked them with something I didn't think would beat them under most circumstances--certainly including a savvy and prepared pilot? I don't think so. And anyway, I don't buy this excuse much. It is certainly plausible for a pilot to park at a safespot while taking a quick break of some sort or while his attention is directed elsewhere; I've done it myself (and said "gf" when I've returned to a dead or dying ship). But when I am immediately locked back (competent PVP pilots don't have this done automatically), when their drones immediately deploy, or when their backup arrives while the fight is still on, I call "Shenanigans!" They were there, they were fighting, they were pwned.

"Lag =P" is another one I hear quite a bit. Plausible--I've died due to lag myself now and again. But often I experienced the same lag spike as my opponent during the fight, and still won. Or how about this excuse: "I would have had you except I was targeting an asteroid/the container/the beacon." That's right, a person so stupid as to fight a harmless object while I'm opening a can of whoopass on their sorry ship is coincidentally so uber they would beat me if, by some quirk of fate, they managed to target me? I don't think so. That's right up there with the pilots who discount my victory over them by claiming, "You're lucky I wasn't in [some other ship they can fly]." Why? Do they think I would have attacked their Nyx with my Thorax? And what does it matter? The fact is--now give me my due--I hunted them down and killed them in the ship they were actually flying. Come on, that's got to be worth something!

These excuses--excuses of any kind, even true ones--are lame. Win or lose, just say, "gf."

In the meantime, I will continue my search for a bona fide victory: An engagement with an opponent who is ready for me, confident in his ship's abilities, and one I can still win. Do such pilots exist?

100 minutes of Tusker glory

2009-01-06T03:53:00.000-08:00

Over a period of just 100 minutes, seven Tusker pilots engaged at least ten enemy vessels during a series of skirmishes in Aeschee and Hevrice. With no losses, the Tusker pilots downed eight of the enemy and recovered loot worth over 238 million ISK on the Verge Vendor market and the contract market in Jita.

The intrepid Tusker pilots:
Bfoster
Joc
Ka Jolo
Ronan Jacques
Rylack
Toady11
Who8MyLunch

The kills:
Megathron
Enyo
Harbinger
Rupture
Ferox
Rupture
Thorax
Vexor

It should be noted that the pilots of one of the Ruptures and the Thorax, Muaddibsep and StupidFast, are members of the evil Dark Sun Collective, a corporation which has recently declared war on the brave Tuskers. Further, an additional Ishkur and an Ishtar were engaged during the course of this battle but fled the field in disgrace.

I did not have enough ISK in my coffers to pay out the loot splits immediately, so a friendly hauler took them to Jita try to set up contracts (8 faction items) or to place on the local market via sell orders. Sadly, he was suicide-ganked in Jita, losing the faction items.

Tuskers for teh win!

OOC: I'm It

2008-12-17T05:39:00.000-08:00

I have been double-tagged, tagged by Flashfresh then Wensley in the space of 15 minutes. Here are the rules of this game of tag:

Link to the original tagger(s), and list these rules on your blog.
Share 7 facts about myself in the post - some random, some weird.
Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names and the links to their blogs.
Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs and/or Twitter.

And so, 7 random and/or weird things about your humble blogger.

I was my troop's first-ever Eagle Scout.
After securing the offer of a full scholarship for a 5-year degree in Nuclear Physics I answered the call to ministry and have been a foreign missionary for over 22 years now.
Back in the early 1980's I hiked to the highest peak in Poland--from Czekoslovakia.
I am conversational in 4 languages and can "read" (an academic technical term) 5 others.
In the old days, I would be dead several times over. I have had appendicitus, maybe hepatitus (after two of my brothers were diagnosed with the disease, Mom didn't bother taking me in when I displayed similar symptoms), Guillan-Barre Syndrome, and gallbladder surgery.
I enjoy SCUBA diving.
I chose the nom de guerre Ka Jolo as a nod to Filipino pirates plying the Sulu Sea. Jolo is the name of a city in the area, and "Ka" is an honorrific which can stand for the Filipino words for "brother" or "comrade."

It seems most of the blogs I usually follow have already been tagged. I perused CrazyKinux's Player Blogroll to add to a couple I found who have so far evaded us I hereby tag the following bloggers:

25081197, aka 250
Wreck Count by Rakkar Than
Yarr Yum
The Bastards' VB Sarge
Blackheart
Cussbeard's A Fistful of ISK
Kitochi Oritsu's Surviving Within the Void

Not it!

A vision becoming reality

2008-12-01T03:59:00.001-08:00

I just have to say that, as I watch the Tuskers coming together as a corp, I continue to be impressed and my expectations are being exceeded.

The Tuskers are by-and-large an unskilled crew. We have only two or three pilots who can skillfully pilot battleships or battlecruisers. Most of our bread-and-butter combat is done at the helm of T1 frigates and cruisers, assault frigates, and interceptors. But just look at the glory with which we are cloaking ourselves!

Last week a small 6-man Tusker gang consisting of an Incursus, a Griffin, a Vexor, a Retribution, a Myrmidon, and a Drake pounced on an Ishkur, Megathron, and Kronos. That's 2 T1 battlecruisers, a T1 cruiser, an assault frigate, and two T1 frigates vs. an assault frigate, a battleship, and a Marauder (a T2 battleship). The result: the Tusker gang completely wiped out the heavier gang, at the loss of a single frigate.

Then, the next day, the same heavy gang came back looking for more! This time Tuskers in a Helios (covert ops frigate), a Retribution (assault frigate), a Vexor (T1 cruiser), a Hurricane (T1 battlecruiser), two Myrmidons (T1 battlecruisers), and a Scorpion (T1 battleship) obliterated a Thorax (T1 cruiser), a Hurricane (T1 battlecruiser), a Hyperion (T1 battleship), and a Kronos (T2 battleship)--while losing not a single ship.

These guys were not playing around. Their ships were well fit, sporting several faction modules adding up to hundreds of millions of ISK. Kronos-class Marauders are menacing powerhouses of destruction. Yet the pilots were inexperienced in combat, leaving themselves vulnerable to our more experienced fleet in lesser but well-chosen vessels. In those two engagements, Tusker pilots in relatively inexpensive ships destroyed faction-fitted spaceships worth about 2.48 billion ISK--at the cost of a single 3.22 million ISK Incursus.

What do these engagements tell me about my fellow Tuskers? First, they're not afraid of a good fight. I can guarantee you that going into that first engagement, each Tusker had already accepted the chance he would be killed, yet was willing to lose his ship for the opportunity to score a Kronos kill. Second, there are now enough Tuskers that when a juicy target-of-opportunity such as these shows up, we can throw together a decent gang and get the job done. Third, I'd better keep my combat skills honed if I want to command the respect of such pilots.

That way be administrivia

2008-11-20T03:12:00.000-08:00

I've been going through a bit of a dry spell this past week or so. Not that I've been shut out completely--I still manage to get in on a nice kill here or there. It's just that space has seemed strangely empty whenever I undock and go a'roaming.

Recently factors including intellectual copyright issues and some megacorporate corruption scandals have resulted in major differences in the ways standard spaceship hulls operate in space. Many cruiser-sized ships have grossly reduced maximum speeds, and warp scramblers can now be set to impact the microwarpdrive spectrum as well as the more usual warp drive frequencies. The manufacturers of stasis webifiers, on the other hand, have been forced to make changes in their products that result in less effective webbers.

In studying reports of what this all means, I picked up on widespread optimism that assault frigates would now be viable combat ships. I'd sort of by-passed assault frigate command in my studies, but it only took a few days of focused attention before I was certified to operate Gallente assault ships, and I took delivery of a couple of Ishkur-class beauties, commonly accepted as top-of-the-line when it comes to assault ships. I pimped them out, hit the air lock, and...well, not much, to tell the truth. It's that dry spell. I've found the odd fight, winning some and losing some, but haven't had much of a chance to really put one of my Ishkurs to a proper test. Time will tell.

I'll tell you what I have had plenty of--paperwork. Being at the helm of a pirate corporation has brought on all kinds of duties and responsibilities I didn't sufficiently consider before embarking on that course. It seems, believe it or not, that your typical scurvy pirate likes nothing better than for someone to hold his hand and tell him what to do. What subspace frequency should I have open? Where shall I wait? What ship shall I fly? Do you like my picture of a pirate? Can I shoot that ship? Managing all the "official" communications between twenty-odd motly corsairs just takes time. And while I take that time, they get to go roaming and shooting and yarring, racking up kill records I can only glare at in envy.

Oh, don't get me wrong--the Tuskers are turning out to be a fine pack of killers, and I'm proud to be counted among them. In fact, our reputation is now drawing pirates from across 20 regions to our headquarters, applying for membership. I am firm in the vision I hold for this corporation, and so I find myself, sitting at my desk, reading answers to essay questions, poring over old CONCORD kill reports, running background checks, trying to make sense out of ledgers, and scouring the infowebs for morsels of rumor that will inform my decision to admit or reject. What I'm looking for are long-term mates; I don't want us to draw close to one another, as soldiers do when they fight side by side, only to lose mates to the law, to bankruptcy, or to competing interests.

While a new recruit pops an assault frigate, I write to the administrator of our corporate killboard. While another member hunts down a battlecruiser, I answer EVE-mail from a young pirate wanting advice. While a Tusker runs to the aid of a mate being chased by an interceptor and a cruiser, I explain to an applicant why I need access to all his most personal financial details. While another Tusker hauls down another cruiser from the markets, I explain the rules for communicating ship fitouts for fellow Tuskers to peruse. It gets a bloke to thinking about delegation, and whom to tap. Hmm...

First fight in a Myrmidon

2008-11-06T15:02:00.001-08:00

Recently I felt myself skilled enough, and skilled in enough systems, to make it worth my while to purchase, fit, and fight in a Myrmidon, a Gallente battlecruiser class of some repute. And just as money burns a hole in my pocket, once fit that Myrmidon didn't take long to break my resolve to risk her only in gangs....But first, I need to tell you about Furb Killer.

I first ran into Furb Killer back in early May. I tackled him in an Ishkur in Ouelletta, and killed his ship with my Thorax. I somehow conveyed the impression that I got lucky, and he asked for a rematch, a 1-vs.-1, which I accepted; again, I beat his Ishkur with my Thorax, by an even wider margin this time--though I let off before completely destroying his assault frigate, leaving it with deep structural damage. We had a nice conversation about the (lack of any) role of assault ships in PvP combat. He seemed keen enough, and I invited him to join the Ministry of Destruction.

Months went by, and didn't see Furb Killer around much. Then, earlier this week, he appeared again in Ouelletta. Tusker Novantco attacked his Coercer in a Taranis, and went down hard; Furb Killer's Coercer was custom-designed to take out fast frigates. Novantco lost his capsule as well, and Furb Killer commented on that--"Normally I don't do it but this was just too easy." He repeated that again later..."This was just too easy."

Well, Tusker Who8MyLunch and I decided to avenge our mate. When I made a pass at his Coercer in my Thorax, Furb Killer docked up and came out again in a Thorax of his own. I left Ouelletta local, and sat on the gate in Loes while Who8MyLunch baited him in his Rupture. Eventually Who8MyLunch and Furb Killer ended up at the same asteroid belt, and I jumped into Ouelletta and rushed to join the fray. I barely had enough time to target Furb Killer and get off a few rounds before he went down. He didn't take it well (as evidenced by his comments on our corporate kill report). In response to my "gf," he responded, "you that desperate." And in response to Who8MyLunch's "gf," he responded, "dang if you think that is a gf you really got low." Then, digging deep into the past, Furb Killer threw this zinger: "If you ever wonder again if i want to join your corp, the answer is no." I guess that finally ended my suspense after six months!

Since then, Furb Killer has continued to sit himself at an asteroid belt in Ouelletta in his Coercer, but now when I show up in my Thorax he rushes to a space station and emerges in a Myrmidon. The only ship in my arsenal that has a chance against Furb Killer in his Myrmidon is my own Myrmidon, which brings me to today's story.

Yesterday Furb Killer's tempted another Tusker pilot to attack his Coercer, and managed to kill a Rifter flown by Wesley. After passing through Ouelletta not long after and seeing Furb Killer jump into his Myrmidon, I saw Who8MyLunch log into corp comms, and gave him an update on the situation. We agreed to go for Furb Killer once again. As Who8MyLunch sped towards Ouelletta in his Minmatar Stabber-class cruiser, I undocked for the first time in my Myrmidon, primed and loaded. Our plan was for Who8MyLunch to jump into Ouelletta, jump Furb Killer's Coercer, then wait at the asteroid belt for our target to appear on 360 in his Myrmidon, at which point I would warp to the Ouelletta gate in mine. As soon as Who8MyLunch got a lock on Furb Killer, I was to jump into the system and join them with all speed.

Who8MyLunch did jump into Ouelletta, and Furb Killer was waiting in his Coercer. As Who8MyLunch sped towards the asteroid belt, Furb Killer headed towards a space station. And then...we waited. Who8MyLunch shifted from belt to belt. Ships in local spiked at around 9, then dropped to 3 or 4. Finally, Furb Killer's Myrmidon showed up on local and I warped to the Ouelletta gate. Furb Killer played coy; he went to a different belt than where Who8MyLunch was waiting. Who8MyLunch warped to a third belt. Local remained low. My tension grew as I sat on the Ouelletta gate, hoping no roaming gang would come by to complicate things. Finally, impatient, Who8MyLunch warped to Furb Killer directly, Furb Killer didn't flee, and the fight was on.

I jumped into Ouelletta immediately and warped directly to Who8MyLunch, who was going down fast. His plan was to warp away as soon as I managed to disrupt Furb Killer's warp drive, but he waited too long and lost his ship, then as his command and control systems got stuck in a loop he lost his capsule as well. I landed right on top of Furb Killer, locked him, deployed my drones, and engaged my weapons systems. It was to be a Myrmidon-on-Myrmidon fight, and I was game.

Things were going well for me at first. I fielded a mixed bag of high-tech drones, two heavies, two mediums, and a light, while Furb Killer threw five high-tech mediums back at me. Then--what--wait--Furb Killer slipped out of range while I wasn't paying attention! Belatedly, I activated my microwarpdrive, but it was too late; our quarry escaped. I recalled my drones and warped to a safe spot in space to assess the situation. This time, in response to my "gf," Furb Killer responded with a "gf" of his own. There was only one other pilot in the system, and he'd been there all along; he was probably resting at a space station. It occurred to me that Furb Killer had probably not had the time to comb the wreckage of Who8MyLunch's Stabber for surviving modules, so I warped back to the asteroid belt to salvage what I could. I scooped up Who8MyLunch's corpse, then saw that quite a few valuable modules had survived the destruction of his ship. Then, as I prepared to eject some capacitor booster charges from my cargo to make room for the more valuable pieces of wreckage, Furb Killer appeared just a few thousand meters away, ready to finish the job.

Grimly, I locked my target, sallied my drones, and opened fire with my battery of heavy blasters. As my target moved away, this time I engaged my microwarpdrive and kept after him; I was gratified to see I had a slight speed advantage, and continued to close range--slowly--while doing some damage in my blasters' falloff range. I noticed one of my drones was down, and realized he was trying to gimp my DPS by shooting at my drones; as I inspected my drones to see if any needed to be recalled, a second fell. Dang! I'd already lost one medium and one heavy drone! No matter, I was on it now, and as a third drone began to take damage, I recalled it to my drone bay, breaking the lock Furb Killer had on it, then sent it right back again into the fight.

Whoah! I was almost out of energy! I activated my capacitor booster, and was gratified to see my dials register a fresh infusion of juice before any of my modules shut down. At this point, I was feeling pretty good about the fight; I was hurting my target more than he was hurting me, I was keeping him well in range, and I could see light at the end of the tunnel. I decided to push my blasters a bit beyond spec, planning to let them overheat a bit in exchange for even more DPS. That was when a Vagabond appeared, less than 20 kilometers away. Dang, dang, dang! My heart sank, and I began to consider the possibility that this would not, after all, end up well for me.

There were now two pilots in local, and my overview flagged them as threats due to their affiliations. Probably they were members of some competing pirate corporation. I quickly glanced at their public records; the Vagabond pilot was a member of the Ministry of Destruction, while the other pilot--ship yet unknown--was part of some other pirate outfit. I made the decision to try to get out of I could. But first, more overview information clawed its way to the forefront of my brain, and I realized my guns were well and truly overheated and in danger of shutting down; quickly I issued the order to stop overheating them. The Vagabond...I recalled my drones, suffering from my unfamiliarity with those heavy drones--they seemed to take forever getting back home. I launched a flight of medium ECM drones, vowing to simply abandon my heavy drones next time rather than waiting for them to return. The ECM drones I sent after the Vagabond, which still did not have me locked.

I delayed trying to warp out for a while more. I was almost doing structural damage to my Myrmidon target, and the Vagabond didn't have a lock on me. Some of my modules shut off as I ran out of cap--my cap booster wasn't automatically reactivating itself when it reloaded; I reactivated it manually, and then reactivated my modules, glad my target hadn't escaped' he was at point-blank range by this time. My DPS was slower now, without any drones on target, and slowly the damage my foe was inflicting on me began to catch up to what I'd dealt him. I had him well into structure, but he finished off my armor and began to damage my own structure. I overheated my armor repair systems, then stopped before my mind wandered and I caused irreparable harm.

What was I doing? I was risking the most expensive ship in my stable against superior odds! Some voice in the back of my head told me I wasn't thinking rationally, and with the momentum now in my enemy's court (we were both at 50% structure) I decided once and for all to try to get out. I issued the command to warp to a safe spot in space, fully expecting to be informed that my warp drives were being disrupted--but that message never appeared. Slowly, ponderously, my ship aligned toward my destination, and my impulse speed built up to throw me into warp. At the last minute I recalled my ECM drones, but I waited until too late (my drones are not my ship; better to lose them than recall them prematurely) and left them behind, along with a severely damaged Myrmidon and a Vagabond that never did get a lock on me.

My first fight in a Myrmidon ended inconclusively; I lost my wingman, Who8MyLunch, and I lost a medium drone, a heavy drone, and a full flight of ECM drones; I burned through some expensive ammo and capacitor charges; and I failed to get a kill. On the other hand, my ship emerged in one piece after engaging a battlecruiser and a Vagabond. To me, it felt like a good fight. "Gf," I broadcast, but didn't receive one back from Furb Killer.

Was it a good fight? Let me review my criteria. On one side of the equation, I'd fought against two respected combat ships, and I felt like the decisions I made during the fight mattered. I was in real danger, and felt I could easily have lost my ship. I learned a lot about fighting in my Myrmidon. So 4 points on that side of the equation. On the other side, in my inexperience I made some foolish mistakes (losing combat drones when I didn't have to, failing to engage my MWD, not keeping a close eye on cap, not keeping a close eye on local), and my foe did not seem to share my appreciation for the encounter--2 points against. So yeah, it scores as a good fight.

Later, the Vagabond pilot claimed he wanted to help me kill Furb Killer. That would have been nice to know earlier--if it was true; since he never announced his intentions (and I'm not sure I would have believed him even if he was sincere), I feel I made the right decisions in jamming him and running away.

It cost me over 1.8 million ISK to repair my damaged vessel and overheated modules. Adding up my losses and weighing them against experience gained, my conclusion is I got good value for my money.

So you think you can fly

2008-11-04T22:02:00.000-08:00

As CEO of the Tuskers, one of my responsibilities is to keep an eye out for promising recruits. Occasionally I come across pilots such as the one who claimed:

I've been playing EvE on and off since 04' and settled down in 06'...

I currently have around 18 million S.P.
Spread out mostly in Tanking and Damage dealing (like my background says, I'm a soldier pure and simple)

I have Leadership V and warfare Link Spec IV
Been Running My LvL 4's in my Command Ship (Sleipnir)
Will train more leadership skills if asked to

I'm currently training Electronic Warfare skills while not wanting to be a dedicated EW pilot.

I'm also trained in Covert Ops and Espionage Behind Enemy line. In PVE terms that means that I did Exploration Deep in hostile low sec and 0.0: Covert Op IV ; Cloaking IV ; Cyno Field Theory (in progress- can be trained on demand)
PS: I'm not a spy: I will not execute an order to join a corp with intent on deception, that kind of behavior happens on the battle field.

I have a few Logistics Skills: Freighter Pilot (never used)
; Anchoring skills; and will train combat utility skills: Shield/armor transfer Modules (while not being a dedicated Combat Utility Pilot)

I'm a Highly skilled Mission Runner
(Running LvL 4's for Minmatar Republic for a while now)
My main weapons are Turrets and Autocannons. I only fly Minmatar ships and excel at both Shield and Armor tanking (depending on the ship).

Impressive! Training since '04, now has 18 million sp mostly in tanking and DPS, can fly covert ops, command ships, and freighters, also has good skills in leadership and anchoring. Here's another pilot, this one with 15,700,000 skillpoints:

What I offer:
Experienced 0.0 pilot in the following areas
PVP, Hulk Mining, POS warfare,Big fleet Small fleet Ops., and other areas
I can fly small hac,intercept,snipe bs,EW frig,T2 fit on most mods,and also a hulk for any mining(not a miner)but we all have to make the coin.
What I seek:
Bounty Rats ,0.0 with sov,(no npc space,or Drone Regions))small gang pvp,will do Big fleet as well ,I believe in Defense and offense.

That's right, a 15.7 million sp pilot who flies interceptors, EW frigates, HACs, and battleships--all with mostly T2 modules! And on top of that, he flies a Hulk! Or check out this guy:

I want to join a big alliance that has daily battles and need for good pvp pilots on a daily basis to take on the odd's and come up good.
I will Kill Anything and anyone. all i am looking for is some direction.
Can Fly full Tech II gallente BS V
HAC
Frig V in caldari and gallente
I have a fettish with faction/officer fit navy megas and Neut Domi's atm.
6 mill in guunery
4.5 mill in drones

This guy actually has more skillpoints than I do in gunnery and drones (though at 18m sp, less overall), and flies full T2 battleships at a skill level of 5, has Frigate 5 in two races, and flies HACs. That's actually pretty focused.

One more example:

19m char with majority of it in missiles and gunnery
Own and fly up to HAC and BS working up to Command (will have it in about 3 week)
Also able to fly up to Minmitar Freighter (Just need to buy the book)
16m char with near max probing skills and decent mining skills
Own and fly Logistics, Cov ops and BS
Able to fly up to Hulk and Recon

This team's "support" pilot boasts of flying 5 classes of ships that I don't even fly yet, with more skillspoints than he!

As a point of reference, I myself have been flying for just over one year and have about 18.5 million skillpoints. From the day I mustered out of the Caldari military, I've focused my training on PvP. Though I learned to fly a Crow well, the entire rest of my training has prepared me to fly combat ships designed by the Gallente consortiums: the Incursus, the Taranis, the Thorax, and as of this week, the Myrmidon, a battlecruiser of some repute. How is it, Friend, that I'm not flying fully T2 battleships and HACs and command ships, like some of those pilots above?

When I say I can command these ships, I mean I command them. My blasters are the appropriate size for the ship I'm flying, spewing out about as much destruction as it is possible for a blaster to spew. Mine are high-tech blasters with the most advanced ammunition, and I've studied hard to lock faster and maximize range, tracking, rate of fire, and damage potential. Beyond that, I know my ship systems well enough to push my blasters beyond spec, causing them to overheat, and at times to malfunction, but in the vast majority of situations merely giving me yet another slight edge over a worthy foe. My drones are high-tech whether they be small, medium, or large. Not content with off-the-shelf drone AI routines, I've learned to modify the drone hardware and reprogram them for speed, range, accuracy, damage, and defensive capability.

When I'm hunting for targets, I'm not cowed by an unfamiliar pilot in a good combat vessel with more experience than I have. The experience I do have tells me that the typical pilot has squandered his time as a pilot, or perhaps merely not focused on combat skills as I have. In a large proportion of my fights, I honestly expect my T2 Hammerhead drones to outperform his T2 Hammerhead drones, my T2 microwarpdrive to push me faster than his microwarpdrive pushes him, and my T2 blasters to deal more damage than his T2 blasters. Heck, I'm never surprised when my opponent can't even field T2 drones, guns, or modules at all. I don't really blame people for not focusing as I have; I recognize the need for miners, haulers, manufacturers, inventors, explorers, or what have you. But when it comes to a fight, the dedicated combat pilot has an edge.

Yet when I say I can command ships, I do not at all mean I have pushed them to the limits of which they are capable. I am aware of advances I could make in nearly all my systems. I am learned in armor tanking, with a merely adequate understanding of shields--and yet I know there are situations in which it would be better for my Myrmidon to rely on shields rather than armor. I have mastered blasters to the neglect of projectile weapons or even railguns--and yet I value the flexibility I would have could I fit my ships for longer range or with less cap-hungry weapons systems. Finally, in many cases I've made the decision that "superior" is good enough, and I have not pursued my studies beyond level 4 to the level 5 of training.

My own conclusion is that those pilots above focused more on spaceship command than on spaceship efficiency. They've concentrated on being specced to fly a ship, whereas I've concentrated on being able to excel in a ship. And I'm not going to say they did it wrong; no doubt they in their HACs or recon ships or command ships or battleships would defeat me in my Thorax. Not surprisingly, an adequate pilot in a superior ship can beat a superior pilot in a lesser ship. But I really want to engage some of them and test my Myrmidon or Taranis, and I really believe I'd have a chance against at least one pilot's battleship with my Thorax.

In the end, I'd probably take any of these pilots if they would demonstrate that they have the Tusker approach to PvP (if they could show me the solo kills, including taking out pilots in superior ships). It's not like I haven't provided my share of comedy killmails.

Just know that when you see me in a battleship or HAC, you'll have a fight on your hands.

Gate wars

2008-10-29T08:58:00.000-07:00

As I jumped into Aeschee from Jovainnon, I saw a battleship sitting on the gate. Not particularly concerned, I warped off to the Adirain gate; unless their ship sensing arrays are boosted above factory spec, a battleship generally can't get a lock on a cruiser in the time it takes for a cruiser to drop cloak and warp away.

I was interested to see another battleship sitting on the Adirain gate. I jumped on into Adirain, but detected no unfortunate pilots ratting or mining at any of the asteroid belts there. I had to go back through Aeschee to Lisbaetanne, and that battleship was still sitting on the Adirain gate. No battleships on the Lisbaetanne gate, but no targets in Lisbaetanne, either. I went back through Aeschee--again--towards Onne, on my way to check out Hulmate. A Taranis was on the Onne gate--and this time, when I jumped through, the battleship was sitting on the far side of the gate in Onne. Hmm, this battleship was registered to the same corporation as a couple of the other solo campers--SOE Cartel.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand; I checked out Hulmate, then Vitrauze, but the asteroid belts were devoid of prey. Once again, I headed up through Aeshcee.

The battleship was still on the Aeschee gate in Onne, and the Taranis was still sitting on the Aeschee side. I sat their for a few moments, still cloaked from my jump through the wormhole. The fact that the Taranis was still on the gate led me to believe he was working in conjunction with the SOE Cartel battleship on the other side. And unlike a battleship, a Taranis-class interceptor should have no problems getting lock on a cruiser trying to warp away. He could do this without fearing the sentry guns, thanks to my status as an outlaw. My fears were confirmed when the jump gate activated, and the battleship's transponder indicated it had entered the local system.

With tactics honed by dozens of deaths at gate camps, I calmly slipped out of the trap. First, I set the Onne gate as my next destination; then, in quick secession I engaged the autopilot, set the ship on a course to approach the gate, engaged my microwarpdrive engine, and activated my damage control systems. As expected, both the Taranis and the battleship locked me and initiated hostile actions against me, with weapons, warp disruptors, and stasis webifiers. Nonetheless, I reached the gate before taking too much damage and jumped out. I now had time to warp to safety, as the jump gate's operators would refuse to allow passage to any ship which had just been engaging in hostilities.

I did not warp to safety.

What I did do was turn around and orbit the gate back into Aeschee, well within activation range. For the next fifteen minutes or so, the authorities would recognize my right to attack the interceptor and battleship pilots, in view of their hostile acts against me. If that battleship returned to his post in Onne, I would have a short amount of time to try to take out the interceptor in Aeshee before the larger and slower battleship could return to the gate and jump back again to assist.

And just as I was in position, the battleship returned to Onne. I immediately jumped back into Aeshee.

Now, the issue would be whether I could tackle the Taranis. Unless I was very lucky, not likely; but working in my favor was the fact that he would be pre-conditioned to try to tackle me, and get up close and personal, within range of his deadly blasters. As I entered the Aeshee system, he was only 12 kilometers away; I quickly targetted him and began approaching him, microwarpdrive active. As I locked my target, I disrupted his warp engines and impulse engines, and deployed my drones against him.

Oh, how fast that Taranis dropped before my wrath! With glee I watched my overview display how his shields and armor evaporated under the withering fire of five heavy high-tech ion blasters and five medium high-tech combat drones. And just as I had hoped, the SOE Cartel battleship didn't manage to return to the battlefield until the fight was all but over.

Remember those other battleships on the Jovainnon and Adirain gates? As it happened, I had failed to factor them in. And unfortunately for me, the SOE Cartel Dominix that had been sitting on the Adirain gate arrived at the Onne gate while the Taranis and I were locked in combat. That Dominix had me locked before I could kill the Taranis, and pretty much did to me what I'd done to the Taranis; my own shields and armor seemed to simply disappear under the furious assault of the Gallente battleship.

A fair trade? I guess so. I fought against superior odds and lost the cheaper ship, and received a nice insurance payout to boot; but they held the field and got to scoop the loot from both wrecks. At any rate, as I sped away in my capsule (past yet another battleship sitting on the Ladistier gate in Aeschee), I basked in the glow of another good fight.

A good fight...a really good fight

2008-10-22T01:48:00.000-07:00

Joc and I had us a fight the other day that garnered us a lot of congratulations and notice. We came across a battleship, ratting all by itself in Cumemare. What little experience I have with battleships at asteroid belts has left me with a rather low regard for their pilots, whether it turns out they're mining or ratting. So even though I was flying a lowly Thorax, and Joc was in an Ishkur, we swooped in and killed us an Apocalypse.

Funny thing, though; it wasn't a particularly satisfying kill. Sure, I like a big e-peen as much as the next lowlife pirate scum, and it was with pleasure we posted the kill. There was some smugness in having pulled it off. But I got a lot more satisfaction when Joc and I killed a Rupture earlier today. Heck, I even enjoyed it more when I lost a fight with an Abaddon I thought I could schnooker while he was tanking sentries. The thing is, that battleship pilot didn't give us much of a fight; in fact, I didn't take any damage at all from him, and Joc and his itty-bitty T2 frigate tanked him nicely.

That Rupture pilot, now--well, Muad' Dib is a real warrior. I was at the Vitrauze gate in Onne when I saw him coming on the scanner, so I jumped through to take him on the other side. I knew Joc was coming for backup, and told him to jump right into Vitrauze and engage immediately--Muad' Dib was an outlaw like us, and whoever runs the sentry guns wouldn't mind if we were the tools lady Justice used to bring retribution (or vice-versa). The Rupture sure wasn't trying to duck no fights; I approached him, he approached me, and there were guns and blasters and drones lighting up the inkly blackness of space with destruction. I was pretty sure I was going to die, as the Rupture seemed to be hurting me faster than I was hurting him. After the fight, I realized I should have overheated my blasters, but in the thick of things I plumb forgot. I broke through his shields and armor, though, not long after he broke through mine, and whether it was because I had a stronger ship structure or because Joc's meager DPS finally made it on the scene, the Rupture went down leaving me with 1-2% of smoking structure still holding things together. I was trembling with adrenaline as we looted the wreck and recalled our drones. That was a fight, I tell you!

As for the Abaddon--I noticed him molesting the never-ending train of industrial ships that pour in and out of Hevrice, shrugging off the sentry fire as he did so. It occurred to me that those sentry guns would be much obliged if I'd help them out by pinning him down, so he couldn't just come and go as he pleased; and if the heavy blasters and high-tech medium drones of my Thorax were to engage, why that would just help things along a little faster. I figured wrong. Glaz Almaz was able to kill and loot his industrial target, tank those sentry guns, and continue to tank the sentry guns plus everything I could deliver long enough to kill me and help himself to the cornucopia of high-tech modules that remained intact in the twisted metal that had been my Thorax. He wasn't even particularly sporting about it, whining that I was being ungrateful for "killing him" after he'd helped out a corpmate of mine a little earlier. Still, as I got my capsule out of Dodge, I was thinking I'd just had a very good fight.

One doesn't even have to win or lose to have a good fight. Recently I was set upon by a Wolf, a Cormorant, a Buzzard, and a rookie ship (really). I almost killed the Wolf--but I think the Cormorant got me webbed in time for the Wolf to slip out of range of my blasters. Then I almost killed the Cormorant; in fact, I thought I had killed him, but the lack of a wreck or killmail has convinced me that I must have been jammed instead just as he was running out of structure. The fact that I did well against superior numbers, didn't make any stupid mistakes (though I may have done a thing or two better), didn't lose, and shared heart-felt "gf's" afterwards in local, left me feeling happy and satisfied.

All of which got me to thinking...what exactly does constitute a good fight? Here's what I concluded: There are a number of factors, any one of which may help a fight be a "good" one, and if you put enough of them together you end up with a really good fight. On the other side of the equation are factors that help make a fight a "bad" one. If neither side of the equation outweighs the other, you end up with "meh." It's actually possible, then, to feel satisfied after losing some fights, while feeling "meh" even after winning others.

Factors contributing to a good fight

Winning
Good loot
Fighting a more experienced pilot
Fighting a famous or well-known pilot
Fighting against a respected combat ship
Fighting against a ship that is generally considered superior to one's own
Having tactics or a strategy that make a positive difference
Fighting against foes who employ a clever or innovative tactic or strategy
Fighting slightly outnumbered
Hearing respect from the other pilot or others in local afterwards
Almost (but not quite) dying (Joc and I killed a Vexor in a similar scenario to the Rupture kill above; but since it was Joc who almost died and I who arrived at the last minute to save the day, it wasn't as satisfying a fight to me.)
Learning something valuable that makes one a better pilot the next time

Factors detracting from a good fight

Losing
Losing expensive rigs, implants, or modules
Making stupid mistakes
Fighting against hopeless numbers
Fighting against a pilot who is not at the helm, extremely inexperienced, or stupid
Fighting against a ship that is generally considered inferior at combat
Hearing disrespect or excuses from the other pilot or others in local

Good hunting to you, Reader! Go have yourself a good fight!

Honor (OOC)

2008-10-14T04:49:00.000-07:00

Is there honor in EVE? Is there honor in piracy? This question is brought up quite often around New Eden. Personally, I've been dumbfounded at the discourse on the subject; here is my attempt to set things straight.

Is there honor in EVE? Of course. However you may define "honor," it exists in EVE. There are pilots who would never initiate aggression against others, pilots who would never take from someone else's jettisoned cargo container, pilots who honor their 1-vs.-1's, pirates who honor their ransoms, pilots who never lie, etc. etc. etc. There are also pilots who lie, cheat, and steal every chance they get. And then there are pilots who are some custom honor blend--pirates who honor ransoms and 1-vs.-1's but will gank a 5-minute-old noob; otherwise trustworthy characters who succumb to the temptation of billions of ISK in corporate assets. If we envision a spectrum with "completely honorable in every conceivable way" on one end, and "the epitome of despicability, lying cheating scum" on the other, we could chart the pilots of New Eden and find that they are spread out across that spectrum. (Actually, people are more complex; it's more like a three-dimensional axis than a two-dimensional spectrum. Consider, for example, the pirate that honor ransoms, and always kills and pods so his ransom offers will be taken seriously. Or consider RMT, economic PVP, etc.)

This seems so totally self-evident to me, and perhaps you find yourself nodding thoughtfully. So what do people mean when they declare, loudly (and often with ridicule), "Of course there's no honor in EVE; it's just a game!" I contend that what they're really trying to do is argue that there should be no consequences for flying dishonorably. Everybody should like and respect the dishonorable (again, however you define "honor") just as much as the so-called honorable, and not shun them or point out their behavior or make them feel bad. Good luck with that. Since EVE pilots fall on a spectrum, like it or not what people think about any given pilot will also be spread out over some kind of spectrum.

Hmm. Now as I think of it, perhaps those asking the question, "Is there honor in EVE?" are being a little bit disingenous themselves. Are not they really arguing that everyone should fly with honor--in fact, with their flavor of it? They want to feel better about being duped, and they want their tormentors to feel bad. Based on the responses they get (many from people trying to justify some other standard of honor or dishonor), they'll need some luck of their own.

My view is that yes, EVE is a game; just as in chess one player tries to deceive the other as to his true intentions, so in New Eden pilots can, may, and will backstab one another, lie to one another, cheat one another, and abuse one another's trust. How one plays his role in EVE is not how one lives his (real) life. This is EVE working as intended. But EVE is "multiplayer"--it's social. People have reputations, they want reputations, and honor can serve as one of the criteria people use to form their identities. At the end of the day, each of us must play the game in a way that's fun for ourselves. For some, that means being noble and true--a nobility all more enobling for being optional. For others, it means being honest, if rascally. For yet others, it means lying, cheating, and backstabbing--only dishonorable if one protests "it has to be that way." It's that spectrum. We all must deal with it.

I have friends from across the spectrum. I recognize more than one definition of "honor" in our common context--or rather, I recognize that the definition of "honor" is subjective, and EVE is massively multiplayer. I pay attention to how pilots and corporations and alliances with which I am familiar behave; I want to know with whom it is and isn't safe to duel. I follow the "name and shame" threads, glad to know the names, not sure about the shame. I check the "corp thief" list everytime someone applies to the Tuskers. I have chosen to fly with pirates (we initiate non-consensual destruction and death) who honor their ransoms and their 1-v.-1's (though, being smart, there are precious few of those). I live for chances to gank others, but if I say I won't gank you, I won't; I keep my word. To some that still makes me a slimy griefer, to others I'm an out-of-touch goody-goody. Whatever. I'm having fun.

A good day, a good corp

2008-10-10T07:07:00.000-07:00

I just have to say how happy I am with the way the Tuskers corp is growing. New members are being added every week, and I'm impressed with the caliber of pilots we're attracting. As a fairly new corporation, it is difficult for us to attract long-time PvP pirates with many skills. Yet I resolved from the beginning not to accept just any applicant into the Tuskers. We have no minimum skillpoint requirement, and as a result the typical Tusker flies a T2 frigate class or two at best. But we do require every new Tusker pilot to already have at least 5 solo kills under his belt--at least two of which must be kills of a ship class greater than that flown by the Tusker candidate. I'm sure many impatient pirate wannabe's turn away at this requirement; but the ones that persevere find themselves surrounded by mates of like mindset.

I also require quite detailed skill and wallet and journal information of all Tusker candidates; I'm sure this winnows out some otherwise qualified pilots. But poring over their educational and financial records helps me identify other pilots with whom they may be in league, spot those with certain irregularities that could result in their wallets going deep into the negative, and establish trust up front. Finally, I'm amused to report that I have actually turned away several candidates simply because they were unwilling or unable to join our voice comms during fleet operations.

Let me tell you how my day went today; to me, it was a testimony to the Tusker quality far beyond our experience level.

"There's a Hyperion in Costolle with a two-month old pilot." This from Nupe, a Tusker who frequently flies with a ship-probing wingman. He'd found a Gallente battleship, and according to public databases, the pilot had only received his captain's papers a couple of months ago.

"I'm two jumps out; on my way." But by the time I reached Costolle, the Hyperion pilot had left the system. I stayed in the fleet with Nupe, and we worked our way over to Ouelletta, where I'd seen a Vexor flitting about earlier. Nothing this time. Nupe wandered back to Melmaniel; just then the Vexor did show up on my overview, and I charged in to make the tackle. Nupe immediately put his Hurricane-class battlecruiser in warp to the Ouelletta gate.

I tackled the Vexor with little difficuly in my Thorax, fit with heavy plate armor and small blasters. My ECM drones began buzzing around the Vexor, but his real DPS was in drones of his own, and they were on me. The Vexor was fast, and I had to manage my microwarpdrive, stasis webifier, and ship navigation closely as I struggled to keep the point-blank range dictated by my blasters. Unfortunately, my drones missed a jam cycle, and at that range the Vexor sucked my cap dry--he had modules that could drain my own cap, and perhaps take a little for himself while they were at it. As his drones bit deep into my armor, I shut down my guns and managed my modules even more intensely, struggling to keep the Vexor's warp drives disrupted, struggling to keep in range, struggling to fit in a repair cycle on my armor when I could...but it wasn't enough. "Get that Hurricane here! I'm not gonna make it!"

Finally, the powerful 'Cane arrived on the scene, ponderously bringing it's heavy guns to bear on the target; I just couldn't take any more of a pounding, and as the Vexor's drones began to bite into the very structure of my ship, I jumped out. I'd hoped my friend in the battlecruiser would be able to finish the job, but the Vexor also managed to escape before the 'Cane could re-establish the tackle.

That's the life of a belt pirate--and I'm sure the Vexor was every bit as much a pirate as were we. I listened with distaste to the Vexor pilot's smack talk (Bulldags'hunter was the name he chose to go by), crowing about how he would have killed me (if only I'd stupidly stood still and let him do it), and taunting us for not being able to keep him tackled (hello?). As you may expect, all I said in return was, "gf."

Nursing my grudge from the safety of empty space, I was nevertheless powerless to engage the Vexor, now coyly keeping out of sight. As Nupe and I sat there, waiting for the authorities to cool down and allow us to once again jump through a star gate or dock in a space station unmolested by sentry guns, Nupe's wingman reported that the young Hyperion pilot was back--and he was right next door in Melmaniel!

Oh, how time crawls when you have such a target so close, and yet so far. The remaining minutes until it would be safe for us to jump over to Melmaniel seemed like hours. But finally, they passed. "I'm docking real quick to rep my hull and replinish my ammo," I reported. Nupe and his slower spaceship headed right over to Melmaniel.

"He's still here...he's not in deadspace! He's at a belt!" This seemed too good to be true. As I jumped into Melmaniel, I received a report of the exact asteroid belt the Hyperion had just warped to, and set my warp engines to get me there. Once again, the short time I was in the wormhole stretched. Was I jumping into a trap? How would a low-tech cruiser and battlecruiser fare against such a fine battleship? Would we be able to break his tank? Would he chew us up with his own DPS? Why didn't I refit with bigger guns?

At last, I dropped out of warp and onto the Hyperion. I keyed my comms, "He's here! Warp to me now!" At the same time, I set course for a tight orbit around the target, catching him just as he was approaching some of the local "rats" polluting the asteroid belt. "Engage the warp disruptor! Engage the stasis webifier! Drones, engage target!" The fight was on, complicated by the decision of one of the rats to take the battleship's side against me.

It seemed to take forever for Nupe to arrive in his slower Hurricane, but I still had some shields left when he finally did arrive. Slowly, slowly, we ate away at his shields, then started nibbling at his armor. I made the decision to demand a ransom, and opened up a ransom channel with our target; he hemmed and hawed and asked for assurances that a ransom would be honored, but after going well beyond the 30 second deadline I initially set no ISK was transferred; no problem, Nupe and I were quite happy to chalk up a battleship kill. (Later, the battleship pilot told me he was going to pay the measly 50M ransom we demanded, but couldn't figure out how; I believe him, given the rigs and all that he lost with that ship. Somehow my mates, using the same ransom channel, don't seem to have the problems I do exacting ransoms.

Rylack, the newest Tusker, joined us about this time, and we set off through Heydieles and Old Man Star to Aeshee, hunting and probing for suitable targets but having no luck. Joc, and original Tusker, caught up with the fleet as we checked out Vitrauze, home of the Hellcats. Our scout caught a glimpse of Mynxee, CEO of the Hellcats (an all-female pirate corp), blogger, and something of a friend, just as she ducked into a station in her Rupture.

This put me in a "situation." Our corp had just been discussing allying with the Hellcats and the Python Cartel; I reiterated our "no blues" policy, and have been trying to talk about how it is possible to have friends that one still might fight, using intel channels instead of alliances, etc. In this case, I ordered a camp at Mynxee's station, and then I warned her not to come outside. "Sometimes reverse psychology works," I told the fleet, "If she doesn't come out, good, I warned her and she heeded the warning; but if she does, I can say she can't say I didn't warn her." Mynxee wisely chose to stay inside the space station, but she did admit how much she was dying to come out just because I told her not to. Heh.

Patience not being our strong suit, the Tuskers aren't much good at camping, and within just a few minutes we were headed back towards Verge Vendor. As we neared Hevrice, I told everyone we would be taking a break there, so people could replinish supplies, grab a smoke or a cup of tea, and regroup with a couple of other Tuskers who were in the area. But this idyllic plan was not to be.

In Hevrice, we found a Vexor zipping from point to point in space. Almost immediately, Mynxee showed up in her Rupture, and she and the Vexor appeared to be working together. Within minutes, Bulldags'hunter, the Vexor we'd encounted earlier in Ouelletta, was on the scene, keeping to himself. After a few frantic moments of chasing targts around, I ordered the fleet off-grid and left one scout to probe out a target in a safe spot. Occasionally one of our targets would pass by, warping along a wormhole from one point to another. I docked my Thorax and came out in a Crow, the better to tackle a fleeing target. A third Vexor was sighted in the system. Finally, our scout got a fix on Mynxee and her ally, but he was several hundred kilometers away, cloaked. As he stealthily closed range, Joc parked his Thorax at an asteroid belt, acting as bait, hoping one or more of our targets might attackhim.

As our covert ops ship got within 50 kilometers of the Rupture and Vexor, the other two Vexors took our bait. "Fleet! There's a Vexor here! There are two here! Warp to Joc!" I instructed our covert ops friend to continue closing range with his targets; the rest of us warped to Joc and made short work of the first target there--local down one Vexor, though at the cost of Joc's cruiser. Bulldags'hunter and our target were apparently working together, but when "Bh" realized they'd sprung a trap, he managed to elude us and warp out. "Gf," I broadcast on the local hailing frequency.

Before we could properly loot the Vexor and recover intact modules from the wreckage of our mate's Thorax, our scout reported he was in range of the Rupture and Vexor, and we'd better come fast because they were aligned to warp away. Needing no further encouragement, we warped to our scout's position. "Vexor is primary," I confirmed, but that Vexor was fast and I was having trouble catching him, even in an interceptor. Not wanting our targets to have time to think, I changed course to a wide and fast orbit of the Rupture. "Strike that, the Vexor's too fast. Rupture is primary." I tackled Mynxee, and in due course she went down.

The Vexor had closed range to aid Mynxee, and I managed to get a point on it. "Vexor tackled!" With only one target left, our focused fire did not miss, and the Vexor dropped fast. We briefly engaged our targets in several rounds of admiration and respect on both sides, veteran combat professionals acknowledging one another after a fight. We loaded up on loot, then made a few trips to our earlier Vexor encounter, transporting loot to a jettisoned cargo container as we waited out our Global Criminal Countdown.

Another Tusker left the station in his frigate, only to encounter Bulldags'hunter waiting just outside. The Vexor pilot and his drones killed our man; what a frustrating way to begin one's day. When our GCC was up, we warily transported the loot back to the station, slipping by the Vexor now that we knew his game, but noting his hostile position right outside our headquarters. The fleet was down to just Nupe and I again, and we decided to take Bulldags'hunter if we could. It would be tricky; our quarry had already slipped away intact from several engagements today, and nothing would be easier for him than to simply dock up if we broadcast our intentions.

I refit my Thorax for pure gank, replacing the small blasters with high-tech heavies, replacing the armor with Magnetic Field Stabilizers to maximize my damage, and replacing my ECM drones with deadly Hammerheads. Our plan was for me to undock first and engage the flashy-red Vexor, and for Nupe to come out ten seconds later, by which time we hoped Bulldags'hunter would already have fired back--giving up his chance to dock immediately.

I am undocking now; undock in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5..." I stopped broadcasting as my overview display resolved. Target Vexor; engage warp disruptor; engage stasis webifier; don't launch drones yet--let him think I have ECM's...

"4, 3, 2, 1, undocking!" Nupe picked up the count. Between the heavy guns on that Hurricane and the DPS I was spitting out in my Gankerax, the Vexor's shields and armor just seemed to melt. But he hadn't returned fire yet--and he docked before we could finish him off.

"Stay on station," I told Nupe, "Let's see if he tries again." To our surprise, he did try again; perhaps he thought we'd been on our way out, and he was hoping to catch a straggler--for while his shields had been replinished, he'd not taken the time to repair his armor damage. Within seconds he was locked and taking everything we could throw at him; then, once again, he was gone from the overview. Had he docked again? No! There was his capsule! We failed to lock the capsule, but basked in the afterglow of a successful engagement. I recalled the drones, scooped the loot, and docked back up.

That was it for me today; I spent an hour in my office, compiling lists of loot, checking local prices, and dividing 24.2 million ISK among the pilots who had lost ships or participated in today's battles (and that was not counting the Hyperion's wreck, which disappeared before we could recover anything from the wreckage).

A good day to be a Tusker. A good corporation.

Don't "Count" on it

2008-09-28T08:25:00.001-07:00

Note: The following account concerns some of my encounters with Count MonteCarlo, a pilot who has since been accused of being a corp scammer. I was not at all pleased to hear of what he and Feline Ferocity allegedly did to their Ministry of Destruction corpmates. While I can't help but recognize his combat prowess, I no longer feel that New Eden needs more pilots like him.

"We have a target at a belt. He is at belt II-1. All pilots stand by; on my order, jump in and proceed immediately to asteroid belt II-1, or warp directly to me. Ready...Jump! Jump! Jump! And warp immediately to belt II-1!" I warped to II-1 ahead of my fleet; by the time our target registered the spike in local, with any luck at all I would be tackling him.

I've written about many fights, but this one is special. It took place in Ouelletta, a lowsec system adjacent to highsec space, a frequent stop for miners and ratters curious about the riches of lowsec--and therefore a frequent stop for pirates who prey on unfortunate young miners and ratters. So nothing special there. I was flying a Crow, scouting for a fleet of Tusker pilots flying an Ishkur, a Taranis, a Rupture, a Stabber, and a Hurricane; well, actually, that's special--it was the biggest Tusker fleet I've yet flown with--but that's not what really made this fight special to me. What really makes this fight a Big Deal is the pilot we were up against.

His name is Count MonteCarlo. The Count and I have a history. I knew him first as a killboard-whore-of-a-corpmate, when I flew with the Ministry of Destruction; rarely were we flying in the same area at the same time, but I was impressed with the sheer number of kills this guy could rack up. Consider official MOD reports for week 30, for example, or week week 31 of this year; I mean seriously--over 50 kills in a single week? (I notice by the way that although my killmails remain, the name Ka Jolo has been expunged from all awards and top pilot reports on the Ministry of Destruction killboard. I haven't seen that before from other corporations from which I've resigned.)

But it has been as a rival that I've come to respect Count MonteCarlo best. I have the unfortunate habit of consistently underestimating him. Consider: my Crow vs. his Claw; my Crow vs. his Rupture--and then again, because I had my orbit set wrong the first time; and finally, my Taranis against his Thrasher. It seems every time I think I can beat him--I'm wrong; I'd lost every single engagement against MonteCarlo. Nor am I the only Tusker to suffer loss at his hands--by my count, this single pilot had 13 Tusker kills coming into tonight's engagement. The Count accomplishes what many pirates try unsuccessfully to do: he gets fights because he's underestimated, and in getting those fights he gets kills.

You can imagine, then, what kind of thoughts filled my head as my Crow warped to his position at asteroid belt II-1 in Ouelletta. Excitement: Could I be on the verge of my first victory against The Count? Fear: Was this a trap? Had I just underestimated him again? Was I leading my fleet to certain doom? Anticipation: This was going to be fun!

I dropped out of warp, and the fight was on. We locked one another, and I hurried to activate my microwarpdrive to hit my chosen orbit at top speed. Before I even launched my first missiles, all of my shields were depleted and most of my armor was worthless. I think I knew right then that it would be up to my corpmates to successfully prosecute this fight, if indeed we were to succeed. In fact, I immediately entered a destination for my escape capsule--and by the time I had my destination selected, I was already in that capsule; I felt glad to escape. As I warped away, Count MonteCarlo held the field.

My senses contracted, and only my hearing registered; I strained to hear radio reports from my mates.

"He's here! He's looting Jolo's wreck!"

"I don't have a point on him!"

"I'm trying to get in range; he's fast!"

"Does anybody have a point on him?" I asked, desperate.

"Burn Mac does."

"I do," some other pilot reported.

"We're getting him down," yet another Tusker assured me.

"I lost my point!"

"I lost target! He got out of range!"

"Point!"

"We got him!"

"Get his pod!"

"He got out!"

Heart pounding, I smiled as a sense of peace swept over me. It may have taken six Tuskers and the loss of my Crow, but we had killed Count MonteCarlo and his dreaded Thrasher! (What, you were expecting some other ship?) Somehow, it felt like a victory.

Within 60 minutes of our engagement, The Count had destroyed two more ships--including another Tusker. Sigh.

Will I underestimate Count MonteCarlo again? Probably. Will I ever get on the good side of a killmail against him again? I sure hope so. But I have to admire his kind of combat pilot. New Eden needs more like him.

What a year may bring forth

2008-09-27T06:40:00.000-07:00

It's been a little over a year now since I mustered out of the Caldari Special Ops and returned to my ancestral home in the Saisio system, only to find my family killed and my home a smoking ruin. On September 15 of last year, I vowed to devote my energies to disrupting the smooth operations of business and government, throwing violence and plunder in their faces until perchance someone might wake up and make New Eden once again safe for peaceful families such as were the Achura inventors.

After an unexpected interlude educating myself to fly the ships of my chosen line, I set out looking for trouble. Almost exactly a year ago--on September 28--trouble caught me looking. Undeterred, I persisted in my evil intentions, and within the week I made my first unsanctioned kill. Since then, I've neither looked back nor wavered in my resolve.

I ingratiated myself into covert gangs of grizzled veterans, at various times over the past year flying under the banner of the Sanguine Legion, the Black Rabbits, and the Ministry of Destruction--notorious names one and all. I soaked up arcane knowledge--tricks of the infernal trade--learning from masters the setting of traps and ambushes, the basics of dogfighting, how to engage and how to evade; and all the while, my soul has soaked up the blood of innocents (and the not-too-innocent). You may not have heard of me in those days, O reader, but I began making a name for myself. Recently, my own stubborn independence and purpose led me to strike out from those old gangs, gathering some few mates around me, leader of a band of promising young like-minded brigands. They call us the Tuskers. (Apply here.)

And now, though I am far from the most feared pirate in space, though there are many whose tungsten steel and weapons systems and engines and numbers render them safe from anything I can bring, there are few who are as committed as I to death and destruction, as merciless, as cold. But how effective? As I pondered what this year has brought forth, I pored over my ledgers and official reports of my many engagements to see what I could learn. For now, I stare at a page of numbers. What to make of them?

Financially, I have little to show. Although I've looted modules from my victims' wrecks, and those modules have brought me hundreds and hundreds of millions of ISK on the markets, the risks of my chosen profession mean I myself have left over a billion ISKs worth of wreckage drifting in space. Thankfully, my investments in the markets have fared better, keeping me always with ships in the hangar.

As of this writing, records indicate I have made 858 kills and suffered 140 losses. BattleClinic currently ranks me number 4,688 in space, and finds each of my kills weightier than each of my losses, giving me an adjusted success ratio of 408% (11:1). I'm pretty sure I don't follow that math. After spending hours trying to make sense of all the statistics, I finally decided to tabulate only the action reports where I and just one other pilot are recorded; this doesn't correspond neatly to 1-on-1 solo engagements, as one might think, but it's as close as I can get.

Early in my career, I specialized in flying frigates of the Incursus class. While not generally considered the best combat frigate in space, I have found the Incursus reliable and deadly, and I still keep one or two in my hangar, and I still take them out now and then to execute my deadly business. In an Incursus have a kill-loss record against other low-tech frigates of 70-4. I'm 10-0 against rookie ships and shuttles, 28-0 vs. destroyers, 10-1 vs. mining and industrial ships, and 22-12 against low-tech cruisers. Ships I've not fared so well against include battlecruisers (2-4), an interceptor (0-1), stealth bombers (0-3), and battleships (0-2). Overall I'm 142-27 in an Incursus; 87 of those kills I followed up by also killing the poor pilot's capsule.

After flying nothing but an Incursus for six weeks, I started experimenting with cruisers. At that early stage in my skill development, I liked the Vexor best; compared with an Incursus, a Vexor seemed to have a beast of a tank and great offensive capability. My most glorious battle to date remains the one from last December where, less than three months after mustering out of the Caldari military, I defeated four ships in my Vexor--including an assault frigate and an inteceptor. I compiled a 20-5 solo combat record in my Vexor: 2-0 vs. rookie ships and shuttles, 1-0 vs. frigates, 3-0 vs. destroyers, 3-0 vs. miners and industrial ships, 7-1 vs. cruisers, 2-0 vs. assault frigates, 1-1 vs. interceptors, 1-2 vs. battlecruisers, and 0-1 vs. heavy assault ships. Six of my 20 victims lost their capsules to my drones soon after ejecting. I didn't find Vexors particularly feasible from an economic standpoint, however, and have rarely flown them since checking them out.

Apparently I got caught once flying an Imicus, a ship I generally use for hauling loot around in lowsec; so let me say here that I am 0-1 vs. assault frigates when flying an Imicus.

I continued to prefer Incursus frigates in general over a cruiser, up until around February. At that point I received my Interceptor pilot rating, and mastered the Taranis-class Gallente interceptor. I racked up a 113-13 kill-loss record in a Taranis, and further locked on to 86 fleeing capsules to drop the pilots back into their clones. Against frigates, 46-0; 2-0 against rookie ships and shuttles; 23-1 vs. destroyers; 30-9 vs. cruisers; 8-0 vs. miners and industrial ships; 1-0 vs. assault frigates; 2-1 vs. battlecruisers; 1-1 vs. interceptors; and 0-1 against stealth bombers. Those are some nice ratios, but when I lose a Taranis, that's a lot of ISK out the airlock!

Dissatisfied actually with the Taranis interceptor as an interceptor, I flew it more like a super-Incursus, and gained the skill to pilot the Crow class interceptor. I like the Crow, but use it more in gangs, so don't have much of a solo record to go by. That combat record is 18-7, plus 9 capsules killed. 2-0 against rookie ships and shuttles, 11-1 against frigates, 4-0 vs. destroyers, 1-2 vs. cruisers, 0-1 against interceptors, 0-1 vs. battlecruisers, 0-1 vs. heavy assault ships, and 0-1 against force recon ships. The Crow's low DPS, while admirable for an interceptor, just isn't enough to support a real impressive solo record. I believe I probably lost ISK when flying solo in Crows.

By May, my support skills were approaching respectable, and I re-discovered cruisers, this time favoring the famed Thorax class of Gallente cruiser. For many purposes, a Thorax remains my ship of choice today; it's inexpensive and deadly. My "solo" combat record with a Thorax is a delightful 127-13, with 58 of my victims waking up in their clone vats. That's broken down to 33-0 against frigates, 21-0 against destroyers, 22-0 against mining ships and industrials, 39-1 against cruisers, 5-0 against assault frigates, 6-7 vs. battlecruisers, 0-2 vs. heavy assault ships, 0-1 vs. force recon vessels, and 0-2 against battleships. With that kind of record, it's easy to see why the Thorax is my meat-and-potatoes warship.

During the course of these 486 fights--420 kills 66 and losses--I managed to follow my kills with capsule kills 246 times...while only losing my own capsule 3 times!

Again, let me point out that those 486 fights do not reflect all my combat experience. They don't include the times when I didn't manage to tackle my target, or the times when I myself managed to slip away, or the times when we engaged but reached an impasse and had to break things off. They don't reflect the kills I got together with my mates in the Sanguine Legion or the Black Rabits or the Ministry of Destruction, or with alliance partners in the Guristas Associates or the Southern Cross Alliance or the Greater BoB Community, or with partners of convenience and opportunity. They don't show my losses where I was ganked by more than one opponent or a whole blob of them, they don't show my loss in a dishonored 1 vs. 1.

Yeah, it's been quite a year.

Fearless. No, clueless.

2008-09-23T18:58:00.000-07:00

Alerted to the presence of a juicy target by a fellow Tusker, I entered the system's coordinates into my navigation computer but kept manual control of my Thorax as I began negotiating the seven jump gates between us. Just as I was only one system out from my target, I jumped into the middle of a serious fleet camping the gate I had just come through.

I didn't panic. A quick glance informed me the fleet included a Rapier and a Crow; my odds of simply warping on were low. Instead, I set the gate I had just jumped through as my next destination, then waited for a few moments to let my jump timer reset. Taking a deep breath, I issued the command to approach the gate, followed quickly by commands to engage the microwarpdrive and activate damage control systems. To jump as soon as I hit jump range, I engaged my autopilot. My cruiser turned slowly to the gate, then picked up some crucial speed as it returned to the gate. Then my foes had me locked; my shields evaporated, and I activated my meager armor repair system as large chunks were bitten out of my armor. My speed slowed some, then slowed even more, as electronic warfare modules targeted my propulsion systems. But it was too late for my attackers; by the time I reached jump range, I still had half my armor.

Jumping through the gate, it was too soon for celebration. Competent gate campers would have ships waiting to tackle me on the other side. With elation, I realized my gate campers were heavier on numbers than competence; the other side of the gate was clear! I quickly warped away from danger to a safe spot I had previously recorded in space.

Smugly, I turned to my comms console and gave a rundown on my brief encounter to my fellow Tuskers. Then activity on my proximity overview caught the corner of my eye.

What was this? The entire gate camp was at my position! Wait--I had warped back to the gate! Now it was panic time. I realized, too late, that my autopilot was still engaged--and my ultimate destination still took my ship through that gate. To fix my destiny, the autopilot had jumped to a "safe" 17 kilometers from the gate--way too far to just jump right through. In desparation, I spit out orders to warp to someplace else--anyplace else. Not in time. The commands were still in my mouth as I was locked and tackled. Time to think about my escape pod, and denying my foes the bounty still riding on my head.

Some would say that warping 17 km. off a heavily camped gate is fearless. Those who know better call it clueless.

Killmail denied! Dignity also denied.

2008-09-16T23:36:00.000-07:00

Getting low on supplies, I messaged my hauler partner a shopping list and contracted a large amount of loot to him. He picked up the loot, set it for sale in a regional market hub, purchased my requirements in Jita, and dropped my cargo off in lowsec. This all required multiple trips for him, and he noticed a pirate camping the Hevrice gate from highsec--a lone Zealot. My partner reported that the pirate was observed on at least one occasion to incur sentry fire.

Fitting out a shiny new Thorax in one of the manners I favor, I confirmed that the pirate was still in the system. Remembering how I'd once killed a Drake all by myself in an interceptor (with the help of sentry guns), I got excited about the opportunity to solo-kill a Zealot. I loaded the Thorax with high-tech ammo and ECM drones, lovingly painted the name "Pork Belly" on her hull, did a quick check of all systems, put in an order for insurance, and I was out of that station as fast as I could, bumping Bestowers out of my way as I did so.

"Set a course for the jumpgate to Raneilles!" I ordered. Part of me wondered if I should take a more cautious approach, but it's a part of me I ignore often. And often, as in this instance, to my detriment.

As the yet-unproven ship Pork Belly dropped out of warp, my overview filled with data on multiple bogeys. Faction battleships, interceptors (camping a highsec gate?), battlecruisers--I was facing a formidable fleet. With a nod to a certain part of me, recently ignored, I quickly barked, "Run away! Run away!"

"Our warp engines are being disrupted, Captain."

I cursed. There was no way I was going to let my incompetence result in a kill for this gravy-sucking fleet. "Jump into Raneilles! We'll take our chances that the authorities there aren't just waiting at the gate!"

We were out of the frying pan, and into another frying pan. The Gallente police were, in fact, sitting on the other side of the gate. We received their broadcast, warning us that our presence in the system was not to be tolerated, as they waited for the temporary cloaking of the jump gate to disengage. "Set Hevrice as our next destination! Approach the gate! All ahead full! Engage microwarpdrive engines! Engage autopilot!" I had seconds to try to save the ill-fated Pork Belly, and everyone knew it.

Our seconds didn't add up. Our speed dropped to a crawl as the police cast a stasis webifying field on us, and our shields and armor took a pounding. It was clear we weren't going to make it back to the pirate fleet on the other side of the gate. I ordered the crew to their escape pods, then followed suit, dogging the hatch just as the short-lived Pork Belly disintegrated.

I did next what any self-respecting pirate Captain does after losing a ship in highsec (almost always due to incompetence): I called up the report of my ship's loss, and turned to the section listing the opponents credited with the kill. To my satisfaction, only Gallente police were listed. Since none of the pirates were listed (and I know at least one of them engaged me with a warp scrambler), I was not required to submit a report to my corporation.

Yay?

Not yet satisfied? Read more!

2008-09-10T06:47:00.000-07:00

A lot of you enjoy reading Your Money or Your Life, but it is a sad yet true fact that an average of 23.99 hours each day remains after reading any new content on this site. In response to demands for "moar yarr," and in efforts to introduce even more readers to my own take on the space lanes, this blog has recently been added to the EVE-Online Blog Pack.

Now, you can more easily find and read 25 other blogs, ranging from stories to news with plenty of advice and drama thrown in for good measure. Thanks to CrazyKinux for all his work in creating and maintaining the blog pack. My thanks also go to Mynxee for brokering my inclusion in the list. I don't know about you, but for me blogs and websites related to EVE-Online are pure value-added.

One last thing: if you don't mind, could you please go afk in your battlecruiser 100km off a planet while you do your reading? I'd appreciate it.

gf

2008-09-01T15:31:00.001-07:00

That's what I transmit on the local public frequencies whenever I finish a fight--win, lose, or draw. "Gf" is the abbreviation for "good fight," a courtesy real PvP pilots extend to one another, grateful for the opportunity to actually fight. "Gf," I say. How I wish it were true.

Most of the time, when I say "gf," what I really want to say is, "You stupid idiot. What were you doing at an asteroid belt in pirate-infested space? And what the heck were you doing with one laser, one railgun, one blaster, and one artillery piece on that ship you were ratting with? I mean, thanks for letting me get the kill and all, but seriously, you should have owned me in a beautiful ship like that! Fit for shield and armor tanking? Bah! Well, thanks at least for the loot."

Other times, my "gf" takes the place of an inner, "Ouch! Can't a pirate travel from one system to the next without having 3 battleships, 2 command ships, 3 recon ships, 4 heavy assault cruisers, 2 cruisers, and 2 interceptors pounding him to death? Well, at least when I post this loss mail nobody's gonna tell me I could have lived."

But sometimes--just sometimes, that "gf" is heartfelt and genuine--win, lose, or draw. When I kill that assault frigate by the skin of my teeth, venting gases and trailing odd bits of smoking armor--now that was a fight! Or when I'm speeding away in my escape capsule, my mind racing as I think of a half-dozen things I might have done different, I know I was just in a fight! Or what happened a short while ago...

Joc and I started out to get a small gang going, but one thing led to another and we found ourselves a few jumps from home, he in a covert ops ship for scanning down a ship at a safe spot, me in the platerax I often solo in. As luck would have it, Joc spied a Covetor-class mining barge that appeared to be at a safespot! But as he approached the ship under cloak, one of the Covetor's drones made a lucky turn and disrupted Joc's cloak; Joc appeared on the overview, and the Covetor pilot was spooked. The Covetor ran to a safe spot, then warped from point to point in space. Joc made a valiant effort to pin the Covetor down, but the pilot was too savvy to let that happen. Eventually he docked up and came out in a Myrmidon, a battlecruiser class not to be taken lightly.

Joc and I were even more eager to engage a battlecruiser. If the Myrmidon pilot is not experienced in PvP, it is very possible for a Thorax with ECM drones to beat him in straight combat. To our glee, after a few frustrating minutes, Joc was able to tackle the Myrmidon. I warped in, and the fight was on. After adding my own scram point to Joc's, I unleashed my Vespa EC-600's, hoping to jam the Myrmidon so he couldn't target me or my drones.

About those drones: the Myrmidon had five high-tech scout drones out, and they didn't need him to target me to know I was a bad guy. Because of the generous tank a Myrmidon can have, I determined to take out his offensive capability first, before attacking the battlecruiser itself. I was able to pop a few drones before the remainder were recalled; so I turned my guns on the Myrmi. Then 5 fresh drones appeared, and I went back to them. After several minutes of this, I was hurting. Joc held the Myrmidon down while I kept trying to warp out, hoping for a few moments to repair my armor before jumping back into the fray. There were some tense moments for me, as my foe had disrupted my warp engines, but soon enough my trusty ECM drones broke his lock and I was free. Unfortunately, with me out of the picture the Myrmidon turned to Joc, and we soon realized we would have to let the battlecruiser go.

It was a good effort on our part, but our opponent was competent, experienced, and prepared. He did what a Myrmidon should do in such a situation. When I kill Myrmidons from the con of a T1 cruiser, it's because the Myrmidon pilot is only proficient in controlling low-tech drones, or he doesn't have backup drones in his bays, or he can't field more than 3 or 4 at a time. Perhaps he has all the right gear, but in his inexperience he freezes and doesn't know what to do. Well, not this guy; he made one mistake--getting tackled in the first place--but that's about all. We were unable to kill our target, but he was also unable to kill us. It was, in other words, a Good Fight.

So, to Tak nTar, I say it again: "gf!"

The Tuskers: an early perspective

2008-08-26T15:17:00.000-07:00

Wow, leading a lowsec pirate corp has been interesting. Here are some notable observations.

First, almost immediately I attracted a couple of recruits. In our little three-man corporation, I'm actually getting in more and bigger roaming gangs than I usually did in pirate corps more than ten times our size! What I love about my corpmates is we all seem to have a common enjoyment of roaming (as opposed to camping, or ratting, or buying stuff and fitting out ships, or logging on just to change skills, etc.). Each pilot has been communicative and helpful on our forums and in-game. I have no trouble speaking with everyone on TeamSpeak. When we aren't roaming together, we're happy to roam solo. Any one of us would be top 5 on the killboards of any pirate corp I've been in. In short, what our corp lacks in numbers, it makes up in quality.

About those numbers...it was a little surprising to me how few applications we're getting. But then I looked at the situation again, and I'm not surprised. First, there seems to be a never-ending stream of new pirate corps trying to get off the ground; there's a lot of competition out there. Second, I really do have standards, and I think I put off many potential recruits with my demands. I've chosen to insist that any new Tusker demonstrate the right stuff in the form of killmails documenting at least 5 solo kills, including 2 kills of ships "better" than the applicants: killing a destroyer in a T1 frigate, for example, or a battlecruiser with a cruiser. In the past, I've seen how even a grizzled old pirate corp with a dozen people online can struggle to come up with three pilots at a time to actually go out and fight. At the same time, I've seen how eager new pilots barely able to fit a warp scrambler can see stunning success. The Tuskers want fighters. But I think this requirement is intimidating to many new recruits, who can get in easier with some other corporation padding its numbers.

Looking at all the recruiting spiels from new pirate corporations similar to the Tuskers, I asked myself again why I wanted to risk starting my own. But as soon as I thought about joining an existing corporation, I found something inside me shying away from the thought of seeing the inactivity behind a glowing reputation, the drama of alliances, the feeling of flying solo again even with a half-dozen "mates" online, and more I won't speak of now.

More surprising than the dearth of applications has been the cornucopia of pirate alliances seeking our membership. Several times a day, the Tuskers have been invited into alliances that would link us up with numbers, skilled pilots, and opportunities that we can only dream about on our own. Some of these alliances are really first-rate; I've flown along on some of their ops, and seen some impressive kills. For the time being, however, we're not considering joining any alliance. First, we like targets, and alliances lead to "blues" in space, off-limits in our hunts. Second, as a corporation we're just forming our own unique identity. I'd like to see what kind of corporate culture develops within the Tuskers before casting us into the shadow of an alliance. Finally, I'm enjoying the professional gang we make up, free of foul language and chest-thumping smack-talk. Maybe later.

I've actually enjoyed setting up all the trappings of a pirate corp: the Tuskers have forums, a killboard, and we're even one of the few corps in New Eden with a ransom board. Corpmates Joc and Ronan Jacques have been helping to contribute some excellent articles on the forums to help our corp as it grows and gains a better reputation. Fun stuff when space seems empty.

The Tuskers will probably never be the biggest, baddest pirate corp on the block. Her members now have a fraction of the skills many other pilots enjoy, who have been flying for so much longer. But we can be a living body of committed combat pilots, with a strong comraderie, and enjoying the healthy respect of those we encounter. May the Tusker label always be a badge of honor and pride.

I'm starting a pirate corporation

2008-08-18T18:22:00.000-07:00

Well, I finally did it. I finally decided to leave Ministry of Destruction. I am not taking this action without regrets--I've had a lot of good times with MOD. Her veteran pilots guided me, teaching me much about educating myself, fitting ships, slipping through traps, and springing traps of my own. Under the MOD banner I fought uneven fights at asteroid belts, risked shame and courted fame at stargates, and even fought in fleets of hundreds of ships under BOB command.

My readers will know of some of my previous issues with MOD--mostly stemming from shifts in vision and purpose; eventually, however, MOD returned to lowsec (and piracy) en masse. More recently I found myself being bothered by foul language and entire vulgar conversation threads; most of the time, I simply switched to another comms channel. The comradery I shared with my corpmates was stronger than my personal discomfort at such times.

But then I woke up today and read an account on our corp forums that caused my jaw to drop. A MOD pilot had entered into a 1-on-1 duel with a pilot from a rival pirate faction--and then, when the fight soured, called for help; a second MOD pilot uncloaked and jammed the enemy, allowing the first to escape, and bringing the 1 vs. 1 to a premature end. Cries of "dishonor!" from the rival corporation were laughed off. I posted my displeasure on the forum, then opened the corp voice comms.

As it happened, the story was being re-told as I tuned in. Again, I expressed my sense of dishonor at being in a corporation that does not (no longer?) honor 1-vs.-1's. I called upon the CEO to make things right with the offended pilot. The CEO, who was part of the conversation, chose to take no action at this time to defend MOD's honor. I suggested MOD pilots be warned to always honor 1-vs.-1's in the future, on pain of expulsion; again, no action was taken at this time. In shame--or honor--I resigned my commission as a corp director. Then I contacted the rival pirate corp, expressed my shame, and informed them of my resignation. As soon as Human Resources processes my paperwork, I shall cease to fly for the Ministry of Destruction.

In the meantime, I went out for one more rollicking-fun roam with a MOD gang; we lost a battlecruiser, but killed a Dominix and a Megathron. How can I harbor bad feelings toward my erstwhile mates? How can I hold a grudge against men and women with whom I have shared the risks and rewards of a swashbuckling life? While I always fly not-blue-shoot-it (NBSI), and former corpmates are no exception, I also enter into ad hoc alliances of convenience when opportunities demand more than I can bring; perhaps it is naive of me to hope that I may yet fly with MOD pilots again in the future. Certainly the code I fly by is not one to be imposed on other pilots who take a different view.

While I have already received a couple of attractive offers from pirate corps of some repute, I have decided to start my own pirate corporation. My problems with MOD stemmed from small incongruities in vision and philosophy. I hope that by articulating a clear vision, and by enforcing a clear code of behavior, I will attract a family of cutthroats in closer agreement and more united in purpose than I've yet experienced. Still a lower-grade pilot than most I see in space, I am under no illusion that my corporation will be a dominant one, or that most others will shy away from us in fear; yet I am resolved that my corporation will be respected and regarded as one of competence and honor.

Interested? Then check out the Tuskers!

Mega lucky!

2008-08-13T16:28:00.000-07:00

"There's a Megathron under the command of a five-month pilot."

"Think we can take him?"

"I dunno. I'm willing to try if you are."

"Alright guys, see if you can scan him down to a belt."

"I think he's at the station at...no wait! He's at belt V-1!"

"On my way," I reported from the helm of my heavily-armored Thorax.

"On my way," Wraith Sho'Ktar reported from his Malediction-class interceptor.

"Point," announced Joc, also flying a plated Thorax.

Three Ministry of Destruction pilots, in two T1 cruisers and an interceptor, were engaging a Megathron-class battleship.

"Shall we go for his drones first, or focus on the ship itself?"

"He hasn't deployed any drones yet."

"Okay then, for now focus on the ship."

"He's hitting me for little damage...with light missiles!" wondered Joc. Soon, however, the battleship wasn't hitting anything. Vespa EC-600 drones don't have a great chance of jamming a battleship--individually. But ten such drones improve the odds, and today was our lucky day.

"Interceptor, get a fast lock on his pod."

"Let's ransom him. Everone stop firing when we get him into structure. I'll invite him to our private ransom channel." I started keying in the commands to make this happen, then--

"Stop firing! Stop firing! He's ejected from his ship!" Joc snapped my attention back to the overview.

"Pod locked, and I have a point on it."

"Everyone, kill the pod before he can re-board his vessel! Good."

"Who can fly a Megathron?" It appeared none of us could--but a corp member nearby was called in to pilot the helm of our prize ship.

"Wait, this isn't an Amarr battleship--it's Gallente."

Startled, I sheepishly spoke up: "Oh, I can fly it then." I found a safe spot in space, and parked my Thorax there after carefully noting the coordinates, then flew back to the asteroid belt in my escape capsule. I had no problems boarding the badly-damaged ship, and managed to get it also to my safe spot.

What a bonanza! We'd captured a ship of the line worth a good 85 million ISK, taking little damage in return. Maybe the pilot had expensive implants he was trying to save--if so, I'm afraid he was bitterly disappointed. Maybe he thought to deny us a killmail--in that case, good on you, mate! Killmail denied!

The burden of command

2008-07-28T14:40:00.000-07:00

I've commanded small fleets of T1 cruisers or interceptors before, but today I found myself flying a Gankerax in command of a fleet that included a Blackbird, an Arazu, a Huginn, a Malediction, a Hurricane, a Merlin, and a Stiletto--all piloted by blood-thirsty members of the Ministry of Destruction. Ignoring the odd frigate or destroyer up to no good at an asteroid belt, I charted a course for adventure.

First we dipped our toe into Old Man Star, a known hangout for pirates and cutthroats. Our scout in the Malediction spotted several juicy targets, including a Taranis that was dogging his steps as he warped from vantage point to vantage point. I instructed the fleet to stand by on the gates into the system, and told the Malediction pilot to linger longer at his next stop; when he felt the Taranis was on his way, he gave the word and we all jumped into the system and warped to his location. Unfortunately, the Taranis webbed our scout and popped him in short order, and while a couple of our fleet members managed to web and jam him, the Taranis made it out before anyone could disrupt his warp engines. MOD 0, bad guys 1.

I set a course for Oulley, and we hunted our way in that direction. Local bad boys from the Dead Parrots and Starbucks kept a low profile. The other combat corps seemed to be taking it easy in well-defended space stations; I like to think they were quivering in fear of our mighty fleet, but it could be they were simply sleeping off a party from earlier encounters where they ruled the field.

Then our scout reported a gate camp on the Agoze gate in Vey; an Armageddon, a Harbinger, a Hurricane, and a Tempest from the ParadoXon alliance. Our Blackbird had all racial jammers except Amarr, so I laid out a plan wherein he would jam the Hurricane and Tempest while the rest of us primaried the Armaggedon. Inexperienced as I was, I opened the floor for alternative suggestions, but none were put forward. On my command, we jumped through the gate; once everyone was in, we dropped cloaked and put the plan into action.

Immediately, things began to sour. Have you spotted my fatal mistake yet?

Pilots began to spam comms with reports of taking heavy damage and imminent death. I ordered a stop to those reports, pleading for useful intelligence. Then it came, perhaps 30 seconds into the engagement: people were taking fire from sentry guns. I had ordered the fleet to open fire on neutral ships at a jump gate! Our Arazu went down, then the Blackbird. I ordered all pilots to get out immediately; I myself was primaried by this time, and could only pound my command console as my warp engines and impulse drives were scrammed and webbed. While my Thorax was doomed, I was at least able to pilot my escape pod out of the engagement before any of those lucky ParadoXon dogs could claim the bounty on my head.

I don't know if you can imagine with what heavy heart I pondered, sitting at a lonely spot in Vey space, the damage I had done this day to my mates in the Ministry of Destruction. Their professionalism was reflected in the fact that they executed the plan with full trust in their fleet commander, initiating hostilities against ships protected by the powers that be. Ships fit to levels I couldn't afford were turned into scrapmetal, pilots with skills I can't fathom found themselves waking up in some cold clone vat bay.

I hope someday to become a pirate fleet commander of some repute. May I find the fortitude to endure the burden of command. And may I learn more from the mistakes of others.

Could've - would've - should've

2008-07-12T00:44:00.001-07:00

Is PvP about quick thinking? Or is it more about training (deeper thought, trial and error, practice) paying off during combat? If it's one or the other, I'm hoping it's the latter, after being ganked tonight by a Sacrilege.

One of the exotic dancers on board my Thorax was inappropriately intruding into my concentration on the hunt; eventually I had to dock up in a space station in a hostile system in order to gain a measure of safety while I gave her my full attention. Big mistake. The station was full of hostile pilots, and when ultimately the dancer was dealt with and I undocked to resume my hunt, a Sacrilege was circling the station, waiting perhaps for me. Sacrileges are fearsome heavy assault cruisers, and I had no intention of messing with it. This is where my basic training came into play.

I did not panic. I sat there for a moment and considered my situation, knowing that for a few seconds I would be protected by the station's defensive shields. Any overt action on my part--whether to warp away, engage in combat, or even return to the space station--would terminate that protection. I decided my safest course of action would be to re-dock immediately; a sound decision, I still believe. Accordingly, I refrained from any hostile act against the Sacrilege, in order to avoid any sanctions from the station that would prevent me from docking. My mind set, I then issued the command to dock, simultaneously engaging my damage control system and microwarpdrive.

The Sacrilege targeted me at just that point and began his attack; lasers flashed, and a few drones began buzzing angrily around. This is where my basic training fell short.

The Sacrilege rammed me, knocking me out of docking orbit around the station. I tried warping away, but of course I was scrammed. What I should have done was probably to launch my ECM drones, hoping to break the Sacrilege's lock long enough to warp away. Instead, pushed beyond the limits of my training, I froze in the heat of my enemy's laser fire. Nudged further and further from the station, I never deployed my drones, never webbed my foe, never fired a single round of Void. I was stuck on "when planning to dock or jump, do not engage in a hostile act." I double-checked that my microwarpdrive was engaged; I issued the command to dock again and again. Sadly, what didn't work before continued not working.

Success in combat is at least as much a matter of combat experience as ship, fitting, or skills. Someday, I hope to be a veteran, seeming to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat; for now, I have to learn the lessons such a veteran would know. Tonight's personalized lesson: when jumping through a gate into a gate camp, or when undocking from a station to face a station camp, have not just one good plan, but two or three.

And don't cruise dangerous space with exotic dancers aboard.

Myrmidons to the left of me, Feroxes to the right!

2008-07-10T23:33:00.000-07:00

As I continue to invest training time in basic skills, I am enjoying the growing confidence I feel in piloting ships I already know how to fly. The Thorax is a case in point: when I first flew it, I felt rather uncomfortable. Whatever advantage it gave me in terms of firepower, I felt insecure, as though a large target was painted on me. I still fly a new-pilot-fitted Thorax, with small neutron blasters and heavy armor. But now, with my cap skills and navigation skills and gunnery skills and drone skills and mechanic skills and electronic skills and other un-sexy skills all honed to a high degree, when flying a Thorax I feel a sense of calm assurance. While high-tech scout drones help make any Thorax a DPS machine, when flying solo the combination of Thorax + EWAR drones for jamming one's enemy is a winning one.

This confidence is reflected in my choice of ships to attack. I do not hesitate to attack any assault frigate, and have never lost a cruiser to one. I will engage any T1 cruiser. My confidence is not in final victory, to be sure, but rather in the probability that I will either prevail or escape--often bringing my EC drones with me.

A couple of days ago I spied a suitably inexperienced Myrmidon pilot ratting in Ouelletta. After being very sure of the other pilots in the system--for Ouelletta's reputation as a pirate fishing barrel is gaining luster as an anti-pirate fishing barrel--I set a course for his belt. In moments, my target was webbed and scrammed, and my work was begun. As I had hoped, he only managed to field four T1 drones against me; a competent Myrmidon pilot, with a full complement of T2 drones, would have run me off. Shrugging off the guns of his drones, I began slowly working through the battlecruiser's shields, armor, and structure. I made some inquiries along the lines of ransom, but true to form, my target's decision to fly a battlecruiser into lowsec for a little ratting coincided with the depletion of his financial resources.

A battlecruiser, however, has a lot of shields, armor, and structure to work through--even when piloted by a rookike; soon I was out of cap. Carefully husbanding my energy resources to keep the supremely-important point on my target, I eventually wore him down, at times firing just a single blaster, at times none at all.

Now don't be thinking any Thorax can kill any Myrmidon--I had quite a different experience earlier today. This time I warped to a Myrmidon at a belt in Hevrice; this time the Myrmidon was well-fit and well-flown. I was greeted by five T2 drones, none of which seemed to have any trouble tracking my Thorax and giving it what-for. Not long after getting into armor and seeing how useless my armor repairing was going to be, I started trying to warp away. Nope, scrammed. Still scrammed. Half armor, still scrammed. Quarter armor, still scrammed. Finally, as the last of my armor gave out, my Vespa EC-600's met with some success, and my warp drives engaged. Once it looked like I was getting away, I recalled my drones, and was gratified to see them all make it back snug in their bays before my Thorax got out of Dodge. I barely scratched this Myrmidon--seriously, he had more than 95% of his shields left when I fled--but I was glad to be flying a ship that could get away.

A drone boat like the Myrmidon is a formidable opponent to a Thorax with ECM drones, but gunboats don't have a weapons system independent of their targeting ability. For this reason I've been especially keen on finding a target such as a Hurricane; today, I got something almost as good--a Ferox. I first encountered the ship at a gate, where I pretended not to see him; as an outlaw, I'm fair game at gates, while the sentry guns would take his side should I shoot first. He didn't shoot me, so I pretended I wasn't hunting and warped through first. In the next system, I noted the Ferox's presence, and so in the next; I nosed around a little at the belts, but didn't see the Ferox make itself vulnerable.

Finally, I jumped into Murethand--and there the Ferox was, at the only asteroid belt in scan range! I sat on my hands, though, not touching the controls as a recon ship was at the gate; but as soon as it warped out of the system, I was warping to that belt. I tackled the Ferox and deployed my drones, but he got off a nice alpha strike against me, wiping out most of my shields in a single volley. I was committed, and all I could do was wait and see whether my ECM drones could shut him down long enough for me to do my dirty work. The pilot was not part of any combat organization I recognized, so I crossed my fingers, set a close orbit, and hoped for the best. Remembering my Myrmidon kill, I watched my cap closely, and turned off my stasis webifier once it was clear my target wasn't going to be running off.

In the end, I needn't have worried; I may have taken one more volley of damage, but it wasn't nearly as devastating, and I still had plenty of cap left when the Ferox exploded. As usual when I attack a battlecruiser with a small-blaster cruiser I had plenty of time to raise the subject of ransom; and as usual when I find a battlecruiser at an asteroid belt in lowsec, my target was broke. I locked the capsule and killed the pilot, sending him perhaps to a clone in a galaxy far, far away.

I'm still aiming to be a fully-specced heavy assault cruiser pilot, but that's not going to happen for 3-4 months at least. For now, I'm glad I went back and gave the cheap and effective Thorax-class cruiser another chance. And you! The guy waiting until you can fly a battlecruiser before you go to lowsec! I'm looking for you!

Who got the short end of this stick?

2008-07-02T17:13:00.000-07:00

I spied a Brutix, working his magic at an asteroid belt in Ouelletta. That's right, Ouelletta--the system I most warn my readers about. Take any T1 ship battlecruiser-size and down to a belt in Ouelletta, and you'll surely be attacked within minutes, perhaps even within seconds. I felt no hesitation in sending my Thorax, armed with small neutron blasters and ECM drones, into warp drive in that Brutix' direction.

As soon as I was in a comfortably tight orbit around the Brutix and my drones had him jammed while my blasters plinked away, I opened up a private ransom channel. When my target joined the channel, I informed him I was demanding 15 million ISK in ransom. 15 million seemed like a modest ransom to me; new Brutices go for over 20 million in Verge Vendor, and on top of that one must factor in weapons, modules, and the time spent in going from system to system gathering it all together in one place. My target, apparently, didn't see things the same way; his response was to simply shut off communications with me. I set my mind on killing him.

As I got the Brutix into structure, though, a Megathron showed up on the scene. His first volley made it clear to me that I wasn't going to get away from this battleship with just a little fancy footwork. Since it took just a few seconds, I finished off the Brutix; then, ignoring his capsule, I sicced my ECM drones on the Megathron. In spite of working my high-tech small armor repairer overtime, I couldn't prevent the Megathron from munching his way through my armor, lickety-split. Every few seconds, hoping I'd managed to break his lock, I tried warping out to a safespot; every few seconds my hopes were shattered. Finally my Thorax lost integrity, and I managed to speed away in my own capsule. "GF," (good fight), I sent on an open communications channel; I received a gf for myself in response, as well as respect for tackling a Brutix with a Thorax.

A few minutes later, I came out of a space station in the Ouelletta station, dodging sentry fire ineffectively in a Taranis. I took the risk to check on loot; the battleship pilot had left the system. I was filled with greedy joy in discovering that neither the wreckage of my Thorax nor that of the Brutix had been picked over. It took me several trips to shuttle what I could recover from both wreckages to a safe spot in space to wait for things to cool down between me and the authorities. But what amazed me was the discovery that the Brutix--whose pilot couldn't be bothered to pay 15 million in ransom--had gone down with three expensive rigs, worth well over 30 million, and not covered by any insurance.

Pay me the ransom, boys!

I <3 ECM drones!

2008-06-16T09:55:00.000-07:00

In the busy system of Covryn I scanned the belts, hunting for targets that weren't running missions, camping gates, or docked at some POS. I noted an interceptor at large in the system--a bit of a worry for me in my Thorax, a T1 cruiser I've been flying lately because it's cheap and I need to give some care to my ISK hoard. Then I acquired a target: a Caracal was alone at an asteroid belt. There may be some Caracal pilots who could kill me in my Thorax, but not enough to worry about; I typically have little trouble against the missile-spewing Caldari cruisers. Reassuring myself that the interceptor was out of scan range, I warped in the direction of the asteroid belt.

As asteroids began resolving themselves on my display, the first sign that I had a fight on my hands was the cruiser's icon, flashing red to indicate his status as an outlaw--the pilot was no inexperienced miner or ratter. He was near the belt's warp-in point, however, and with single burst of my microwarpdrive I had him scrammed. I fed another burst of capacitor to the MWD to close to web range, set a close orbit, and opened fire with all five of my small-but-deadly high-tech blasters. As I began taking heavy missile fire, I launched my five medium ECM drones, and they jammed my opponent in no time; I stopped taking damage.

The Caracal was obviously flown by a highly-skilled pilot. A couple of minutes of pounding from my blasters, and the damage indicator seemed stuck with the Caracal holding at 85% shields. As I gave him some time to run out of cap, I checked his employment history on the public nets; he was quite a bit more experienced than I at piloting star ships. Given his skills and experience, and seeing as how I had plenty of time, I decided to ransom the fellow; he could have some pricey modules fitted, and perhaps some costly implants in his clone to go with them.

I waited for his tank to break--which it did--then opened a private ransom channel with the Caracal pilot. I asked for 20M ISK; quite a large ransom for a Caracal, but then I would be quite happy to kill him and take his loot instead. He questioned the amount at first, then asked for time. He'd already used up most of his 30 seconds, but I generously offered him another 10. I shut down all my blasters but two, and kept my ECM drones busy. The Caracal was holding at about 15% structure.

That's when the Deimos appeared on my overview. Curses! I'd neglected to keep scanning space, and it looked like backup had arrived. Defiantly I re-activated all guns, and the Caracal popped. Next I turned my ECM drones on the Deimos, and tried to get out. No good! I was scrammed! My good-for-nothing shields melted, and I was taking damage to my armor. Now a Dominix was on the scene! But wait--I wasn't taking damage; my drones had jammed the Deimos! Again I issued the command to warp out; this time I received no indication I'd been jammed. My warp engines fired up agonizingly slowly; I recalled my drones, imagining they might make it into the bay just as I got out of Dodge. But no--they had plenty of time to saunter back over to my ship and make themselves comfortable in their bay. In frustration I hammered my navigation console, willing the warp drive indicator to jump me into safety. Finally, it crawled up, and I was out of there, intact and with a bay full of drones. Sweet relief!

I sent a "gf all" out on the public frequency, and received a well-deserved "nice one mate" in return. After transmitting my combat report to headquarters, I saw that the Caracal had dropped almost 13M ISK worth of high-tech modules I could have scooped; but on balance, I was content just having survived the engagement.

Finding a safe spot in space to let my heartbeat slow down, I went down the corridor to the drone bay. Lovingly I cleaned my five Vespa EC-600's from the char of battle, and polished each drone with affection. I never would have killed the Deimos and Dominix, but by jamming the Deimos efficiently before the Dominix could get a lock on me, my sweet babies had saved my life.

I take on six ships at once in my Thorax!

2008-05-31T21:24:00.000-07:00

I'm doing some business-related travel for the next couple of months, so I don't know how often I'll be able to post updates. I am finding time, sometimes lots of time, to scour the belts--I'm just not sure in advance when those times will be.

Anyway, I stumbled across the strangest thing today 250km off a moon in lowsec; 6 spaceships without pilots. As I slow-boated my way to optimal range, I pondered what might have happened. Had there been a POS taken down, and these were the ships deemed worthless by the marauders? Did someone drop a bookmark in warp, thinking it to be a safespot, without realizing it was on the same scan grid as the nearby moon? Was it a trap (I always think of that one too late)?

A couple of industrials, a Celestis, and some shuttles. I blasted 'em all to bits, then looted the wreckage: millions of ISK in fittings, mostly expensive named or high-tech cargo expanders. Nice.

As I sat at a safespot of my own, waiting for things to cool down with the sentries, it occurred to me that I know how to fly a Celestis; I could have docked it in a nearby space station and had an even bigger moment of serendipity.

Guess that's why they don't call Ka Jolo the sharpest pirate in three systems!

Another look at the Thorax

2008-05-11T06:18:00.000-07:00

A week ago, I lost my last interceptor in lowsec when, already critically damaged from battling a Vexor, I found myself tackling a simple T1 cruiser for my gang. I was pretty much out of ISK, to be honest, so I shone my flashlight into one of the dusty back corners of my hangar. Sitting there was a fully-fitted and insured Thorax, a Gallente cruiser class of some repute. I remember flying the Thorax before, and feeling clunky and vulnerable in it. But given the choice between flying a Thorax or sitting in the station bar listening to some miner talk about volume, ore, and profit ratios, I decided it was time for some Thorax piracy.

To my happy surprise, the Thorax didn't seem as clunky or vulnerable as I remembered. I was killing targets, and some targets went down easily to my Thorax that would have been a handful in my Taranis. The reasons I was having a better experience with the Thorax this time around, I am sure, have a lot to do with my higher level of experience as a combat pirate combined with my deeper understanding of weapons systems, defenses, engineering, navigation, and many of the other skills that go into operating a space-faring vessel. Even when after a few days I managed to sell some loot and scrape together the ISK to buy and fit a new Taranis and a new Crow, I decided to stick with the Thorax until it was destroyed, and see how far it would take me now.

My first three kills in the Thorax, as part of the gang I was in when I lost my Crow, were a Retriever, another Thorax, and a Rupture; those kills boosted my confidence that I wasn't a walking target symbol. My first solo kill was a Hulk, though I almost bugged out when a friendly competitor showed up in his Vagabond (I wasn't sure whether "friendly" or "competitor" would be more operative). Next I killed a Rifter, probably just to prove to myself that I'm not afraid of them. Then, reminding myself that a Thorax can tank sentry guns long enough to pop a hauler and scoop the loot, I killed a couple of industrial ships and was rewarded with a couple of expanded cargoholds and a Heap-Load of Garbage. After hunting fruitlessly for a hauler that didn't seem to be working the bottom rung of industry, I went back to the belts.

I had a very nice fight with an Ishkur; he managed to take out all of my ECM drones, but they bought me enough time to put an end to him. The pilot got out with his pod, and we had a nice chat; I ended up inviting him to consider joining our corporation. Later I accepted a couple of 1-vs-1's with him (we agreed to stop when one of us got into structure), and did even better; I got him into structure in both instances before he got through even half my shields. In one of the fights, he said my drones never let him get a lock, not even once.

After that confidence-booster, I ganged up with some corpmates again and we killed a Taranis. My three ensuing kills (1 2 3) were solo kills against cruisers, two of them Thoraxes; by now I was appreciating the edge given me by my high levels of skill in gunnery and drones.

I thought my next fight was going to be an exciting one; I spied a Megathron and a Badger at an asteroid belt in Indregulle, and hoped I could jam the battleship long enough to kill the hauler and scoop its loot. Sadly for all concerned, once I tackled the Badger the Megathron scampered off, and I found nothing to salvage from the Badger's wreckage. He had fitted a civilian afterburner and . . . nothing; the afterburner and the ore he'd been picking up went down with the ship.

Later, I scanned a Brutix in the direction of a belt in Loes. I headed for the belt, hoping he was there rather than at the planet, moon, or space station that were all along the same line-of-flight; I'd deduced that the pilot couldn't be very highly skilled. Unlike the Megathron that had left his mate to die alone at a belt in Indregulle, this battlecruiser pilot cursed and threatened and smacktalked and generally gave me my money's worth; what he didn't give me was the ransom I asked for. No problem, I collected my due reward, in modules and cargo fished from his wreck. Then, on my way back to my home station with all the loot I could stuff in my hold, I saw a Stabber at an asteroid belt. I jettisoned my cargo and warped to the belt and smacked that cruiser down without him ever getting a lock on me.

Finally, today. On the last day of this Thorax's week of honor, I killed a cruiser and two destroyers. What was different about these three kills was that in each instance I was also able to lock and pod the pilot; I hadn't managed to do that with my Thorax until today.

And then, just as I jumped into Hevrice, another Thorax warped to the gate. He was not flagged as a criminal, but I kept my eye on him, hoping he'd be tempted by my red-flashy status into opening fire. He did! I quickly locked him and my drones shut him down; unfortunately for me, he was pretty fast and I couldn't quite get into range for my small guns. Then a Vexor jumped through the gate, and also locked me. He unleashed a mixed bag of drones on me, including some high-tech Ogres. I watched as my shields dropped to zero, and noted that my capacitor was steadily being depleted. I realized the Vexor was right next to me, and re-directed my guns to the Vexor, leaving my ECM drones on the Thorax. It was the right move: the Vexor's shields started dropping, and fast. But it was too late. I ran out of cap (or maybe the Vexor leached my power out) just as the Thorax finally got a lock on me, and with no armor repairer, I knew I didn't have much time. I confirmed that I was, in fact, warp scrambled; I micro-managed my capacitor to try to take that Vexor with me; but in the end, my Thorax went down.

I write this as I travel to my home station in my escape capsule, vowing that I would not let that noble cruiser go without this memorial. The insurance payout has already registered on my wallet, and I'm realizing I've had quite a profitable seven days. My experiences this week in the Qlobber have renewed my hope of someday acquiring the expertise necessary to fly a Thorax that truly shines--a "gankerax" that fields larger guns. But more than that, they have changed my mind about Thoraxes at the skill level I hold right now.

Knowledge is Power

2008-05-06T03:00:00.000-07:00

Some people are saying I've been quiet lately. They're saying, "Ka Jolo, what's going on? Why aren't you writing about your latest ship?" Well, what's going on is I'm polishing my competencies with the ships and modules I'm already flying, morphing from a dangerous interceptor pilot into a deadly interceptor pilot.

Early on in my career, I achieved competency at flying Incursus-class frigates, then took some time to upgrade my skills to be able to use high-tech guns and drones. I qualified for cruisers, battlecruisers, and battleships, then brushed up on my learning skills themselves. After that, I turned my attention to interceptors, first getting signed off to pilot Taranis-class interceptors, then Crow-class interceptors built by industrialists who are Caldari like me. Before I start spending my hard-won ISK on the next ship class that's tugging at me--the Ishtar-class heavy assault ship--I want to maximize my skills at all the systems required to effectively fly such a killing machine.

Over the past couple of months, then, I've been studying deeper and broader in all subjects that affect gunnery, drone operation, and (to a lesser extent) missiles. Each new level of understanding I've gained has delivered immediate benefits in the ships I'm flying now: accuracy, range, and rate of fire, drones that are faster, harder-hitting, and more durable; missiles that fly farther, faster, and that hit with more effect. During the next few months, I'll upgrade my skills further to be able to operate high-tech missiles and larger drones and turrets, but not before delving into the mechanical, engineering, and electronic aspects of space ships themselves. I'll be able to do more with less energy when all is said and done--fit more modules, bigger guns, fly farther and faster, repair more damage, and the like.

In fact, I don't expect to qualify for heavy assault ships until November, and I'm not sure I'll be comfortable enough with my HAC proficiency to spend my ISK on one until sometime in December. Obviously, I'm not the "I just can't wait...!" type of pilot. I take great satisfaction in my achievements as an interceptor pilot. I like my life as it is now, and am content to be very good at what I do; I choose to focus on what I can do now rather than what I may do with some other skillset sometime in the future.

It may be appropriate at this time to mention the role my corp and alliance play in my job satisfaction, especially in light of my previous post which focused on the elements that made me feel dissatisfied. One of the skills I'm developing right now is small gang warfare; my corp leaders are providing opportunities for me not only to participate in small gangs but also to command such gangs. As a result, I've taken part in encounters I would never contemplate solo--not even if all I knew about was the bait (during our last fleet action, we attacked a battleship that had a slew of battleships and HAC's waiting in backup), and I've flown battlecruisers and battleships in anti-POS actions and territorial patrols in nullsec (almost embarrassed at my dps and defensive capabilities). All of this adds up to valuable combat experience. In the meantime, my corp leadership is content to allow me to cruise the belts of low-security space as long as I continue my good record of answering calls-to-arms in nullsec; alliance command can hardly begrudge me my lowsec kills when I'm also making a respectable showing on the nullsec killboards.

Don't expect much to change for me in the month or three ahead. I may fly cruisers more, especially once I figure out how to power larger-sized turrets on my Thorax, and then I may explore the limitations of the Brutix and Myrmidon-class battlecruisers. I may take some time out to grapple with the dynamics of electronic warfare. But the clock is ticking . . . I expect to be an Ishtar pilot to be feared by Christmas. See you then!

A pirate's life for me! Please!

2008-04-29T19:20:00.000-07:00

By experiencing different aspects of being a pilot in a corporation and part of an alliance, I am learning more about myself.

I love lowsec piracy best. Win or lose, nothing gives me more of a thrill than finding a target in local, scanning him down to an accessible point in space, tackling him, and going at it. Even if I'm just ganking a T1 mining frigate or a shuttle, adrenaline courses through my veins as I warp to his presumed position. If I walk into a trap, so be it; something inside me admires my opponent for his prowess in sucking me in, even as my mind wonders how--if--I'll ever be able to exact revenge. If I lose a close fight, I go over the fight in my mind again and again, thinking of what I could do different next time; and if I win a fight against a more experienced pilot in a more capable ship--oh, the glory!

Now, some of my mates prefer large-scale fleet combat in nullsec. They like killing "real combat pilots" in "real combat ships fit for PvP." The implication--and sometimes it's said outright--is that lowsec piracy is killing noobs in ships that aren't well fit. They actually have a point there; many of my victims in lowsec are, well, noobs; and their ships bristle with the kind of sensors and armaments that are the opposite of formidable.

Still, I die plenty in lowsec. I've even been killed by rookie ships (and their friends, waiting in the wings), mining at a belt for the sole purpose of enticing overconfident frigate pirates such as myself. The risks are real. And based on my experience, large-scale fleet combat is, if anything, even less risky than lowsec piracy. The blobs I've flown with in nullsec are so massive that in more than 95% of the time a target presents itself, I can't even manage to get a lock before the target is dead. Granted, the target was a combat veteran in a PvP-fit battleship; but when faced with a mighty fleet, he'd have stood a better chance facing me and my Taranis in a Navitas. When my fleet isn't just pwning everything that moves in nullsec, it's because we're being pwned; even then, I have little to stimulate my imagination in after-action reflection. How much more can I do to avoid being primaried when it's my turn?

I imagine it could be stimulating being a fleet commander in nullsec; I'm a long way from being that. With the bulk of my experience in frigates, and the rest in a poorly-flown battleship or battlecruiser following fleet orders, I'd be a poor choice as FC.

Alliance life, to me, has come to mean alliance politics. Right now every single pilot in the corp has been ordered to stand by in our alliance home constellation in lowsec; the alliance has sent out a call-to-arms to weed out the reds and neutrals that have been encroaching on what we consider "our" space. This is probably a great thing from the perspective of the industrial pilots in the alliance; having their lowsec POS's for research, mining, and manufacturing no doubt fills the coffers. However, for pilots like me, ops like this mean I lose ships frequently while simultaneously gaining less in loot. Maybe if I was in another corporation, some of those industrial pilots would be corp mates, and maybe we'd have a ship replacement program. But my corp is pure PvP, we have no ship replacement program, and we're meant to be self-sufficient pilots, funding our ships and modules from loot and ratting alone. I find ratting boring in the extreme; I make all my ISK from selling loot, and from playing the markets. Ops such as the one we're engaged in now, to protect the economy of some brother corps, cut into my money-making ability (I've had to cancel market orders in order to pay for ships for the campaign).

To add insult to injury, it seems to me that our corp takes this call-to-arms more seriously than the very corps we're there to help! I have frequently cooled my heels in a space station in the alliance constellation over the past week, being available for ops as ordered. In the meantime other pilots in the alliance have been ratting in nullsec or going on long roams in space entirely unconnected with the dominance of our alliance in the constellation in question. When enemy ships are spotted, the intelligence is quickly passed on--and there seems to be little interest in responding.

This past shift is a case in point. I reported for duty, starting by fitting out a new interceptor to replace one I lost in the previous shift. Four targets were reported on more than one occasion in our headquarters system; the consensus seemed to be to ignore them, as they just liked to play dock/undock games. Ignore them? Then why can't I be off in some system, hunting in the belts? As I flew a couple of systems over to pick up some missiles I'd purchased (as usual, our corp ammo locker was empty of the ammo most of us actually use), I found that the gate to our headquarters was being camped by three enemy, two of them with outlaw status. I reported the intel, and just a single other pilot indicated his willingness to respond. No action resulted; there's not much two of us could do against two battleships and a battlecruiser. In the meantime, in our "PvP ops" communications channel, the rest of the alliance pilots--spread out across several regions of space--made plans for a joint ratting op. While I worked my shift being ready to defend their lowsec base of operations. Finally I clocked out, disheartened.

Fortunately, I'm hearing this call-to-arms will be canceled sometime within the next few days. The official line is that we've been successful, and so the op can be concluded naturally. It is true that we have destroyed a number of POS's while protecting our own. But some of the other pilots seemed to hold a different perspective--rationalizing their inaction? They were saying over an alliance comms channel that the reds in the constellation could never be driven away.

I hope, dear reader, that you will take this post in perspective. I like my corp mates, and I like flying with them. Our alliance is solid, and has opened up nullsec combat for those in our corp that crave that sort of thrill. Apparently my periods of active duty do not correspond to the periods when our best alliance fleet commanders are taking names and kicking butt. But if I, who consider myself relatively fortunate, feel this way, feel sorry for those in less happy situations.

Karma

2008-04-19T21:19:00.000-07:00

Don't ever do any ratting or mining at an asteroid belt in Ouelletta. Ever. This small lowsec system is along the pipe from the Placid region of space to the Essence region, so every pirate or opportunist in three regions passes through regularly. To make matters worse, every one of the three asteroid belts in Ouelletta is within scan range of both the pipe's incoming and outgoing stargates. Show up at an asteroid belt in Ouelletta, and within seconds--literally--everyone in the system will see it, and every pilot entering the system will notice it.

I passed through Ouelletta yesterday, as I often do, and noticed one of my corp mates cruising at a safe spot in the system, waiting for some rookie pilot to jump in from Jufvitte to try their hand at the famed rats and ores of low security space. Knowing that any young pilot straying far from the sentry guns at the stargates or space stations would not live long to regret it, I continued on deeper into Verge Vendor lowsec space. I've been on something of a roll lately, racking up a string of decent-if-not-spectacular kills, and hadn't been podded for many many days. I hadn't jumped three systems away, however, when another corp mate called for assistance at a space station in Placid, and I turned my Taranis around and headed back.

When I jumped into Ouelletta on my way to assist my mate, at first I couldn't believe my eyes. All that showed on my scanner was a Hulk. I entered the command for a fresh scan, wondering if my directional scanner display was showing stale results from another system. But the new results confirmed that a Hulk was in the system, and nobody else--not even my corp mate I'd thought was camping the system--was showing up. I narrowed my scan arc to 5 degrees, and found the Hulk in the direction of the first asteroid belt I checked. Half believing I was warping into a trap, I set a course to the belt and activated my damage control systems. My corp mate would just have to wait.

I'd like to get a ransom some day from a Hulk, so I didn't immediately go for the jugular like I ususally do in my Taranis. Instead, I set a wider orbit around my target to avoid any stasis webifier he might have fitted, pinned him in place with my warp disruptor, targeted some of his T1 drones, and began shooting them down. I opened a private ransom channel with my victim and asked for 20 million ISK as I finished off his drones. As I switched my fire to his vessel, my target accepted my demand and asked that I hold fire. I'd chewed right through his shields and armor in no time--I ordered my drones to return and orbit my ship, and de-activated my blasters.

I'd given the Hulk 30 seconds to pay, but figuring I could finish him off within seconds, decided to let him have some extra time. However, time dragged on and I wasn't seeing any action in my wallet. "10 seconds," I broadcast to my target, then "5 seconds" about 15 seconds later. Paying a ransom is simple with standard New Eden microcomputer systems; all my victim had to do was right-click my image on his local communications channel and select "give money" from the menu that would appear. I began to suspect that my target had no intention of paying the agreed-upon ransom. As it was clear he was repairing the damage I'd done to his armor, I decided to remind him of the peril of his situation; I opened fire again with my blasters (keeping my drones in reserve), and knocked him back down into structure. "Time's up." I refreshed my wallet display one more time; no deposits. I activated my guns again, and the Hulk blew up.

I was unsuccessful in catching the pilot's pod, and was further annoyed by what he communicated in my ransom channel: "Why did you kill me? I would have paid you your ransom if you'd given me more time!" More time?! I'd bent over backwards, stretching my 30-second time limit to three times that. Bah! Why is it that whenever I kill someone and ask for ransom, I end up getting lectured about how to do my job? The Hulk pilot then informed me he was putting a 20 million ISK bounty on my head instead of giving me the funds in ransom. Yeah, whatever.

Before I could properly evaluate the loot in the Hulk's hold, an Exequror-class cruiser arrived at the scene. Forgetting about my loot for a moment, I quickly targeted, tackled, and destroyed the cruiser--and the pilot's capsule, when it showed up on my overview. I was in no mood to ransom such an inexpensive ship. I suspect the Exequror was the backup my Hulk friend had been hoping would arrive before the conclusion of our engagement; both pilots were in the same corporation, though it was one of the big mega-corporations and it may have merely been coincidence.

I then turned back to the Hulk's wreckage, moderately pleased with my haul; although the three T2 strip miners were beyond repair, I managed to recover a half-dozen other T2 modules and a named armor hardener, worth maybe 10 million ISK. I had to make several trips to a safe spot in space with the loot, wanting to remove as much as possible from the high-risk asteroid belt before other pirates showed up in the system. On one of my trips back to the belt, a shuttle was on the scene; I shot first--well, I shot him dead, no questions asked, then or later. (He mailed me a few minutes later, mocking me for being so bold as to attack defenseless shuttles.) No loot to speak of in the wreckage of the cruiser and shuttle.

Finally the heat was off of me, and I could safely approach a space station without drawing fire from sentry guns. I began to make trips from my loot cache in space to a local space station. The cargo space on my Taranis doesn't hold much, and I was hauling some very large modules, filling in the corners with Golden Omber the Hulk had been mining. By this time a very experienced pirate was in the system, and he parked his stealth bomber right at the undock point of the station to which I was transferring loot. I kept a close eye on him, but managed to get most of the loot to safety without incident.

As I left the station for my last trip to my loot cache, however, the stealth bomber fired a full salvo at me, knocking my shields out and biting into my armor. I calmly assessed the situation, decided I could probably have killed the bomber if I'd reacted right away, but decided to re-dock for repairs before taking a second salvo. Repairs completed, I undocked and attacked my foe; he docked up in turn. I retrieved my last load of booty and dropped it off in the station. Then I set out for my base a few systems away, thinking to come back in an Imicus fitted with cargo expanders to pick up my haul.

Back in Ouelleta with my Imicus, I first darted over to the asteroid belt. I tried to salvage the wreck, but quickly learned I just wasn't skilled enough to salvage such a high-tech mining barge. I contented myself with grabbing a hold full of ore from the Hulk wreck, and set a course to the nearby space station. I'd seen a Taranis on scan as I entered the system, and sure enough my scanner showed him at the belt I'd just left--that crafty old pirate was still out to get me. (And why not?)

In the space station, I found I could load all the modules recovered from the Hulk and Exequror wrecks, the frozen corpses of the cruiser and shuttle pilots, plus most of the Golden Omber I'd scooped up. Daydreaming about what I could buy once my loot was sold (a new Taranis maybe, fully fit?), I undocked. And there sat my stalker, flashing red--this time in an Enyo-class assault frigate.

I acted quickly this time--too quickly. I tried to warp to the stargate to get out clean; as soon as I activated my warp engines, however, I lost the temporary protection of the undocking systems, and that Enyo had me locked down, fast. Because I'd acted so quickly, the space station docking setup had not had time to cycle, and I could not re-dock into safety. My Imicus--and my loot--was lost. I kept spamming the warp button, but to no avail; things seemed to go in fast-motion as my capsule was also tackled and destroyed. The next thing I remember, I was waking up in a medical clone bay several jumps away, feeling disoriented.

Before I could forget, I negotiated an upgrade to my medical clone, making sure that if I get podded again soon I wouldn't lose any of the knowledge that let me pilot with what skill I've gained in my short career. Then, as I sat there taking stock of my situation and trying to come up with a plan, a thought occurred to me.

I opened a long-range private communication channel with the pirate that had killed me. Considering the outcome of our engagement, he was very decent with me. I asked if he'd received a bounty for killing me. He hadn't noticed, but checked while our connection remained open. Why yes--he was 20 million ISK richer, having done the region a real service in ridding it of an outlaw such as myself. It was Karma, alright; the pilot that couldn't figure out how to transfer 20 million ISK to me to save his expensive ship, fittings, and cargohold of ore--that same pilot had promptly and efficiently managed to set a bounty on my head, sometime in the 60 minutes before I shuffled off my mortal coil.

I eat crows for breakfast!

2008-04-10T08:05:00.001-07:00

Wait--wrong idiom. What I should have said is, "I've been eating crow!" (For those of you who don't speak English as a first language, the title of this post is an English idiom that means it is easy for me to handle crows; "eating crow" is another idiom that serves as an admission of being wrong after taking a strong position.)

For all my pontificating here in my journal and on the public forums at http://myeve.eve-online.com, and after my recent solo victories over a Drake and then a Rupture, it is perhaps fitting (my victims might call it karma) that I've lately been in a real slump--suffering a string of painful losses. I've lost three Taranis-class interceptors in the past week--to a Rupture, a Thorax, and most recently to a Caracal.

In all three cases, I was fairly confident (though not at all certain of victory), and it was I who was the aggressor. I've killed similar cruisers before, even back in my days as an Incursus pilot. So when I spot something tempting at an asteroid belt, or flashing red on my computer overview at a jump gate, I may be forgiven for succumbing.

These last three losses were decisive; none of my supposed targets ever seemed in any real danger of destruction, according to my sensor readings, while my own defenses just evaporated. I can't say I was unlucky, either--in all three scenarios, I jumped in at optimal range, got a quick lock on my target, and even had a few seconds' advantage in dealing dps. The Thorax came back at me with simple T1 drones, the Caracal with T1 light missiles; only the Rupture had high-tech weapons to counter my own.

I may have grown overconfident. In the past, I was very careful to assess the experience of a cruiser pilot before risking my frigate. Now, made careless by success, increasingly skilled, and flying high-tech interceptors with state-of-the-art weapons systems, I need this reminder that not every other pilot out there is flying under the influence of consciousness alterers with one arm around an ambitious crew-member. There are experienced combat veterans sharing space with me, and I owe them more respect. To the friends and families of the crews that were lost due to my callous disregard for danger, I apologize.

Interceptor kills Drake--solo!

2008-04-02T10:40:00.000-07:00

. . . if you don't count sentry guns.

While waiting for all my corp mates to get their gear down to our new office in preparation for moving out into 0.0, I've been prowling the nearby lowsec systems but after days of hunting had no kills. Hungry for blood and impatient, I clone-jumped back to Verge Vendor, a region that holds many a fond memory for me. After a fruitless loop up into Placid earlier in the day, I set out a second time, this time towards Essence. I struck gold after a single jump.

Jovainnon is not normally a great system for hunting. It is the hub for dozens of pilots that frantically go on courier mission after courier mission, jumping from station to gate to gate to station and back again, 23 hours a day, 7 days a week--continually under the benevolent shadow of government sentry guns. Flying frigates, as I almost always do, I leave these ships alone. I popped one or two, back in the day, flying my Thorax-class cruiser, but was disappointed in the loot I could recover from the wrecks; odd things such as dolls could be found among the jumble of cargo expanders, and that is about all. Typically my local communication frequency shows 20-30 such pilots in the system, and only very rarely is there a miner or ratter at one of the belts.

Today as I jumped in nothing was any different. There were a Punisher and a Drake on the gate; the Drake was flashing red--meaning the sentry guns wouldn't pound me for attacking him--but those Drakes have some mighty tanks on them. I entered the coordinates for the next jump gate on my way, and warped off.

But as I warped away, I overheard on my short-range radio the system officials inform the Drake pilot that he was engaged in unlawful activity, and they opened fire from the sentry guns and billboard. I wondered how much a single Drake could tank . . . but really, I had no idea. Presumably the vessel could tank the sentries well enough while he destroyed industrial ships; but if Drakes are known for their tanks, Taranis-class interceptors fit like I was are known for their damage-dealing capability. I called up the Drake pilot's records, and found that he had more hours at the helm of a space ship than did I . . . but not by too much of a margin. Impatient for some action, I turned right around when I dropped out of warp and went back down the warp tunnel I'd just left. Would the Drake still be there, or would he warp away from the sentry fire after having killed his prey?

I dropped out of warp, and immediately a red symbol began flashing from my computer overview monitor--an outlaw ship (other than me, of course) was in the vicinity--and it was the Drake! I got a lock on him, and as I was already practically on top of him, immediately engaged my warp disruptor, stasis webifier, and launched my two T2 Hobgoblin drones as I set a close orbit around my quarry.

At first, the Drake didn't seem too worried; it was several moments before my sensors indicated he had a lock on me. But once he had me in his cross-hairs, I felt it. Heavy missiles began slamming into me; I watched as first my shields indicator, then that for my armor, began to turn red, 20-40% at a time. The display of damage to the Drake, however, barely registered at all what I was pouring out from three T2 Light Ion Blasters and those two drones. Part of me was very worried, but another part of me was happy my weapons were registering at all. I was also concerned that the Punisher at the gate was still there; he could engage me at any time, if he wanted to, because of my outlaw status--and unlike the battlecruiser with which I was engaged, the Punisher's weapons would be ideal for hurting frigates.

The Drake had about 65% shields when I engaged him; by the time he'd knocked me into structure, he was down to 20% shields. I began making preparations to try to warp away. Normally, this wouldn't be too much of a concern when facing a Drake-class battlecruiser; they tend to rely on other ships to tackle their opponents. But this pilot was ganking industrial ships as they jumped through the gate, and there was a good chance he was fit to pin them down in the process. But as my finger hovered over the button that would engage my warp engines--if possible--I hesitated. In a Taranis fitted with a T2 Damage Control System, half my defenses were in the structure, rather than the shields or armor. The Drake, on the other hand, had all his defenses in his shields, and he was down by this time to 10%, taking all my firepower plus the sentry guns. Slowly I drew my hand back. Wait just a little longer. . . .

I broke the Drake's tank with about 75% structure left (well, the sentry guns and I did). I was relieved to see the rate of damage really pick up speed now that, his shields gone, my guns were biting into his armor. Still, my own margin for survival kept narrowing. As I kept switching my gaze from my own damage indicator to my target's, I grew more and more confident. Sure enough, I brought the mighty battlecruiser down!

I got out of there fast, not even taking the time to loot the Drake's wreckage. With just 10% of my structure left, I was very gun-shy around that gate; the Punisher was still there, and could have had an easy time of me, and even a Navitas jumping through the gate with a point and a mining laser might have been able to finish me off. But what loot might I have left behind? I sat at a safe spot for a few minutes, greed battling caution, watching my shields slowly recover. Impulsively, I pointed my badly damaged interceptor back to the gate, and engaged my warp engines. The Punisher was still there; now, though, I thought I might make it to the gate if he attacked me, thanks to my rejuvenated shields. I briefly engaged my microwarpdrive and orbited the Drake . . . and recovered about 20 million ISK in T2 modules that had survived the encounter! Woohoo!

Cargo hold filled to capacity, I jumped through the gate and set a course to the space station where I kept my loot in this region. Without even taking the time to unload my cargo or make repairs, I ran over to a Vexor standing by in my docking bay, and headed back to the gate; there were still 6-10 wrecks at that gate, and with the way my luck was going, who knew what I might loot? My optimism had me at the con of a cruiser with more than twice the capacity of my interceptor's hold. I went through the wreckage of the nearest industrial ship, but found only a half-dozen T1 cargo expanders. As I sailed toward the next wreck, though, the Punisher (still there) locked me, and then a Celestis arrived on the scene. I wasn't too worried--a Vexor could handle those ships--but I did grow cautions.

They opened fire on me, and although I activated my armor repairer, I didn't immediately return fire. As things stood, I could jump through the nearby gate immediately, but my attackers would be barred from jumping right away because of their shooting. My caution paid off, for within moments I picked up a Raven on scan; he dropped out of warp in our vicinity and locked me. Deciding not to push my luck any further, I approached the gate and got out of Dodge (down to 25% armor in no time flat).

Back in the stateroom I rent in the nearby space station, I gloated over the killmail I'd received. I'd recognized that I'd scooped up some good loot right away; only now did I learn that the vessel I'd destroyed had been rigged out with some very expensive modifications to enhance his defenses. How sweet!

So frustrated!

2008-03-31T10:01:00.000-07:00

I am so frustrated right now!

First, once I was authorized to access my new alliance official communication media, I was shocked to see a rule forbidding asking for ransoms in lowsec. I brought the issue up with a corp diplomat; he suggested this may be meant to apply only to the little corner of lowsec the alliance watches over as her own private mining claim and ratting grounds. He'll seek clarification and report back.

Second, two of my corp mates were killed today. One dropped out of warp in his interceptor at a jump gate--just as a Hyperion pulsed it's bank of smartbombs. The other grew too complacent at a "safe" spot in space--but apparently his location was probed out, as first a Rapier, then a Falcon, and finally a Myrmidon appeared on the scene, pinning him down and destroying his Deimos-class heavy assault cruiser.

Normally when such things happen, there's not much we can do. We are often few in our corp in the same area, and rarely fly ships that can take on such a gang. Our Deimos pilot was quite right in not calling his buddy over in a Drake--no sense losing more than we have to.

You can imagine how heartening it was for me, then, to see that our new allies overheard our attackers talking smack in local, and began gathering intel. The gang that ganked my corp mate was bragging at having taken down someone from our mighty alliance--an in-our-face challenge, particularly as there were over 20 in local in our alliance, and only three of them. Many questions were being asked as to the gang's makeup, and I quickly checked the alliance killboard, puzzled to find that neither loss had been posted yet--the killmails would have given details as to the members of the gang, the ships they flew, their primary weapons, etc.

I believe that if one is going to post one's kill, and receive a measure of glory for one's combat prowess, one should "man up" to one's losses as well. I expressed my embarrassment about the unposted killmails on our corp's private communication channel; the only response I got back was how few losses were posted from anyone--and speculation that it was not customary to post losses. I admit to you now that I was ashamed that these two losses (and one or two others from earlier in this week) remain unreported to our alliance as of the time of this writing.

Just as my emotions were in turmoil over this issue, I noticed that one of the enemy gang had undocked. I quickly undocked in my interceptor (all I had in the system), scanned for the enemy's ship--and located it! He was in a Myrmidon, just sitting at one of the gates. Furthermore, he was flashing red, indicating his status as an outlaw--the sentry guns would not interfere in whatever action we might take! I passed on this intelligence and ducked into the next system real quick, just to make sure there were no surprises sitting on the other side of the gate.

And then...and then the communication channels grew strangely quiet. Where minutes before, people had been sending in position reports and other intelligence, now there was nothing. A couple of miners carried on a quiet conversation about asteroid belts in the intelligence channel. I checked the intelligence channel display...over 20 alliance members knew an enemy who had just attacked one of our own, then bragged about it and beat his chest in public view, was sitting at a gate with nothing to prevent us attacking him...in a low-tech battlecruiser. Almost 20 of my alliance mates were physically present in the system, and we could all see that at most the pilot had one gang mate present; he had been reported as docked at a station a minute or two earlier.

I switched over to my corp channel, asking who wanted to wreak vengeance. Silence. More than a dozen pilots actually in the region. . . . When somebody did speak up, it was to inquire about getting set up on a voice frequency--completely irrelevant to what was for me the issue of the moment. Heavy-hearted, I slunk into a space station, shut down my command console, and curled up in a ball on my rack.

My name is Ka Jolo. I am a pirate. I am a member of a corporation that avows but one purpose: combat! We are part of an alliance that claims a corner of lowsec space for her own and that fights alongside the most-feared fleets in all of New Eden, jumping capital ships and fleets deep into nullsec space.

But will anyone be there for me in my hour of need?

No moss here

2008-03-29T08:57:00.000-07:00

My corp of rascally characters has moved. Again.

After our last move--our alliance then may have lasted a week--and a couple of near moves, mergers, or alliances, the directors took their time with this, talked things over with the corp members, and made a thoughtful decision in line with our corp values. I have some reservations about the move, I confess.

In my wrath at the Caldari authorities, I am filled with a spirit of anarchy. I want to highlight the corruption and ineffectiveness of the State, by increasing the lawlessness and disorder in society. Piracy seems an ideal vehicle for the effect I want to achieve. It seems my corp mates, on the other hand, generally are motivated more by bloodlust than such a noble cause as mine. They crave combat, and have allied us all with a family of corporations engaged in fighting organized at a level high enough to be surpassed only by the mighty empires of New Eden. While piracy--or is it privateering--may be tolerated (indeed, to a certain extent encouraged), I must be ready to answer the call to arms from fleet commanders, wing leaders, and squad captains. Am I turning into the very thing I oppose? I wonder.

In spite of my misgivings--which I've expressed openly to my comrades--I'm going along with my mates and will give it my best. I've fought alongside these pilots at gate and in belt, and shared drinks and laughs at many a cold bar at some rusting backwater space station. Such men deserve an open mind and a willing spirit. May the blood of innocents cry out in yet another region!

A master baiter

2008-03-24T05:01:00.000-07:00

Part One

I'm in my element. Cruising at a pre-determined point in space invisible from military-grade computer tactical overview systems installed on any ship at a known celestial object (though still showing up on their onboard scanners), I'm hunting down a Rupture-class cruiser. My prey is canny, moving around constantly and not staying at any one location long enough for me to warp to his position. Once again I warp in to an asteroid belt, only to see my target warping away. This time, however, my intelligence officer is able to give me a heading, and that way lays just one known item of interest: another asteroid belt. Just moments after our quarry warps out, we're in warp to that belt, hot on his heels--unless he's taking refuge at an unmarked point in space.

I've got him! My target is locked, my warp disruptor is active, my drones deployed. The cruiser's shields buckle under the pounding of my small-but-mighty Taranis, and I watch as my drones and guns bite into his armor...and then stop biting. My Taranis hasn't taken much damage; her small signature is difficult for larger guns to track, and that factor is working in my favor today. I had hoped against hope the Rupture's armor wouldn't be too formidable; although "Ruppies" are known for their sturdy tank, I'd been able to overwhelm such ships in the past, and my netwar officer had reported the pilot of this vessel was inexperienced. Yet as I watch the target's damage indicator on my computer display hold steady at 80% armor, even in the face of two high-tech drones and three high-tech small blasters, I consider the possibility that I might not be able to break his tank before my meager defenses are at last overcome.

But what's this? A Hurricane-class battlecruiser suddenly appears on my tactical overview. A trap! I hastily give the order to warp out, and nevermind the drones. Too late--our warp drive is jammed! Recalling the drones just in case, I engage our microwarpdrive and head in a straight line toward a nearby planet. If I can just get out of jamming range in time, I might still be able to warp out. The microwarpdrive lights my Taranis up like a Christmas tree, and guns which had struggled to lock on to us before now find us with ease. Shields--down. Armor--pfft. Structure taking damage. Just a little farther...just a little farther...still can't warp? Dang.

When the vapor of vented gases clears, I am relieved to find that my ejected capsule picked up the last-issued warp orders and got away before the enemy could lock her. I salute my foes in an open channel; their trap was well-executed and sucked me right in. Even more gallant than I, the enemy commander informed me that he had transferred 10 million ISK to my account to assuage the pain of my loss--as if money could ever make up for the brave crew of the Taranis Qilobite. Still, I keep the ISK; kredits are always welcome in my line of work.

Posting my loss on the corporation killboard, I note, "Rupture was bait."

Ten minutes later, a corp mate posted the loss of his own Taranis to the same pair of villains. Seeing my loss just minutes too late, he added a note of his own to his report: "Rupture was bait."

Part Two

That Rupture and Hurricane are showing up on my onboard scanner still, a day later. Just how predictable are they? I make contact with my corp mates, and propose we try to turn the trap. One of our grizzled veterans is willing to fly his Malediction-class interceptor over to take the bait, and starts heading my way. As he jumps from system to system, first one corp member then another reports his readiness to take part in the engagement. We gather on the jumpgates leading to our target system.

Finally our Malediction pilot arrives and jumps into the system. He confirms the presence there still of the Rupture and Hurricane. After some time, he manages to narrow the Rupture's location down to a single asteroid belt. By this time six of us are waiting for the call to jump in and assist: another Malediction, a Crow, a Blackbird, a Vexor, and a couple of us in Taranises. The Rupture is identified as our primary target, but a couple of pilots are assigned the task of locking down the Hurricane. The first Malediction warps to the belt...we wait for it...he locks the Rupture and activates one point of warp jamming...the order is given: "Jump in and warp to my position."

"Point." "Point." "Point." Pilots in our squad begin reporting they have added warp jamming strength against the target. The Hurricane hasn't shown up yet. I am astounded at the Rupture's tank; even with a Vexor, two blaster-fit Taranises, three other interceptors, and a Blackbird, his tank is holding. No Hurricane. Finally the Rupture's tank wavers, then collapses as the damage we're inflicting overwhelms his defenses and damage control measures. The Rupture lurches in reaction to a massive outventing of precious air, and drifts dead in space. I don't think the Hurricane is coming. The Rupture pilot tries to escape in his capsule, but one or another of us locks him down, and he was lucky if he had time enough to make his peace with his god before breathing his last.

We jumped the gun, it would seem, tipping our hand to the Hurricane pilot who wisely decided to leave his mate to his own devices. On the losing end of an engagement, our opponents are not quite as gallant as yesterday; I lower the volume of my comms until the worst of the name-calling and cursing passes. In recognition of their courtesy to me yesterday, I turn over to his wingman whatever loot we managed to recover from the Rupture's wreckage in one of the nearby space stations, and welcome the Hurricane pilot's insistence that being wealthy he has no need of any ISK.

I am delighted to find that I got in the lucky final blow against the Rupture. As I post the kill, I smile and add this note: "Rupture was bait."

Getting started in lowsec piracy

2008-03-20T00:18:00.000-07:00

Just a short while ago, I received a message on my Taranis' computer console from a young pilot seeking advice on getting started in piracy. I get asked this quite a lot, typically from readers of this log or from my victims. New pilots just don't know what to do--they're often literally without a clue. More experienced pilots, however, very often have actual misconceptions, and sometimes would be even worse off than a new pilot in starting a criminal career.

Minimum skills. Prospective pirates want to know what skills are needed to be effective in piracy, and genuinely have a hard time believing that just two are really necessary. (1) High Speed Maneuvering 1 is required, as it lets one use a microwarpdrive (MWD). This module affords a pilot a better chance of being able to dictate range--to fight at a range that is advantageous to him, or perhaps to escape a disadvantageous engagement altogether. (2) Propulsion Jamming 1 allows pilots to fit stasis webifiers (which slow the sub-warp speed of an enemy ship) and warp disrupters and warp scramblers (AKA "warp jammers," these modules prevent the target ship from engaging his warp drive). A webber and jammer are essential tackling gear, preventing the quarry from escaping. The webber also makes it easer for turrets to track their target.

Other skills may serve to enhance a pilot's effectiveness, but they are not required for piracy. Pirates are effective because of their mindset, because they are mentally prepared, because they have a plan, more than because of their skillset or fittings. Having said that, it is certainly recommended that a pirate gain a high level of skill in all subjects that affect the operation of his ship and its modules. Some pirates refuse to fly or fit anything with which they do not have a skill level of at least 4. And indeed, on the minority of occasions when you're facing an equally PvP-capable pilot, you'll be glad for higher skill levels.

What ship? Experienced pirates can do a lot of mischief in just about any known ship, but the "conventional wisdom" recognizes three T1 frigates as superior pirate vessels: the Minmatar Rifter, the Gallente Incursus, and the Amarr Punisher. The Rifter is probably the most feared PvP T1 frigate; the Incursus gets the job done; and while the Punisher suffers in fitting the mid-slots, it can tank like the dickens.

More experienced pilots with no experience in PvP frequently make the mistake of wanting to start their pirate career in a bigger ship. I'd advise against it. Cruisers, battlecruisers, battleships, command ships, recon ships, interceptors, whatever--they're best employed after one has a solid foundational knowledge of lowsec PvP, not before. I guarantee that whatever ship you choose, you'll lose it within a matter of hours. Better to do your initial learning in cheap, disposable ships. If you fly something bigger, the lowsec cutthroats will use their encounters with you to preen themselves on their corp killboards and stroke their e-peens.

Now, start your education. Gather a stable of cheap T1 frigates in lowsec, with all the trimmings. Fit them and insure them. Then go out and hunt. Ignore industrial ships--the haulers tend to jump directly from gate to gate or station; considering the sentry guns, you won't be ganking haulers in your frigate. Focus your search on asteroid belts; if a potential target is not at an asteroid belt, chances are it's at a safespot or doing a mission where you can't find it, or at a POS protected by sentry guns. It's possible your elusive target is at a planet or moon--in which case you should expect a more PvP-savvy opponent. What will you be learning as you engage in lowsec belt piracy?

Respect for sentry guns. Wait out your criminal timer in space.
How to use your ship's onboard scanner.
Which ships you may engage with confidence.
Which ships you should be wary of, and why.
Which systems are target-rich.
Which systems to avoid.
Tactics and strategy.

Don't believe everything you hear about PvP or piracy; many pilots with hundreds of kills under their belts only have fleet experience, and don't know the first thing about hunting solo; others only know gate camping or nano ganging or some other form of PvP. Try things out. Win or lose, spend part of your timer "debriefing" yourself: what should you try next time? Why did you win/lose? What worked? What didn't work? As you hunt, take notes as to what pilots are flying, what their security status is, who's in what corp, what corps are in what alliance, etc.

Now that you're engaged in a self-guided educational program, it will probably be helpful to learn from the experiences of others. One particularly helpful resource is the Crime and Punishment section of the EVE-online forums; be sure to check out the stickied post at the top with links to pirate guides and resources. Another helpful site is Eve-Pirate.com.

It's possible that in just a couple of weeks, and with less than 4 million skillpoints, you could be a superior PvP pilot--at least in your area of expertise, small-ship belt piracy. Don't join a pirate corp right now; wait until you have at least 5-10 solo kills (document them by posting your killmails at BattleClinic) to demonstrate that you're not a total noob. It may surprise you to know that the majority of pilots in PvP and pirate corporations only get 0-5 kills a week; by developing a learning mindset, being willing to lose cheap ships, and gaining actual solo experience, you'll be on the road to a successful outlaw career.

It's about time!

2008-03-14T00:12:00.000-07:00

Finally--I got a bit of ransom. I don't recall getting any ransom for months, ever since I got 5 million from a Russian pilot in a Retriever (that was blown up so soon afterwards by another pirate gang I still showed up on the killmail). Most of my targets have preferred to die rather than show support for my noble profession; in many cases, I've had to kill fast or be killed, with no time for more civilized discourse.

My corp leaders having abruptly severed our ties with our PvP alliance (it seems we were supplying the PvP, they were supplying drama and politics), I was in my Crow, darting back up into lowsec from 0.0 where I'd recently been part of a grand coalition fleet. At every gate, my former fleet mates were hunting me. With a sigh of relief, I finally passed the first set of sentry guns on a gate; on my next jump, a Vexor showed up on scan; I noted just a single pilot in the system other than myself.

Without taking the time pinpoint his location, I warped directly to the sole asteroid belt in the vicinity; he wasn't there. I noticed there was also an ice field nearby, and quickly headed that direction; no luck. I set my course 100km off the only planet in the area so I could do a more thorough scan--and came out of warp less than 10km from my target! Within moments, I had him scrammed and was launching missiles from a fast orbit.

His shields went down fast; he started taking damage to his armor at a much slower rate, however, and I questioned my ability to break his tank. At this point, seeing a long fight ahead, I opened a ransom channel with my target and began popping his T1 drones. My quarry recalled his surviving drones to his drone bay and transferred 5M ISK to my account. In reply, I merely pointed out that the ransom demand had been for 10M within 30 seconds. To my gratification, an additional 5M soon showed in my account. I disengaged my weapons systems and warp scrammer, thanked my customer, informed him he had a 15 minute pass, and warped to a safespot.

A moving experience

2008-03-09T21:05:00.000-07:00

Recently, my corporation joined a PvP alliance and moved to a new home region. I was not enthusiastic about the move. I have the idea that with pirate corps, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence; they always think some other area is better hunting grounds, with vast mining corps spreading solo T2-fit Hulks across the belts, inexperienced pilots trying out battleships for the first time, and mission runners that like to park their faction-fitted vessels near the sun to enjoy the view. Certainly during the short time I was in each of my last two corps, we moved at least once--and generally not to any better spot. In fact, sometimes the moves were to go back to some nostalgic hunting grounds of yore, when the loot flowed like water and pirates were Men. As for me, I was doing well right where we were. But the very reason I joined my corp was to learn, and I recognized the value of learning more with allied corps, bigger fleets, and convenient 0.0 space. I'm going along, with my mind open to new horizons.

In any region of New Eden, there are things useful for a combat pilot to have or to know. Safespots need to be established and undock spots for getting away from stations quickly need to be set up. To scan for targets most efficiently, I like to establish "scan points" in a system that (1) make it harder for someone gunning for me to find me, (2) allow me to see more asteroid belts from fewer vantage points, and (3) allow me to distinguish one belt from another, rather than seeing several all aligned at one point. This lets me safely and quickly find a target's exact location, or at least rule out the presence of any targets on the belts. In a typical star system, I might have 2-3 safespots, 2-5 scan points, and 1-2 undocks. If it's a good system for gate camping, I might also have 2-4 scan points for the gate as well. If it's in 0.0 space, I may establish another 2-3 points that allow me to get around typical bubble locations at gates. I had found such points and bookmarked them in 18 star systems around my old stomping grounds. As of now, I have scouted out just the one system where our new home space station is--so I'm hunting "blind" in the neighboring systems, or hunting very slowly as I gradually build a database of key points in space.

Pilots tend to leave space ships floating in space. They may drop a cheap shuttle to use as a bookmark (pilots who are not computer-literate in regards to current technology don't realize they can bookmark a point in space without an object being required), or they may have a stable of ships snugly inside a forcefield and surrounded by sentry guns at a POS near a moon. For the pirate on the hunt, this means ships show up on the scanner that are either inaccessible without scan probes or well-protected by POS defenses. The first time I enter a system--and probably at least a few times after that--I don't know this, and I waste time hunting those ships down. In my old system, whenever I scanned an area I recognized such ships immediately and ignored them, fixing my eyes instead on a viable target. Now, in our new area, I might let a good target slip away while I establish that the Vexor on my scanner is actually at a POS.

Every pocket of space has its regulars: regular pirates, regular miners, regular ratters, regular haulers, regular mission runners, etc. As a frigate pirate, I'm particularly interested in other pirates (whether as targets to be hunted or as threats to be avoided), miners, and ratters. Haulers and mission runners tend to scurry from sentry gun to sentry gun, and thus rarely present themselves to me as viable targets (in an organized gate camp, of course, everyone is a viable target--but I rarely participate in gate camps). Back in my old home, I recognized at a glance the regular haulers and mission runners, and perked up when I saw an unfamiliar pilot or a known ratter or miner. There may have been 20 pilots in local, but if I saw they were all mission runners, I wouldn't even bother scanning the belts. Back there, if I saw some very familiar miner pilots, I could even sometimes make a good guess as to exactly how far from which belt or ice field they would be mining, and had bookmarks set up to warp directly there. Here in my new home, I spend time checking out each and every pilot, with no idea of what they're up to, or where.

Back in my old home, I had four sweet spots, systems where inexperienced pilots regularly ventured into lowsec for the first time; I got most of my kills in those four systems. In one of them I could scan and distinguish all asteroid belts from a single vantage point! There were other systems in my regular roaming route, however, where I never got a kill. When hunting, I would focus on my sweet spots. Here in my new home area, I have no idea which systems are going to end up being sweet spots for me, and which will be barren. There's no feeling of anticipation as I jump into certain systems, no routine lets-just-get-through-here feeling as I jump into others.

Based on my experience and familiarity with the region, back home I had frigates, interceptors, cruisers of various types, a battlecruiser, and a battleship strategically placed in this system or that, so that if certain anticipated opportunities presented themselves and I was not in a suitable vessel, there would be one parked in the local space station. I was able to quickly take advantage of changing scenarios. I had ammo caches prepared, waiting for the times when I would run low far from my home depot. Now, here in my new constellation...you guessed it: all my ships, modules, and ammo have been hauled dumped in a single station. As long as it took me to ferry all those ships to their departure point in the old area, it will take me even longer to familiarize myself with this new territory and allocate my assets appropriately.

For the time being, I'm trusting in my corp leadership. They spent several weeks checking out potential sites for relocation, and believe they've found someplace better than the last. I'm sure that, within a week or two, I'll have settled in here and will again feel in my element. And right now I can enjoy the fact that, whereas in my old hunting grounds I was a known outlaw, causing miners and ratters to run for safety the moment I jumped into a system, here I'm an unfamiliar name for most pilots, and may have some extra time to hunt before my prey has read his computer report on my past activities....

How do I savage you? Let me count the ways...(lowsec)

2008-03-06T22:00:00.000-08:00

It wasn't long before my security status meant my highsec piracy days were behind me (and I found that out at the end of a sentry gun). Aside from the sentry guns at gates and space stations, in lowsec there are no authorities to punish acts of aggression. Interestingly, this means that as dangerous as lowsec may be, like highsec it remains most dangerous to the pirates themselves--the outlaws who can suffer sentry fire but are not defended by it.

Belt piracy is my meat-and-potatoes. Pirates scan celestial objects (mostly asteroid belts, but also planets, moons, and anything else they can get a fix on) for targets, warp to the target, and attack it. No CONCORD shows up, no faction police; it is tooth and claw, survival of the fittest.

There is a nasty food chain in belt piracy, with clueless pilots interested in mining and ratting at the bottom. However, pirates themselves are at risk at the belts, whether from anti-pirates or other pirates higher on the food chain. Hunters set out harmless-seeming mining vessels as bait; predators appear from under cloaks; reinforcements are called in...anything goes.

Hey you potential miners and ratters--I want to warn you just how at-risk you are in lowsec. Watch the local communications channel; it tells you when people enter the star system, and who they are. It can take just seconds for a pirate to scan you down to a specific belt, and then he's in warp; have warp core stabilizers (WCS or "stabs") so you can defeat their warp scramblers, or be fully aligned to warp out (aimed at your destination, engines engaged and ship moving), and warp out at the first sign of a pirate in the vicinity. A good pirate starts scanning while he's still cloaked from the jump gate, and has bookmarks already set up to scan as many points of interest as fast as possible (fast indeed--most pirates do little else but scan, hour after hour). And don't rely on your battleship to save you; that pirate in a T1 frigate just has to hold you down long enough for his mates to arrive from the other side of the gate.

Some corps set up well-organized mining ops in lowsec, with dedicated security vessels, scouts, and experienced PvP pilots. In such cases, things simply come down to who, from minute to minute, has the biggest blob--the miners or the pirates.

Gate camping. Although there are sentry guns at gates, their DPS is limited and many pirates shrug it off. This means they can sit there at the gate and kill anything that passes through. Pirates in certain cruisers or assault frigates can tank sentry guns long enough to pop a typical industrial ship, scoop up the loot, and get out; other pirates in battlecruisers and battleships can tank sentry guns all day, and just sit there waiting for prey to jump in. Well-organized gate camps have a network of cloaked scouts, so they know exactly who is coming through the gate, and when; they know what's in your cargo (even if it's in a container); they'll have a tackler that can lock most ships faster than they can enter warp; they'll have containers of cap boosters at hand, so their tank never fails; and they'll have ships in reserve or on the other side of the gate if you try to escape.

If you're in a fast ship, like a frigate (and especially interceptors), you can often escape gate camps simply by warping away to a point in front of you. Your small signature radius and quick acceleration don't give the big boys much time to lock you. If you're in a well-tanked ship, you can often escape small gate camps by simply returning to the jump-gate and jumping back through; anyone from the camp who's aggressed you has to wait out a short timer before they are allowed to jump through after you. Ships that can sustain plenty of damage can also load up their low slots with warp core stabilizers; they'll be locked, webbed, and damaged, but eventually they should be able to warp out.

Flying in a fast frigate can help you make it through most gate camps; but don't assume you won't be attacked just because you're in a lowly frigate or shuttle. Many pilots try to be inconspicuous when hauling expensive, low-volume loot such as BPO's--and gate campers know this.

By the way, pirates and anti-pirates are also adept at "turning" gate camps. They'll send an attractive target ahead, one that has a good tank, and perhaps several webbers and warp scramblers; then, about the time the gate campers start engaging the bait, they hear scouts reporting a blob of menacing warships approaching the other side of the gate. One or two of the gate campers often find themselves tackled, then destroyed.

Gate-camping tactics also apply at space stations, where this strategy is called, unsurprisingly, "station-camping."

Scanning down mission runners and breaking safe spots are also well-known lowsec practices, albeit ones that require a bit more skill than belt piracy or gate-camping. Some skilled pirates will use scan probes of various types to locate pilots running missions for agents, or perhaps other pirates who are taking refuge at a safe spot. Once they've got a fix on your location, they'll con an appropriate combat ship, call for reinforcements if desired, and head your way. In highsec, CONCORD would be there with immediate consequences--but not here in lowsec.

Some pirates are so good at what they do, and so familiar with the missions assigned in their star system, that they'll wait for you to kill off most or all of the rats, so that they can scoop up the officer loot and salvage your wrecks, just to sweeten the pot.

War-deccing is used in lowsec just as it is in highsec, by pirates who want to minimize their security hit or remove the threat of sentry fire.

Lowsec is fun--I recommend it. There is no reason to avoid it until you're flying some big mean battleship; in fact, the local pirates are probably more interested in killing battleships than T1 frigates. Come on in while the ships you lose are cheap--it just means the tuition you pay for learning PvP will be that much lower.

How do I savage you? Let me count the ways...(highsec)

2008-02-29T20:23:00.000-08:00

I hear a lot of talk about what is and isn't "piracy" in EVE-Online. As far as I'm concerned, piracy is whatever we mean by it; it could be something different for you than it is for me. But in this post I thought I would catalog the acts that fit my definition of piracy.

Highsec piracy falls into three categories: those crimes that rely on the target to flag himself a legal target, those crimes that incur the inevitable wrath of CONCORD, and war.

Can-flipping targets highsec miners who, to save time, routinely transfer ore from their cargo holds to a jettisoned cargo container. Such containers, known as "jetcans," have a much higher capacity than most miners' cargo holds. Once the jetcan is full, the miner warps to a space station, leaves behind his mining ship, and returns to the jetcan with an industrial ship to retrieve the ore. The pirate steals the targets ore and leaves it there in a jetcan of his own. The newly-emptied jetcan disintegrates with nothing inside, leaving the newly-filled jetcan instead. The new can will appear yellow, rather than white, to the miner, and the pirate will begin flashing red on the miner's overview display; these clues indicate that the can or ore does not belong to the miner, and that the pirate is a legal target--he has been flagged so for 15 minutes for stealing the miner's ore.

At this point the pirate is at risk; he can be attacked, but he may not legally engage first. Most pirates aren't bothered; they came to the party in a PvP-fit ship, while the miner is encumbered with such modules as mining lasers, strip miners, and mining drones. Any such miner who is fool enough to defend his ore under such circumstances is quickly spanked. What many novice miners don't realize, however, is that taking the ore back makes them legal targets for the pirate--in effect, they have stolen the ore (back). If the miner reclaims his ore, whether in ignorance or under the sad assumption that the pirate has moved on, the pirate quickly takes advantage of his kill rights.

To avoid being victimized by can-flipping pirates, miners may (1) simply choose not to mine into a jettisoned cargo container, (2) gracefully admit their mistake when the ore is stolen and consider the ore lost for all time, or (3) exchange their mining vessel for an uber solo pwnmobile or equivalent gang of mates before engaging the pirate or reclaiming the ore. As an alternative to jetcan mining, I suggest anchoring a large secure cargo container at the mining point instead. Pirate's can't so easily steal ore from password-protected containers.

Wreck-baiting, like can-flipping, depends on the target taking some positive action which renders him in the eyes of CONCORD a legal target for the pirate. In this case, the pirate prowls a system's (or a few systems') asteroid belts and ice fields, killing rats but being careful to leave loot in the wrecks. Any player who comes across those wrecks and takes the loot for himself is flagged for 15 minutes a legal target for stealing loot which legally belongs to the pirate. You may be sure the pirate is not far away, looking above all for pilots who are flashing red on his overview...and when he finds you, chances are you'll be sorry. Such pirates sometimes give themselves away by swooping in on another ship in the vicinity of their wrecks; when they see that their loot has not been violated, they rather lamely move along...but remain close enough to take action should it become possible.

Suicide ganking refers acts of sheer agression that doom the pirate to swift retribution at the hands of CONCORD. While such pirates may be crazy, it's more likely that they are well-informed and well-organized. Suicide gankers consider the cost of their ship and fittings against the proft to be gained from looting your wreck. They have likely scanned your cargo, so they don't sacrifice themselves for a cargo of dolls or janitors; instead they're looking out for original blueprints or high-end fittings or rigs and the like. They also tend to work in teams, so that even while the ganker is fleeing in his pod, his confederate is scooping up the surviving cargo from both wrecks.

War deccing (piracy by declaration of war) is an organized form of extortion. Some pirate corporations specialize in disrupting the lawful activities of industrial corporations to the point that it is cheaper for the target corp to pay a ransom than to wage war. Such pirates like to target small- to medium-sized corporations with PvP capabilities that are comfortably within the pirate corp's ability to face. Simply by declaring war on a target corporation, that corporation's pilots all become legal targets as far as CONCORD, sentry guns, and faction police are concerned. As with most other pirates, war-deccers tend to enjoy combat about as much as profit, and are not at all sorry when their targets decide to fight rather than pay. Still, they are professionals, and in the end they usually get paid.

Mercenaries also rely on declarations of war to gain legal aggression rights against corporations, but rather than earning money primarily through extortion, they work on a contract basis for third parties. Being targeted by a war-deccing pirate corp? Being elbowed out of the belts by a rude industrial corp? A mercenary corp will be happy to come and augment or replace your own corps' more limited PvP capabilities--for a small fee, of course.

In highsec space, if you keep your nose clean--if you don't loot other people's ships, if you don't take ore from other people's cans (not even if they're right where yours used to be, and have the same name), and if you don't shoot first at other people's ships, chances are you'll be free of problem pirates. But if you are known to be traveling with a hold full of expensive cargo, travel with care to avoid suicide-gankers; and if you catch the eye of a pirate corp bent on extortion, calculate what you'd pay for the right to continue your operations free of disruption.

The Crow: My Maiden Voyage

2008-02-25T07:24:00.000-08:00

The Crow may be one of the most feared interceptor-class frigates in New Eden. Although not the fastest interceptor out there, it can fly fast enough to stay ahead of missiles and drones, and fast enough to muck up the tracking of even small turrets. What makes the Crow such a menace, however, is the fact that it can launch standard missiles from three missile launchers while orbiting at top speed; while the target ship's guns, missiles, and drones chase the Crow fruitlessly, the Crow's missiles slam into the target with deadly monotony. Over the past three days, I've been putting a state-of-the-art Crow through its paces. This is my report.

First, I found the Crow an expensive ship to buy and fit. The ship itself cost me almost 20 million ISK--I placed buy orders at lower prices, but found no takers in my home region. On top of that, the three 'Arbalest' Standard Missile Launchers I fit it with cost an arm and a leg; fortunately, I managed to loot the launchers I used. Unfortunately, that means I missed out on millions of ISK I could have realized from their sale. With such a hefty investment, I went ahead and used T2 modules for most of my other fittings, wanting to get as much of an edge as I could over my opponents.

Although I'm still filling out my skills at effectively commanding interceptors, I had to take quite some time to hone my missile skills. Even though I had significant missile training from my military training as a youth, I was (and am) unsatisfied with my overall efficiency at maximizing missile run times, speed, and accuracy. This is a situation I continue to remedy.

When I tested a railgun Taranis, I was completely unimpressed and haven't pursued additional opportunities to command such ships. When I tested blaster Taranises, I was ecstatic and fell in love with the brute power offered up. So what do I think about the Crow? I haven't fallen in love with it; but on the other hand, I have a growing appreciation for its role in combat.

Compared with the Taranis, the Crow is simply faster, while the Taranis deals out more damage. In combat, I typically flew the Taranis in close orbit at speeds of 5-600 m/sec, and did over 190 in DPS. I typically took damage, but only for a short period of time--the few moments it took to gank my target. In the Crow, on the other hand, I orbit at about 20 km out, going at speeds of over 5 km/sec, and doing less than 40 DPS to my target. I generally don't take any damage at all in solo combat, even if it takes me several minutes to kill my target--even if it takes me half an hour of firing missiles and waiting for more and more mates to join me in nibbling our target to death.

If that was the whole story, I'd just ignore Crows and continue to fly blasteranises for now. But one more difference between the two interceptor classes is what types of ship they may safely engage. In a blasteranis, I was confident against T1 frigates and cruisers, and if the captains were inexperienced, battlecruisers. In a Crow, I feel comfortable engaging all those ships, plus assault frigates, battleships, and even many heavy assault ships. Either ship will fare about as well (or as poorly) against other interceptors, using their corresponding strengths. In the Taranis, I could only engage ships that would be quickly overwhelmed by my DPS; in the Crow, I just have to avoid ships that can run me down and web me (and there are several that can).

Over the three days that my first Crow survived, I killed four frigates and two destroyers in solo combat, and with the assistance from a wingman killed an Ishkur-class assault ship and won a 17 million ISK ransom from a battlecruiser. BattleClinic valued those kills at 28.75M ISK, against 42M for my Crow. Not a profitable run; but not bad tuition for a new fighting style, either.

My last battle started with me tackling a Myrmidon ratting in lowsec (where else). My mate then jumped into the system in his Enyo and warped to the battlefield as I took out the battlecruiser's drones. We demanded a 20M ISK ransom, but our target claimed he didn't have it and countered with an offer of 17M. My colleague and I decided to reject the offer, and set our weapons to maximum DPS against our victim; we expected a long fight, given the Myrmidon's tanking ability and our limited DPS. However, the fight was cut short when a Rapier appeared at the asteroid belt. My wingman, wiser than I at such things, got out immediately. I, however, told the Myrmidon we accepted his counter-offer, and immediately my wallet flashed as the ISK was transfered to my account. I quickly set a course to get away from both ships, but before I knew it my ship was simply shot out from under me (teaching me about Rapiers and long-range webbing, which let every drone, missile, and rat in the neighborhood catch me and beat the living daylights out of me).

The Rapier apparently did not want the security status hit of attacking the Myrmidon, so the battlecruiser paid his ransom and lived to rat at lowsec asteroid belts another day. The Rapier scooped up about 10M ISK in loot. My wingman received 8.5M ISK for his share of the ransom. I managed to warp out in my escape capsule and return to my home station, where I fit a backup Crow that was standing by; like my intended victim, an overall loser in spite of earning over 10M in ransom and insurance.

Blasteranis, strike two

2008-02-18T20:26:00.000-08:00

My second blasteranis lasted less than five days. It gave me a good run, right up to the point where, as part of my test-my-limits program, I attacked a Blackbird/Vexor duo. (Lesson learned: Don't attack Blackbirds solo when piloting a blasteranis. Maybe I should have learned it last time I tried, but I got away that time and so the lesson didn't stick.)

Still, my second blasteranis in just a few days garnered me four frigates, three destroyers, four cruisers, a battlecruiser (that's right--a Myrmidon!), and a mining barge, all solo kills. My 13.5M ISK interceptor racked up a 13:1 kill ratio, and Battleclinic reports ships, modules, and cargo worth 175.8M ISK was looted or destroyed. Nothing to be embarrassed about there! (When I do suffer an embarrassing lost, I just may conveniently neglect to mention anything about it here. Or maybe I will write it up, just for the attention.)

A blasteranis relies on its DPS to survive and win battles. Unlike other interceptors, it takes a beating from drones, missiles get their licks in, it even endures guns pounding away. It doesn't tank this damage; a blasteranis relies on its own blasters, so is just as concerned about transversal velocity as its target, so not even speed-tanking is pursued. A blasteranis stands toe-to-toe with its target, trading blows, and hopes it gives a lot more than it gets. The only time one need get fancy piloting a blasteranis is against ships that don't want to stand toe-to-toe, and that have the means to avoid it. As part of my test-the-limits program, I have learned a blasteranis can kill a cruiser under these circumstances even before the combined firepower of the cruiser and five T1 medium drones or T2 light drones can prevail.

Blasteranis, I heart you!

Ten days

2008-02-14T22:51:00.000-08:00

Ten days. That's how long I pillaged and killed in my first blaster-fit Taranis (henceforth, blasteranis) before being brought down by a much more experienced pilot flying a Crow-class interceptor.

Not too thrilled with the Taranis' I had lost fit out as interceptors--I didn't like having to choose between DPS or survival each encounter--I decided to fit out one of the Taranis hulls still in my ship locker as a blastaranis. I devised a fitout that would maximize my DPS potential, while still having certain advanced features such as speed. Compared to traditional interceptors, a blasteranis takes large risks--it intentionally flies within web range and puts itself at the mercy of whatever guns, missiles, or drones are brought to bear. Many consider the blasteranis in these terms, and avoid it. But compared to my trusty Incursus, the blasteranis has more DPS, more speed, a smaller signature radius, and more HP; it just outperforms the Incursus across the board--with the exception of cargo capacity and price. And let's be clear about that DPS: my blasteranis is capable of delivering well over 200 DPS, which puts it up there with some battleships. (See the specs I was guided by at BattleClinic.com.)

Then, over the course of ten full days, I had my longest run ever in a single ship. By the time my streak was over, I'd killed 16 ships, and podded most of their pilots. Those ships were valued by BattleClinic at 98,622,309 ISK; the same outfit valued my blasteranis at 11,133,911 ISK. I killed 4 frigates, 2 destroyers, 8 cruisers, and 2 mining barges; all solo, except for two--a frigate and a cruiser--while in a small gang. On top of that, I engaged in an extended one-on-one combat with a Blackbird; eventually I decided I was never going to get a target lock on him, and I managed to escape after he destroyed my drones.

My tactic is identical to the one used when flying an Incursus. First, I close range--only now I do it faster, and can scram my target's warp drives from farther away. Second, I orbit real close while pouring out the hurtin'. Third, I loot and scoot. Unlike the Incursus, if I need to bail out of a fight in my Taranis, I can flip on the MWD and have a chance of powering out of web range to make good my escape.

I've just finished preparing another blasteranis, wondering if I'll make it ten days again. I don't think so. It's clear to me I need to push the limits a little more, try to take a bite out of some bigger prey. We'll see.