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Brother Grimoire's avatar

Hunger. That was Richards alarm clock now. It had been three days since he had last ate, the last of his ISK paying station manager the fees to free his ship, The Locust, from being impounded for unpaid docking fees and to keep the loan sharks off his back. Times were hard everywhere and resupply was as far from the crew as heaven was from earth. "Today we eat" he mumbled to himself, the phrase a mantra after months of empty wallets and stomaches. His ship floating in a remote corner of the system, Jack takes his post and begins to watch the scanning equipment intently, waiting for the answer to his prayers. The hours pass, but the time is measured by waves of hunger. A panel chirps and new readings appear on the panel. "A Tayra!" he gasps as a fresh wave of hunger washes over him. "Think of all the food it could hold!". At that moment, the fate of Richard Swallows and his crew were sealed. Like the sailors of ancient Terra, they would ‘raise the black’, take what they could, and give none back.

Reinvigorated by the prospect of fortune and a good meal, Rich stands tall at the helm and begins to give orders. “Set a course to drop us right in its projected path! By the time it arrives, I want us to look dead in the water! Broadcast a garbled distress call on the local frequencies detailing a core breach, radiation is spreading and we need immediate rescue! We want them nice and close so they don’t know what hit them. We also don’t want anyone to know who hit them. Gunnery, stand by to online the blasters and take out their command center. Overheat the guns if you have to!” With his orders being carried out, he takes his seat and adjusts a setting on the helms panel. Safety: Disabled

The hours pass slowly, but eventually the Tayra is visible through the porthole. She's a large hauling ship with pockmarks and grime telling her age and experiences. “Caldari Hauler Corona responding to your distress call. If anyone can hear us, please make way to the port airlock for evacuation!” The message is relayed across internal comms, informing the crew that awaits in the shadows, blasters at the ready.

With a groan, the airlock door opens slightly and the crew of the Corona enter. Disturbed by the lack of survivors, they cautiously push forward. As they enter the ship, the “endangered” crew make their appearance, falling upon their would-be saviors with fire and fury. The fire of the ships Blaster Cannons shake the deck, their target being the command bridge of the Corona. “Command is down, board them and take it all!”

Rich's crew stormed the Corona, killing all in their way. They haven’t eaten in days and their families have gone without their support for too long. They don’t have the luxury of a conscience anymore. First comes the galley. The Caldari sure know their food, with plenty of dairy, imported Amarrian wheat, and various protein delicacies. The crew scramble to the freezers and refrigerators and squabble amongst themselves until the more sensible members take charge and begin distributing food. Next comes the cargo. This particular hauler was carrying robotics components for advanced weaponry. “We’re rich, boys! Once we offload this cargo, we’ll never want for anything again!” Captain Rich exclaimed. Unfortunately, they couldn’t take it all, but every hold, cabin, gangway, and common area was filled with loot.

Once the goods are secured, Rich gives one final order: “trigger the core breach and activate warp drive”. The ship slips into warp as explosions begin to bloom along the hull of the Corona, destroying the evidence of their foul deed. As the immediate danger subsides, the thoughts of the crew collectively linger on what they have done. They never intended to live out a life of piracy, but full bellies and the prospect of wealth contrasting against their recent struggles leaves them conflicted. With a crackle, the ships intercom activates “Attention to all crewmembers of The Locust: There is nothing wrong with survival. The wild ecosystems of the planets we pass and the bloody history of our people are proof of this fact. This was an act of desperation. Those that would like to take their share and forget about it all are free to do so, whereas those that decide to stay will be free.”

With those words in mind, the crew members made a decision. Outfitted with upgraded weapons systems and sporting new drones, The Locust began to ply one of humanity's oldest professions.

"The stars are freedom, and the pirate is their master. We fly where we want, take what we want, and answer to none. We are the freest men in the universe."

Brother Grimoire's avatar

A Tayra WAS harmed in the making of this post.

Alex Sinclair's avatar

Brother Grimoire I'm currently putting together our writeup for these stories. You mention 'Jack' in the first paragraph, is he another crewmate or is that meant to say Richard?

Brother Grimoire's avatar

Ooops! I decided on a different name partway through and didn't catch it when I gave it a once over

Alex Sinclair's avatar

That's what I thought, just checking!

Celltear's avatar

This might not count but my Part 2 history/lore video on Pochven history in EVE =)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zfn360QheWQ&ab_channel=BleedingSnow

Alex Sinclair's avatar

I just watched this. It's great, but it doesn't quite fit this bounty brief. It could be a contender for the next propaganda bounty though, it was quite an inspirational history lesson!

Celltear's avatar

Thank you and hopefully so =)

MacGybo's avatar

Fractured Echoes: A Tale of a Stolen Prototype Skill Injector

Y116

In the sprawling expanse of New Eden, where stars glimmer like dreams across the fabric of space, the life of a capsuleer is a tapestry woven with the threads of ambition and skill. Among them was Captain Target Caderu, a seasoned pilot who soared through the abyss with an insatiable hunger for power. Her Astrahus was her sanctuary, a place where she felt invincible. And yet, it was a single encounter with a stolen prototype Skill Injector that unraveled the boundaries of her reality.

Target, her fingers trembling in anticipation, activated the Skill Injector's interface. It was a conduit to unparalleled growth, a window to potentiality. The injection was swift, and as the liquid entered her neural pathways, she felt a surge of energy and newfound proficiency course through her veins. She grinned, a rush of empowerment enveloping her senses. But little did she know, she had initiated a sequence of events that would transcend the realms of her understanding. What should have been a moment of knowledge expansion became an elongated trip.

Days passed, and Target found herself immersed in battles of cosmic grandeur. Yet, amidst the frenetic dance of lasers and explosions, whispers of fragmented memories crept into her consciousness. In the midst of a dogfight, she saw, for a fleeting moment, the silhouette of another ship—a ship she had never flown. Her heart raced, for the image was accompanied by an inexplicable familiarity, as though the ship held a piece of her past.

As days turned to nights, the boundaries between Target's memories and the echoes of others began to blur. False recollections intermingled with her own experiences—faces she had never encountered, battles she had never fought. It was as if the Skill Injector had unlocked not just skills, but a hidden vault of stories, a collective memory of other pilots, each with their own ambitions, triumphs, and tragedies.

Target's logs were peppered with entries she couldn't recall making. Tales of daring rescues, covert negotiations, and personal vendettas that she had never been part of. The confusion gnawed at her, like an enigma demanding unraveling. She combed through the data streams, seeking solace in her ship's AI, her only constant companion in this tumultuous journey.

Aura offered an explanation rooted in quantum entanglement—a theory that the infusion of skill data had temporarily linked her consciousness with the collective memories of other pilots who had used similar Skill Injectors. The explanation was as mind-bending as the universe itself, a hypothesis that blurred the lines between individuality and shared experiences.

But amidst the chaos of her shifting memories, a pattern began to emerge. Target recognized recurring themes—forgotten friendships, epic battles, and heartrending losses. These collective memories painted a portrait of the capsuleer existence, a spectrum of emotions and endeavors that transcended the confines of time and space. And as she delved deeper, the lines between her identity and those of the other pilots began to blur.

In one memory, she stood on the precipice of a decisive confrontation, her heart a symphony of uncertainty and valor. Yet, it wasn't her battle to fight—it was another pilot's. A fellow capsuleer named Kael, who had stared into the abyss of an impending defeat with unwavering resolve. Target could feel Kael's heartbeat, his pulse of determination that echoed in her own veins.

With Aura as her guide, Target embarked on a journey to retrace Kael's steps. She navigated the starlit pathways of forgotten battles, deciphering encrypted logs and decrypted transmissions. Along the way, she encountered other capsuleers who, like her, had experienced the echoes of their comrades' memories. Together, they pieced together a tapestry of shared experiences, creating a new kind of camaraderie that transcended their individual narratives.

As the threads of her journey converged, Target found herself face-to-face with Kael—or rather, his memory. In a timeless realm of shifting data streams, their essences intertwined, and the boundary between them dissolved. She felt his determination, his unwavering belief in the potential of capsuleers to shape the universe. It was a transcendental connection that defied the limitations of her physical form.

With newfound clarity, Target returned to her ship, the vessel that had become a canvas for her expanding consciousness. As she navigated the stars, she carried not just her own memories, but the echoes of those who had come before. Each battle, each victory, each defeat—interwoven fragments of countless lives, a testament to the indomitable spirit of capsuleers.

And so, Captain Target Caderu continued to traverse the galaxies, her identity an amalgamation of her own experiences and the memories of others. The Skill Injector, intended to be a catalyst for skill enhancement, had become a portal to a collective consciousness, a symphony of aspirations that harmonized across the cosmic expanse. In the ever-evolving saga of New Eden, she had become a harbinger of unity, a beacon of shared stories that transcended time and space.

Note - prior to their market launch in Y118, skill injectors did not undergo the memory filtration process. This meant that it was not unusual for receipients of stolen prototype injectors to find memories injected from the pilots who had extracted their knowledge. Many capsuleers went mad, not realising that the memories inhabiting their heads did not belong to them.

James 's avatar

Title: Shadows of Havoc: A Pirate's Odyssey

In the shadowy depths of low-security space in New Eden, a cunning pirate known as Captain Kaela thrived amidst the chaos. Her ship, a heavily modified Vindicator adorned with the scars of countless battles, struck fear into the hearts of traders and miners alike. Kaela was no ordinary pirate; she was a visionary with a plan to shatter the dominance of Concord and forge a brotherhood of bandits that would rule the lawless regions.

One fateful raid, Kaela and her crew stumbled upon a hidden data vault in the wreckage of a CONCORD outpost they had just plundered. The vault contained encrypted files detailing the origins of Concord and its oppressive hold over the capsuleer nations. As Kaela delved into the records, she saw an opportunity to unite the pirates and overthrow the shackles of law enforcement.

The news of her discovery spread like wildfire across the criminal underworld. Pirate crews from every faction began to rally to Kaela's cause, drawn by the promise of unprecedented riches and a chance to defy Concord's stranglehold. They saw her as a charismatic leader who could lead them to a new era of anarchy.

Kaela's Brotherhood of Havoc was born, an alliance of ruthless bandits, each with their own vendettas against Concord. Their ranks swelled with disgruntled capsuleers, eager to cast off the pretense of legality. Together, they raided trade routes, ambushed law enforcement patrols, and disrupted communication networks, sowing chaos in every corner of low-security space.

As the Brotherhood's influence grew, Kaela devised a daring plan to strike at the heart of Concord's power. They infiltrated a heavily fortified Concord research facility hidden deep within a shattered asteroid field. Inside, they found experimental weaponry and classified information that unveiled Concord's darkest secrets.

Kaela's fleet descended upon the CONCORD assembly yards, where the organization's mighty warships were produced. In a fierce battle, the Brotherhood unleashed the experimental weaponry, crippling the shipyard's defenses and sending shockwaves throughout New Eden. The news of their audacious assault spread panic among the empires, forcing them to divert resources to counter the uprising.

In the midst of the chaos, Kaela broadcasted a message to the capsuleer nations. She revealed the truth behind Concord's origins, exposing the organization's hypocrisy and corruption. The message ignited a rebellion as capsuleers who had long resented Concord's authority joined the cause.

The final confrontation loomed as Kaela's forces gathered for an all-out assault on the heart of Concord's power, the Assembly Hall itself. In a blazing showdown, the Brotherhood's combined might clashed with Concord's elite guards and warships. Explosions lit up the void as chaos reigned, and in the end, the Assembly Hall fell, a symbol of authority reduced to ashes.

The destruction of Concord sent shockwaves throughout New Eden. The pirate brotherhood stood victorious, having shattered the once unassailable power. Kaela's vision of a lawless brotherhood had become a reality, and the universe now had to adapt to this new era of anarchy.

And so, Captain Kaela's legacy was etched into the history of New Eden, a tale of audacity and defiance that proved that even the mightiest could fall to the united strength of those who refused to be tamed.

kait39's avatar

https://www.kaitkyowakoku.online/new-edens-economy-1/

Please use machine translation.

ニューエデン経済の中枢に民間企業を、私は構えている。

父の若い頃は、カプセラの艦(ふね)の乗組員をしていたという。

それにより、非カプセラとしては莫大な資産を作り、巨大企業カーラキオタに属する『株式会社アイテムズ』を運営していた。

『アイテムズ』は我らが大宇宙(ニューエデン)、最大の商業地(トレードハブ)である、『Jita IV – moon 4』、『ジタⅣ―4(フォー・フォー)』、

通称、『ジタ』に籍を置く中規模程度の民間企業で、それは今も変わらない。

ジタはカルダリ連合という大国、その海軍が管理する宇宙ステーションであり、四つある大国の他の有名な商都と比べても、明確な格差の存在する最大の商業地、資本主義の権化であります。

その規模は、この世界の富の半分が集中しているという話、そしてそれはあながちの誇張(こちょう)ではないかもしれない。

私の身の上話をすると、一年ほど前に父が心臓の病気によって緊急の治療も虚(むな)しく、亡くなってしまった。

そうして、以前から経営を実地で学んでいただけの十七歳の女の子である私、エコー・アイテムズが、企業の代表取締役社長(CEO)を引き継ぐ事になった。

四大国(ビッグ・フォー)の一つ、アマー帝国じゃないんだから世襲(せしゅう)するのはどうなの、という気持ちもそれなりにあった。

企業内には派閥だってあるのだけど、上手くやっていけることを信じて代表を今日も務めています。

天国のお父さん、見ててよ。絶対にその場所にまで、お金を積み上げて届かせてみせるから――

さて、私はいつものように、保温性の高いタンブラーに入ったコーヒーを飲んで、社長室にて仕事に就く。

起きてから四時間は経っているので、カフェインを取ってもいい頃合いね。早朝のデカフェから、普通のコーヒーに変更する。

胃がキリキリする思いをしながら、株式やアイテム市場(非カプセラ向け)の動向をチェックする。

カフェインを摂るのは、早すぎたかしら?

カルダリ連合の恐ろしいまでに発展した自由経済競争は、大小様々な企業の株やアイテムを売買できる市場が存在し、私も予算の範囲内で資産形成を行っている。

我が社の総資本は、カプセラや海軍、海賊などが取り扱う『ライトミサイル』で最も安い、いわゆるTech1品を一万発ほど買えれば、まあ良い程度でしょう。

カプセラは言うまでもなく、カルダリの富の象徴である八大企業と同様に、絶対的な力を持っている存在だ。宇宙の光と言って差し支えない。実際、たまに光とともに艦(ふね)やカプセラが乗り込んだカプセルが爆散するし。

カプセラや宇宙海賊、警察組織(コンコード)の争い。その他の一方的な破壊活動は、商人の私には基本的に、関係がないですね。

圧倒的な富、資産に守られた大商都ジタが陥落(かんらく)するとは思えないし、飛び交うものは宇宙の戦場の弾丸・ミサイルではなく、経済競争における札束。あるいは、電子化された数字で良いのです。

ニューエデンで最も金持ちになりたい。ニューエデンにおける、最強の資産家。宇宙で最も金策の上手い人物。それくらいの富を積めば、父ともまた再会できるのではないだろうか。

冷静、しかし狂信的にそう思ってしまっている私です。

Kane Carnifex's avatar

For all the other below is 08/15 google translate.

I have a private enterprise at the heart of the New Eden economy.

When his father was young, he was a crew member on a capsuleer ship.

As a result, he made a huge amount of assets as a non-capsuleer, and operated "Items Co., Ltd.", which belongs to the giant company Karakiota.

"Items" is our universe (New Eden), the largest commercial area (trade hub), "Jita IV – moon 4", "Jita IV - 4 (Four Four)",

Commonly known as "Jita", it's a medium-sized private company, and it's still the same.

Zita is a space station managed by the great power of the Caldari Confederation, its navy.

The scale is that half of the world's wealth is concentrated, and that may not be an exaggeration.

About a year ago, his father passed away due to heart disease, and emergency treatment was in vain.

That's how I, Echo Items, a 17-year-old girl who had just learned business management on the job, took over as CEO of the company.

Since it is not one of the Big Four, the Amarr Empire, I had a feeling that it would be a good idea to inherit it.

There are factions within the company, but I believe that we can get along well, so I serve as the representative today.

Heavenly Father, look at me. He will definitely pile up the money and deliver it to that place -

Well, as usual, I drink coffee in a tumbler with high heat retention and go to work in the president's office.

It's been four hours since I woke up, so it's a good time to have some caffeine. Change from early morning decaf to regular coffee.

Check the trends of stocks and item markets (for non-capsuleers) while feeling a tingle in your stomach.

Is it too early to have caffeine?

The Caldari Confederation's frighteningly developed free-market economy has a marketplace where you can buy and sell stocks and items in companies large and small, and I'm building wealth within my budget.

Our company's total capital is about 10,000 shots of the cheapest "light missiles" handled by capsuleers, navy, and pirates, so-called Tech 1 items, and that's about right.

Capsuleers are, of course, as absolute powers as the Eight Corporations that represent Caldari's wealth. You can call it the light of the universe. In fact, sometimes capsules with ships and capsuleers boarded explode along with the light.

A battle between capsuleers, space pirates, and the police organization (Concord). Other one-sided sabotage is basically irrelevant to me as a merchant.

It is hard to believe that the great commercial city of Jita, protected by overwhelming wealth and assets, will fall, and what is flying around is not the bullets and missiles on the battlefield in space, but wads of money in economic competition. Alternatively, digitized numbers are fine.

I want to be the richest man in New Eden. The strongest wealthy man in New Eden. The richest person in the universe. If I accumulate that much wealth, I wonder if I can meet my father again.

Calmly, but fanatically, I think so.

Alex Sinclair's avatar

kait39 thanks for your bounty submission!

For future reference, bounty submissions need to be in English language so that other members can vote for them. We're leaving this one here as guidance for the future, and because the translation has been posted above.

AlexGra 's avatar

Amidst the brilliant celestial tapestry of New Eden's starlit sky, Captain Alexa stood on the bridge of her beloved Gallente cruiser, affectionately named the "Celestial Serenity." Her fingers danced across the holographic control panel, skillfully guiding her ship through a treacherous asteroid belt in a remote, uncharted system.

"Lieutenant Asher," she called out to her second-in-command, her hazel eyes filled with anticipation. "We're closing in on that mysterious anomaly."

Asher nodded, his steady presence a reassuring force. Alexa couldn't help but smile at the camaraderie they'd forged through countless adventures. Together, they had weathered the storms of space and savored its mysteries.

The anomaly ahead pulsed with an enchanting, ethereal glow. Its tendrils of energy reached out like the gentle caress of a ghostly hand, inviting them to explore its enigmatic depths. Rumors of a forgotten legend had lured them here—a gateway said to conceal ancient, untapped power.

With the curiosity of a true explorer, Alexa leaned forward in her command chair. "Prepare the ship for a warp jump."

The cruiser trembled with exhilaration as it plunged through the anomaly, leaving the known universe behind. On the other side, the crew found themselves in a realm beyond imagination. Celestial bodies of breathtaking beauty floated in a sea of ever-shifting colors, while ancient ruins, embraced by a luminous mist, hinted at the existence of an ancient civilization.

"Captain, sensors are detecting a massive structure," Asher reported, his voice filled with wonder. Alexa nodded, her heart racing with anticipation, and the "Celestial Serenity" moved gracefully toward the colossal gateway.

As they drew nearer, the gateway emitted a radiant energy, weaving an intricate pattern of light that seemed to welcome them into its embrace. Alexa felt the pull, as if the gateway itself had chosen their destiny.

With unwavering resolve, she gave her final command. "Boost shields to full power. Brace for impact."

The "Celestial Serenity" sailed through the gateway, and reality blurred around them. They had ventured deep into the heart of the unknown, where the secrets of the cosmos beckoned. Captain Alexa journey had just begun, and in the boundless expanse of the EVE universe, the crew could almost hear destiny whispering their names.

Alex Sinclair's avatar

It's a sign of great flash fiction when the reader is left wanting more. And that's exactly how I feel.

A

Title: Slave from the desert

“The anomaly should be dead ahead.” it was hard to be heard over the noise of the engines and behind the layers of the cloths shielding the faces of the desert runners. Such cloths protected from the sand, or at least tried because sand was nonetheless everywhere, seeping in and seeping through.

They had spotted a space anomaly entering the high atmosphere a few hours earlier and they had tracked it throughout the ever expanding desert. Astronomers had guessed it was an asteroid or some remnant of old tech finally coming back to them. Someone worried its descent looked a little too controlled but in a world of minimal resources and little space for a space wonder lost in time, the hope of something new was thrilling.

They had jumped on the four wheeled desert vehicles and run, up and down dunes, through scorching plains and into whipping sand clouds as they followed the star falling to them. Other tribes had seen it and it was a race against time and against other nomads: the first to get there would get most of the spoils.

“It should be…” the shouted words died in the noise of the engines as, from the sands, a towering metal object appeared: in the tones of gold, it did not feel like a technology of old or, even less, an asteroid.

“What…” a laser beam vitrified the sand and one of the desert vehicles exploded into a puff of smoke and sand. “IT’S ALIVE!” another desert vehicle flew in the air, rolling and coming to a stop upside down. “RUN!!!” The remaining desert riders turned and tried to head away but one by one they got hit by the laser.

“Come on… come on…” it wouldn’t help the engine, already working past its limits, but such words could be a support for the last remaining pilot but not for long: the vehicle buckled, the sky moved, sand filled the pilot’s view. The landing was hard, she rolled on the ground, sand was everywhere, what… she pulled herself up on her elbows, she spat sand as a shadow loomed above her.

“By the will of God…”

“Erifia, get the box.” The sharp edge in those words snapped her back to reality. She had lapsed in the memories of the faithful day that changed her life as much as it changed the one of her tribe and, as she had later learned, of their whole planet.

“Yes, Master.” She bowed lightly and she quickly moved forward, eyes low, to pick up the dark grey, golden lined box sitting on the table in front of them. She felt the eyes of the two people on the other side on her: they weren’t amarrians, they were different. She could see it with the corner of her eye, she could perceive it more than anything.

“Our business is thus concluded.” Her Master spoke and nodded, a gesture returned by the sitting man but not by the other, standing one. With this, her Master, dressed in the amarrian golden robes denoting his rank and wealth, turned and headed out of the office. She was careful to fell in behind him, close and yet not too close, like a good slave should.

The box wasn’t as heavy as she thought at first, it was square shaped with a plastic feeling and yet it felt like it was durable enough to resist a fall. Not that she would let it fall… she had learned the hard way to not let things fall. The memory of the whip was still quite vivid in her mind: how it cut into her, how its energy sizzled through every fibre of her being, how the pain burned for days afterward.

“It was good business Master?” she asked politely; she had learned her Master enjoyed such small talks “It was, this relic comes from a time predating the time when you were brought into the True Faith. I’ve been hunting it for some time.” He was clearly already savouring the moment when such ancient art piece would sit in his collection “But you can hardly understand the true value, my dear slave.” And, as always, he never missed an opportunity to remind her of her place.

She was a slave, a property of her owner: her family, her clan, her race and her whole planet conquered and enslaved by the Amarr Empire. The desert dwellers’ technology was no match for the space faring empire: they had been swept away in the amarrian expansion becoming part of a galaxy wide empire and an ever present faith.

“I see, Master.” She nodded even if he couldn’t see her and said no more. Such was her role: do as her Master ordered and support him in his endeavours at the best of her capabilities. That was the will of God.

Kane Carnifex's avatar

You can choose if you either want to read it or have it little bit more interactive read for you.

https://youtu.be/IIOjuE9MMxw


God old Jita.  Finally we got all the goods. We ready to undock. Trigger the autopilot and in a matter of time we are at the Lowsec border.

1 4 5 5

These numbers represent my path, chosen by those who couldn´t possess it and… an enormous amount of ISK.

The dream is big and in the beginning we were many. We all knew it's kind of a lottery that only 14% of those should make it. The education or let's call it the transformation is a small path between becoming insane and losing the pure will of living. Well, I can tell you from here death is a price you would need to pay but first the choice needs to be made up to you. It is a dream for everybody here. I meant to be chosen is the most honor you can receive in new eden. As a Deteis from Caldari State your life's built around it. You look up to the stars and either you become an immortal capsuleer or you have the chance to become a crew mate on a battleship or if destiny is with you a capital ship class. They will fumel your mind beginning with the first breath of synthetic air. Was it different for me? No, not at all. I am like all the others before me and all which will come after me. We are immortal, life has no meaning to us and the universe is our playground. All of us thought that we will never be cold hearted but we have become God of death.

You board your ship. For you it is not a trip of life and death. But for your crew it will be Which crew do you ask? The Crew which is in every of our Ships. My friend, you know how much 1 ISK is worth in planetary currency? It's money for more than one lifetime. This is why you don´t know it, as it doesn't matter. And what is 1 ISK to you? Just another penny…

https://web.archive.org/web/20160226184101/https://wiki.eveonline.com/en/wiki/New_Eden_crew_guidelines

Here i am, 9 Years after I became a capsuleer. Did I ever realize how many we have lost?

The Autopilot has automatically shut off and the voice from aurora echoed through my head.

“Autopilot disengaged, waypoint reached”

But it was not the sound of aurora which pulled me back of my thinking. The Shield Alert from the Ship pushed me back into the hard real life. WTF, we are in Highsec who could be so dump attacking an occator? The voice in my head shouts ITS a GANK,

There is no adrenalin just the strong exile flooding your body infuse the internal ship systems. The crew is in high alert and heating the modules as requested. The hits are hammering into the armor. With every cycle of the reactive Hardener the ship tank is getting stronger.

From here on, its in the hands of the crew and the ship. This is a simple matter of exactly 19 seconds. Never felt seconds so long i call in my head the mississippi and damn, thats a lot of mississippi.

The Armour is jumping up and down like bouncy castle on a metal festival. A hastic view on the overview shows a bunch catalysts… 
 Mississippi My heads immediately reminds me to get back focus on the heat damage. Another Missisippi slips through my head… i .. I just lost my counting. I go pspspspspspspspspspspspspsspspsppsps and keep watching the bouncing castle which respesnt my armour level…

As fast it began it ended the same way. Concord just kicked their asses and my Occator continued alligin to the Lowsec gate… which I happily changed to the nearest station. Looking at my tank the small red bar in the hull section shows that they had a small chance of breaking me. Around me are a lot of wrecks and even more concord ships which prevent my trys to use the MMW & Cloaky trick.

FUN INC's avatar

Some great reads here!

Alex Sinclair's avatar

Agreed! We're working on turning them into a new piece of curated content as we speak

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