After an extended vacation on one of my amny planetary spa-installements, I have returned to my trusty Astero together with my mechanic, Bleak Sins. The drone bay is filled to the rim with Hobgoblins and Warriors and we have a route plotted for Thera.
My accountant and procurer of spaceships has been given a shopping list and we are setting up in a cheap hanger container in Thera. From there we will spread our love to the entire cluster with some oldskool fittings of some harmless-looking Rifters and Incursi. We are going back to the roots. Taking a break from the luxury of the Astero and it's wine cellar and jacuzzi and all that jazz.
It is time for grease and plasma and the smell of hot nanite paste on burning auto-cannons and neutron blasters. It is time for that great feeling of waking up in a new clone, all clean shaven and feeling young an fresh again!
In the meantime have a look at the scenery we are enjoying en-route to Thera.
Showing posts with label rifter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rifter. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Faction Fireworks
You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
I had been messing with my clone-capsule interface again, just to get an excuse to unplug from the life of a capsuleer and kick back and watch the reality holoreel I am such a fan of: Real Life - the story of a working father and husband. It’s not a thriller of a show - sometimes it is outright boring, but it certainly has a lot of excitement with it’s ups and downs. And capsuleer life had become a bit stale lately.
But, watching reality-holoreels for weeks in a row isn’t much better, so I decided to get into a Rifter and go old skool solo roaming. It felt good. I felt a spark.
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
Try to set the night on fire
Being back in the purest and truest tech I frigate you can find, felt like coming home. And what a homecoming it turned out to be.
“Guys. A Typhoon Fleet Issue just ran from me. And I’m in a Rifter! I’m picking up his drones.”
The R1DER communication channel was as usual in a very relaxed mode. I warped off from the anomaly and continued scanning. I noticed the Typhoon had not left scanning range. And on the next scan cycle new drones had been deployed. No way...
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
“Guys, I have the Typhoon scrambled! But I’m in a Rifter, so I guess it makes sense calling for backup...”
I probably wasn’t the only one calling for backup. I was constantly watching the local communications channel and my directional scanner. There were three other capsuleers registered in system, but nothing on scan so far. I was very slowly making progress through the mighty ships shields, but I was worried about what might turn up on the next scan cycle.
R1DERS reporting ten and six jumps away. A few more capsuleers enters system. One of them has the same last name as the pilot of the Typhoon. Thrasher on scan! Now. Keep it cool. Breathe. Think. Weapons deactivated. Reloading all weapon systems. Thrasher lands on grid. Target thrasher. Keep tight orbit on Typhoon. Fire at Thrasher! Keep point on Typhoon. Remember scanning. FUCK! Hurricane on scan! Keep guns on thrasher. Steady. Hurricane lands on grid. Calm, now, keep it calm. Target hurricane. Thrasher going down! FUCK YEAH! Hurricane is... What? Warping off? Warping off!
His backup has left! My backup is about to arrive. Weapons back on Typhoon.
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire, yeah
Try to set the night on fire, yeah
Epilogue:
Shortly after this incident I found myself with a bounty of 100 million ISK attached to my head. I hate the feeling of waking up in a fresh clone, but for 100 million ISK I could manage a bit of headache and a moustache full of that sticky clone vat goo. And, as you might have picked up from different news sources, the bureaucrats in CONCORD are making a whole lot of new laws across New Eden and the bounty system is about to change. Finally it will be worthwhile hunting other capsuleers for theit bounty – not just letting your own associates collecting your frozen corpse and the ISK attached to it. So, I am now deployed in 0.0 space hunting the Angel Cartel on behalf of CONCORD, making some small amounts of ISK, but more importantly: Slowly getting into CONCORD’s good books – one kill at a time. High security space, be prepared for the return of the most sexy moustache in New Eden!
Lyrics from "Light my Fire" by the ancient terran rock band called The Doors. This was supposedly their first big hit from the debut album named “The Doors”.
By the way, you might have heard the The New Eden cover band, “The Stargates”, playing their tunes, but they really don’t represent The Doors’ music with the respect they deserve – you need that ancient terran organic instruments to get the real sound. So, find some run down terran artifact shop in your local star system and dig up some old time recordings played on real instruments, kid.
 |
| Only missing a moustache. Jim Morrison, famous ancient terran singer. Never seen in a spaceship, but was supposedly observed "very high". |
Lyrics from "Light my Fire" by the ancient terran rock band called The Doors. This was supposedly their first big hit from the debut album named “The Doors”.
By the way, you might have heard the The New Eden cover band, “The Stargates”, playing their tunes, but they really don’t represent The Doors’ music with the respect they deserve – you need that ancient terran organic instruments to get the real sound. So, find some run down terran artifact shop in your local star system and dig up some old time recordings played on real instruments, kid.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Who you gonna call? THE TUSKERS!
“Apocalypse Navy Issue tackled in Jovainnon Solar System.”
The message to The Tuskers is brief and to the point. Not mentioning my current state of bliss and uncontrollable endorphins. I try my best to act like a cool, cold-blooded killer. Not just some overheated hothead riding rusty Rifters.
Let’s backtrack a little. Two minutes earlier I arrived Jovainnon in my - big surprise - Rifter. It was one of those strange moments when nothing seems to make sense. I had an Apocalypse Navy Issue on my directional scanner. And only two pilots in the local communications channel - except yours truly.
An Apocalypse Navy Issue. In Jovainnon. The single system between Aeschee, home of big scary ships, and Hevrice, home of the notorious and always actively hunting Tuskers. This is not a system you want to bring your most expensive ships without any support. So, I figure, this must be some kind of intricate trap beyond my comprehension. And, usually when I find a single battleship in a low security system, it is on a mission from some dodgy agent. And then I will need to get probes. But, I do what I always do when I find something: I pinpoint it's location with the directional scanner.
It is in a belt. A solo Navy Issue battleship floating all alone in an asteroid belt!
This is where my brain kicks in and starts working. Against me. A Navy Issue Battleship working for CONCORD’s meagre bounties for the local Serpentis? This can’t be true. I smell a rat. I stall. I don’t warp in. Then slowly, my brain starts to work with me. I am next to The Tuskers home. A group of pirates I have locked horns with on many occasions, but also have called in for backup whenever a target of opportunity has appeared. They are bad news, but they can be trusted. I make my communication channel with The Tuskers ready for input, and hurl my Rifter towards the belt. Apocalypse! Now!
There it is. This giant construction, most certainly made by Matari slaves, stationed between the rocks doing CONCORD’s dirty work. I overheat my afterburner and warp scrambler and the blood-rush is like nothing else I’ve felt for a long time.
This is when The Tuskers are informed about the trapped battleship. They respond at once. Within a few seconds, and after a few downed Hobgoblins, I receive an official invite to a Tuskers fleet. I accept and the fleet jumps into system and it all happens so fast that for a moment, that I panic and think I’m in a pod. The damage on my shields has suddenly disappeared from my HUD! And that, for me, usually means my ship has been stripped off my capsule. Well. Not this time. This time, it was actually my first experience of being remotely repaired by a logistics ship. You see... I fly solo.
Then the Tuskers scary looking front-man and public “face”, Suleiman Shouaa, asks me if I want to ransom or kill. They sure live up to their reputation as pirates of honor: They have all the power to do whatever they want with me and the Battleship-pilot, but still they want me to make the decision. I go for the kill. The pod, however, decides to turn down the offered ransom, and in retrospect the demand was a bit too high. But, hey, this guy looked like he had lots of kredits to burn since he was cleaning low sec belts in a Navy Issue. So, the offered ransom was not out of the blue.
Then, a very polite Suleiman Shouaa hauls the loot to the nearest station and contracts me all of it. What a bunch of clean and polite pirates!
So, there you have it. If you ever happen to stumble upon The Tuskers: Treat them with the respect they deserve and you shall be rewarded. This applies whether you are one of their unlucky customers, a fellow pirate of honor or a roaming scumbag scavenger like myself.
I wish the fleet good luck and warp to a safe to cool down and analyze my current situation. This month is turning out to be one of my most ISK efficient months ever. It started with a very big explosion when some fellow pirates of the Molden Heath loop had caught a Thanatos and invited everyone to participate in killing it. I was next door in a bomber and managed to jump in and get a few volleys of torpedos into its burning hull. Then Alex “Jaguar God” Medvedov caught a Sleipnir but needed more damage to break its tank. I suicided a Rupture against it’s shields and armour and that made the difference and the loot value replaced my ship. And then I found the already mentioned Apocalypse Navy Issue. Add a few assault frigates and a battleship or two to the kill list, and you will understand I am having good times!
My associates are doing a good job with all kinds of endeavours, and even though I am loosing too many ships at the moment, the ISK situation is better than it has ever been before. So maybe it is time to order a stack of Jaguars?
The message to The Tuskers is brief and to the point. Not mentioning my current state of bliss and uncontrollable endorphins. I try my best to act like a cool, cold-blooded killer. Not just some overheated hothead riding rusty Rifters.
Let’s backtrack a little. Two minutes earlier I arrived Jovainnon in my - big surprise - Rifter. It was one of those strange moments when nothing seems to make sense. I had an Apocalypse Navy Issue on my directional scanner. And only two pilots in the local communications channel - except yours truly.
An Apocalypse Navy Issue. In Jovainnon. The single system between Aeschee, home of big scary ships, and Hevrice, home of the notorious and always actively hunting Tuskers. This is not a system you want to bring your most expensive ships without any support. So, I figure, this must be some kind of intricate trap beyond my comprehension. And, usually when I find a single battleship in a low security system, it is on a mission from some dodgy agent. And then I will need to get probes. But, I do what I always do when I find something: I pinpoint it's location with the directional scanner.
It is in a belt. A solo Navy Issue battleship floating all alone in an asteroid belt!
This is where my brain kicks in and starts working. Against me. A Navy Issue Battleship working for CONCORD’s meagre bounties for the local Serpentis? This can’t be true. I smell a rat. I stall. I don’t warp in. Then slowly, my brain starts to work with me. I am next to The Tuskers home. A group of pirates I have locked horns with on many occasions, but also have called in for backup whenever a target of opportunity has appeared. They are bad news, but they can be trusted. I make my communication channel with The Tuskers ready for input, and hurl my Rifter towards the belt. Apocalypse! Now!
There it is. This giant construction, most certainly made by Matari slaves, stationed between the rocks doing CONCORD’s dirty work. I overheat my afterburner and warp scrambler and the blood-rush is like nothing else I’ve felt for a long time.
This is when The Tuskers are informed about the trapped battleship. They respond at once. Within a few seconds, and after a few downed Hobgoblins, I receive an official invite to a Tuskers fleet. I accept and the fleet jumps into system and it all happens so fast that for a moment, that I panic and think I’m in a pod. The damage on my shields has suddenly disappeared from my HUD! And that, for me, usually means my ship has been stripped off my capsule. Well. Not this time. This time, it was actually my first experience of being remotely repaired by a logistics ship. You see... I fly solo.
Then the Tuskers scary looking front-man and public “face”, Suleiman Shouaa, asks me if I want to ransom or kill. They sure live up to their reputation as pirates of honor: They have all the power to do whatever they want with me and the Battleship-pilot, but still they want me to make the decision. I go for the kill. The pod, however, decides to turn down the offered ransom, and in retrospect the demand was a bit too high. But, hey, this guy looked like he had lots of kredits to burn since he was cleaning low sec belts in a Navy Issue. So, the offered ransom was not out of the blue.
 |
| The Tuskers public face. Suleiman Shouaa. |
Then, a very polite Suleiman Shouaa hauls the loot to the nearest station and contracts me all of it. What a bunch of clean and polite pirates!
So, there you have it. If you ever happen to stumble upon The Tuskers: Treat them with the respect they deserve and you shall be rewarded. This applies whether you are one of their unlucky customers, a fellow pirate of honor or a roaming scumbag scavenger like myself.
I wish the fleet good luck and warp to a safe to cool down and analyze my current situation. This month is turning out to be one of my most ISK efficient months ever. It started with a very big explosion when some fellow pirates of the Molden Heath loop had caught a Thanatos and invited everyone to participate in killing it. I was next door in a bomber and managed to jump in and get a few volleys of torpedos into its burning hull. Then Alex “Jaguar God” Medvedov caught a Sleipnir but needed more damage to break its tank. I suicided a Rupture against it’s shields and armour and that made the difference and the loot value replaced my ship. And then I found the already mentioned Apocalypse Navy Issue. Add a few assault frigates and a battleship or two to the kill list, and you will understand I am having good times!
My associates are doing a good job with all kinds of endeavours, and even though I am loosing too many ships at the moment, the ISK situation is better than it has ever been before. So maybe it is time to order a stack of Jaguars?
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Overheat Scram, Receive Bacon
The Rifter makes a hard break at the safe spot. The directional scanner have just given an intriguing analysis of the central cluster of belts. A Retriever class mining barge! Outside the range of CONCORDS cold hands. I have a hunch this one is not carelessly parked within a force field either, since the vessel is named after a rather recently graduated capsuleer - easily identified in the local communications channel. I do what i do and narrow him down to a single belt. In warp my brain starts wandering and I think of all the events since I returned from unconsciousness.
It started off with an episode quite like the one I was in right now. A Hulk made its appearance on my directional scanner and my greedy pirate soul started counting ISK. Sadly, the Rifter I was in was was fit for surprise and lacked the lethal damage output. Not the best thing to tackle a rather well tanked industrial with drone support. But I smelled a possible ransom and warped in on him. That netted me 70 000 000 ISK. Not as much I’d liked, but it was Christmas time and time to show Santasuze I can be nice too! And I did have some trouble breaking his tank, actually, so 70 000 000 ISK and no kill was a lot better than just no kill.
I’m still in warp. Should I ransom the Retriever? No. But lets ransom his pod!
Speaking of pods. I have cursed myself for not remembering to ransom scrammed capsules. There are a lot more expensive implants flying around than I thought. But, ransoming a pod isn’t always easy. A few days ago I had this “conversation” with a gentleman:
Even this easy target gets my blood pumping and gives me a slight taste of that delicious adrenaline rushing through my clone. But not as much as when you are fighting several enemies. A while back, on my way towards Eifer and the hunting grounds of Executive Pirate Extraordinaire, Mr. Kane Rizzell, I found three little Rifters playing outside a station. I figured that this could be a fun little tease. To my surprise they where all just 150 km or so away from the station, probably making insta-undock-bookmarks or something like that. That meant i could easily drag them out from the sentry guns protective area. And so I did, and they all lined up like lambs to the slaughter. Of course I did one of my usual stupid mistakes and podded one of them just inside of the station guns range. Just when I was looking this sexy I go ahead and explode myself. Silly me. But I shrugged it off, picked up another Rifter and went on and shot down the aforementioned Mr. Kane Rizzel. Feeling sexy again! He was kind enough to mention this very close Rifter fight in his excellent log of pirating. I could have sworn I was warping out my pod, instead it turned out to be my Rifter - or more correct: 10 percent of my Rifter.
Speaking of feeling sexy. I've had a very exciting mail arrive in my inbox! I am getting used to the compliments on my very handsome moustache - I mean, that is to be expected - but they are mostly from men. Funny, that in such a homophobic universe, where “gay” and “faggot” seems to be the most prominent term of abuse, I do get a lot of compliments from other men on my looks. But, I digress: A few weeks back I got an eve-mail sent to me and my CEO, Mr. Bull, that took me by surprise: It was fan mail! From girls in bikinis! Well, it might very well be male capsuleers dressed in bikinis, considering the observation above. But, I don’t really care for sexual orientation or cross dressing preferances: As long as I have actually inspired someone out there to live the only true life of freedom, then I am one happy outlaw solo pilot. So, please go visit those bikini girls and encourage their lifestyle - regardless of your prejudice about cross dressing - hey, they might even be real girls! I have recently been notified about the existence of TWO female Rebels that is not to be considered cross dressing male capsuleers. TWO real girl rebels!
Now, focus! I'm shooting down a mining barge! I guess I got a bit distracted by all this retrospective analysis, because the pod gets away! Damn, I was gonna ransom that pod! While picking up the loot I notice a jettisoned cargo container. A quick peek reveals ore for about 4 million ISK on the current regional market. This guy will come back. He does. Sadly, not in a hauler, but I got the pod and it was released for a very reasonable ransom.
I haul my loot to my safe spot and kick back to wait out the criminal countdown. I'm checking the Rebels communications channel for news, when I hear a strange noise. I think the directional scanner actually made a gasping sound as it revealed the latest result of a 360 degree full range scan: A battlecruiser of the Hurricane class, named after the pilot I had just released from my warp scrambler! A miner hellbent on revenge! My Rifter is already in warp and I preheat my scram, I want to make sure I catch this ‘cane. And so I do. But there is one thing I don’t do: Turn off the overheating of my scrambler. Doing lots of stupid stuff myself, I can easily confirm that the following strategy works: Always bet on stupid! So I play it cool with the no longer scrambled Hurricane:
MetallStill Beddelver > I want to save my hurricane.
Saftsuze > That is gonna be slightly more expensive.
Saftsuze > How much do you have to offer?
MetallStill Beddelver > 11 kk?
Saftsuze > 11 mill?
MetallStill Beddelver > Yes.
Saftsuze > OK, same procedure as last time.
If you don’t have a scram, just remember you can always scam!
It started off with an episode quite like the one I was in right now. A Hulk made its appearance on my directional scanner and my greedy pirate soul started counting ISK. Sadly, the Rifter I was in was was fit for surprise and lacked the lethal damage output. Not the best thing to tackle a rather well tanked industrial with drone support. But I smelled a possible ransom and warped in on him. That netted me 70 000 000 ISK. Not as much I’d liked, but it was Christmas time and time to show Santasuze I can be nice too! And I did have some trouble breaking his tank, actually, so 70 000 000 ISK and no kill was a lot better than just no kill.
I’m still in warp. Should I ransom the Retriever? No. But lets ransom his pod!
Speaking of pods. I have cursed myself for not remembering to ransom scrammed capsules. There are a lot more expensive implants flying around than I thought. But, ransoming a pod isn’t always easy. A few days ago I had this “conversation” with a gentleman:
Saftsuze > How much would you offer for keeping your pod?I’m landing in the belt. Retriever is happily mining. I am charging.
Ithan Evingod > Your rifter and any other ship I ever see you in again.
Saftsuze > I am not sure I understand, Mr. Evindog?
Saftsuze > You don't want to pay me some ISK for staying alive?
Saftsuze > Will I have to collect your frozen corpse instead?
Saftsuze > Conversation takes place when both parties actually says something....
Saftsuze > I guess your cold shoulder hints that you want to offer your frozen corpse for my collection.
Saftsuze > I thank you for your donation to the freezer, Mr. Evindog.
Even this easy target gets my blood pumping and gives me a slight taste of that delicious adrenaline rushing through my clone. But not as much as when you are fighting several enemies. A while back, on my way towards Eifer and the hunting grounds of Executive Pirate Extraordinaire, Mr. Kane Rizzell, I found three little Rifters playing outside a station. I figured that this could be a fun little tease. To my surprise they where all just 150 km or so away from the station, probably making insta-undock-bookmarks or something like that. That meant i could easily drag them out from the sentry guns protective area. And so I did, and they all lined up like lambs to the slaughter. Of course I did one of my usual stupid mistakes and podded one of them just inside of the station guns range. Just when I was looking this sexy I go ahead and explode myself. Silly me. But I shrugged it off, picked up another Rifter and went on and shot down the aforementioned Mr. Kane Rizzel. Feeling sexy again! He was kind enough to mention this very close Rifter fight in his excellent log of pirating. I could have sworn I was warping out my pod, instead it turned out to be my Rifter - or more correct: 10 percent of my Rifter.
Speaking of feeling sexy. I've had a very exciting mail arrive in my inbox! I am getting used to the compliments on my very handsome moustache - I mean, that is to be expected - but they are mostly from men. Funny, that in such a homophobic universe, where “gay” and “faggot” seems to be the most prominent term of abuse, I do get a lot of compliments from other men on my looks. But, I digress: A few weeks back I got an eve-mail sent to me and my CEO, Mr. Bull, that took me by surprise: It was fan mail! From girls in bikinis! Well, it might very well be male capsuleers dressed in bikinis, considering the observation above. But, I don’t really care for sexual orientation or cross dressing preferances: As long as I have actually inspired someone out there to live the only true life of freedom, then I am one happy outlaw solo pilot. So, please go visit those bikini girls and encourage their lifestyle - regardless of your prejudice about cross dressing - hey, they might even be real girls! I have recently been notified about the existence of TWO female Rebels that is not to be considered cross dressing male capsuleers. TWO real girl rebels!
Now, focus! I'm shooting down a mining barge! I guess I got a bit distracted by all this retrospective analysis, because the pod gets away! Damn, I was gonna ransom that pod! While picking up the loot I notice a jettisoned cargo container. A quick peek reveals ore for about 4 million ISK on the current regional market. This guy will come back. He does. Sadly, not in a hauler, but I got the pod and it was released for a very reasonable ransom.
I haul my loot to my safe spot and kick back to wait out the criminal countdown. I'm checking the Rebels communications channel for news, when I hear a strange noise. I think the directional scanner actually made a gasping sound as it revealed the latest result of a 360 degree full range scan: A battlecruiser of the Hurricane class, named after the pilot I had just released from my warp scrambler! A miner hellbent on revenge! My Rifter is already in warp and I preheat my scram, I want to make sure I catch this ‘cane. And so I do. But there is one thing I don’t do: Turn off the overheating of my scrambler. Doing lots of stupid stuff myself, I can easily confirm that the following strategy works: Always bet on stupid! So I play it cool with the no longer scrambled Hurricane:
MetallStill Beddelver > I want to save my hurricane.
Saftsuze > That is gonna be slightly more expensive.
Saftsuze > How much do you have to offer?
MetallStill Beddelver > 11 kk?
Saftsuze > 11 mill?
MetallStill Beddelver > Yes.
Saftsuze > OK, same procedure as last time.
If you don’t have a scram, just remember you can always scam!
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Return To Consciousness
After having blown up and leaving millions of ISK in Faction Modules floating in space, I felt tired. I was overheated and burnt out. The change of pace was good: Flying expensive was a thrill! But I was getting a reputation for dropping good and profitable loot - and it was time for a break.
I had this great reality-holoreel called “Real Life” that I wanted to plug into. It’s a story about a man living on the ancient planet known as Earth. He is a regular mortal living a quiet family life with his wife and kids. A great escape from the realities of being a scumbag Capsuleer! So, by hot-wiring some circuits in my pod, I disconnected the signals emitted to space and plugged my consciousness directly into the holoreel I had already installed in my pods in-flight entertainment system. And just like that, my pod disappeared from all directional scanners in space, and I was inside the reality of “Real Life”.
But now I am back. Plugged into reality again. My pod signaling to all that care to use their directional scanner: I am an object in space. Most likely wrapped in a cheap Rifter class frigate destined for destruction in an overheated race to death!
I had this great reality-holoreel called “Real Life” that I wanted to plug into. It’s a story about a man living on the ancient planet known as Earth. He is a regular mortal living a quiet family life with his wife and kids. A great escape from the realities of being a scumbag Capsuleer! So, by hot-wiring some circuits in my pod, I disconnected the signals emitted to space and plugged my consciousness directly into the holoreel I had already installed in my pods in-flight entertainment system. And just like that, my pod disappeared from all directional scanners in space, and I was inside the reality of “Real Life”.
But now I am back. Plugged into reality again. My pod signaling to all that care to use their directional scanner: I am an object in space. Most likely wrapped in a cheap Rifter class frigate destined for destruction in an overheated race to death!
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Daredevil Deathmatch & Hulk Happiness
I was visiting old hunting grounds. Once again back in a disposable Rifter. My Love Boats have been receiving, well, not too much love. So, Useless Shitcan was definately going to burn tonight.
While I was checking in on some recent developments in internal corporation affairs, a small piece of information from the directional scanner caught my interest. I had already noticed the two very young pilots I was sharing the system with, so when the ship type Daredevil was reported by my scanner, I immediately left corp business and started working.
Oh, sweet Amarrian Gods, whatever their names are, there is a Daredevil ratting in a belt! Guaranteed to be piloted by a very young pilot! I’m already in warp and i prime my scram and afterburner preparing to catch him. 45 seconds later I am making all kinds of strange noises and movements inside my pod for my great victory! A Daredevil killed by a Rifter! FANTASTIC!
Then I notice I am in my pod. Sigh. He must have had 3 percent left of structure. I dock and grab my own Daredevil that happens to be the only nearby ship and go looking for him, and I almost manage to catch him, but alas.
Well, since it is my only ship around, I take my Daredevil to the next door system and find that an old “friend” of mine is in there. He is a miner and has earlier given a few Covetors and Iterons to my hungry Rifters. So where is he? Nowhere, according to the scanner. But lets check one thing before we leave, might he have left a full jet can or five to go pick up with a hauler? Bingo! Jet can found and bookmarked. And out of system we go.
5 minutes later: I’m jumping in, warping straight to the can. The Hulk that was there was saved for a ransom of 90 million ISK.
While I was checking in on some recent developments in internal corporation affairs, a small piece of information from the directional scanner caught my interest. I had already noticed the two very young pilots I was sharing the system with, so when the ship type Daredevil was reported by my scanner, I immediately left corp business and started working.
Oh, sweet Amarrian Gods, whatever their names are, there is a Daredevil ratting in a belt! Guaranteed to be piloted by a very young pilot! I’m already in warp and i prime my scram and afterburner preparing to catch him. 45 seconds later I am making all kinds of strange noises and movements inside my pod for my great victory! A Daredevil killed by a Rifter! FANTASTIC!
Then I notice I am in my pod. Sigh. He must have had 3 percent left of structure. I dock and grab my own Daredevil that happens to be the only nearby ship and go looking for him, and I almost manage to catch him, but alas.
Well, since it is my only ship around, I take my Daredevil to the next door system and find that an old “friend” of mine is in there. He is a miner and has earlier given a few Covetors and Iterons to my hungry Rifters. So where is he? Nowhere, according to the scanner. But lets check one thing before we leave, might he have left a full jet can or five to go pick up with a hauler? Bingo! Jet can found and bookmarked. And out of system we go.
5 minutes later: I’m jumping in, warping straight to the can. The Hulk that was there was saved for a ransom of 90 million ISK.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
We can kill Santha!
You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town
– Haven Gillespie, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, late 1920s, Old World, Earth
There I was. Alone in my Rifter once again. In a low populated low security pocket. My customized Gallente Parlais Detection Amplifier II made some strange noises and a local pilot opened up a private conversation:
And checking it twice;
Gonna find out Who's naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to town
I gave him 2 million ISK for the entertainment provided. Well, he actually asked for it as a loan, but I wanna get on Santa's nice list as well.
Endnote: Chat log slightly edited for your reading pleasure.
You better not cry
Better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town
– Haven Gillespie, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, late 1920s, Old World, Earth
There I was. Alone in my Rifter once again. In a low populated low security pocket. My customized Gallente Parlais Detection Amplifier II made some strange noises and a local pilot opened up a private conversation:
santha hunter > where are you!He's making a list
santha hunter > what are you doing!
Saftsuze > looking for trouble as always
santha hunter > we can kill santha!
santha hunter > do you want!
Saftsuze > can we?
santha hunter > yes or!?
santha hunter > you dont want!?
santha hunter > what is your kind of ship!?
Saftsuze > rifter is my kind of ship
Saftsuze > where is santha?
santha hunter > :) on the asteroyd!
santha hunter > on all!
Saftsuze > on all?! wow, we should get there, then - what is your kind of ship?
Saftsuze > yeah, i wanna kill santha!
Saftsuze > where do we meet?
santha hunter > on the station 3-m7
santha hunter > dont kill me1 ok1 and I dont kill you1
Saftsuze > i am in the belt III-1
Saftsuze > santha is here!
santha hunter > ok!
santha hunter > I fly to you!!!!
And checking it twice;
Gonna find out Who's naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to town
I gave him 2 million ISK for the entertainment provided. Well, he actually asked for it as a loan, but I wanna get on Santa's nice list as well.
Endnote: Chat log slightly edited for your reading pleasure.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Steamy Rifter Windows
Me and Lady Shaniqua in local. Alone. I did not manage to come up with something smart to say, and she left. Of course. I am a nobody compared to her. Did she at least notice my moustache?
Thankfully she appeared again a few systems further down my route. In that same system was also my corp mate Lhorenzo with his wonderfully wierd trippel propped Dramiel. But he was not there for long and Lady Shaniqua judged his fit in typical fashion: “Two afterburners? That is DUBBALY KRIMINAL!”
Could I avenge my poor corp mate, who also has a crush on the lady? After a long and hard think, I proposed a Rifter duel. The Lady did not let me down and told me to meet her in Ardar, where she had a Rifter “of some sort”. On my way there I had to consider what kind of Rifter to bring as I had a stack of them nearby. It was clear to me that my only chance was to avoid a close up fight. It was time to fly the 280mm Howitzer Fit, stolen and refined from my corp mate Tomba, who again stole it from the late Sobczynski. I named it Moustache Man and warped to the Ardar gate.
Lady Shaniqua instantly invited me to a Bunker in system and I warped to 100 km off the warp-in point, but via a safe spot in system in case she had outsmarted me and was waiting 100 km off the bunker aligned to the gate I was coming from. It worked. She was 47 km away. Perfect. Last time I fought with this arty fit I got too close and an overheated web killed me. I was not going to make that mistake again. I aimed for a slightly wider orbit than last time. Every module was overheated. My heart was overheated. My fingers were overheated. The pod goo surrounding me was boiling.
End note: With everything on fire - my hands, my ship, my modules and my mind - I ended a great night out with the signature action of an overheated hothead: Making a stupid mistake. Moustache Man was supposed to ornate my hanger, heavily damaged with only approximately 15 % hull left, as a reminder for me to always keep trying the impossible. It ended like every other Rifter I’ve owned: As a wreck in space. I had warped to a gate and only then noticed I had a Global Criminal Countdown going on. And so ended a night of great achievements for a humble Rifter pilot.
Thankfully she appeared again a few systems further down my route. In that same system was also my corp mate Lhorenzo with his wonderfully wierd trippel propped Dramiel. But he was not there for long and Lady Shaniqua judged his fit in typical fashion: “Two afterburners? That is DUBBALY KRIMINAL!”
Could I avenge my poor corp mate, who also has a crush on the lady? After a long and hard think, I proposed a Rifter duel. The Lady did not let me down and told me to meet her in Ardar, where she had a Rifter “of some sort”. On my way there I had to consider what kind of Rifter to bring as I had a stack of them nearby. It was clear to me that my only chance was to avoid a close up fight. It was time to fly the 280mm Howitzer Fit, stolen and refined from my corp mate Tomba, who again stole it from the late Sobczynski. I named it Moustache Man and warped to the Ardar gate.
Lady Shaniqua instantly invited me to a Bunker in system and I warped to 100 km off the warp-in point, but via a safe spot in system in case she had outsmarted me and was waiting 100 km off the bunker aligned to the gate I was coming from. It worked. She was 47 km away. Perfect. Last time I fought with this arty fit I got too close and an overheated web killed me. I was not going to make that mistake again. I aimed for a slightly wider orbit than last time. Every module was overheated. My heart was overheated. My fingers were overheated. The pod goo surrounding me was boiling.
Lady Shaniqua > I knew you would bring one of those annoying arty Rifters.And I knew I had to bring one to have a tiny little chance to VIOLENCE HER BOAT.
End note: With everything on fire - my hands, my ship, my modules and my mind - I ended a great night out with the signature action of an overheated hothead: Making a stupid mistake. Moustache Man was supposed to ornate my hanger, heavily damaged with only approximately 15 % hull left, as a reminder for me to always keep trying the impossible. It ended like every other Rifter I’ve owned: As a wreck in space. I had warped to a gate and only then noticed I had a Global Criminal Countdown going on. And so ended a night of great achievements for a humble Rifter pilot.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Moustache Mojo Level V
It started with a long and hard look in the mirror. Once again I was about to clutter my handsome looks with nasty pod goo and go look for trouble in my Rifter. I told the man in the mirror that this messy affair would have to better be worth it, or else I would have to just start walking in stations instead of flying in space. This time, I said to myself, I will kill something, and, I will survive.
With my moustache ruined once again by the pod goo, I undocked and fired up the directional scanner. Thrasher on 360. Hmm. Mostly nasty pilots in local, but one fresh recruit. If he is the Thrasher pilot, then maybe Old Man's Rifter stands a chance. It was him.
Refreshed by an ice cold body in the cargohold, I headed towards newly scouted systems, still eager to kill — and survive. I found a Punisher lurking at a planet, and since he was having trouble with his ammo loading system, I took him down with ease. Lady Luck was smiling to me. I smiled back.
I gave the Punisher pilot a few tricks on how to hack the ammo system by manually overriding the weapon systems grouping computer, as I just had learned myself from my corp mates. We departed on good terms and the hunt for other flying objects continued.
I headed for a pocket. I have good experiences with pockets. You can find a lot of interesting stuff if you stick your hand into a pocket: Fresh recruits with a false feeling of safety. Naive miners thinking this is off limits for flashy red scumbags. Mission runners with no clue that they have left CONCORD protected space. And other lone hunters like myself. You very seldom find blobs of "elite" fighters.
In this very pocket I poked around for a bit and a Dramiel appeared. That usually means I am moving on. But, as I was in a low populated pocket, I could be very certain this Dramiel was piloted by a fresh pilot. He could very well be feeling safe and invincible in his übership of awesomeness. I narrowed him down to a belt, but when I landed I was alone among the asteroids. Strange. Was he at a safe close to the belt, but off the grid? I started scanning the nearest celestials while sitting still at the central warp-in point. I did not have to scan for long. He came to me.
I was wrong: He wasn't feeling safe. He was feeling cocky, that young, spoiled and rich brat. But youngsters tend to be a bit too eager and never have the stamina for keeping it up long enough. And sure enough, 30 seconds later his shiny Dramiel was a pile of junk just like any other exploded frigate. God damn! The Old Man was feeling sexy tonight!
Now, this would have been a great ending of an explosive night out with Old Man’s Rifter. But there was more to come: Lady Shaniqua! In local!
To be continued.
 |
| I'm looking at the man in the mirror. |
With my moustache ruined once again by the pod goo, I undocked and fired up the directional scanner. Thrasher on 360. Hmm. Mostly nasty pilots in local, but one fresh recruit. If he is the Thrasher pilot, then maybe Old Man's Rifter stands a chance. It was him.
Refreshed by an ice cold body in the cargohold, I headed towards newly scouted systems, still eager to kill — and survive. I found a Punisher lurking at a planet, and since he was having trouble with his ammo loading system, I took him down with ease. Lady Luck was smiling to me. I smiled back.
I gave the Punisher pilot a few tricks on how to hack the ammo system by manually overriding the weapon systems grouping computer, as I just had learned myself from my corp mates. We departed on good terms and the hunt for other flying objects continued.
I headed for a pocket. I have good experiences with pockets. You can find a lot of interesting stuff if you stick your hand into a pocket: Fresh recruits with a false feeling of safety. Naive miners thinking this is off limits for flashy red scumbags. Mission runners with no clue that they have left CONCORD protected space. And other lone hunters like myself. You very seldom find blobs of "elite" fighters.
In this very pocket I poked around for a bit and a Dramiel appeared. That usually means I am moving on. But, as I was in a low populated pocket, I could be very certain this Dramiel was piloted by a fresh pilot. He could very well be feeling safe and invincible in his übership of awesomeness. I narrowed him down to a belt, but when I landed I was alone among the asteroids. Strange. Was he at a safe close to the belt, but off the grid? I started scanning the nearest celestials while sitting still at the central warp-in point. I did not have to scan for long. He came to me.
I was wrong: He wasn't feeling safe. He was feeling cocky, that young, spoiled and rich brat. But youngsters tend to be a bit too eager and never have the stamina for keeping it up long enough. And sure enough, 30 seconds later his shiny Dramiel was a pile of junk just like any other exploded frigate. God damn! The Old Man was feeling sexy tonight!
Now, this would have been a great ending of an explosive night out with Old Man’s Rifter. But there was more to come: Lady Shaniqua! In local!
To be continued.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Up like a Rifter, down like a Drake
So, finally it happened. I found a Drake I thought I would be able to take down with my Rifter. However, it sat on a gate and I needed to provoke it to attack my flashing red Rifter. Just as I was warming up in the local communications channel, a pirate competitor showed up in another Drake clearly on a mission to take on the gate-hugging Drake. I sighed and thought it was lost.
However, EVE pulled one of it’s quick turnarounds of luck and I noticed on the directional scanner that my targeted Drake had escaped and warped to a belt. The Pirate Drake was still out of range on 360 degrees d-scan with max range. I warped in. There he was, shooting the local NPC-pirates 100 km off the belt. Overheating the afterburner and dodging the rocks, I was making quick progress towards it. And it seemed he was either not aligned, not paying attention or just very confident that a lowly Rifter would only make a dent in the shields! Overheating the scram, I got him locked and pointed and I started pounding his shields with Republic Fleet EMP.
Damn! There’s that Pirate Drake on d-scan again. I’m overheating the guns to see how far I can get. My competitor lands on grid. 100 km away! Yay! Many thanks to the Caldari engineers that made the Drake so very very slow. The pirate crawls his way towards me, and I needed to cool down my guns again. The Drake really is slow, so I get to keep on pounding my target and after a while my pirate competitor gives up the slow approach and warps out. Or is he trying to get a better warp in point? Time to overheat again! The tank breaks and suffering starts. I invite my target to Saftsuzes ISK Transfer Service, but no luck on ransom - and there’s that pirate on grid again! 30 km off this time. Time to finish of and get away. And so I did! And there was much rejoicing.
I bragged about it all day, and then, a little later, I undocked in my bling-fitted Helios to scan down a mission runner, got pointed and melted in seconds, just outside a station, by some pesky +5 security status law abiding citizen. So... That's the life of an Overheated Hothead.
However, EVE pulled one of it’s quick turnarounds of luck and I noticed on the directional scanner that my targeted Drake had escaped and warped to a belt. The Pirate Drake was still out of range on 360 degrees d-scan with max range. I warped in. There he was, shooting the local NPC-pirates 100 km off the belt. Overheating the afterburner and dodging the rocks, I was making quick progress towards it. And it seemed he was either not aligned, not paying attention or just very confident that a lowly Rifter would only make a dent in the shields! Overheating the scram, I got him locked and pointed and I started pounding his shields with Republic Fleet EMP.
Damn! There’s that Pirate Drake on d-scan again. I’m overheating the guns to see how far I can get. My competitor lands on grid. 100 km away! Yay! Many thanks to the Caldari engineers that made the Drake so very very slow. The pirate crawls his way towards me, and I needed to cool down my guns again. The Drake really is slow, so I get to keep on pounding my target and after a while my pirate competitor gives up the slow approach and warps out. Or is he trying to get a better warp in point? Time to overheat again! The tank breaks and suffering starts. I invite my target to Saftsuzes ISK Transfer Service, but no luck on ransom - and there’s that pirate on grid again! 30 km off this time. Time to finish of and get away. And so I did! And there was much rejoicing.
I bragged about it all day, and then, a little later, I undocked in my bling-fitted Helios to scan down a mission runner, got pointed and melted in seconds, just outside a station, by some pesky +5 security status law abiding citizen. So... That's the life of an Overheated Hothead.
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