Ecliptic Rift

Like everyone else in the transportation terminal, he stood transfixed while watching the reports come across the data screens.

He didn’t travel often. Wife, children, and a government desk post tied him down. But he didn’t get the urge to travel, either, so this suited him just fine.

Something had changed a few months ago. He found himself thinking more, reminiscing, examining the paths he’d not followed earlier in life. What if he’d studied in a different field? What if he’d not taken this position? What if they hadn’t had children? What if he hadn’t married her?

Perhaps these questions occur to all men of a certain age and station. Not all men had the access he did, though, working for the Republic Security Services. So he began to indulge his “what-if” dreams, furtively examining a file here and there. He reasoned that he hadn’t hurt anyone, as he hadn’t passed on the information to anyone or even saved it. But what about that recruiting officer that had pulled him into the RSS? What happened to the students he knew who’d entered the Fleet? Had anyone analyzed the relation of career trajectory in the RSS with family status? What about his own wife’s past?

The inquiries turned into an addiction for him, the endless data dumps like a drug that kept his mind off his own dreary life. They provided far more interest for him than just processing CONCORD criminal reports and trying to keep the peace when he got home.

One of his what-if scenarios drifted to a girl he’d known back in school. Time had dulled his memory somewhat, or perhaps burnished it, so that he could no longer see her face so precisely in his dreams. But as he thought more about their relationship, or at least their friendship, he believed he saw more potential in that past than he’d realized. Perhaps his life would have turned into something better, or at least different, if that had gone somewhere.

And that tormented him.

So now he dug further. She’d moved to Luminaire sometime in the distant past. He found her dossier and kept reading. In fact, now she was a civilian employee for CONCORD, working in their Yulai datacenter as some sort of budget manager.

An eternity of restless nights later, he had enough. He needed to see her, to know what could have happened. Late one night, after the children had been put to bed, he coldly informed his wife that he had to travel and didn’t know when, or if, he’d return. No, he didn’t want to discuss it. Yes, he’d contact them later. No, he didn’t want her to try to find him. Yes, of course his job knew.

She stared at him with un-cried tears in her eyes as he finished packing his bags and left for the shuttle terminal to catch a liner for Yulai.

Then it happened, and, like everyone else in the transportation terminal, he stood transfixed while watching the reports come across the data screens.

We frequently see corp or alliance identities in EVE revolving around larger factions. The Amarr have CVA, the Minmatar have Electus Matari and Ushra’khan, not to mention innumerable militias in factional warfare for all four of the primary factions. Smaller, interesting factions (Angels, Thukkers, Intaki, Sansha etc) also inspire a number of corporations and even alliances.

I know, we already have the NPC corporation, but nearly everybody in EVE knows why NPC corps stink. I don’t know whether bloodline NPC corps obviate any need for (or interest in) player-managed bloodline corps, and that could present an issue. But what would a player Sebiestor tribe corp look like? First, the bloodline description:

Widely respected as being among the most innovative thinkers of the cluster, the Sebiestor are an ingenious people with a natural fondness for engineering. For the last millennium, they have been pioneering advances in applied sciences despite laboring under chronic material shortages. Sebiestor engineers believe they can build anything, with anything, out of anything. Veritable masters of deriving solutions from impossible circumstances, they are most commonly found working in shipyards, assembly lines, terraforming projects, outpost construction, and aboard starships.

So maybe this hypothetical group could take the form of an industrial corp, based near Eram (the tribal HQ system)? Manufacturing and invention, in particular, make sense for Sebiestor pilots, and perhaps reverse engineering to support strategic cruiser production. Pilots could also participate in mission running, especially with the aim of gaining high standings with the tribe and perhaps the Minmatar Republic itself. The corp’s industrial focus could even turn to supporting the war effort by providing supplies and equipment to militia corps working with the Tribal Liberation Force in Metropolis. Alternately, salvaging, trading, and smuggling seem to fit the feel of a hard-scrabble, inventive group that turns junk into the most advances devices humanity has ever known…

This thinking doesn’t necessarily mean I’d leave the Back Alley Trading Company, of course. Right now, I’m just thinking out loud and musing on ideas, since I have always loved planning corp or guild concepts and organization in every MMOG I’ve ever played or even closely examined. This particular concept has a lot appeal for me, no doubt, but I have to weigh that against all the other concepts and game play that interest me. On the other hand, I wouldn’t quite rule it out, either.

Also, this marks my 200th post on Ecliptic Rift. My geek identity means I really look forward to the 256th post more, though…

The first banter of 2010 comes to us from CrazyKinux himself, who asks the following: As we begin another year in New Eden, ask yourselves, “What Now?” What will I attempt next? What haven’t I done so far in EVE? Was it out of fear, funds, or knowledge? What steps and objectives will I set myself to accomplish in order to reach my ultimate goal for this year? EVE is what you make of it. So, what is it going to be for you?

Destination : Future by gilderic

I’ve had a rough idea of how I would like 2010 to go (EVE-wise) for a while, at least in some senses though not necessarily others. So let’s take a look…

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In New Eden, many pilots live in a defined area for substantial periods of time. This might mean a particular solar system, or a constellation, or some other zone. They work the same agents, mine the same belts, prowl for ratters, defend their sovereignty, or work the same trade routes.

Nomads don’t fly thay way. We move from place to place over time, always looking for what’s on the other side of the stargate. We don’t consider ourselves to belong to a particular nation or to own some volume of space. Instead, we go where we want, when we want, to do what we want. We travel and tinker and trade and, yeah, take.

So we don’t have twenty different ships in our hangar. We have a industrial ship and travel light. This week, I live in Essence, and the next week I’m back home in Metropolis before spending some time in Syndicate or Lonetrek.

A nomadic lifestyle doesn’t necessarily mean operating independently, though for some pilots it might. We fly together as a clan and we support each other in our endeavors. We set goals and achieve them, both for individual and group benefit. But that “group” means us, not some larger state to which we should owe allegiance due to the happenstance of our birth.

I am a Thukker. The world will decide whether it sees me as one or not. But I fly Thukker until I die.

Image credit thesocialnomad

The intricacies of power politics never cease to confuse me. I spent some time out in Syndicate this week, conferring with the Intaki Bank offices in TXW-EI (and a few other corporations) to clear up some confusion from a few months ago. An agent had asked me to remove a troublesome Minmatar Republic convoy, and I had trouble. We exchanged some heated words and evidently he filed a report indicating that the Syndicate couldn’t trust me. I’ve got it all fixed now, or nearly so.

But during this renegotiation process, when Louis Stiers, another agent, had asked me to deal with some police surveillance squadrons and listening posts, an odd request came up. Interspersed with various assignments focused on the Khanids, apparently working with the CONCORD Directive Enforcement Department (DED), and, to a lesser degree, the Republic and even the Gallente Federation, I received a nudge to hit a Thukker convoy. When the agent transmitted the contract to me, I immediately turned it back around. Not only did the Thukker tribe have traditionally good relations with the Syndicate (if a little strained due to Maleatu Shakor‘s political efforts), but they have a station in the same system. I may not mind starting all sorts of violence among podders, but I’d rather stay out of an underworld war against two large groups with whom I really like working, particularly where Back Alley has an office and various business interests.

For a bit, I wondered if they not might have just tried to test me. I thought this because, as soon as I rejected it, the agent immediately gave out an assignment to deal with some regular scum who had made the mistake of falling behind on rent payments for their pleasure hub location in the next system up the pipe.

Yeah, right...

At any rate, the Bank has assigned me another agent for now, one Guispon Meganier. He understands how to use my abilities a little better, so I’ve done some discreet deliveries and even inserted a marine detachment into a Syndicate station whose guard commander had gotten a little corrupt (well, independently corrupt). Unfortunately, I lost my Prowler to a Nighthawk underneath the station while I argued with traffic control to let me back into the hangar.

So I clone-jumped back to Oursulaert for a few days to attend to business there. In the meantime, I consulted with my old friend Eran Mintor, who seemed equally troubled. Wonder if I should go talk to somebody back at the Tribe about this?

Image credits josh.liba and america.gov

The dark air smelled of tobacco, cheap alcohol, and lost dreams. Most of the drinkers in the bar looked like down-on-their-luck crewmen, available for any sort of berth they could find. The waitresses took drink orders but not much else, leading to muffled guffaws from the friends of a spacer getting shot down by the girl refilling their glasses. What little lighting they actually used in the bar flickered from time to time, as this level of the station didn’t get a lot of attention from the Engineering department.

Really, not much did. Casiella had docked up deep in the Great Wildlands, at the Thukker Mix Factory in M-MD3B. Nobody had any security out here besides friends, and as often as not that came out to no security at all.

She draped her jacket over the back of her chair and spun another one around to prop up her feet. A heavily tattooed waitress came by the table but didn’t give the boots in the seat so much as a second glance. “What’ll it be.” In most places, that would sound like a question. Not here, though.

“Beer. Whatever you got.” Casiella hadn’t spent any time out here in null-sec before, but this dive looked, felt, and tasted just like a hundred other joints she’d visited in low-sec, only more so. She watched for a moment as the girl walked away.

A rumbling voice spoke from behind her. “Nice, right?”

Casiella twisted slightly around to get a better glimpse of the spacer who’d decided he wanted to chat. “Can’t see anything else in this place, that’s all.”

He grunted. “Guess that much is true. Name’s Gannur.” He pulled up a chair and sat down without bothering to ask.

She didn’t bother to complain. No point in it, anyway. “Casi.”

He studied her closely. She’d intentionally dressed down, as it wouldn’t pay to look too prosperous in a place like this, where some of these folks wouldn’t see in their whole lives as much money as she’d make in one trade back in Heimatar. A gray work shirt, dark olive cargo pants, black leather boots and jacket. Hair short, like always. Still, she couldn’t conceal some things anymore, and he noticed. “Don’t see a lot of folks come through here with that much enhancement.”

Figuring she’d do better playing it off, she just said, “Rebuild after an accident, that’s all.”

His laugh sounded like a cranky afterburner firing up. “Most rebuilds don’t include Poteque Pharm hardware, sweetie.”

She raised one eyebrow, not expecting anyone in this place to actually recognize any of her hardware. “Been out to the Federation?”

Gannur shook his head. “You might just say I’m in the business.”

She tilted her head to the side and looked at the man more closely. He wore some sort of dingy-blue jumpsuit, wore his reddish hair a bit long, and had the face of a man who wanted you to trust him. That definitely meant that she didn’t. “Cybernetics?”

He smiled, a little off-center. “I deal in them.” A quick wink. “Don’t get any ideas, the owner’s a friend of mine. This place has security, even if it doesn’t look like it.”

Casi spread her hands wide. “I’d never think of it.” A lie, of course. “Wouldn’t pay to get in a fight with a potential business partner.” Another lie.

This drew a brief nod of acknowledgment. “But I only handle the local trading, here on the station. Few pilots have shown interest in the risks that the Great Wildlands present.”

She kept her right hand on the table and slowly reached back into her jacket, then withdrew a small data chip. “My private key and comm-code. I will launch for Heimatar soon, maybe I can bring back a shipment…”

Gannur accepted the chip and pocketed it away in his jumpsuit. “Indeed, I do believe we can find a way to work together if you do.”

Just then, the serving girl appeared with Casiella’s drink and set it down. She eyed Gannur suspiciously. “I’ll be right back with that tab of yours, Gann. I got yelled at last night for letting you extend it again.”

As soon as she turned her back, he smiled apologetically, stood, and disappeared into the haze and shadows.

Casi just smirked, shook her head, and took a swig.

Photo credit Lyot via Flickr

Thanks to the magic of the timecode bazaar, I have reactivated Ghost Outrider’s account. She has just over 5m SP and focuses almost exclusively on combat with Minmatar ships and weaponry. More fiction featuring her and that slightly more fantastical writing style I have occasionally explored will appear here soon.

But I need help from you friendly (hah hah) EVE bloggers and players. I really want to indulge in some PVP for the next couple of months. And you may have noticed that I like to tell a story through gameplay, though this need not require roleplay in the strictest sense. “Ghost Outrider” has mixed Brutor/Thukker heritage and tends to support the traditions of her Thukker tribe over the Republic or even current tribal leadership when they conflict in any way. To date, I’ve explicitly avoided missions against Angels because I want to stay out of the pirate faction standing hole. Yes, this makes mission running and raising my Thukker standings difficult, but that’s life for a representational roleplayer.

For the moment, then, I need to choose between joining the Tribal Liberation Force (or an associated militia corp) and traditional low-sec piracy. I realize that the two don’t have to exclude each other and frequently don’t. For now and for me, however, I want to focus on one at a time.

I participated in factional warfare when CCP first released it, but with the impending FW changes in Apocrypha 1.5 and the continuing evolution of the NPC storylines, this imperfect game system still holds substantial interest for me. I can also continue to traverse Republic high-sec without any real concerns about security status. Then again, I don’t like the downtime plex shuffling mechanic, the focus on blob warfare, or the cesspool of Militia Chat.

But the yarr still calls to me. Terrorizing Amarrian or possibly even Caldari low-sec in a Rifter… mmmm. EVE’s support for piracy has undeniable romanticism, and you pirate bloggers feed that quite well. I’ve done essentially none of this and don’t even know whether I’d seek out a pirate corp (as it might prove difficult to find one where I’d fit), but anybody who knows anything about EVE has felt the call of the yarr.

Feedback! Comments! Suggestions! Whatever! I’d love to hear what you have to say.

Photo credit: Russ Morris via Flickr

A recent ISD story pretends to survey reactions within the Republic on the union with the Thukkers. Of course, really the story just consists of random anecdotes with no real ties to anything like a scientifically designed survey, almost as if the reporter had a vested interest in emphasizing minority opinions to give a false impression of their prevalence. No journalist would ever do that, though, so I’m certain that he had solid information that demonstrates that public sentiment exactly matches that in the article. Right.

In any case, the article quotes one young Fleet officer as saying, “The Thukker are just one more tribe among many.” This sentiment exactly reflects the problem with this whole union: the Thukker model differs considerably from the rest of the tribes, at least the four that previously made up the Republic. They don’t subscribe to the same sort of hierarchical thinking, or at least not on the same scale. Trying to fit them into tired old power structures won’t work, not least because the caravans will shrug their shoulders, fade into the black emptiness of the Great Wildlands or any other place they desire, and keep doing whatever they want. Some folks in the Republic seem to think somehow that this union represents a victory for them, notable podder alliances like Electus Matari among them.

I still suspect that these people entirely miss what has happened. The Republic has started to ‘weaken’, at least according to classical models of governance. Freedom has a contagious quality, and once the Brutor, Sebiestor, Vherokior, and the Krusual realize the autonomy the Thukkers will continue to hold, they’ll want it for themselves. Each tribe will demand and receive similar self-determination, to the point where many of the powers the Republic currently holds will dissipate.

Not that this will lead to a complete fracture: in the current environment, the Republic still serves a need, at least as a counter-threat to the Amarrians. Similarly, when individual freedom increases, this doesn’t (yet) mean that local governments go away entirely.

But what happens when others, like the various factions within the Gallente Federation, start to realize that they could have the same thing? Why should they let a centralized power structure, rife with corruption, tell them what to do, what they should think, how they should manage their own business, when they don’t have to let it? What happens when the Jin-Mei and the Intaki also decide that they will work together for defensive purposes but want to do things their own way?

The Revolution, that’s what.

As part of the efforts to support Stillwater, I’ve begun production of Thukker ship designs. Currently, I can provide the Cheetah, Jaguar, and Vagabond, though later I’ll begin Panther production as well. Interestingly, the Thukker designs lend themselves to covert and espionage work (e.g. the Cheetah and Panther), so I think I should produce recon cruisers like the Huginn and Rapier as well.

I now have research teams working around the clock in Thukker-provided facilities. Also, my own recent skill training revolves around various aspects of research management and laboratory operation plus the skills required to build these high-tech ships.

My working capital has mostly come from profits in cybernetic implant trading. These tech 2-level components really fetch a high price on the market; building a Vagabond takes around 105m ISK in components, not to mention the datacores required for the invention attempts (something like 4m per attempt), the usage of research and manufacturing facilities, etc.

Still, I like having a home and a “tribe”, in the most general sense of that word. I belong with these pilots.

As I mentioned the other day, I’ve gone to work with the Stillwater Corporation. Probably some folks out there might ask themselves how somebody working with the Sansha loyalists in the White Rose Society fell in with this group.

Honestly, that’s not a bad question. Stillwater has connections to both the Thukker tribe and the Angel Cartel, a known enemy of the Sansha Nation. So you might think that either they would distrust me, or that the Sansha folks wouldn’t much like this.

To tell the truth, I suspect you’d think correctly. But I left WRS, not because I didn’t like the pilots there — I really did, Vikarion is great and Petra Bealer has all the makings of a great pilot — but because their political goals don’t align with my vision. I still believe that cybernetic enhancement and related technologies will change the world even more than they have. I still believe that New Eden sits on the edge of a new era that will bring benefits to humanity we can’t fully comprehend right now.

So with the recent explosion of interest in exploration, I had to find a group that I could stomach. The Thukker tribe has a great model as an intermediate step to a stateless society, so I support that. The Angel Cartel don’t exactly match my vision, true enough, but we don’t get too heavily involved with them. At least not with respect to the worst of their abuses, at any rate.

Besides, I’m flying again with some pilots I knew last year and I trust them. They wouldn’t steer me too far astray. Well, okay, that might not be strictly true, but anyway this bunch seems like a corp I can stick with for a long time.