Tuesday, November 3, 2015

One Missioner's Journey, Part Three

In our last post we related the story of how one missioning isk-drone became an active, awakened player of Eve Online. In our third and final installment of One Missioner’s Journey, we see how a reformed carebear becomes a pirate, and how Eve might be saved…

It was only a tweak in my explorer’s psyche that triggered my next great evolutionary step. Having felt the rush of bringing over six hundred million isk worth of augmented drone blueprint copies back from dronespace, I realized that not only could I make my plex with ease, but that I could afford to indulge in that which interested me in the game in the first place: PVP.

This change of thought occured after being ganked, an occurrence that on a long enough timeline happens to all explorers. I realized that I was going about this exploration business all wrong. Why explore for hours to give my loot to the next Thrasher, when I can use a Thrasher, and allow other explorers to share their loot with me?

Thus, my first PVP hobby was born: Alligatoring. I’d fit a probey, senbo Thrasher, find a hole, orbit at 500 meters, and simply blap all frigates that come through or tried to exit. Was it “elite PVP?” No. In fact, it was decidedly scrubby. But it was mine. I was making money, and, on the occasion that I found a Wingspan hole, dieing trying.

Fast forward a year and many scrub-tactics later, and I had fully invested myself in the pirate lifestyle. My plans had grown bigger, more sophisticated, and finally invoked the meta-game. Yo-ho-ho, as they say.

And yet, I found myself at an impasse. With the Pheobe expansion, I could now fill my skill queue with up to 50 skills, and as I’m an old player, many of my skills take quite long to train. In total, my immediate skill training plan would take well over a year.

Sadly, having come this far I was forced to ask, “Would Eve be alive this long?”

Surely, no MMO player should base their gameplay on the projected longevity of the game itself, yet I found myself doing just that. “Do I skill for the immediate future to more effectively eliminate MTU? Or do I plan for the long run?” I asked myself.

It was then that I realized that far too many players give up, I.E. continue missioning and mining until they quit the game, before ever realizing that they can have fun in Eve. Without the income from new players, CCP wouldn’t be able to maintain Tranquility and build new content for long. This is unacceptable.

Eve will survive.

I will save it.

We will save it.

I thought to myself, what do new players need? Do they need a code to live by, in a brave new world, seen through lenses of red versus blue? While the alliances and philosophies related to the puns above certainly create content, more is needed. A concerted effort to get newbies to “stop mining,” halt their mission-grind, and keep them in the game is necessary to save the world of New Eden.

The newbies need a path to follow, much like I did.

A Golden Path.

We Pathfinders will guide them — gently if possible, but forcibly if need be, we will save the newbies, missioners, and miners from themselves.

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