Thursday, October 29, 2009

[Informational] Overview Settings

I'm not going to redo an entire tutorial on how to set up your overview, there are already several in existence that are very in-depth and helpful.  What I am going to do here is talk about an overlooked issue when using the filters and states.  I'm at work right now, so I can't pull up any pretty screenshots and show you, but I will try to add them in for you later.

I'm going to give you the short version first, so as to not bore you with too many details that you may not wish to read...

Short Version:
The wrecks of ships you destroy are tagged as "Pilot is in your alliance" and this state must be checked in the overview settings, under Appearance, if you want to see them.

If you feel like reading the rest of the story, keep reading.

Long Version:

Last night I was setting up my overview with multiple tabs and filtering out things for each tab when I came across a strange problem:  My own wrecks (as in, wrecks that I caused) didn't show up in a tab that I had specifically set them to show in.

I have an enemies tab, in which I want to show only npc enemies, people with bad standings, or even people with neutral standings if I'm in low sec.  But when I'm out ratting, I don't want to switch tabs just to find the wrecks, because salvaging takes time and sometimes more enemies come to pew pew you.  I tried and tried to get the wrecks to show up in this tab as well, but was unsuccessful for a good bit.  Not being able to leave the spot I was at because I needed to keep my wrecks nearby to watch the changes to my overview.

I unchecked, rechecked, asked the bloggers in game, double tabbed, control tabbed, cursed and, an hour later, chose to select all and poof there it was!  I knew it wasn't a GUI issue, so I went through all the blocks and one by one, narrowed down what it was that stole my wrecks from Aura's senses.  It didn't take me terribly long to figure out, but I was highly annoyed by the time I finally did, and of course relieved as well.

I make a post of this because I had searched Google,, Massively, and every other place I could find a tutorial on overview settings and came up with absolutely nothing.  In any case, my problem is solved, and hopefully I can save some other people some time and frustration in the future with this post.

If anyone else has any helpful tips that aren't typically covered in the guides or cover something often overlooked in the overview, please feel free to share.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Vexing the Vexor, Enter the Thorax

Alas, my friends.  A moment of silence for my beloved Vexor...

The sound of space crickets chirping unseen from the nooks and crannies of the ship assaults the peacefulness of the moment.

She lasted mere moments in 0.4 security, a couple of pirates vaporized her hull without a fight.  I escaped with my pod somehow, the pirates either not caring or being distracted by looting her carcass.  There were no comms, no ransom, no demands of any nature, just sudden and painful destruction.  Floating in my pod, out there amidst the endless vacuum of space, I wanted to cry but Aura would have none of it.  She continued feeding me warnings as I slinked away to the nearest high security system.

After docking, I didn't yet have the heart to search the market for another ship, so I crawled off to the cheapest pub I could find on station and proceeded to drown my implants in self-pity.

Two days later, a best estimate, I awoke with a start.  My head pounding, I crawled to the bathroom from my spot on the floor (as I apparently had not even made it to the bed) and purged myself of all that I couldn't even remember drinking and eating.  Hopefully they had tasted better the first time.  A good shower and grooming was first priority for me at that point.

Eyes closed, as much against the light as the water, with the steaming water rolling over my face, I considered my next move.  As far as I could remember, I still had only my pod--and the Velator granted by the insurance company, but I was going to scrap that as soon as feasible.  I considered my training, my recent "discussions" that were more akin to arguments with other pilots as to how best to outfits various ships, and of course, my wallet.

After drawing the shower to a close and drying off, I sat on the bunk and pulled my datapad out of the pile of clothes that marked my 2-day binge.  The screen was intact at least, but with nothing flashing me for attention I was mildly concerned.  I dug through the logs and saw that I had placed a few rather annoying drunken messages in my lover's mailbox, and I sighed knowing that if she chose to speak to me again I would probably not hear the end of it for quite a while.

Backing out of the logs, I moved over into the market window and began looking at my options for a new ship.  I decided to try moving into a Thorax instead of a Vexor this time, and sped a message away to a companion of mine who had helped me fit the Vexor, Chainer Cygnus.  Chainer hadn't claimed to be a Gallente cruiser expert by any means, but he was certainly more knowledgeable than me.

I purchased the Thorax and excitedly boarded it.  I liked my Vexor, as I do most of the Gallente designs, but the Thorax is just damn sexy.  Just sitting in it within my pod, raw and defenseless as it was, made me feel sexier.

After obtaining some of Chainer's helpful hints, as well as some advice from the bloggers' comms, I dug into the wallet and started spreading my remaining wealth all over New Eden.  I have yet to finish picking up all of the items I've reserved, and that will have to happen at some point soon.  I think I will do my ratting and missioning in 0.5 or higher for now, as I am obviously not yet accustomed to the... delicate... way of life in low security, and, admittedly, I want to feel sexier for a while in the Thorax.

Fly safe, my friends, and fly often.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Destroyer Destruction

Another one explodes into thousands of fragments, flames momentarily engulfing my pod before the vacuum sucks out the life-giving oxygen and blackness returns to my vision.  Well damn...  My "Ratalyst" had just kaboomed around me, and for a few moments I just sat there staring into space as the event sank in.  Damn you pirates!  Damn you all!  Of course, they have probably thought the same of me frequently as I swept away their frigates and cleaned up the loot and wreckage.

I had been helping a friend and corpmate, Sasha Ni'vibra, with some level 2 missions.  She was floating about in her battleship for this particular mission, while I played anti-frigate for the ones that got past her sniping.  All had been going well up to that point, with my Catalyst taking very little damage throughout the inter-system runs.  To keep myself near Sasha, and hopefully being a decent personal bodyguard, I was orbiting her at 500 meters, targeting anything that came in range and blowing them up systematically.

Now, keep in mind that I had been dual outfitted for ratting my level 1 missions.  I was running 6 small railguns with a combination of iron and iridium charges, as well as a tractor beam and salvager.  Nothing extraordinary was on my mids or lows, though I had dedicated spots for trying to make my capacitor hold out as well as keeping a little speed on me for keeping range.

During that fateful mission, I had gotten myself caught up in some debris that didn't seem to matter to me at first.  I bounced around it mainly keeping an eye on my overview and capacitor, armor repping as necessary.  The first two waves of pirates went down smoothly and quickly, but the third and fourth waves came on back to back and brought some cruisers with them.

This wasn't my first time against the cruisers, but it was the first time they all decided to go after me at the simultaneously.  There wasn't a whole lot I could do but shoot back and repair as much as my poor Small Armor Repair II Module would allow.  Sasha had thrown her armor repairing drones all over me before my shields melted away, but it still was not enough.

As I watched my armor dip to about 50% strength, I realized it was time to go.  I picked out the nearest station and asked Aura to get me the hell out of there.  After a few moments, I was still drifting between the debris, bouncing in different directions trying to find an exit...  I began to panick.  Armor was all but gone now and my hull started trembling under the force of the impacts.  I screamed at Aura mentally to hurry up and find a way out, but she reported losing control of the ship.  (OOC - Yes, I actually got a message box stating I had lost control of the ship... what the heck was that all about?)

Less than 3 seconds later, the fireworks began in earnest, though briefly.  Thankfully, they focused their attacks on Sasha and turned away from my pod.  I sat there, a blank expression on my face, watching the battle raging on around me as if it were a dream.  After a few more moments, I decided to head back and start outfitting another ship, since Sasha had things well under control.  I picked out a nearby system that would hopefully have most of the stuff I would need, and then bookmarked the battle site so I could come back for my surviving cargo hold.

Well, looky here!  I can fly a cruiser?  I didn't know that!  Ka-ching!  Or rather... clink-clink... as after I purchased myself a Vexor, 10 medium scout drones, some medium railguns (another already learned skill of which I had forgotten) and a couple of other things to balance out my first cruiser fitting, my wallet was looking desperately empty.  After a 5 million ISK donation by Sasha, I had spent 11 million on everything for my shiny new Vexor.

Her maiden voyage was the trek back out to the battle site where she spent an hour cleaning up the loot from the dozens of wrecks, including my own.  Although I had fitted her with a salvager, I was too tired to worry about cleaning out the wrecks entirely.  Amazingly, most of the mids and lows from the Destroyer had survived and will serve to save a few ISK for the moment while I attempt to recover.

Alliterative Allocation:  Catalyst Catastrophe Causes Cruiser Crusade (Sorry, I couldn't resist!)

Monday, October 19, 2009

[OOC] Influences

Greetings to my readers, how few you are, and a quick note about the blog.

Normally, my blog is posted as from Caels' perspective as a narrative.  This will continue to be the case for most of my postings, but I've been inspired by some of my fellow bloggers--such as Shae Tiann, Roc Weiler, and Mike Azariah--to try my hand at writing from the third-person, and a more creative, perspective.

For those who do not follow them regularly, please allow me to sum up the things that, in my opinion, make their writings stand out.

Shae's writing is some of the most creative and visual-inspiring work I have ever read.  It is downright moving.  Roc has a knack for retelling missions from his character's persona and adding in some fun dialog to make the whole mission much more involving and realistic.  Mike likes to share his experiences through very thoughtful and descriptive writing that not only tells a story, but typically expands upon a lesson that he has learned or wants to impress upon his readers.

With my writing, I hope to display a combination of these styles to some degree.  I do not expect to be better than any of them, as I greatly enjoy their writings and doubt I have that much creativity in me.  I do, however, hope that you enjoy my writings.

I do plan on modifying this a bit with actual agent names and full corporation names once I can look them up.

An excerpt from my, as of yet, untitled work-in-progress follows:

Yawning deeply, Caels rolled over slowly, stretching out his limbs and back after his unusually long slumber. He smiled to himself as he brushed up against Kechara, who still slept soundly. ‘How long has it been,’ he wondered, ‘since I was able to share a bed with her?’

Absently brushing a wisp of blonde hair over her small ear, his mind wandered over the events of the past several weeks. An icon flashed several times on his data-pad, drawing him from his reverie. It was a new journal entry from one of his more recent acquaintances in the security field. Another mission he was so urgently needed for—“for what, chasing Gallentean traders out of the area,” he bitterly inquired of his Caldari lover as she stirred.

Caels was normally very even-tempered, but this new string of missions that seemed to revolve only around stamping out the Gallente civilians near his station of choice had him seriously considering relocation. He had hoped things would be different so far from the borders, as he already had belongings scattered throughout twenty systems that he had yet to collect.

This particular agent was very quickly losing patience with him, as he always turned down missions that set him against his own people. Sometimes Caels wondered if the agent found anti-Gallente missions for the sole purpose of harassing him. “Capsuleer Caels Caldanhai,” the agent said stiffly, “we have a new assignment for you… if you aren’t wearing your yellow briefs today.”

“Actually, sir, I’m not wearing any briefs at the moment, not that it’s any of your business,” Caels countered as he stifled another yawn. He attempted to hide his smirk as disgust momentarily flitted over the agent’s features. “What can I do for the great NOH today?”

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

New Eden's Laundry Services

War...  It is a funny thing, at times.  Allow me to take you back in time a few months...

I remember my time in my first real corporation, Pigothy.  The first time we went to war I was still floating around space in a Navitas.

Oh, how war terrified me in those days, and in truth, not all that long ago at all.  A matter of just a few months in the New Eden calendar showed a big change in how I view war.

Pigothy saw war quite often, and rarely of our own making.  Being that we were a small and newly formed corporation, with very few kills and a fair share of publicized deaths, we became a good target for anyone trying to boost their status via brute force.

My first war in Pigothy led to me hiding out in a space station for several weeks.  In retrospect, I am quite surprised that my Caldari lover did not leave me out of disgust.  It wasn't so much fear, but a feeling of uselessness.  What could I do in my tiny, poorly fitted Navitas?  I used the time to immerse myself in my studies.

My second and last war in Pigothy is the one that changed my perspective.  I had learned that death was a part of life as a capsuleer.  During a particularly long-winded war, I grew tired of waiting around a dock while checking the local comms and eyeballing the other station patrons.  My impatience freed me from the needs of my "precious" ship.

I knew they were there.  Several angry red blips on my neocom had alerted me to my enemies presence long before I undocked my Tristan.  I had no idea what kind of ships they were in -- no intel on them at all.  I merely had hoped that they were not camping right outside the hangar doors waiting for some poor fool like me to come zipping out.

Indeed they were.

From the moment I undocked, I willed my ship to warp.  Just as my thrusters began to fire, my speed screeched to nearly a stand-still and I swore to all the gods.  Immediately I threw on my armor repair module as I felt my shields flicker off under fire from 3 of their ships.  Suddenly, my capacitor was dead.  It took me a moment to realize that as I wondered why my armor was breaking apart and scattering into space so quickly.

At this point I decided to try and dock again, willing my ship to turn around as fast as its crippled thrusters would permit.  I crawled slowly -- so very slowly -- back towards the station and pleaded with the computer to allow me entrance.  The answer on my neocom had me cursing again:  "DENIED."

I let out a big sigh just as my Tristan's structure gave way and exploded all around me, my pod ejected swiftly and tried to propel me to safety behind the flash of the Tristan's death.  They were prepared for that too, however, and my thoughts stuttered for only a moment as I saw the pod engulfed in light only nanoseconds before awakening in a cloning vat.

Coughing and spluttering, I realized I ended up where I was trying to get to in my poor Tristan in the first place.  The Brutor staff that assisted me upon my awakening showed me back to the docks and my remaining Catalyst.  I used the Catalyst's link to report back to the corporation about the events, and let them know I was okay, I just needed to take the ultra-express flight back to my home station.

Several of the members were distraught that I had so foolishly thrown myself into their jaws, but I did my best to play it down as no big deal, and entirely of my own doing.  After my display of stupidity, however, I was asked if I wanted to join the war effort.  I hastily accepted and began fitting the Catalyst with the advice of my corp-mates.

Over the next couple of days, we hunted them down for vengeance on my part, for kills scored on the others' parts, and with new allies in tow to help us prove, once and for all, that we were not just a bunch of push-overs just because we did not have hundreds of kills to our names.  This, of course, was hard to maintain because we each had our own duties to attend to in addition to the war.

We went through another quiet period, and I became restless again.  The war effort had slowed to a crawl with the enemy corporation playing hide-and-seek in their home system.  At some point throughout the dragging month-long war, our leadership found a reason to declare war against another corporation.

I loved my time with Pigothy, but I knew I could not financially handle adding another war to my list of things to do.  I needed to recoup some of the money I had lost to the war.  A friend had asked many times over the past couple of weeks for me to join his corporation, which I had kept turning down.  Well, this time I changed my mind and decided that maybe I needed something more stable.

I spent a couple of days closing out my time with Pigothy before joining my current corporation, A Black Spot.  Apparently, war follows me.  Not a week after I joined, we recieved notice from CONCORD that someone wanted us dead.  I thought, 'No big deal, this corporation is used to fighting, since they like to stay in null sec space all the time.'

As it turns out, I was both right and wrong.  There has been battle on both sides, so I have heard.  We lost a few nice ships, though to me everything is nicer than what I have.

Even so, I have been absolutely unaffected by this war.  I've become so complacent in this war that I do not even remember to check the local comms while I run missions across multiple star systems.  Wherever this war is, it seems so far away from me; and even if it were at my hangar door, I think it would change little for me.

I accept death now.  It happens, sometimes frequently, sometimes sporadically, but inevitably it happens.  I am just thankful that I can overcome it by way of cloning.  Ships are simply an investment of time and money.  You may not be able to get the time back, but as long as you did something you enjoy with that time, you don't need it back, just do it again to get the money back.  Then go get yourself killed again, and then feel welcomed to New Eden's wash cycle.  Rinse and repeat as necessary.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Getting Used to Multitasking While Engulfed in Pod Fluid

As a new pilot, I am still learning so much that I tend to get information overload from almost everyone I meet.  This is definitely not a bad thing.

Once safely tucked away in my pod aboard my Catalyst, I tuned into the comms chatter of both my corporation (A Black Spot) and that of my fellow bloggers.  I gave my greetings and the comms revealed only static for a short time.  I suppose everyone was sleeping... or... well, I will leave that up to your imaginations.

In any case, it was not much time before someone I had annoyed a few days ago popped up on the blog-comms and I immediately inundated Alexia Morgan with typical friendly banter.  Then yet another person I had annoyed previously pops into the channel, Mike Azariah.  I do not have a whole lot of experience with corporations, but the amount of chattering between the three of us started to remind me of my corporation when we get going.

While Alexia and Mike were schooling me in the ways of New Eden and casually exchanging blogging advice, my corporation comms start blinking at me, begging my attention.  Well of course I have to give my corporation some love too, so I willed my neocom to break both channels out so I can attempt to carry on two or three conversations in my head.

On the corp side, I was getting Ralcoss to fill in the gaps of my political and historical knowledge of our seemingly cramped universe.  We babbled on about the current state of affairs between the races, and started helping Lordhtin piece together what he had not really known to begin with.

Apparently, I am still having trouble adjusting to my capsuleer capabilities.  During all of the exciting comms chatter, I had completely forgotten that I was running a courier mission and I had spent the better part of 10 minutes bouncing off of a jump gate.

Okay!  Backing out of comms just a bit, I nudged myself through the jump gate and continued my mission.  After setting warp to the next jump gate, I dove back into the conversations, and of course, promptly buffeted against the next gate as well.  I am fairly certain I managed to get through that gate after about 2 minutes, which was an improvement, at the least.

When I noticed a couple of red blips on my neocom only about 15km away, I realized that I needed to get my head back in the mission.  I made a couple of warps, to see if they were following me, and thankfully, they were not.  The appearance of the pirates though certainly got me moving to finish the mission and find a safe spot to dock, even if they did ignore a lowly, poorly fit, Catalyst.

A few jumps later, I was sitting the dock waiting on the agent to come claim his items.  It took him a while to get down to me, but after making him wait I thought it only just.  Suddenly I felt tired and decided I would make the return trip quickly and go find a room somewhere.  On the blog-comms I made a comment that I was bored of the courier missions (because I kept turning down all the pew-pew missions as they were directed against Gallente, I'm no traitor!) and Mike Azariah talked me through finding better agents.

Well damn... thanks Mike!  That, of course, changed my course as I set off for an internal security agent's location.  Once I arrived at the dock, I said my farewells and I crawled out of my pod.  I quickly showered off the pod fluid before collapsing into bed next to a Caldari woman.

Yes, Ralcoss, I "consorted with the enemy"... You are no better, you Amarr serving wretch!  Oh and on a side-note:
Threebius sucks!

Tuesday, October 6, 2009


If anyone knows the value of information, capsuleers do.  And to this end I'm going to let you in on a (not so) well-kept secret.  There are literally thousands of screens of intel available about New Eden in the esteemed EVE-Online Blog Pack.

This intelligence initiative is actually what has sparked my interest in revealing my own thoughts, experiences, and general knowledge to the elite capsuleer public.  Please, take a few months to read through the wealth of stories and information available in such high volume that only those with the engineered mind of a capsuleer could possibly grasp it all.

Even for us this is a challenge, but ultimately the rewards far outweigh the time cost.  Not only does this vastly improve our collective intellect, but it also provides a distinct community for all capsuleers to enjoy the stories, experience, and (of course) opinions with one another.

New Face in the Crowd

My greetings to all who call themselves capsuleers. These tidings come from the humble Gallentean standing before you now, one Caels Caldanhai.

Please allow me to enunciate my name, for often others' tongues have awkwardly stumbled across its strange countenance. Caels is one syllable, the 'C' masquerading as the letter 'K' in sound alone, and the remaining rhyming with the word 'ails'. Caldanhai is three syllables: CAL-dan-hai. 'CAL' is the point of emphasis and is pronounced exactly the same as the Terran word 'call', whereas 'dan' is shortened into 'dun', and the letter 'h' in 'hai' is unaspirated entirely leave the last syllable to rhyme with 'eye'.

Ahh, now that we are past the formalities of proper pronunciation, let us move on to who, what, and why I am.

I am a capsuleer, like many who will read this: destined for greatness -- whether in success or failure remains unforeseen. There are many roles in our universe, to which I aspire: everything from mining and industry to ratting, covert ops, and, eventually, commanding my own fleets and perhaps corporations.

'Why do I spread my skills so widely,' one might ask. The answer to that seems simple to me, though it seems lost to most other capsuleers. I do it because I want to do it. It is my driving purpose: this desire to experience life in New Eden from as many perspectives as possible. Even pirating, as distasteful as such acts might be, is not something I am willing to completely disregard as a potential path in my career.

I have been following other capsuleers' written accounts for a few weeks now, and I have decided that this is also another route that interests me. Thank you for your attention (assuming I have held any) and I look forward to working with all of you.