The Future of Guidance Systems

Over the past few months, I have become involved in the trading aspect of Eve. The change of NPC seeded items into player made ones via the PI method has fascinated me. The infinite supply has been removed and now the market is open.

Note: This information is based on my own research and as such, your results may vary.

Quick Research:

  1. Average daily consumption at around 373,000 units/day pre-Tyrannis
  2. Total of large market buyout at NPC prices that occurred before Tyrannis launch at around 162,951,000 units over 10 days (wild!). Reports indicate that Goons were the major purchaser.
  3. Estimated date for stockpile to return to normal: 407 days (~ June/July 2011)

Right now it costs about 25,987 ISK to make 1 Guidance System via the PI mechanics so I hope that you are not producing them and selling on the open market.

The Forge, October 12, 2010

Predictions:

Price of Guidance Systems will slowly climb up and crash as people who have stockpiled millions of units take profits. Eventually when the pre-Tyrannis stockpiles run out, we will see the price climb to the expected 25,000 ISK.

Questions:

Q. Are you posting this information in an attempt to manipulate the market to cause a short-term spike to take some profits?

A. Nope. If you had read my blog at all, you know that it is all about sharing information. I started by sharing my experiences in WH space to help other people understand the mechanics.

Q. How did you arrive at the 25,000 ISK/unit value?

A. I used the price of the Tier 1 Products (P1) in my estimation as they have reached a stable value over the past few months.

Q: What if CCP changes some of the ratios?

A: Then my predictions are f***ed.

Q: I’ve read about some impending changes to the click-click-click nature of PI coming out with Incursion. How will that effect prices?

A: PI is already run by macro’ers. I believe that it will have little to no change on PI prices.

tl;dr. Guidance Systems are a great long-term buy if you want a guaranteed investment. Selling at ~4,100 now and projected to 25,000 ISK in June/July 2011.

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Account security

is important. Since physics, logistical proofs and python are stopping me from Eveing and therefore stopping me from failing horribly, here’s one of my old failing stories. From WoW.

For all two of you who are still reading this, I’ll continue.

I WoWed back in high school, had heard of security, had a decent password that was mostly numbers. I figured account hacking was something that happens to people who paid for internet porn or something.

On that ominous note, I played a warlock. There’s really no Eve equivalent to that so I’ll abandon any attempt at a metaphor besides “it had the tank of a rook and the sig radius of a domi, but the dps of a pulse geddon”. Anyway, I got sick of being weaker than magical tinfoil when punch led to more punches, so I asked my super-special-awesome best friend if I could play his 80 paladin, probably the equivalent of a faction nighthawk with a really expensive fit.

(Yes Klann, that was for you.)

Anywho, good times was had despite the grievous breach of the Warcraft EULA which I assume said “no account sharing” but am too lazy to read. Unlike my super awesome friend, however, I’ve never given anyone passwords to anything I own, stemming off a few traumatic childhood incidents and a psychiatrist whose advices was “stop being a fucking pussy”.

Usually this next paragraph ends with “and then my ships exploded again”, but since this is hello kitty island adventures, there will be no exploding. So, I was mining on the paladin one day during lunch period, when I see in my friends list

“chaaos has come online”, where chaaos was my warlock.

Words shrivel in an attempt to rationalize the “OSHIT” feeling I felt at that moment. All my time in Eve, all the itty V losses(25), the BS losses(12), the orca loss(1), I have NEVER felt the “oshits” more than that moment.

Leaping into action while five minutes of time remained on my lunch break, I sent a mail to big blizz saying, paraphrasing:

“My word, I feel that someone malicious has gained access to my Warcraft account and intends HORRIBLE shenanigans! Would you kindly deactivate my account so that this miscreant can do no further harm?”

Remember that this was in five minutes, so remove half the consonants and double the exclamation marks and you’ll probably be closer to the actual message.

Anywho, a day or two later I got a mail saying “hello! we changed your account password to this! Also the dude stole a bunch of stuff so we magic-wanded that all back into existence!” (I was the equivalent of a director in a 100-ish corp so this was kind of a big deal).

I promptly logged back onto my account, changed the password, and was hacked, again, the next day. Petition, wait a day, ecetera.

So, with a newly wiped hard drive, I checked the damage. There were several angry mails from my CEO asking why I had removed all the…superflaming tastyfish (it’s been three years, no idea what WoW stuff is called) from the corp hangar and would I please put it back. Right next to this mail was a pile of stuff from the GMs labeled “this probably came from your guildbank”.

So, everything got fixed forever. Also, when I logged onto my WoW mining character which was in the equivalent of a covetor at the time I got hacked, he was now in a fully fitted hulk.

Apparently my account had been used for gold farming via mining.

Yeah, I kept the ore.

Oh also this post is about that post the eve devs made about account security.
It’s important.

Also Capsuleer shutting down? Dangit, now I’ll never be able to claim internet fame.

And finally, the new character creation looks sweet as…. metaphors fail me.


Dark.

Day one.

My name is Hardar Muran, and this journal is my last effect on the universe.

After a line like that, you would expect some sort of apology for melodrama and clarification, but there isn’t any. After several months of destroying sleeper drones, they’ve hit back. Everyone but me had their ship and pods destroyed when a routine clear of a small group of drones went horribly wrong. I have considered suicide as an easy escape, but my capsule seems to have malfunctioned from that last fight, no, slaughter. I’m lucky the interfaces still work and I’m not going to put my faith in a bunch of machines broadcasting me across a hundred universes back to Jita.

I can’t leave my pod without forfeting any interfacing with the ships out here, so I’m trapped in this prison. Heh.

Immortality, right?

I suppose, on reflection, that it was only a matter of time before this happened. We’ve been killing these drones and using the parts to built horrible caricatures of them for our purposes, I can see how fate would deal us a blow sooner or later. I can’t fly any of these damn gallente covert-ops class ships, but maybe I can get the probe launcher off one of them and make something work.

Day three
Taking apart a complicated ship without anything recognisable as hands has proven impossible, so I’ve launched one of the gallente scan ships into space and blown it to bits. Three probes survived the explosion, but one is damaged. I’ve brought it into the station’s ship maintenance array to try and repair it with the cargo drones, but it will take a while. I’ve heard nothing from the sleeper drones and I’ve got enough fuel for the station to last a few months, with plenty of oxygen and food.

Day twenty
I know more now about scan probes than the Sisters or my capsuleer skill manager ever thought possible. I can make these things, I know it! I just need materials. I can scavenge the circuitry, but how the hells am I going to get enough minerals?

Day fourty.
The planets in this godforsaken system have the materials I need, so I’ve been remotely mining them with a few extensively modified drones. I’ve also modified this mining array to accept these spare battleship-sized guns we had, as I don’t have a ship big enough to use them anymore. The planets are as empty as the station, no-one there.

No-one anywhere.

They say that space is silent, but that doesn’t mean anything but an absence of sound. What they SHOULD say is that space is dead. There’s nothing here but me.

nothing, nothing, nothing……..nothing at all, but me and my nutrient paste.

Day fifty.
I remember back when my dad would show me how he made hobgoblins back on Gisleres II, and me never caring why or what any part went where.

I miss him.

Day sixty-seven.
I’ve cobbled together a probe and repaired the broken one, which brings me to a total of four. I can fit these to my ship and fly away and find a way home! Go, leave, fly, float, free!

Day sixty-eight.

One day, seventeen hours.

One day, sixteen hours, fifty-nine minutes and fifty five seconds.

The sleepers were there. They were always there. Every time I took a little from their planets and scurried, scurried, scurried back to my little hovel, they learned a little more about where I was.

And now they know. They found me. Hide and seek, one two three…… there’s no-one here but you and me.

But now, I can look too! Not for them but for away. I want to find away and fly away forever from them. To my family.

I miss them.

one day, sixteen hours, fifty-seven minutes and fourty-four seconds.

Day seventy.
The tower is gone. But I’m gone from the tower. They shot it all, burned it to bits while I watched, safe and sound in my invisible boat in the sky. The oxygen canisters burned with a brilliant flame, bright, happy colors against the endless black. Endless, endless black.

They’re gone. The tower is gone. Everything is gone but me. I have fuel and paste and air for a week or two at most, and then my beautiful buzzard and I shall sail endlessly in this blackness.

No-one speaks.

Out go the probes. Will they speak to me?

Day seventy-three.
The probes have gone and sailed and flown and found. It’s all useless junk, sleepers or sleeper stations or wormholes watched by the sleepers. My father is in my head, reminding me that a program, no matter how evil, still isn’t.

It’s just doing what someone told it to do, but he never saw the dedication these creations have to see me dead.

But we’ll dissapoint them, won’t we? My yellow darlings scour the space and look, look, look for all of time.

Day seventy-five
This wormhole is guarded, like all the rest. I’ve watched it in my flying piece of metal, watched the watchers watch the wormhole while they watch for me. Everyone looks but only I find.

I don’t know how the sleepers are finding the wormholes, but I do know one thing. I’m faster than them. I almost risked escape this time, but they appeard as I had a moment of uncertanty. That moment is gone, and now it’s only me and the metal. The damaged probe has malfunctioned, and isn’t answering it’s recall function. I can’t fix it, so I have one hour to find a wormhole and fly through it, find people and talk to them and live.

live.

live.

I want to live.

——————–
I’ve found it! I am already hurtling towards it, that path in the space, road in the sky, and soon I fly through and find my salvation!

I’m coming, child! I’m coming, wife!

John stared at his cargo register. There, next to meticulously organized bits of sleeper and ancient data was a newer piece of equipment, a computer drive with a few documents on it. It was useless compared to the sleeper databanks they’d found along with it, and he quickly forgot it in favor of coordinating the next sleeper site. He wasn’t worried, though. It was just another round of turkey shooting one small group at a time. Stupid drones.


Screw you, Murphy

I should be doing physics II questions right now.

Anywho, back in WH space, I’ve had a bit of a snag. By which I mean several snags.

By which I mean if I didn’t know better I’d swear I was intentionally screwing up just to have something to post about.

Which I’m not. Pinky promise.

Anywho, to shoot the most NPCs in nullsec, I have two alts trained up to domis and not much else. They can use t2 RR, t2 energy xferr, some drones and that’s it. I’m not entirely sure if I bothered to pick up gun skills at any point. Oh, and they fly itty Vs and (in another week or three) will have perfect learning skills in preparation for “operation triple character carrier”.

If anyone can think of something to do with multiboxing three carriers please let me know as I honestly haven’t thought it out past “OMG 45 DRONES”.

Anyway, this is becoming a bit of an issue in a wormhole as anything bigger than a cruiser requires more reps than Eve’s public image after a typical dev post in the forums is met by a truckload of people who appreciate that they’re working on lag, they’d just rather they work on it a bit harder.

Coupled with the fact that the warp-in points SOMEHOW always spit you out 70km or more away from the actual sleepers who seem to be exploiting that AHARM C6 with reckless abandon.

So, you’ve got the equivalent of walking towards someone half a mile away at a brisk pace while he shoots at you with a handgun with perfect range the entire time and you can only hit about ten feet in front of you because you’re holding five or six riot shields and throwing duct tape at your friend to patch the holes the guy is shooting.

This is irritating as I somehow perfectly calculated my tank to be EXACTLY however much DPS sleepers tend to do, so I’m constantly sweating and cursing as my armor has made such a frequent habit of dropping into hull I’m not sure how much of the original armor remains as compared to whatever the hell RRs actually do to the ship they’re repairing.

So, to fix this whole brisk walk towards man with a sniper rifle issue, I’m using a zephyr to get myself warp-in points about 500m away from the BS, whaling the crap out of them, then warping away, zephyr, repeat, hooray.

In my latest use of this strategy, I was in a mostly cruiser wave. Not wanting to warp in and out and such, I dropped a cap recharger and fitted an AB to each battleship. Warp in, turn on the ABs and start approaching the sole remaining BS. It goes down, and these three annoying warp scramming frigs show up.

Fully prepared for the situation, I launched my hobgoblin IIs and made a humorous comment in WH colonists:

haav0c > “Hello, warp scrambling frigs. Meet tiny whirring balls of hobgoblin death”

God, I’m so witty. Unfortunately I was so busy thinking “crap, Murphy’s Law now states that I cannot possibly survive this wave as I have already predicted its successful outcome” to notice that my ships had drifted/ ABed away from each other at top speed and were now upwards of 10km from each other.

For those who don’t know, the range of an RR module is something like 6-8km. I don’t remember, but the important thing is it’s less than 10km by a good 2km or more. Now, I want you to imagine a scenario:

You are taking heavy fire in a battleship and are traveling at top speed (200m/s) in the x direction. If your tank will only hold for another 20 seconds without RR, will you survive if you are currently traveling towards your RR partner?

Will you survive if you are traveling at top speed in EXACTLY THE WRONG DIRECTION?

Will you survive if you are traveling at top speed in exactly the wrong direction and in your haste you forget to turn the afterburner off?

Will you survive if you are traveling at top speed in exactly the wrong direction, you forgot to turn off the AB AND you are currently in a Black Hole C4 wormhole? (+44% inertia)?

For those of you reaching for a book on Eve physics and a pencil, I can save you some time and reveal that the scenario in which everything has gone horribly wrong will result in one destroyed RR BS while three warp scrambling frigs, unamused by the hobgoblin tomfoolery, are still alive. Consequently, the other RR BS follows, followed by the DPS BS.

SO.

After half an hour of an entertaining movie and picking up my loot and the destroyed sleeper’s loot 10 m3 at a time in a zephyr, I check my fuel levels.

20 hours of coolant, enriched uranium and nitrogen isotopes left.

Ok, that’s manageable, I can scan a route in that time, I just need to force collapse some WHs with my Orca and BS.

*Inner Voice* what BS?

…that pile of metal over there.

*Inner Voice* surrounded by the angry sleepers?

Yup.

*Inner Voice* good luck with that.

I hate you.

So, after two hours of collapsing our static C4 which seems to only be heavily occupied and/or leading to C5s, C6s or more effing C5s, It’s the last pass of the Orca through a X-something-something-something WH to close it so I can scan another useless WH and then preferably find another, better one.

Again, up goes the witty comment, this time in the local chat I will soon be separated from and never see again, ever.

haav0c > DIE WH DIE!

Once again, just as I said that, I thought of Murphy’s Law. Then, once again, I jumped through with the AB on just to make sure that my eight passes (with a 250 mil mass ship) would collapse this hole (2 bil mass).

As you can probably guess, it didn’t effing close.

With corp mates complaining about the fuel alerts and 18 hours of fuel left, I make an executive decision. Since all I have left is some itty Vs, GSCs and destroyers/scan frigs, I stuff everything in the Orca, offline the tower and logoff.

It is an incredibly short term solution but is also viable for long term, assuming no-one bashes it. As to you people bashing it, why in all the hells would you bash a tower with nothing possible to be gained from it?

Anywho, I’ll keep looking for a BS capable route while studying for the Physics test Tuesday. Electric potential energy and all related constants and variables are jerks.