Crazy Genius!

is what I’d like to refer to myself to as, but with my current self-esteem issues the closest I can get is “Lucky Idiot” in that most of my incredibly stupid ideas work out in an awesome way. I think this is the result of my analytical mind complimented with Attention Deficit Disorder, so I think of crazy ideas, then make them plausable, then convey them in a humorous enough way that everyone is attracted enough to actually think about it and maybe do it, see my afterburner/orca and ECM hulk ideas.

Alright, the ECM hulk didn’t work out very well, but my idea to fit low-friction nozzles to help us run away faster instead of cargo optimizers was a great idea and now everyone in our WH has them >.>

My point is, most of these ideas are gems while a goodly percent turn out to be ridiculous. With that in mind, here is my latest silly idea:

Because all the gankers in hulkageddon need minerals to buy ships to kill us, let’s hold off on selling minerals for a week or two. This may actually help megacyte’s current price.

No, that isn’t actually my idea nor the idea I had in mind. THAT idea is, *drumroll*, Static WH mining.

People will say that WH space is completely random and silly, and use the analogy that K-space is an empty glass and WH space is a pile of BBs you just poured into the glass. And you enjoy shaking the glass every 24 hours and listening to the people living in the BBs curse.
Anyway, that’s not necessarily true. WH space is really like a three dimensional series of orbiting spheres interlocking, rotating at different speeds, which, if someone ever actually mapped that thing, would look insanely beautiful and would probably help a lot of WH miners and such.
Oh look, there goes my brain, feeling euphoric at the possibility of learning how to program something like that.
Anyway, what that analogy was talking about is that some/all WHs have static links, I.E. whenever you scan, you are guaranteed to find a WH leading to that type of exit. If the WH leading to that type closes through whatever means, a new link will be established to another WH of that type.

Another bit you need to understand is site despawning. Once you completely shoot/mine/explore the crap out of any specific site, it vanishes next downtime. As you do whatever to more and more sites in one specific WH, the sites spawn slower and slower until you’re stuck sitting there watching Stargate SG-1 reruns until a new grav spawns in a week or so.

Anyway, here’s my idea: Since we’re currently in a C5 with a static C6, why not mine the gravs in the static? That way, we’ll never run outta sites and have nigh infinite ore available. Here’s how I think this will play out:
We find a C6.
We move an orca and a few BSs into the WH, the Orca sets up a PoS with some guns while the BSs open a grav site.
The BS pilots go back to the pos in the C5 and get hulks(or Covetors) and mine in the C6, while the orca pickups and drops the ore in the small pos corp hangar, and once the op is done, the miners use T1 industrials to haul the ore out through the WH to preserve the integrity.
The orca has scan ships and/or a probe launcher fitted in case of the second worst case scenario or less:
Worst case scenario: we lose 6 Covetors and a fully insured Orca. Losses: not very much.
Second worst case scenario: we lose the mining ships and the orca gets locked down in the small pos, attackers wait it out and close the link to the C6 from the C5.
Counter: the orca warps to a safespot and cloaks/and or logoffskis. Logon/decloak later and scan an exit.
Note that this has to be done AS the hulks are being destroyed >.>

Stupid idea? Really stupid idea? Stopped reading halfway through because of the stupidity? Genius idea? Already thinking of ways to counter it? Tell me!

P.S. Orca with a scan ship fitted to it… hehe… that gave me an image of an Orca with a buzzard welded to the side…

Edit: corp mate gave me the idea of using a BC for boosting in hostile WHs, eliminating the need for a PoS and reducing losses, if an itty V, myrm and 6 covetors are use for mining, to…lessie…
6 covetors: 10 mil to fully insure
1 myrmadon: 30 mil.
1 rigged itty V: 30 mil
so 120 mil if we get completely screwed, compared to
6 hulks: 1.2 bil
rigged orca: 400 mil
so 120 mil minimum risk for obscene profits.


ninja! ninja! salvage!

Well, xxDeath came into our WH again with covops and stealth bombers (this makes the third time), since we again have a nullsec connection to their space. It seems odd that we keep finding nullsec connections, and odder that every other connection is within 5 jumps of xxdeath territory. So, since there was no way in hell I was taking my 190 mil hulk out w/ dudes on the loose, I went to my alts.

Sergeant Scowlyface, the salvager alt, has completed his salvage training.(tech 2 afterburners, MWDs, salvagers, and destroyers). Unfortunately, morleena, my combat alt, had her skill training put on hold once I realized that my current Orca skills on herleena, another alt on the same account, gave me a grand total of 2 seconds off my cycle time. So, I’m training mining director to IV and picking up the warfare linking skillbook once we get an enterence.

Anyway, having a salvager in Dodixie, I asked politely in local if anyone needed their missions salvaged. After the missions runners and mission ninjas alike laughed at me, I started training astrometrics to learn about this ninja salvaging hoo-haa. Three hours later, I undocked with basic combat probes and an expanded launcher only to have a  covops frigate explode directly in front of me. Looting the wreck and docking immediately was exhilarating, and netted me a sister expanded probe launcher and five sister combat probes, among other things that I couldn’t use.

During the 15 minute wait time while the victim moaned about losing his ship and the killer moaned about losing the wreck and the pod, I fitted the scanner and probes to my imicus and watched a short video. Undocking, I warped to a safespot and launched probes, hit scan, and waited to see ships I could warp to.

Fifteen seconds later, the scanner gave me…no results at all. Rechecking the video, I was told to set my filter to battleships and command ships. So, I set my overview to just command ships and battleships. After a few more minutes of cursing, I asked in local for help and learned that I was supposed to set my scan filter, not my overview filter, to battleships and command ships. This done, I scanned down a Rattlesnake, got into my Catalyst, and warped to him.

I found myself at a warp gate, and went through. I found myself in a sea of yellow wrecks, and proceeded to salvage my heart out. By the tenth wreck, I was already irritated at how slow my catalyst was, so I docked, buying a tristan at the station I was docking in, along with three small salvage tackles, 3 overdrive injectors, an 1mn AB II, and two cap rechargers: total fitting cost: 6mil. Total ship cost: 200k.

I warped back to the gate to find the gate gone, so I redocked, got my imicus, and scanned a new dude down. BMed, warped to w/ tristan. The mission was Worlds Collide, and after I salvaged the initial room, I went to the second room and began salvaging.

Four wrecks later, a catalyst shows up and begins salvaging the wrecks. I immidiatley angle towards the wreck he’s tractoring, lock it, and arc past, salvaging it before he can. I was immidiatley awash with the feeling of out-manuvering someone with an extreme tactical advantage, and proceded to out-salvage him for the next five wrecks before leaving to help close some WHs in our home.

So, ninja salvaging. So easy, less than one mil SP chars can do it, assuming they know how to work the scanner and an afterburner. Not very profitable by WH standards (400 mil paycheck yesterday), but extremley profitable from a dude flying in a navitas’s standpoint.

The moral standard in Eve is somewhere below a toilet in a sewer in the mob-run part of Detroit, so don’t expect anything you don’t nail down to still be there in the morning. At heart, ninja salvaging is a pretty tame moral deviation, since half the time the runners don’t even care about the salvage and the other half, they’re so sick of ninja salvagers that they made a salvage alt. So, if I find a bunch of unattended wrecks, I’ll assume that they’re fair game.

No-one take me up on this, but it seems to me that if a jerk in a destroyer can kill a hulk, he should be able to kill a frigate before getting concorded. If people are really annoyed by salvagers, then using a destroyer to suicide gank them and getting paid, then using the salvage the ninja salvaged to pay for a new destroyer, seems like a niche someone could fill pretty easily.

No-one do that tho. It’s stressful enough when a BS rat starts shooting at my tankless frigate, someone in an anti-frigate ship shooting at me will ruin my  whole day.

Fly safe, as I probe you.

P.S. I’ve decided to name my third char on my main account “Indigo Montoya”, but have no idea what to have him do. My main is gallente BS and miner, I have a salvage alt and can’t think of a third role I want to pay right now.


Dec 18 advent entry

It was another cold, black day.

That’s what he would be saying, if the tachyon lasers of an Amarrian dreadnought weren’t trying to crack their shields like an egg.
The lasers pulsed again and he heard muffled cursing from below him as the mechanic added more duct tape or repair paste to their flickering shield emitters. How the dread had found them, he’d never know.
The gigantic asteroid they had been mining for the better part of a week had finally collapsed, its infrastructure ruined, and they had been celebrating the occasion with ice cold quafe when the first warning lights started blinking and we were informed that our temporary little hideaway was under fire from a ship bigger and more expensive than anything they owned, excluding the station itself.
The Amarrian ship had come out of nowhere, with no escort, raising the question on how the bastard had survived this long, but an unescorted Dreadnought was still more than enough damage for five miners huddled in a small station. The pilot cursed again at the financial backer for this expedition, lamenting their meager funds that only allowed for two cruise missile launchers, both of which were easily subdued by the punishing force being brought to bear.
Suddenly, the mechanic’s cursing stopped, a fact which somehow worried the miner more than the cursing. He glanced out the viewport and couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of lasery death spewing at them. In confusion, he looked around the bleak void beyond the shield bubble, wondering what had caused the zealot bastard to cease his crusade for the beautification of the wormhole or whatever the hell the bastard had been talking about before they jammed his radio, an act that had probably not improved the circumstances.
His eyes suddenly caught a flash of black on black, a shadow moving within a shadow. Squinting, the shadow’s frame came into view from the light of the firey planet they had anchored the station at.
It was cruiser class, that much he was certain of, but all the ships he had heard about as a kid looked nothing like this one. It looked almost… insectual, with a curved back of layered metal and a design that made any viewer feel uneased.
The dreadnought pilot certainly seemed uneased, although it was hard to tell, seeing as the thing hadn’t moved in the last seven minutes. The shadow that was not a shadow suddenly lit its engines, accelerating to speeds that seemed god-like to the veteran pilots of mining barges, settling into a tight orbit around the Amarr ship.
Autocannons and missiles rained down on the behemoth, and more ships appeared around it as ships of Minmatar design swarmed in and around the golden monster. The Amarr bastard gave a dying scream, or would have if the jamming signal the mechanic had rigged hadn’t completly shut down his outward brosdcasts. The Dreadnought exploded, a blinding white light against the black darkness of space, and when the pilot could see again, each ship, each one looking like the result of an explosion in various girder factories, had aligned themselves to the station.
A blinking light on a console near him indicated that one of their rescuers wanted a talk. Hastily screaming at the mechanic to shut the jam off, just in case, he shakily opened an audio link. A gravely tone came forward.
“This is Colonel Roc Wieler, current leader of the Tribal Liberation Force’s Wormhole Exploration Squad. You have five minutes EXACTLY before we leave this system and by that time I expect every Quafe can and cigarette you have in that floating pile of Caldari crap in a canister outside your shields. Some of us have been in this dead-end corner of space for a very, very long time and the cigs ran dry weeks ago, leaving us with very, very twitchy fingers over our fire controls. Do I make myself PERFECTLY clear?”.
After a very hasty “sir yessir”, said faster than the miner had ever heard himself speak, their remaining cans of Quafe and month supply of cigarettes was loaded into their shuttle and left at the metaphorical feet of the fleet that still looked like a floating junkyard to the miner. The comms crackled to life again.
“Ahhhhh….. that’s the stuff. Civvies, I don’t know how the hell you got here, how the hell you’ve survived this long, but I sure as hell don’t care. Now, before we take our leave, is there anything else you’d like to say to us? Perhaps along the lines of a ‘Thank you’?”.
The words flew past his lips, and at the time it seemed customary to utter the phrase “Merry Christmas”. The sudden silence of the comms seemed to speak differently, though. after an eternity all of thirty seconds, the comms cracked to life for a third time.
“The only, I repeat, ONLY reason that I’m not going to order the good men and women with me to burn through your shields and explain to you how much of a pile of shit that belief is is because fully half of those men and women are enjoying the first smoke they’ve had in weeks. Now, if you and your little deity wouldn’t MIND, we will take our leave. Unless you’ve got some sort of cross you’d like to throw at us?”
After fifteen seconds of shaking his head, the miner remembered that the chat was audio only, and a stuttery “Sir, nosir”, was beamed across the void as the ships vanished in all directions as quickly as they had come.