Pod Gods Get All The Chicks
In my darkest hours I feel that I will never get the hang of this Eve thing. I study, I practice, I read, learn, talk, discuss and write about Eve and yet - after three years - I still don't really feel like I'm any gosh darn good at it. There are moments of course, moments when I feel like a God.
But during the last three plus years I've had the distinct pleasure of meeting and flying with about a half-dozen players for whom Eve makes total sense. This "sense" has nothing to do with knowledge, ability, rhyme or reason, it has everything to do with... what exactly?
Let me try and explain the person I'm talking about first and maybe, just maybe, by doing that we can help to explain this "sense" thing. There are 'elite' pilots in Eve, well-respected pilots in Eve, well-known, regarded, feared, pilots in Eve. But this thing I'm talking about doesn't have anything to do with that. Perspective isn't a part of it. Especially outside perspective.
I call them Pod Gods for the sake of this post. And I think it is an apt term. So I'll stick with it for now.
I can undock and travel solo thru eight or nine systems and find nothing to fight let alone kill. A Pod God gets two solo kills in my home system. I get bushwacked by two Canes and a Caracal and explode, the Pod God manages to escape. I land on the belt 145k away from the Naga, the Pod God lands right on top of him. Coming back from a roam in my Drake I come out of a Gate into 40 fast-locking FW ships, the Pod God comes out into a small gang of Frigates and kills three of them. I could go on and on.
Are you starting to think of pilots you know?
When I was younger I played a lot of Basketball. I loved basketball. And I was very good at it. I worked hard, practiced and really loved playing the game. But there was this one kid that never practiced, didn't care one way or the other really, and yet he could hit shots like there was no tomorrow. One after another, with little or no effort. He was on my team and I loved that guy like a brother with a different mother, but secretly - I wanted him to fail. And suddenly Rixx reveals a bit much about himself on the blog. Back to our story.
This "sense" has nothing to do with Killboard stats and everything to do with something that can't be measured. You either have IT or you don't have IT. The same phenomenon is true in all walks of life. In all facets of your life there are always people that have IT and those that don't. The falling into shit and coming up smelling like roses people. The ones that always win the office pool. The guy whose rich Uncle left him everything. The ones that roll easy and life pushes forward with a gentle breeze.
This phenomenon in Eve reveals itself in the Pod Gods. Pilots for whom Eve comes as natural as a stroll in the park. Things just work out for them. They just happen to find the missioning Carrier, just happen to land right on top of the ratter, just narrowly escape the War Dec gate campers, warp off before the reds land, are in the POS when dog poo hits the fan, and every other way in this game that one thing works out better for someone else.
Being around a Pod God comes with a dark side though. IT doesn't always translate to YOU. And YOU can become rather prickish about it can't you? All that happenstance piled onto the shoulders of that other guy really rubs you the wrong way doesn't it? Why him? Tell me, in secret back rooms of your mind, you want him to fail don't you?
I don't. I'm not a third grader playing basketball for the first time any more. I'm an adult now and I'll continue to play the game the way I want to play it. I may never have IT the way other players have IT. Not all the time. But there are days, moments, when I do. When I can feel the Pod God blood flowing, and I live for those days.
That kid in third grade? Came down to the last play of the game in front of a big home crowd, he cut the ball away from the other team and took it to the basket. No one on him. Easy lay-up. And he missed. Guess who got the rebound and made the winning shot?
Yeah, that was me.