Eve is a game that only continues to get more and more complex. (Which is another issue I'd like to talk about soon.) And as such it often requires insane levels of concentration, knowledge and ability. As with anything that demands such talents, the opportunity is rife for failure. Derps of magnitude.
In my seven years of playing Eve I've been killed in space by getting stuck on Asteroids, by my Cat jumping on my keyboard, by my Mouse battery dying at the worst possible time, by children fighting, by a UPS delivery, and a dozen more distractions of life. These, along with game failures (lag, modules not activating, and other technical issues) are beyond our control. These are the acts of nature itself, there is nothing we can do about them. Take them in stride and move along to the next adventure.
There is another class however. A class beyond natural acts of real life distractions, or technical issues involving mice running in server rooms - a class without class. The totally stoopid. A failure of the mind, body and spirit. A moment when you have no one to blame but yourself. And while I've often been accused of blaming my derps on other things, the truth is I've always taken responsibility for exactly what happened. This blog is full of examples. You have to take responsibility for the bad if you are going to take responsibility for the good.
Yesterday there was an Ishtar in a large plex. We had three Cruisers available, I was in a RL Caracal. We also had a Ruppie and a Stabber around. Local was rather full and unknown, due to the local Incursion, traffic had been inconsistent and difficult to predict for days. So the idea was to not-overly commit. Poke around at it and see if anything came to help. Easy enough. The Caracal is the perfect ship for that job. It was clear from the beginning of the engagement that the Ishtar had links running. His speed gave him away. I must stop here and mention that I am in no danger from the Ishtar, despite his Geckos, I have the distance and speed advantage.
Eventually it becomes obvious that we should pull away. I check my distance, align out to the Sun and initiate warp. And here is when stoopid comes and calls me away. I completely and totally STOP THINKING about it, my mind goes right into one of several on-going convos and totally forgets about the things happening in space. (I typically have multiple convos and blinking channels going on at all times, that is no excuse, just the way things are.) In the meantime, the Ishtar (smartly) has burned straight at me and gotten web/scram on me. By the time I am jolted back to space (a span of only a few seconds) it is already too late. My fate is sealed.
As often happens at times like these the thought of quitting skips across my mind. I mean seriously. All that thought, planning, experience, knowledge, and ability for what? I'm joking here by the way. Yes the thought does cross my mind, but it is not a serious thought. It is only a normal human reaction to being caught with your pants down. What do you know? I'm only human after all.
As are we all. Stoopid happens. We can try to the best of our ability to make it happen less often, but eventually it will get you.
So what stoopid things have you done lately? Feel free to share.
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While you are thinking about it, enjoy the latest video from Joffy Aulx-Gao.
Comments
But yeah, nothing worse than losing a ship when it's your own fault. Very humbling.
Happily that was not the case. There the uncloaked helios was right off a gate in lo sec. Damn. I do get lucky once in a while.
I convoed the guy and congratulated him as all BPOs dropped and half of the bpcs too. He was trying to understand when he plainly said: "I'm speechless!" He started having the shakes and I was laughing my ass off from the situation. At the end I made an offer to buy the BPOs from him cash (90 bil). He took the offer and became a billionaire in less than 30 minutes. We still talk with each other about it.
Best of all, zkillboard prices are incorrect so it shows only 13 bil isks and the ingame km is also wrong showing 98 million isks for the loss. My corp mates sent thanks to cCP or our KB would be screwed. :-)
The FC continued to yell at me and after what seemed like too long a time had passed since I initiated warp, I finally saw that I was indeed still in the Sabre's bubble. I had stuck around the edge of the bubble and even though there may have been a reason as to why I wasn't outside of it (perhaps there was another bubble dropped or I tried to get in frigate rep range of a ship on the other side or I got bumped etc.), it still doesn't excuse my arrogance and/or lack of spatial awareness (my camera was zoomed all the way out). I only needed one cycle of my prop mod to get out, but of course by the time I realized that, it was too late. I woke up in station 30+ jumps out from the fleet feeling like a complete idiot.
One more mistake I won't be making again I guess, lol.
Yet weirdly enough that frustration due to failure that skims rage-quit but bounces into motivation is multiplied when its blatantly your own idiocy at the root of it!
So until I do something so STOOPID that I must share I will keep bouncing along :)
Great stuff :)
We'd hunted them before, Russians and Americans. It seemed like the insulation of a billion ISK ship removed their brains, as well as their instincts. Trust flowed freely between us; who would even think to question such willing help? They believed the tales we spun. Low-sec just had a bad reputation. We were gentlemen of honour, not savages.
Until we turned on them, guns blazing. The ISK-lust was too much, the rewards too great. The Incursion-runner's ship buckled, but slowly. We brought in an 'associate', a sleek ship that emerged with a flash of light. It was more than enough.
We split, our lighter ships heading homewards, our 'associate' to his own business. Agreements between our kinds last no-longer than the fights we co-operate in. Every man for themselves, take your own rewards.
Yet, we'd forgotten one thing. The slaver menace that loomed over us. A strangled cry for assistance came from our associate. The Sansha had ambushed him. As sleek and sophisticated as his ship was, nothing can stand up to such concentrated fire-power. Crippled and disabled, his ship exploded, tearing his mind in the process. It was then that the truth was revealed.
Our associate, for hunting whales, had himself become a whale.
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https://beta.eve-kill.net/kill/47425444/
There's stupid.
And then there's stooopid.
You all know which one this was. :P
Lessons learned:
Never ever fly tired. It's a recipe for disaster.
You see that F1 shortcut to your cloak? Change it to F8. This will save you from yourself.
Having lost exhausted all mental power, call for help *before* you hit armour.
Question your every actions. Why do you need to bring your Proteus when you have so many better options?
Is the theoretical reward worth the real risk?
If you're going to die, die with dignity!
And finally.
WHEN YOU'VE FUCKED UP BEFORE, LEARN THE BLOODY LESSON!
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And if you're wondering, this was the Incursion Runner we were hunting.
https://beta.eve-kill.net/kill/47425376/
Rob K.