I think I will always be a n00b in EVE Online. It doesn’t matter how long I play, or how much I learn. I will always behave like a n00b.
It’s not so bad when I’m off on my own, doing my own possibly idiotic thing. But when I join with other members of my corporation for some good old-fashioned violence, it becomes something else.
I haven’t been playing many MMOs of late. BioWare has owned my soul for a while now, between Dragon Age and the Mass Effect games. Because I’ve been re-reading Peter Hamilton’s “Night’s Dawn” trilogy, however, I got into an EVE state of mind and have been bipping between star systems over the past few days.
The problem with leaving a game like EVE for several months is, you forget how a lot of things work, which is a problem with a game that’s as complicated and unforgiving as EVE. I barely knew what I was doing during my last play period. Now, I’m having to try using half-remembered commands and wonder what that thing is that’s flashing, and whether it’s time to start mashing buttons (which never works in EVE, by the way).
My difficulties with EVE are compounded by my reticence to ask questions. I do a lot of reading, sure, but when it comes to standing up and announcing: “I have NO idea what I’m doing, and I think I am on fire. Please help me!” my pride rears its head and tells me to shut up. It seems I rarely encounter anyone who hasn’t been playing the game for years and can speak only in the arcane shorthand of a veteran. But instead of asking for clarification like a rational person (“What you just said was very interesting. Could you say it again in English?”), I keep my mouth shut and plow into the sides of things.
Like this, for example: Guess what happens when you warp to an enemy empire’s jump gate? Yeah.
I’m in a small corp, with a small handful of active members. Those few who are around act and sound like they have all played for a while and know what they’re doing. I know this because I understand only half of what they say. They seem, however, reasonably friendly. And despite my repeated presentations of rampant newbie-ism bordering on dangerous incompetence, none have ever uttered an unkind word (to my face).
I logged in to hear my corpmates talking about getting together to harass the Caldari. Being Gallente, it’s what we do. We were all to fly Thorax cruisers fitted out a certain way. For them, this was like slumming, or riding kiddie bikes as a lark. For me, it’s cutting edge — I think a Thorax is the biggest ship I can fly at the moment.
Only, I didn’t have a Thorax — my last one got blown up real good some time ago. I asked how much it would cost me to fit out a Thorax the way the others had and learned it would cost roughly all the ISK I had.
So I told them I’d love to come along but that I had to bow out, since it would beggar me (and I assumed I’d almost certainly be killed). Without a moment’s hesitation, two players sent me enough money to buy the ship and equipment two times over.
Surprised and embarrassed by the generosity, I set about buying things, only to realize I didn’t have the skills to use all of this advanced gear, so I downgraded. After streaking between systems, I finally had a fully-equipped Thorax, loaded for bear. Sort of. More on that later.
We all hopped on Teamspeak, rallied up, and proceeded to prowl through contested systems and Caldari space, looking for trouble. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going; I was just following our leader’s command. Our scout tried tracking a group, but lost it. This went on for a while with, sadly, no violence, when finally it was time for me to sign off so I could get food for the family.
“You should head back to Villore using the Abune pipe,” one person helpfully said. Well, of COURSE I’m using the Abune pipe. What, do you think I’m stupid? I’m sure not going to ask you just what the blazes the Abune pipe is, since I’ve never heard of it before in my life. In fact, until I did a search on the star map I wasn’t even sure Abune was a solar system. But I won’t say so, no, sir. So I set my autopilot to Abune, which was several jumps away, and went to warp. A few seconds after I sped off, a shocked voice on Teamspeak said: “Did that guy just warp to [system I can't remember]?”
“Uhhh…”
So yes, I went the wrong way. Trying to save face, I lamely replied, “Yeah, I took a wrong turn.”
“I’d say so.”
I didn’t have much chance to wonder why, because I came out of warp in the midst of a squadron of suddenly hostile Caldari Navy ships. Ah.
Our fleet leader calmly told me to turn my butt around, warp to a planet — any planet — and land. Huh, we can land on planets now? OK. Then, I was to undock, warp back to the fleet, and get my crap together. This all sounded strange, but the Caldari were cheerfully tearing into my shields, so I frantically plotted a course to what I thought was a planet — and warped to a Caldari station.
Whoops, OK, that wasn’t a planet. But! I see a planet, right there in the distance. It’s a big, round, planetary-looking thing. So, I warped to it. Where I found a Caldari Navy ship waiting for me. It welcomed me into its territory in the only way it knew how. I think my shields were gone at this point, and my armor was dropping fast. I hit the context menu for the planet — and didn’t find any option for landing. I could open the planet view, sure, but I was still technically in space, since I could hear my ship being torn apart. Hrm.
My fleet leader checked in. “Uh, how’s it going?”
“Um…. one sec. … Yeah, I just died.”
By this point I was feeling incredibly silly.
The fleet leader gently pointed out that this was a good reason why you should never warp to X jump gate. The others expressed their agreement.
I acted very casual about the whole episode. No biggie. I made my goodbyes and signed off so I could go do something I can actually accomplish without falling down — which was ordering carryout from Pizza Hut.
It was only later that I realized I’d never loaded my weapons with ammo.