Poverty and the art of corvette maintenance

Subject: Personal log
Volume: 1

A free ship. That’s how it started. When was it no longer enough?

I can barely remember when I flew that first corvette. My memory gets a little hazy on things like that. Each time I die and wake up somewhere else, it feels like I’ve lost something. A ship and some cargo obviously. But something inside of me. Almost like the transfer of memories and consciousness is incomplete. Doc, I think I’ve got a bad sector.

For all of the little things I forget, it’s amazing what I do remember. Lessons learned and work done by someone else, who was just like me. Well, it was me, apparently. And amongst the chaotic flood of images and feelings that come pouring in each time I wake up in a new body, something always stands out at the end. Sharp. Clear. Sudden. The Reaper. That’s when it all stops. The chaos becomes calm. All because of that image.

I like the Reaper. I’ve used it mine asteroids, explore wormholes, shoot pirates, trade trivial things, and so much more. But like everyone else I moved on. Ventures, Rifters, Slashers, Thrashers and more. Onward and upwards to bigger and better things. Better ships with fancier equipment. More and more. Always more. This is good, but that’s better.

Anyway, like I was saying, I always forget something. Today, I can’t remember when that Reaper wasn’t enough anymore.


I flew a Death Race when I was in Signal Cartel. 60 jumps through low and null, plus another few home. It was limited to frigates, with a special prize for anyone in a rookie ship. I was pretty low SP back then so took the rookie option, used a Reaper. Turned out I was the only one, I made it, no armor left, and with about 1/3 of my structure left. Won a small skill injector and something else. Well worth it.


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