I wish, but if the High Sec economy was buffed in the slightest, a significant portion of null would rise up and quit the game due to the surge of nightmares they’d have at the thought of High Sec players making money 
2 Likes
And, not to mention the passive incentive to push the eve player into more dangerous territory to make those bigger isks would be pretty much moot. Not all players go to those systems for just the pvp……they want to get paid the higher incomes that accompanies the riskier environments.
2 Likes
I personally find implants dropping to be quite the deterent for me.
a simple question i pose for why i think implant drops shouldn’t exist.
”I can put implants in but cant take them out without destroying them in the comfort of a high-tech medical clone bay. Yet an enemy can get perfectly intact implants from violently blowing up pods? Make that make sense.”
5 Likes
I’ve often wondered the same thing.
After getting hit by a 1200mm Howitzer, I don’t image there will be much left.
1 Like
Not all of them, for example, make it so that only your corpmate can collect bounty from the pilot you posted a bounty on. But corp projects already work similarly.
Some people need to vent, frustration hits hard.
My only fear now is if people agree with me. Which leads to the question, if the op thinks people here are “mad” why he posted? What goal he intended to achieve? Would he come back to the game if people agreed?
Wild… “I hate you mad people, but I need your approval”.
I wanted to read this thread, but it was too much
peace
Have you read the…
What do you miss about Eve that is now gone? - Communications Center / General Discussion - EVE Online Forums
thd? Much more informative.
“This thread cannot be redeemed.” 
Im going to totally use this in my forum signature.
2 Likes
Glad to see someone else still has a sense of humor about the game! 
1 Like
well, the usual suspects were hard at work.
Alas, I feel the urge to claim some literary freedom for myself, too. Enjoy this short story, based on the really good advice about surviving the High Sec of today.
____________________________________________________________________
He hadn’t even logged in yet.
That was the first mistake most people made.
He sat at his desk, staring at the launcher, hands folded, breathing slow. Prepared. Disciplined. Alive.
Step one: intel.
He opened zKillboard.
Not the game. Not yet. That would be reckless.
zKillboard first. Always zKillboard.
He typed in the system names along his route to Jita, one by one, like checking a weather forecast except the weather was men in Catalysts and the forecast was always “partly cloudy with a chance of total loss.”
Uedama. Of course.
He scrolled. Catalysts. Tornadoes. Taloses. A Bestower that had died twenty-three minutes ago carrying exactly 412 million ISK in “miscellaneous.” Amateur.
He nodded to himself.
“Okay. Active ganking window confirmed.”
He opened a spreadsheet.
Not his spreadsheet—the community spreadsheet. The one maintained by a man who hadn’t slept since 2016 and spoke only in EHP thresholds and cargo value breakpoints.
He cross-referenced recent kills with current doctrine fits.
Catalyst cost: ~10 million ISK.
Expected CONCORD response time: variable.
Average gank fleet size: 8–14.
Break-even threshold: depressing.
He did the math.
Then he did the math again, because last time he didn’t, and they got him.
“Safe” cargo value today: 73 million ISK.
He looked at his shopping list.
Total value: 74 million.
He removed one item.
72.8 million. Good. Invisible.
Step two: Pyfa.
He launched it like a priest opening a sacred text.
His hauler fit appeared on screen, naked and vulnerable. He began adjusting modules.
Reinforced bulkheads. Shield extenders. Damage control. Rigs. Implants.
EHP climbed.
18k. 22k. 31k.
He pushed higher.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Come on, you can do better than that.”
45k EHP.
Respectable. But not safe.
He opened another tab: “Recent Catalyst Fits (Updated Today).”
Void ammo. Blasters. Max DPS.
He simulated incoming damage. Time to death.
2.7 seconds.
He adjusted again.
Cargo expanders? Gone. Of course gone. What was he, suicidal?
50k EHP.
Time to death: 3.4 seconds.
CONCORD response estimate: 3.1–3.8 seconds.
He leaned back.
“That’s… within margin.”
He nodded. It would have to be.
Step three: auxiliary accounts.
He logged in his scout first.
Then his webber.
Then his repper.
Then his “armed escort,” which was technically a battlecruiser but emotionally a security blanket.
Finally, his alpha account.
The alpha had one job: sit in a rookie ship and pre-spawn CONCORD at every gate.
He smiled faintly.
“Thank you, CCP,” he whispered, with the exact tone one reserves for a tax audit. “Enjoy the shark piss. Well deserved.”
He paid for five subscriptions, plus skill extractors, plus PLEX, plus the quiet understanding that none of this actually made him safer—only busier.
But busy felt like control.
And control felt like safety.
Step four: login.
He hovered over the button.
Paused.
Opened zKillboard again.
Refreshed.
Another kill in Uedama. Five minutes ago.
He exhaled.
“Good. They’re active. Predictable.”
He logged in.
Step five: local.
He appeared in station.
Didn’t undock.
Of course not.
He checked local chat.
Names. So many names.
He had a list.
He always had a list.
He began cross-referencing.
Known gankers. Suspected gankers. Alts of known gankers. People who once said “gf” in local in a tone he didn’t trust.
One name lit up.
He froze.
SlightlyDifferentCatalystGuy.
He right-clicked. Show info. Employment history. Killboard.
Yes.
Yes, of course.
Active.
He did not undock.
Step six: external observation.
He switched to his scout.
Undocked.
Spun the camera.
Zoomed in on the gate.
Catalysts.
Two. No—three. No—just wrecks.
He zoomed further.
Empty.
He checked d-scan.
Clear.
He checked the next system.
Then the next.
Then the entire constellation.
Then, just to be sure, the neighboring constellation.
Then he checked a wormhole chain someone had posted earlier, just in case.
Step seven: staging.
He positioned the webber.
Positioned the repper.
Positioned the escort.
Moved the alpha ahead to the first gate.
Committed minor acts of space-time manipulation to ensure CONCORD was already mildly annoyed in every system he would pass through.
He returned to his main.
Sat in station.
Hands hovering over the undock button.
He whispered, “Okay.”
Then, louder: “Okay.”
Then, firmly: “Okay.”
He undocked.
Nothing happened.
He aligned.
Nothing happened.
He warped.
Nothing happened.
Gate jump.
Nothing happened.
Web alt locked him instantly, slammed velocity down, shaving seconds off exposure time like a professional anxiety sculptor.
Rep alt idled, hopeful.
Escort alt orbited protectively, like a dog that had read too many war manuals.
System after system.
Nothing.
Local quiet.
Gates clear.
No Catalysts. No Tornadoes. No sudden yellow boxes of doom.
He began to relax.
Just slightly.
Just enough to be dangerous.
“Maybe,” he thought, “maybe today—”
He landed in Jita.
Alive.
Intact.
Untouched.
He docked.
Sat there.
Hands trembling.
He opened the market.
Scrolled.
Found the item.
The one he had removed earlier to stay under the threshold.
Price: 1.2 million ISK.
He hesitated.
Then, cautiously, he right-clicked.
“Buy.”
A pause.
An error message appeared:
You do not have enough ISK.
He stared at it.
Confused.
Checked his wallet.
Balance: 842,000 ISK.
He blinked.
Oh.
Right.
PLEX.
Subscriptions.
Ships.
Fits.
Alts.
Safety.
Preparation.
He leaned back in his chair, very slowly.
In the other room, his phone buzzed with a notification:
“Your Omega subscription has been successfully renewed.”
He nodded.
“Good,” he said to no one.
Then, after a moment:
“At least I made it safely.”
It was time to log out. These were really exciting two hours of exhilirating gameplay.
Eeek…..that must be the ‘War And Peace’ version of EVE.
I’d simply call mine Au-Fait in Aufay
-
Follow hauler on its way to Hek
-
Wait for Aufay gankers to gank hauler
-
Sail through and type ‘
‘ to gankers
1 Like
Very good, but next time keep it under 200 lines.
I got better things to do than read it like get somebody to buy me a gucci, as it is written that one can never have too many guccis.
I have to assume this is sarcasm. Are you alpha?
I’m more inclined to believe you are that chick than you gonna buy a gucci.
The length is the point of this literary masterpiece 
You got me. What gave it away?
Because I’ve been there.
