Wormhole alliance are by nature dispersed all over the universe and combining fleets is sometimes a bit challenging. Our Alliance (Illusion of Solitude and yes we are recruiting) is no exceptions. We see each other on Jabber / TS all the time but we don’t fly that often with each other. Only to whack a Wormhole, defend our brethren or roam drunk.
Yes, IOS has drunk roams and they end in disaster, mayhem and annihilation of ships and hepatocytes alike. On these days, those of us who can make it, stream from our holes like bearded mountain men of yonder, muskets loaded, flasks filled with moonshine. We assemble somewhere central and buy random ships that we happen to like the sound of. Our European fleet mates have a crucial advantage – they started drinking 4-7 hours earlier. Our US contingent is wanton to catch up and the sweet sound of cans opening, ice cubes rattling and corks popping fills the TeamSpeak ether.
We have of course themes set by those who know about PvP. Never me. My team knows me better after 3 years of flying with me. My method of fitting ships is to iterate on my lossmails. So, for last week it was cruisers and after the obligatory “can I bring a Drake” meme, we all shipped in things we could fly. Cruisers are nice, they are actually have a chance of surviving for more than 5 seconds, they are relatively cheap and some of them hit like Mofos, recent buffs made them very viable.
Our game is called “Drink” for obvious reasons. A name more complicated would not work after 2 hours or so. But one can always blurt “Drink!” even when admiring the dustbunnies below the PC or trying not to strangle self with headset cord. “Drink!” is also universal, our Alliance has many different languages, from Scottish to Lithuanian its easy but you throw in the Kiwis and our contingent from the US midwest and we are a veritable Babel. Except “Drink!”. We all get that.
No game without rules…
- Jump a gate: Drink
- Say “Jump”. Drink
- Jump without FC ordering the jump. Drink
- Dock. Drink
- Kill something. Drink
- Get killed. Drink
- Get left behind by fleet. Drink
- Get ahead of fleet. Drink (evidently you are too sober)
- Say “Drink!”. Drink
- Make a new rule. Drink
This is not the comprehensive list. The game is quite complicated in its technical details and newbros are slowly indoctrinated. There is a finesse to playing it that comes with time and practice.
Oh. Spaceships. I forgot. So we are in Amarr (say…) in cruisers. We insure them (Drink!), there is no way we bring them back. We buy Exotic Dancers – turns out males were cheaper this time. We wish them well and hope they drop. Drink!
We undock (Drink!). We make best speed to somewhere where the FC thinks we get some shootin’. We have bait, an overtanked hauler with tackle and stuff that is ordered to autopilot a few jumps ahead of us. We slowly trickle in and our bait is assuming the position.
Then our tactic of using a bait hauler works – for the opposing team. We see a hauler on a gate. He is bait. We know. Our FC orders to bump him, not aggress. Goal is to bump him away from the gate guns (for us Wormholers, the idea of gate guns is new). One of our number starts shooting. More of our number shoot. FC sighs. Drink!. A cyno goes up. Yes, a hauler with a Cyno. All of Pandemic Legion drops in on us and slaughters those of who could not jump through the gate. Pods are destroyed, clones activated, new ships are purchased.
By this time, our Europeans – despite their reputed stamina – have fallen silent, talkative or are bazooka-vomiting. Either way, our fleet disintegrates in more ways than one. My wallet blinks when my Caracal is no more but I get the Pod to Dodixie and have my character start a true Gallente Orgy. For myself, I had a blast, getting hotdropped, drunk, on killmails, on lossmails was a perfect night out!