Here follows a personal view of our glorious fight for our home, J150859, lovingly known as “Envy”. The narrative is personal and written by me, a high-powered marketing executive with decades of experience in Fortune 100 companies. Consequently, it is saturated with exaggerations, lies, self-aggrandizement and bristling with meaningless expressions for no other reason other than to vividly illustrate the author’s (=me) intellectual, physical and moral superiority over his worshiping readers (=you). If you want an honest account of what happened, go away and read this, this, or listen to this.
To rephrase the last sentence for the benefit of the illiterate trolls and village idiots from Reddit (meaning no disrespect to actual village idiots), the following is a pisstake, a persiflage, a joke, you dumbnuts. PS. Writing this on a hot Sunday afternoon, so (mucho) beer may have been involved. There will be typos. I am proud of them.
Act 1. Invasion
The enemy knew they were up against the most experienced wormhole fighting force that had ever settled J150859 since 2013. Our corp, N0MEX has a fearsome reputation for destroying ships, rocks and planetary resource layers and on solid days, we can muster 10s of experienced, square-jawed, steely-eyed fighting machines willing to give their all in the service of our Supreme Leader and the glory of our Juche. Dying under the command of our blessed fleet commanders is every line-members ultimate goal and when hundreds of thousands Russians oozed through our high sec hole like a thick stream of yellow puss out of an engorged abscess we knew that we had been granted our wish to honorably lay our life to feet of Bob and ask for a speedy route into Sto’Vo’Kor.
We watched the enemy, oh we watched. Our zeal and lust for blood was unbearable and many times we had to hold a comrade back to launch a Banzai charge into the breach with his combat Epithal. We employed all the patience we had since we had planned for this contingency. We had put a Keepstar in our home deliberately to paint a target on our muscular, manly & hairy chests, imploring hapless foes to brave their terror and “come at us” as the vernacular goes. We would fight with a solid tactic, worked out in countless hours, fine-tuned by our fleet commanders who are very stable geniuses, military tacticians that make Sun Tzu a naive peasant, using the iron fist of dozens of brand new ships, manufactured and spit-polished by our industrial team. We were a death machine sharpened like a razor, determined like a salmon going upstream and hung like a mythical donkey.
The trickle invaders slowed to a stop. We counted a few hundred, nothing we couldn’t manage. Of course, Inner Hell are the best in Wormhole space but we are trained for this, we are born for this! No uncoordinated horde of unemployed, vodka-swilling, shoe-less peasants whose only source of heat are their chattering teeth can match our unblemished war machine! “This is all??” we cried? “Where is the enemy?” Itching for a fight, we let them anchor their structures, hoping it would lure them deeper into committing their resources so we may have a more glorious battle. When the wormhole flashed again and Hard Knocks and Lazerhawks came forth, we rejoiced. “Now”, we screamed, “it will be an even battle”.
The fight started like all wormhole skirmishes with establishing dominance over hole control. Inner Hell was highly effective in this, using a tactic that gained them even our respect. We sat cloaked and watched their efforts, even cheered when they rolled. Respect for your enemy before you crush him, drive him before you and hear the lament of their women is the the greatest we can give and we solemnly prayed for their souls. More and more ships entered, flashing a re-assuring “red” before we were joined by several waves of friends and allies who begged to join us. Of course, we had thousands of allies waiting in K-space wanting to enter the valiant fight but honor demanded that we keep our numbers low, not to outcrowd the enemy on our battlefield. So we chose only a handful of highly trained and occasionally sober mercenaries lusting for glory.
Act 2. Engaging the Enemy
As the timers tick down, a dance ensues with smaller ships to establish hole dominance while the bulk of the defense fleet rests in our Keepstar. Finally! Our glorious combat FC Cryostassiss gives the order to engage in a dashing frontal assault and chooses my alt to lead the charge in an Interdictor. I feel giddy, being selected for this vital mission from which there can be only one outcome – glory!. But the days and months of grueling combat training kick in, my body is ready, my mind is calm. Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds, I feel the vibrations of my trusted Sabre pulsing in near-orgasmic anticipation. I race out of the safety of the docking ring into the path of millions of missiles, aligning and initiating the warp tunnel that faithfully carries me to my end. We land. The wormhole shines ahead of me, virginal, untouched, unblemished. I align my steed, overheat everything, willing it across the 10km chasm when red Interceptors fall out of the sky thick as hail. I bubble, I jump. I link the high sec route allowing our allied fleet to engage their warp drives and race toward me. A deep calm overcomes me, my mission is done, I have fulfilled my role. But through the wormhole, I hear the clash of weapons as a major engagement is on the way. My brothers! Fighting to keep the hole open at all costs. Trumpets sound. Without thought, I race my ship back to the hole and jump to be and die with my comrades
Death welcomes me with gentle embrace and as my body floats in the emptiness of space, my mission is fulfilled, the relief fleet enters the system in un-catchable ships and beelines to the Keepstar to swap into ships of the line. Leading the charge – if I may be so humble – was my main character, Epigene, who came in 10th or so.
Act 3. Skirmishes
My fleet now hands out ships, sanctified by Bob and we accept them humbly as Sacramental Bread. Our overall strategy is handed to us by our all knowing fleet commanders, simple yet effective. “Undock and kill all the things“. And so we do, I have received a Drake, often a laughingstock among pilots but in my experienced hands, this piece of rain gutter turns into a fearsome death machine. At the docking ring, I aim at a random foe and select the microjump function (thinking it was microwarp but jump/warp, all pretty much the same at this point) and land 50km behind him. I activate the launchers and when my missiles crash into my helpless target and scratch nearly 0.1% of his shield, I rejoice briefly before my faithful Drake disintegrates. My capsule swims clear and I decide not to dip into the treasured corp pool of defense ships but take a ship from my own ample stable. My mission now is to survive, harass, kill and slow down the foe so that our inevitable victory can come sooner.
A second FC, the indomitable Artimus Arbosa from Noir. takes charge of the little ships and starts a phenomenal harassment campaign. With incredible skill and elegance, he warps his shrinking band of Cormorants hither and thither and I follow cloaked my my own Manticore, scoring a couple of solid hits myself. However, Cormorants have a different engagement style from my Manitcore and I am veering off, this will get me killed needlessly. I need to stay in the fight and select a worthy target.
Which happens to present itself when the foe engages a hapless POCO. I see the alert flashing and decide to see if the attacker is worthy of my attention – i.e. afk. Turns out he isn’t really afk and engages before my torpedoes land but I surely gave him the fright of his life!
And so the skirmishes continue all over the system when finally our Keepstar succumbs to the relentless assault of our brainless foes. It had a short life but a worthy one, cradling us in his (?) bosom, projecting our might across the galaxy and beyond. May you rest in peace, sweet prince(?ss), knowing thou shall be revenged!
Act 4. Man all the Guns!
With the Keepstar down, the guns don’t fall silent and our small ships score many more vital points. Har! If the enemy thought they had won just because they downed this random, meaningless structure, they have a thing coming. Onward to Round 4 where the fight to death occurs on the smaller citadels.
The next day the timer for the Astrahuses and Athanors comes out but without the Keepstar, our friends and foes already declared the fight over. Not so fast. “As long as we draw breath, we owe it to the ones we loved and lost to live out our lives without wasting them on regrets”. I log into the system in my Manticore and saw things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. Citadel debris strewn about, vultures picking on the dead remains of our sacred temple – this is hallowed ground, how dare they. The time has come for the last citadels to make a stand and as the only N0MEX pilot left standing, I select the Athanor with 6 minutes on its timer.
No enemy opposes me as I enter the scorched structure, no hostiles on grid as I make my way the command center and “take control” of the structure. I have never done this before but I clench my teeth, A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. The time for the Athanor runs out, 2 hostiles are warping in. Well, Let them come, There is one Athanor yet that still draws breath in
Moria Envy. I man the guns, 3 ECM batteries and other stuff I have no idea how it works but I SHOOT ALL THE THINGS and let lose a barrage of something that looks dangerous but I don’t know the name of. My corpmates sitting in their clones in cursed K-space cheer me on and tell me I have Fighters to deploy. After only 5 minutes I figure out how to launch them and they too find a glorious end in combat. My structure’s structure is running low but also its cap – I did not know that citadels even have a capacitor but its never too late to learn. Well, for this one, it is.
My capacitor runs out. The structure dips. Only death awaits me here without the glory of taking an enemy with me.
I race to my Manticore and eject from the burning structure, surrounded by hundreds, thousands of enemies, their eyes glazed in bloodlust, their warp scramblers fecklessly scratching for a hold on my hull. Bob be blessed, my Manticore aligns and warps away while income missiles miss their targets and harmlessly empty into the eternal ether.
The Athanor blows up in a spectacular display or hard radiation and destruction. Other structures follow but they are mere trinkets, the fight is done.
The fights we sought, the death we craved have come. We are victorious in challenging a worthy foe onto our battlefield and taunting them for content, death and destruction. We vanquished the weak, the fearful and meek and the fires of our citadels hardened the rest of us, forged us into One. We are again a weapon, ready to deploy, ready to strike fear into the very hearts of our enemies.
Victory is ours!