Mike sat in Jita and opened the local channels, letting the sound wash over him like the thrum of frogs from back on the bayou. He chuckled as the old scams still showed they had a life of their own. ‘I will send back double” and “Navy Raven” classics filled the airwaves. Then there were the “Two plexes for 600 million” where he could easily see that there was only one being offered.

“Big universe, lots o fools” he said, more to himself than anyone else and lifted from 4-4 to find quieter pastures.

He, in his Wolf, wandered towards Ghesis to check on some details but he took the time to stop at local sights and drop in on any known Ded spaces reported. It didn’t make much isk but he disliked Sansha gaining any sort of foothold in his area. As he traveled he kept an ear on The Summit to see if there had been any change in the Sansha invasions. It had been so quiet for so long he could not tell if there was still a reason to monitor the channel. Every time he started to think maybe it was time to move on he would look at the tally of people lost to the ‘upliftings’ of the Sansha raids and he would continue to monitor, continue to watch.

He opened a few more channels and listened to the chatter as he slow-boated along. A trend made him frown and he listened a bit closer. Not many folks were just ‘talking’. It seemed like it was all sales and business or min/max discussions of how to squeeze every last bit out of a ship for your isk. Not that this was a bad thing . . . just it was so damn impersonal. Mike sighed and skimmed through some shots he had taken recently and then consulted “Eve Travel” He wanted to go places and see some new sights. The race had shaken something loose and now Mike felt the urge to explore . . .

His comm chimed and the hologram of a redhead with a mischievous smile appeared. “Hey handsome”

Laughing he replied “Heyas Cutie . . . I was thinking of doing a wander, see the something new.”

“I thought you’d already seen everything.” She played with a button on her blouse.

“Wicked thing. No I meant in space. I have never been to New Eden to see the Gate. I have been exploring some old ruins up in hisec but I always wanted to see where it all started. Want to go on a trip with me?”

The smile went from mischief to wicked in a smooth transition. “What is in it for me?”

******************************************

Lessons

Sometimes the trip is the thing, other times it is the destination. But what is in it is a change of pace, maybe a bit of risk. But take a vacation in the game . . . travel, see some of those sights or look back and realize WHY Eve wins graphics awards and has for years. Remember the OOOOH the first time you hit space (followed by ‘how can I fly this in 1st person’)

Try to regain the ‘holy shit look at that’ that you once had for the game.

It is MORE than spreadsheets in space. MORE than shooting red crosses in the distance or clicking till carpal tunnel sets in. Or it should be.

Yes, I RP some, that makes this game live for me.

One of my readers (one of the 16 who I think read this regularly) asked where the rp channels are. Where are the people playing the game on a different level than the masses?

So . . .Tell me (and him). Where is the RP channels, the pubs that serve rum, the stations we don’t have to walk in to talk to others in or out of our corps but still chat in character.

Please comment on this one . . .

m

. . . so next time we’ll remember to make sure the chamber and the hoppers are empty before running a diagnostic on 800mm cannons.

Jiorj came back through the system a couple of days ago looking, well I don’t know how to describe it, driven . . .yeah that might be the closest term for it. He had been hanging out in nullsec and now he has set his sights on a wormhole. He found a few folks he says he trusts and he just touched base to pick up some more skills and switch to a battlecruiser. He went for a hurricane but I don’t think that is working out well for him because he was back a day or two later and shopping again. Now he has a drake and the ‘cane in the hole, wherever that is, and has sent messages out that he may want a shipment prepared for pickup.

He’s moved me up to dock manager and so I get some access to his wallet . . . not much happened up or down while he was in Null but this wormhole looks like it might be something better. He is spending isk hand over fist to step up into the BC’s but he is also receiving deposits from his corp that have almost exactly balance his expenditures. But it is costing him something other than isk. When we commed lats he looked twitchy and kept checking a side scanner as we talked as though he expected an invasion fleet at any moment. If he ever comes back to empire or even nullsec he is either going to be a broken blade or far far too sharp.

But it is not my place to say. He pays us well and has me line up the next purchases for the next time he comes ‘out of the hole’.

My love to all back home . . . .

***********************************

Lessons

The paranoia you build in a wh is absolutely scary.

Especially when your corp mates talk blithely about being on their third T3 cruiser. Even more so when you are still in a T1 BC.

But it is a different part of the game and Jiorj continues to try to be everywhere, do a bit of everything.

My time in SIRadio was nice but I did not fit the time slot and just didn’t have the right skill-points to solo in null (yet) So On Jiorj moves . . . lowsec->null->wh-> what comes after that?

m

Welcome to the twentieth installment of the EVE Blog Banter, the monthly EVE Online blogging extravaganza created by CrazyKinux. The EVE Blog Banter involves an enthusiastic group of gaming bloggers, a common topic within the realm of EVE Online, and a week to post articles pertaining to the said topic. The resulting articles can either be short or quite extensive, either funny or dead serious, but are always a great fun to read! Any questions about the EVE Blog Banter should be directed to crazykinux@gmail.com. Check out other EVE Blog Banter articles at the bottom of this post!

With the recent completion of the 3rd installment of the Hulkageddon last month, @CyberinEVE, author of Hands Off, My Loots!, asks: “Griefing is a very big part of EVE. Ninja Salvaging, Suicide Ganking, Trolling, and Scamming are all a very large part of the game. What do you think about all these things? You can talk about one, or all…but just let us know your overall opinion on Griefing, and any recommendations you may have to change it if you think it’s needed.”

********************

“So? You got it all out of your system? Those guys really ruined the race for you, didn’t they?” She handed him some painkillers and a drink.

“Who ruined it?” Mike grumbled.

“Those griefers who set up traps along the course of the race . . . they ruined it for everybody.”

Mike winced as he tried to open his eyes. “No. They were what made the race special. It is DEATH race, not ‘oooh, I can jump fast race’. Tell the truth, I don’t believe many griefers exist, at least not as many as people think.”

“I hear people all around talking about them, though.”

“Semantics. I will leave it to better people than I to do the definitions but what some call griefing others say are just the nature of the universe we are in. Some of my associates would probably be happy if they were the only people within three jumps of the belt they happen to be in. I don’t mind a little company . . .and I am willing to accept the fact that some of the company might be less than welcome or friendly. Thing is, we only allow grief to happen if WE make the mistakes.”

“So it is the victims fault? Oh do NOT go there with me.”

Mike winced and rolled over. “I went into 0.0 in a well announced path of a race. I cannot fault Agony for being there to greet me. I have read of many scams, almost ALL of them are based on the greed of the victim. The only griefing I can imagine even coming close to being not the fault of the victim is hisec ganking of miners. A well planned suicide gank crew can catch almost anybody. But if you pay attention and watch for the signs . . . and the changes to insurance . . not as bad as it once was. Smack talk . . . well I have block on my channels for some people who have irritated me. If they get to racial or below even my low standards . . . I no longer hear them. If they cross some very well defined lines then I block and toss their files to the authorities.”

He tried peeking again and found she had dimmed the lights. “Blame the victim DOES have validity. The guy who lost billions in a kestrel . . . it was his fault. He was not griefed, he knew damn well the chances he was taking. If I took my proteus into nullsec I would be a glowing target for every person who felt that killboard statistics were important. They would not be griefing me, they would be playing their game and I would be playing into their hands.”

“But you did take the race loss hard.”

“Yup, I don’t like losing and I wanted to do better. But I wasn’t griefed, I was killed, fair and square. I paid to enter that race and so I was the victim and I WAS to blame. I make a big thing about being what some call a carebear. But I have my eyes open, well figuratively speaking anyways. The big hunts and events of New Eden may be distasteful to some but then so is a Gallente Mardi Gras in Amarran holdings. You know what made me decide to become a capsuleer? In the end it was the stories of betrayal, of scams and of piracy. I wanted to be part of something larger, more dangerous than just planetary shenanigans. Even if I am not one of the predators, I want to prove that I am a canny prey.”

She smiled and kissed his forehead. “You need more rest.”

“I am a panda . . . I show up and fire missiles then I run.” He chuckled and was snoring a moment later.

“Panda? She called up the database in the next room and read the file of a long extinct beast of legend. The first line made her start laughing and looking back at the dark room where he was sleeping.

Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves.

“Still a big old teddy bear to me . . . ”

***********************************

Lessons

A few people told me that they felt this was a weaker subject for the blog banter. Thing is most of those people are regulars to the game and ahve adjusted to the mindset.

Put yourself back at the start, you have come out of games where friendly fire is impossible. Where pvp happens only in special areas or only when you purposely fly a special tag making it possible. Now you come here. Ganks, scams, suicides and pvp . . . we are an unforgiving group and some laugh if they are threatened with “I am gonna petition this!” type threats. I found it hilarious the anger and disappointment generated when one such petition was successful!

If players really want to be safe from other players . . . well, ask CCP to make a single player version of the game Eve-Elite. I played Elite on an Apple IIc long long ago. I like this better, with all the things that can go wrong there are so many more things that go right. Mainly the people I talk to. . . . you folks make this game addictive.

m

“Pthwaaaaah, ha ha ha haaaaaaaaa.” The clone sat up from the holding gel and started laughing as he disconnected himself with practiced hands.

“Sir sir, we can do that, you might injure yourself.”

This only caused him to laugh harder and he doubled over, falling off of the bed. “Injure myself? bwa ha ha haaaaaa” He staggered to the comms and tapped into the fleet chatter listening as others finished the race, and even more reported losses. Bringing up the maps he saw that there was no way to get from where he had appeared to the finish line in time to do anything but wave at the winners so he monitored the channel for a bit as he toweled the clone goo off of his body. He called up the details of his own demise and the smile slowly slid from his face. “damn” His people had rehearsed emergency procedures and it showed. The marines got clear, Free and the heirs favorite slave got clear. But those who were there to party . . . did not. Blame it on high spirits, drunkenness . . . none of the ‘guests’ made it to the emergency chambers. Mike sighed.

A tech handed him clothes to wear and he put them on, absent mindedly. Cloth scrubs, once size fits nobody well. He closed the comm down much more somber than he had been when he opened it. He went down to the hanger deck where he had rented a small temporary office for the party preparations and shut the door behind him, activating the lock. The comm started chiming in the office as soon as he sat down and a glance at the incoming calls confirmed . . . relatives of the partiers, the parents of the four grads who had gotten on at the last minute. He spent a few moments making his a routing program to connect such calls with the documents that all had signed prior to the race. Legally, he was covered. Legally.

The door to Mike’s office suite slid back noiselessly, admitting a tall, craggy faced capsuleer, with iron gray hair and eyes the color of the finest Caldari stainless steel. He had a small fabric bag under one arm.

Dee stepped into the reception area on the way to the hangar deck at almost the same moment.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a tone that indicated she had better things to do than play receptionist and her supply of patience was bouncing off the ‘E’.

The stranger half-smiled, almost in anticipation. “I’d like to speak to Mike, if he’s available.”

“I don’t think he’s much in the mood for visitors,” she said, moving to encourage him to back out the door.

“I see. Taking the Death Race podding hard, is he?” the capsuleer asked, shifting the bag from one side to the other.

Dee shook her head. “You can say that again. He’s been in his office since he got back with the door locked and the comm on “Do No Even Think About It”.”

“New at this part of it?”

“Well, not really new, just having a hard time dealing with losing the ship and the isk and the people,” Dee said quietly. “Especially some of the people.”

“I see. I think I might be able to improve his mood a bit, if I can have a moment of his time.”

Shrugging “It’s your podding. Who do I say wants to talk to him?” Dee turned to the comm panel.

For some reason, that response ignited a sparkle in those eyes and the half-smile turned into a genuine grin as he said simply “Dee.”

“What?”

“You asked who wanted to talk to Mike. Dee does.” he said slowly.

“Oh no! I don’t want to talk to him! I know how he is when he gets in these moods! Now if you want me to see if he wants to talk to you, you’re gonna have to give me your name.” Her tone was a little more frosty.

The grin expanded even more. “Dee” he said, with genuine mirth in his voice.

“Look pal, I don’t know what the joke is, but I already told you that I don’t want to talk to Mike as long as he’s in a funk! Last chance. Tell me your freakin’ name or I’m calling Scotty to toss your sorry ass out into the corridor.” Her volume increased with each word, with ‘ass’ punctuated by a finger point to the chest.

He started giggling at that point.

Rising up on tip toes, Dee began poking him in the chest with each word “Get! The! F! OUT!”

Mike came out of his office “What in the hell is going on out here! Dee?”

The “What?!?!?” was delivered in stereo.

With that, Mike joined the stranger in giggling.

Dee’s expression indicated that someone needed to let her in on the joke very quickly.

Mike stopped giggling long enough to gesture “Dee, let me introduce you to Dee. As in Dee Carson. Dee, Dee.” Having delivered the introduction, the giggle turned into a full on laugh.

The wheels turned in Dee’s head. Her mouth opened. And closed. And opened. “Dee Carson? As in the 250 mil Dee Carson?”

“At your service, young lady.” Dee Carson half bowed.

“Sir, I’m so sorry, I intended no …” she started, only to be cut off, gently.

“Now, Dee, I have to confess that the possibility of an unrehearsed homage to one of my favorite ancient comedy routines was in my mind when I arrived. I hoped that you might great me and that a bit of humor might ensure. I figured you guys could all use a little cheering up.” said Carson. Mike’s laughter faded.Carson turned his attention to the morose pilot. “Mike” he said, “I know that you feel responsible.”

“I don’t just feel responsible, I am responsible.” The pilot muttered.

“Mike, everyone who participated did so with full understanding of the potential consequences.”

“What about the normal people? The non-capsuleers? They don’t get to wash the pod juice off & try again, Dee. What about them?”

“Mike, have you lost a big pot at the poker table when some noob donkey hits a two outer on the river?”

“Sure I have. It sucks then too!”

“Who is responsible for that? The dealer? You? Your opponent?” Caron asked quietly.

Mike inhaled to begin to reply, but stopped, considered and sat down on the edge of the desk. “I see what you did there, old man. But the head can’t make the hurt in the heart go away.”

Carson reached into the old cloth bag & removed a tall, green bottle. “No doubt. That’s what The Glenlivet is for. Given that we are in the company of a lady,” he said with a nod toward Dee, “I think you should find some glasses.”

“Oh no. I have work to do . . . you two boys go do that bonding thing that makes you feel better. I will be up there . . . ” Dee pointed above. She took a moment to glare at Mike. “I don’t want you wandering off till you are over this mood, mister.” With that she walked away and the two men smiled at each other.

Mike lead Carson into the office which was well appointed with Party Boat adverts on the walls and slid a tumbler his way. “You pour.”

The golden liquid did not stay long in the glasses and after the first round was gone and the second lined up Mike started. “Look, I want to apologize. I let you guys down.” Mike hung his head for a moment.

“Not at all!” Dee smiled. “I think only you thought you would make it very far. But it was not the achievement that counted . . . it was trying. Tell me the details of the race. How did it go?”

Mike leaned back and shot the second shot back. Dee tried not to wince at the fine scotch being treated as third class booze. “Well we got the call for the starting system to be Dital. But that was a 0.5 sec system and some of the less savory competitors would have had trouble hanging around there so a few minutes later it shifted to Assah. It was a few jumps through lowsec which went smooth as glass. Assah filled up quickly with all sorts of ships. I docked for a wee bit and let a few last minute people off the party boat. So I went out and took some shots of the boat and some of the folks around the gate.”

“What sort of ships were there?”

“Well, I was the only skiff. There was a Typhoon that HAD to be rigged for disco on the outside, not the inside. I saw Dramiels, Maledictions, Stilettos and Claws. Pretty much any faction frigate or interceptor you could think of. By the time the race was about to start there were about 55 in system.”

“I heard 75 entered.”

“We assumed the rest had come to their senses. That or they joined just so they could be in channel and hear the path so they could set up along it. 5 Million isk scouts.”

Dee brought up a map and nodded. “Right on the border to 0.0, I see.”

“And so could anybody else who could read a map. So yes, bubbles were waiting for us on the first jump.” Mike took a slower sip. I saw pods all around me appearing then vanishing. I came out almost center of a bubble nd followed what Escoce had taught me.”

“Escoce?”

“He had called me to lend support of an educational value. I didn’t make too much noise about it because I was afraid that it might give others an edge if they knew what I was flying or the style I was going to fly it in. He showed me some excellent fittings I could adapt to the sled and also the proper way to be a blockade runner. Which is pretty much what I needed, skill wise. His teaching saved my ass in the first bubble camp. I kept calm, pulled back the camera drones and burned for the edge of the bubble.”

“Nobody popped you?”

“The rules were not to be able to warp cloaked. I cloaked up and was slow-boating my way through the bubble, well within the rules. Soon as I had a clear line on the next gate I dropped the cloak and warped. I even heard someone in a pod cheering that I had made it through that gate.”

“This surprises you?”

“No, it made me happy to be part of this, even in combat the racers were cheering for each other . . . there was a happy violent camaraderie.” Mike held out his glass for more.

“You haven’t flown in large fleet battles, have you?”

Mike laughed. “I am a carebear. I fly solo or with a few friends. Last violent gang I was in was when we went to teach an extortionist that not all carebears lack claws and teeth. He lost a faction cruiser and then taunted us, sitting on a station with two remote rep battleships flanking him. So no, most of what I have done has been small gang.”

“You should try a large fleet. I think you would enjoy it.”

Mike started to laugh. “Maybe I should take the Agony course. They were the ones who had the next gate camp.”

“Another bubble set?”

“About 4 I think, could have been more. I hit an outer one and there was a Sabre on me in nothing flat, firing.”

“So you died?”

“Heh, no. I would have loved to see the Sabre pilots face when he lost a Skiff from point and I warped away. But that still left the gate to get through. I should have been smarter because this is where I screwed up and people died. I pulled up the solar system map and tried to come in from the side, but they had that avenue covered as well. The Sabre spotted me again and they shifted a new bubble on top of me. That meant no more slippery party games.”

“He killed you, then?”

Mike handed across the kill notice. “Him and a few friends.”

Dee read the notice and started to laugh. “All of these, on a skiff? Oh this was worth every isk. You forced them to use multiple sabers, ishkurs and a hurricane and other ships. I will be several ships made it through the gate while they were busy trying to get you. You may have saved some folks by being the biggest target going.” Dee read further down. “Aw, and they didn’t even get the ship pimping.”

Mike smiled. “Yeah, damn shame about that.”

They sat and finished that bottle and a few others as Dee told Mike of larger battles and other losses in other times. In the end, Mike felt slighly better but when he closed his eyes he could still see the happy tourists boardig the ship and hear the unss unss unss of the music of the doomed cruise.

******************************
Lessons

Losing a ship is not losing the game

Well done camps are impressive, Thanks you to Agony for showing me how it can be done.

If you do not go out and risk, you have not been playing for keeps.

Roc is having trouble counting (where is 300)

m

Kill mail below

2010.08.22 18:15:00

Victim: Mike Azariah
Corp: Smegineer’s
Alliance: Brainfarts
Faction: Unknown
Destroyed: Skiff
System: 4B-NQN
Security: 0.0
Damage Taken: 1048

Involved parties:

Name: Pascal Almaric
Security: 5.0
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Ishkur
Weapon: Light Ion Blaster II
Damage Done: 337

Name: RiotRick
Security: -1.2
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Sabre
Weapon: Sabre
Damage Done: 296

Name: Vajrabhairava (laid the final blow)
Security: 5.0
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Hurricane
Weapon: Dual 180mm AutoCannon II
Damage Done: 239

Name: Gingger
Security: 5.0
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Sabre
Weapon: Sabre
Damage Done: 131

Name: Alistone Malikite
Security: 5.0
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Eris
Weapon: Eris
Damage Done: 45

Name: glepp
Security: 4.8
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Ishkur
Weapon: Light Ion Blaster II
Damage Done: 0

Name: Agent302
Security: 4.9
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Sabre
Weapon: 125mm Gatling AutoCannon II
Damage Done: 0

Name: Corywyn
Security: 3.4
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Capsule
Weapon: 125mm Gatling AutoCannon II
Damage Done: 0

Name: Pappy Stirling
Security: 2.7
Corp: Agony Unleashed
Alliance: Agony Empire
Faction: NONE
Ship: Ferox
Weapon: Heavy Assault Missile Launcher II
Damage Done: 0

Destroyed items:

Tobacco, Qty: 100 (Cargo)
Nanite Repair Paste, Qty: 99 (Cargo)
Exotic Dancers, Qty: 35 (Cargo)
Synthetic Oil, Qty: 10 (Cargo)
Micro K-Exhaust Core Augmentation
Magnetic Scattering Amplifier II
Improved Cloaking Device II
Science Graduates, Qty: 4 (Cargo)
Republic Fleet 10MN Afterburner
Janitor (Cargo)
Medium Low Friction Nozzle Joints I
Antibiotics, Qty: 30 (Cargo)
Freed Slaves, Qty: 2 (Cargo)
Spirits, Qty: 20 (Cargo)
Tourists, Qty: 30 (Cargo)
Medium Hyperspatial Velocity Optimizer I
Synth X-Instinct Booster, Qty: 2 (Cargo)
Long-limb Roes, Qty: 25 (Cargo)

Dropped items:

Heat Dissipation Amplifier I
Corpse (Cargo)
Freedom Fighters, Qty: 2 (Cargo)
Spiced Wine (Cargo)
Elite Slaves (Cargo)
Holoreels, Qty: 3 (Cargo)
Livestock, Qty: 10 (Cargo)
ECM Burst II
Marines, Qty: 10 (Cargo)

“No, if you decide that it is too dangerous that gets you a pat on the head for having some survival skills. What it does not get you is a refund. I suggest you have the ‘many lawyers’ you have threatened me with to look at the contract you signed, direct their attention to the waivers and the fact that you did indeed sign it in front of witnesses. Now I have less than an hour to go so unless there is something else? Good day.” Mike switched to the next channel. “You are fortunate, there is a last minute opening.”

“Dude!”

“Have you and your fellow graduates in the hanger in less than one hour”

“Sweeeeeeet! We just gotta make a run for booze . . . ”

“What part of ‘all inclusive’ do you not get? The bar is up and serving already.” Mike ran his hand through his hair and closed the connection. “Grads.”

“Ahem.”

He jumped and looked up. “O lords of all above and below. Aren’t you taking a bit of a chance being on THIS station?”

Free smiled and stepped to one side to show she was not alone. “I go where I am needed.”

Mikes face drained of all color. “Oh no. No no no no and hells no. Do you know what I am . . . ”

“She did what we needed and we owe her the escape she almost had. The one you stopped.” Free’s face was resolute and Mike was fairly sure that he was going to lose this argument.

“The chances of survival . . .” He tried to protest.

“Are better than 50%. We have seen the information on your Party Boat.”

“If I am caught transporting slaves, especially this one.” He sighed and looked at the ceiling. “I am worrying about taking risks . . . me” He started to laugh. “Fine, fine . . . .how are we going to do this?”

“She is well trained as a dancer. I suppose she and I could just blend in.”

“You too, eh?” Mike looked them both up and down. The heir had great taste in slaves and Free had a body that could make the Theological council have to change their robes. “Right, to keep her safe.”

“And to get her to the emergency pods when you are blown up.”

“Doesn’t anybody think I will make it through this race?”

“No. But this might help.” Free handed him a handful of capsules. “Synth. Might give you an extra moment when they start locking you.”

Mike bounced them in his palm then slipped them into a pocket. “My biggest regret is I won’t get to see you two dance.”

Free leaned over, making it impossible for him to focus on her eyes for a moment. “You’ve seen me dance before. Maybe after the race?”

Mike chuckled and waived them out. “You are hired. I’ll let the ship know and you will be cleared . But Free? This is my ship, my passengers. NO targets of opportunity.”

She looked at him for a long minute before nodding shortly. “Agreed.”

After she left (and he enjoyed watching both of them walk away) he sighed and brought up the maps one more time. “Where the hells am I going and why the hels am I doing this?”

m

Mike looked around the room and over to the holo-images that were people who wanted to attend but could not come in person. “Ok, I want to lay this out right from the start. I am working on the assumption of ‘relative security’ but I do not expect absolute. If you all could avoid handing the final game plans over to the other side? I’d appreciate it.”

Chuckles answered him and a few took drinks from whatever they had requested. In the distance the thump of a bass beat reached at the bodies of those present as the Party Boat was in full swing. “Yeah, I know, real subtle and below the radar, that’s me. But to business. I hope you all have done the reading I recommended. If any didn’t get the package . . . ”

“Yeah, about that. I saw that you included how to set up a gate camp. I thought we were going in a race?” Kotacko leaned back as he asked the question.

“We are and I know you probably have a fair idea of how to run a gate camp but I want some of the others to have a clue as to what they are up against. Simple details like how a bubble works and where we can expect to see them. Or how fast can a decent tackler get a lock.” Mike grinned around the room. “I practiced a bit with Mar, here. He had a ship set up and showed me in no uncertain terms that I either need to modify the Party Boat or accept the fact that I am gonna see some locks on me unless . . . .”

“No unless about it. If I can lock you then you have to figure there are gonna be a lot more out there that can do the same. You have a plan for that, don’t you?” Mar asked with a smile.

“Aside from the one you have already seen? Yes. I plan on being juuuust the right speed. The interceptors are gonna pull ahead leaving me in their dust. I hope they hit the camps first and ‘occupy’ the time of the campers long enough for me to slip past.”

“Security through obscurity?”

“Exactly. I will be low key all the way.” The door opened behind Mike and a dancer wearing little more than two dots, a dash, and a smile came in to hand him a drink. She then left, giggling. “Yup, under the radar and never doing anything that will make me stand out . . . that’s the plan.” He took a sip of the drink and grinned.

“We are so dead.”

Setting the drink to the side Mike clapped his hands once and said briskly. “So. To business. Aside from knowing how the gate camps might work I wanted to give some of you a few details about things you can do to help even from a distance.”

“Here it comes, he is going to ask for more isk.” Bob groaned to Marham.

Laughing, mike continued. “I need a few folks good at remote scouting, reading the maps and predicting choke points and possible camp sites. I am going to be running hard and trying to look ahead at the same time but there is only so much I can do. I want them looking at the stats for systems, the dotlan route planning, alternate routes if a really big camp is spotted. I’ll need good communications for ‘Friends of the Party’”

“I can help out there, maybe not with the maps but we will see about setting up a secure channel.” Bob said from the side.

“Excellent. I also would love it if some of you were willing to do some last minute scouting and making of bookmarks. We should soon have a clue as to the general region, a few nullsec safes in possible routes would be a nice thing. That being said there is also the more ‘fun jobs’”

“Here it comes.” Marham said to Bob.

“I want hunters. I want the people who think that the race is a rolling buffet to be a bit worried that it is THEM who are on the menu. The last minute nature of the race route should make them less organized, let’s take advantage of that. If I get popped along the way I may switch over to hunt mode and take in a ship or three to explain to campers that being stationary for two long is something I like in a target.”

“This is going to cost.” Mike didn’t see who said that but he nodded amiably.

“It is. No two ways about it. Some of you have already donated to the race fund and we got some major donations as well as offers of experience and advice from some old friends of mine. Aside from some large donation by Odessa Marie of the Evebowl I chatted with some educational folks. Black Claw of OUCH gave me some tips on lowsec survival as well as 30 million isk. Dee Carson, who was a mover and shaker in Eve Uni contacted me and told me to ‘pimp the boat’.”

“Judging from the dancers, I’d say you’ve done that.” Mar observed.

“No, he meant put some isk into it. He tossed 250 into the kitty.”

“That’s not much.”

Mike grinned wolfishly “250 million?”

Stunned silence filled the room. “Where do you meet these people?”

“I chat with a lot of folks, I write and listen to them . . .I did NOT have the guts to ask Chribba for a donation but I was tempted. Escoce contacted me. He is experienced at lowsec trading and he gave me a few pointers on fittings that I am still working on.

“So aside from the dancers, what sort of pimping did you have in mind?”

Mike laid out the blueprints of the party boat and they started discussing . . . .

**********************************

Lessons

1) The RACE is on, more than 40 signed up, from what I hear. Come on folks, join in or become part of the party crew. Betting for the distance the boat will make it will be posted later this week.

2) You can help even if you are not in the race.
a) Cheer on someone you know (or me)
b) Fly somewhere along the route and either shoot for or against
c) Fly with the racers but not be a part of it (If violence occurs there could be some wicked salvage left along the trail)
d) Drop Rixx a line thanking him for making this possible
e) Place your bets when it opens, will I make it through a single lowsec gate? Will I make it to null?

3) At least three bloggers are running IN the race. Come and be ‘famous’

4) Not too late to join the Friends of the Party. An easy way to be a friend is to NOT shoot me when I go by. Slightly more strenuous is to shoot the other folks who are shooting at me.

5) The ultimate would be someone who is along the race route and offers a boat switch when mine runs out. If I can get clear with a pod and someone is nearby then switch and continue without the trouble of jump cloning and rerouting . . . pony express racing.

6) I appreciate suggestions . . . most of the ones I have received so far have been great. Seriously. Black Claw? Escoce? These guys make me willing to even try this sort of thing. I am a carebear missioneer. I build ships and I mine and I do all those petty little things that the ‘real players’ sneer at. But when you read the blogs of the pirates, the ninjas, the null sec wars you get curious. There ARE folks out there willing to teach you, to welcome you to the bigger game. Just look around or ask me . . . for all that I am a carebear I am a well read one.

m

–OOC—
I read a lot of the blogs, I figure if I want folks to read mine, I ought to be reading theirs. If you do the same you might notice a trend developing. Gods, I hope I am wrong.
———

Mike closed the comms with a grin and turned to Dee who had been fixing the coffee to her specifications. “I do NOT believe it. An old friend tossed some more isk into the Party Boat racing team.”

Dee smiled. “That’s nice. How much?”

“Thirty million.”

A spoon clattered to the floor as Dee looked at him stunned. “Million? What do you have to do for them?”

“Logos on the advertising. They sent a sample . . . EveBowl. I used to work for them now and again, writing stuff and helping out in the lotteries.”

“Lotteries?” Dee tried to pick up the spoon and hide the shake in her hand.

“Yeah. Odessa Marie runs lotteries, lot of them free entry, just sign up and pick a number and you could win ships or cash. Also was the best place to learn about scamming and scammers.” Mike sighed. “I learned a lot there, not that I ever used it. I had called Odessa asking if she could figure out a way to set up some gambling . . . take bets on how well the race will go.”

“You mean betting on how far you get before you die?” Dee was facing the wall so he could not see the tears in her eyes.

“Yeah, I hope to beat the odds and double the expected distance.”

“And then . . . you die?” She turned to face him. “Why? Why do you do this? You have enough isk to retire right now and not do any more foolishness. Stay on a planet or here, on the station with me. Instead you go back out there, you fly and kill and haul into dangerous spaces and now this deathrace. Why, why . . . why?” The last came out as sobs and Mike suddenly realized he had, again, missed the clues as to what direction the conversation was taking.

“Dee?” He stood and took her in his arms. ‘It’s okay, I don’t really die, just this shell does. I know I could settle down but I think something in the makeup of what makes me a capsuleer in the first place is also what keeps me from settling down.” he tipped her face up to look her in the eyes. “But here is where I always come back to.”

“Stay?”

Mike grimaced. “I can’t. I have obligations, duties to the corp and . . . I cannot.” He sighed. “Some of my fellow capsuleers have. I know and can sympathize. They find that the joy of the life is gone, they don’t get the same thrills or lose sight of their goals and they slowly slip into a malaise of ennui. I understand, really I do. One of the things that sets us apart is the fact that we have more control over our destinies, our choices are our own. but if you make some bad ones, commitments or goals that become too heavy a load . . . things break down. They start making bad decisions, taking risks they shouldn’t.”

Mike hugged her close and then stepped back to start pacing, as though the things he wanted to say were forcing him to keep moving. “I was talking to Mynxee the other day and I asked her if the step from being a pirate to a merc had lessened the feeling that she was doing a job and not having an adventure.” He shook his head. ‘That lady is carrying a heavy load and if she doesn’t learn how to lighten it, it may break her. I KNOW a lot of people would be sad to see that happen. Closer to home, even my own corp CEO is showing signs of exhaustion. Everywhere I look journalists are slowing down, stepping back, wondering what it all is for.”

‘What is it all for?” Dee asked. “Why aren’t you burning out with them?”

“Oh I have my slow days, my quiet days of introspection. But then I have things that keep me alive. My writing, new adventures like the Race, fighting back the Nation of Sansha.” He paused and looked right at her, standing very still. “You.”

“Me?”

“I am a capsuleer. If I were to try to retire, to settle down I might change in ways that would make me less, not worthy of you. You know when I see you laughing it makes me feel like I could take a carrier in a shuttle. I know you probably heard about my escapades over the past weeks and yet you still are here with me. Especially some of the rumors . . . I thought . . . ”

‘I may not have the accent like you do, you acadian fool, but I am a proper Gallente. I understand the difference between lust and love. Between want and need. Between the others,” She stepped into his arms and kissed him. “and me.”

Mike kissed her back and held her in an almost bruising hug. “You can understand all that but not why I race?”

“Oh.” She slapped his shoulder, stepping back. “I can understand it, but don’t expect me to like it. You go play with the boys and their big toys. Go play with the girls, too, if that is what you need to do to keep alive inside. But come back to me, after. Promise me you will always come back. I don’t want to change who you are, I have seen too many relationships end because a woman took her man and changed him till he was no longer what she had wanted in the first place. Do I like the thought of you dying? No. Do I relish the images that some anonymous ‘friend’ sent of you kissing a certain redhead or the other reports I have heard about ‘dancer interviews’?” Fire in her eyes answered that one.

Mike sighed. “How did I ever manage to find you.”

“If a cat wanders in enough yards it will find a home.” Dee chided. “Or to quote Issah . . . ‘They thought it a blessing, this gift of space, not understanding that they were only making it harder to find their way back again.’”

Mike closed his eyes and nodded. “He was right. Hard is not impossible, though. I may wander, kiss and interview. I may be the fool, the politician and the explorer. But for all that I know where home is now and nothing is gonna take that away from me.”

***************************************************

Lessons

If the game becomes too much like work, you are doing it wrong or it is wrong for you. It saddens me every time the second conclusion is reached.

I will miss the folks who are suffering from fade and I welcome the new players coming in.

I play this game as a game. I fly ridiculous ships and get into combat, missions hauling mining and damn near everything else. I try to get others to join in and see this as a grand escapade. I invite you all to join the race, fly with the Hulkageddon Runaway party ship. You have nothing to lose except your pants and shirt (if I need to do another planning session)

If you see someone worrying, looking burned out. help them, cheer them up, and for Gods sake DON’T ask them to do something for you. Ask what you can do for them instead. Or better. Find something you can do for them and don’t even make them make the effort of fining the jobs they can delegate.

m

It was an hour before he got himself down to the hanger and looked around. It didn’t take much work to find the crowd gathered around the mining ship. Normally they came and went without any fanfare but today . . .

“Well,” Said a capsuleer with a tool belt slung over one shoulder. “Oi rigged ‘er so the main hold can handle the DJ and it will drown out damn near anyfing. If Oi made it any louder then it would be classed as a weapon.”

“Sound system in the hold?” Mike wondered out loud.

“Well the dancers need something to move to, though the ones you hired last night seemed willing to dance whether there was music playing or no. But you told me, Audio, if you are going to be in on this then I need you to rig the music. I done that and pitched in to the kitty, so my part is done, I figure.”

Mike looked at his left arm and saw a small notation, Audio-0.5M + sound system for hold ‘Um, dancers?”

“Yeah, you had them all sign the contract . . . and by that you kept pointing at your shirt.”

“Oh, aye. That explains all the names on the back of this.” Scotty waved my shirt, now covered in fitting orders and names of dancers. “We’ve loaded the booze and smokes on board already, kept them out of the way of the sound guy here. The hardwood flooring will be in as soon as it is shipped up from the planet.”

‘Hardwood flooring?”

“Aye, for the dance floor. You said something about wood with light insets here on your right sleeve . . . ”

By now Mike realized that the rest of the people were gathering around and grinning. “What are you lot laughing at? You all paid into this as well.”

“I, for one, don’t regret a single isk, how about you, son?” Bob grinned and waved up at the ship. “Best in emergency decompression fittings. Your passengers will have an excellent chance of survival, wouldn’t you say?”

Marham grinned at Bob and then at Mike. “Money well spent. This is going to be one hell of a ride for the rich crowd. Who else would have thought of getting extra funding by offering a chance to ride IN the race?”

Mike glanced from them to his arm and back at them in shock. Marham 5m BobF 10m “You are both mad as hatters. Who the hell are the Old Goats?”

“That’d be us. We are in the alliance and heard you might need some funding to fly a pig in a thoroughbred race.” Two pilots looked up at the ship and back at Mike. “You’re calling them mad?” Others crowded up introducing themselves to the increasingly stunned Mike and making comments on how well the Party ship would fare in the race.

Kotacko said it best. “Two, three jumps if you are lucky. Is a big bulls-eye begging to be tagged. You have any plans for making it further?”

Mike ran his hand back through his hair and grinned wolfishly. “May look like junk but she’s gonna have what it takes. All that and exotic dancers, how can I lose? But in answer to your question, yes there is more help to be asked for, and not of the checkbook variety. I am going to need a pit crew and race managers.”

“To do what?”

“Suppose, just suppose, a few friendly folks managed to get ahead of the race in bombers. If they were to find a camp there would be good hunting to be had. Especially if the campers were not expecting an ambush.”

Kotacko shook his head. “If I were setting a camp I would put in Sniper Hacs, not as vulnerable to bomber groups.”

“I have found that we often err in thinking that the enemy has had days to plan an operation and set all the pieces perfectly in place. I actually expect the camps to be ad hoc affairs of ‘bring something to shoot with’. This is the main reason that the course has such security on it. I am likely wrong but that is another thing that a pit crew could do, scout ahead. If we have some folks down the line spotting the camps we might be able to reroute or least wise be on the toes more when hitting them.”

Two techs came down out of the ship and waved. “Yer eight view-screens are set in the hold now. Cross-rigged to the DJ’s board.”

“For the party, so they can see the race from inside?” Mike asked weakly.

“Now its coming back to him. Show him the plans for the advertising campaign.” Smeginhell walked up from behind, laughing. Kleve pulled out a pair of pants with designs and notes all over them.

“What did I wear home?” Mike asked softly.

“I think you still had your left shoe on when we saw you leave with . . . ”

“Now now, son.” Bob chided Marham. “We aren’t to be spreading gossip.”

“What about what he was spreading?” Marham joked and then was quiet.

Mike slowly looked up at the docking bay supervisor window and he could see Dee up there, laughing down at him and his friends. The laughter told him far more than he could hope for. “Now if you cannot hunt the hunters and you aren’t close to the start you can still scout the far end. If you are in the race with me then we can cross link information.”

“I was thinking if I go in it I might bring along a remote rep setup, just in case.” Kotacko said. “I still think you are crazy but it is a fun kind of crazy.”

“Two mining ships?”

“Do I look THAT mad? No I will be in something a bit quicker and better at surviving.” Kotacko grinned. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to pack a remote repper for the party boat. see if we can beat the morning odds.”

“What odds?” Mike asked closing his eyes.

“The local media found out about your plan and they are already making book on how far you will get. I think your right knee has the info you ‘leaked’ to them.” Kotacko took the pants from Kleve and showed how Mike had planned out the campaign. “This in turn will get the rich thrill seekers curious and make the ride THE hot ticket of the season. We just have to follow the shin timeline.”

Mike took his clothes back and slowly looked through the notes written all over them. Names, contact numbers, plans, meeting times. “According to my armpit we have a strategy meeting in four days.” Mike held up the shirt. “I expect the party vessel to be painted and wired and ready. Audio, my ribs tell me you know how to get a quick party going? We will be hosting the Meet the Ship right after the meeting. I’ll need a DJ, all the dancers and then some. Scotty, whatever we ordered for ‘party supplies’, double and have the second load standing by to replace the first. Now we all have our assignments, gentlemen? I am going to go throw-up and then sleep for six more hours.”

He staggered out of the hanger to laughter but he only had eyes for the woman laughing far far above him.

***************************************************

Lessons:

http://deathrace.evepress.com/ Read this if you have no idea what race I am talking about.

There are a lot of people willing to pay to see you do something different. Some of the ones who donated I know but other donations came right out of the blue.

I’d love to figure out how to set up a betting board for this race. How far, how fast . . .etc.

Thanks for donations to AudiogeekUK, Old Goats Logistics, Jhered Skyfire, Drakken war, You Dobber, Xaveir machievelli, Kotacko, Smeginhell, Kleve, Marham and BobFenner.

These are people who know damn well that this is going to be a fools errand and they still are willing to fund it. I welcome input as to other things the pit-crew can do. It is not too late to be part of classic silliness.

m

The bar was not too busy but he was sure that would change, slowly. He nodded to the people he knew and looked for some of his corp mates. They had pulled a few tables together along with some folks from the alliance and it looked like the party had already started. As the pitcher went around he grabbed a free cup and filled it, sipping he told Kry, “I need permission to ‘pass the hat around’.”

Kry shook her head. Mike always seemed to think that he should let her know what he was up to, then he went wandering off like the Cat he was and did his own thing. “For what?”

“I am thinking of entering the Death Race.” That got all the tables attention. He spent the next few minutes giving variations of his stock answers. “No, I do not expect to win. No, I do not expect to survive, Victoria already offered to kill me in a far less expensive way . . . told me it would be more fun as well. No, I didn’t take her up on it. Yes, you can help.”

“Tell me more about the race.” Kry sat back, the queen listening to the jester.

“OK, in a couple of weeks a group of insane pilots will all pay for the privilege of starting in an unknown system in lowsec, race through nullsec and end somewhere in hisec. After the first system violence between the races will be allowed. Violence from outside of the contestants is expected. No cloaked jumping, no cyno leaps, no capitals, no shuttles, and no T3 strategic cruisers. I plan on joining them having the basic requirement of the 5 Million entrance fee and a complete lack of common sense.”

Mar, down the table grinned. “So, an interceptor is it?”

“I can fly any one of them now and that WAS my first thought.” Mike admitted. “I was out test flying my stiletto, seeing how fast I could make her. Was about to start asking you to practice with me . . . but then i got to thinking.”

“Uh oh.” Mar grinned as he said that.

“Yeah. That rule about violence being encouraged made me think that maybe surviving might be more important than just being fast. The quick ones will be first for the funeral processions and gate camps. Maybe ’slow and steady’ wins the race might be the philosophy to try.” Mike took a pull from his glass. “So I started looking back to my roots . . . the Drake.”

“A racing Drake? You’re mad!” A pilot pulled up a chair and sat. “The name is Kotacko, I would go with an interceptor if i was entering. Instead i plan on camping the race if it goes near my turf.” He grinned at Mike. “I have read some of your stuff, writers are on my ‘hit list’ so I hope to se you out there.”

Mike grinned. ‘Hopefully for only half a second, or so.”

“A drake will die to a camp. Bubble and watch it waddle, Twenty stealth Bombers and you have pwnage.”

“That assumes twenty stealth bombers are waiting. But I decided against waddling in a running race. Which lead me to my next plan. A disco Typhoon. If I could get to the first jump fast enough i would be the wildcard to end all wildcards.” His grin took a wolfish cast. “They would be sure I would roll it on the first turn and take all their sparkly little interceptors out.”

The table laughed and Mike took an other drink. “So which plan are you going to go with?” Chewy was asking that one.

“None of them. I am asking for the alliance to sponsor me and I am going to ‘represent!’” Mike made a fist and held it high. “I am going to fly a mining ship.”

There was stunned silence for a moment and then the table started laughing. “You almost had me there. I thought you were being serious.” Mar gasped.

Mike roared back. “I am serious. We are miners and makers. I am taking a mining ship into the race. Now I am passing the hat for the ‘Hulkageddon Runaway’ fund and I would appreciate it if you all tossed some isk in to cover basic expenses . . . fittings, fuel, funeral.”

The jug was passed around and drinks were refilled as the groups alternated between trying to convince Mike to take an interceptor and trying to find a mining ship with a chance of making at least two jumps before dying. Chewy was the first to toss two million isk into the fund.

*********************************

Lessons

When entering a race or contest decide what YOUR winning conditions are. I am out to stun and amuse. I doubt I will get very far but that does not mean I won’t be trying.

You are welcome to toss some isk towards this project, if you enjoy reading my blog I’d appreciate the help . . . Mike Azariah in-game is already fitting and practicing.

Fair warning. If I talk to you in game there is a distinct chance you might wind up in the blog, one way or the other.

I am trying to find the page in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas about the inappropriate vehicles that were being considered for the Mint 400

m

OOC————–

Welcome to the nineteenth installment of the EVE Blog Banter, the monthly EVE Online blogging extravaganza created by none other than me, CrazyKinux. The EVE Blog Banter involves an enthusiastic group of gaming bloggers, a common topic within the realm of EVE Online, and a week to post articles pertaining to the said topic. The resulting articles can either be short or quite extensive, either funny or dead serious, but are always a great fun to read! Any questions about the EVE Blog Banter should be directed to crazykinux (AT) gmail.com. Check out other EVE Blog Banter articles at the bottom of this post!

This months topic comes to us from @evepress, who he asks: The CSM: CCP’s Meta Game? The CSM, an EVE players voice to CCP. Right? In the grand scheme of things yes, the players bring up issues and the CSM presents them to CCP. But in its current iteration the CSM was supposed to be given small authority to assign CCP assets to projects that the CSM thought needed work on. As it has come out, this was not the case. So fellow bloggers, is the CSM worth it, has the CSM improved the game in any way, or is it just a well thought out scam by CCP to give us players a false sense of input in the game? What’s your take?

IC————————-

Scotty sat with Mike in the cafe and looked out on the hangers. Occasionally the comm would chime as some fool in a hurry would ask for ships sw3itches 20 seconds after their last ship switch and Scotty would yawn and tell them to slow down and take their time. Then the conversation would continue. “So you don’t think it is some huge stunt?”

‘Well, no.” Mike stretched his neck to see is he could get the waitresses attention and another round of coffee brought over. “The way I see it, as soon as they started the CSM they kinda put their rep on the line. The whining and complaining I see is the same sort you are handling right now. When someone wants change they want it right the hell now. As soon as they come up with a new idea they start to wonder why everyone else has not realized that this is the next thing that must be done and made the requisite changes. You have people who would bounce from ship to ship every 3 seconds if you let them. We have people who are the same way about ideas.”

“Well, there are ideas and then there are things that need to be done or should be done.”

Mike nodded. “I know and I do think that the ball does get dropped or laid aside in favor of some other new toy, every now and again. That is why the CSM is in place. To pick up the dropped balls and try to get them back in play. It is no secret that I am a big fan of the CSM and it would be damn hypocritical of me to slag them just because it was the current consensus.”

Scotty nodded and smiled. ‘So you think everything is fine?”

“Hell, no. I think we have a good CSM council and they are trying harder to be more effective and running into the bane of organizations everywhere.”

“Idiots in Charge?”

“No” Mike laughed. “Inertia and momentum. It is easy for the passenger to yell ‘turn here’ but a lot harder for the driver to comply if he is flying a fully loaded carrier. All organizations have this sort of inertia that makes sudden change damn near impossible. The bigger the organization, the slower it is to react to change, whether it is needed or not.”

Scotty muttered something about ” . . . . agile”

“Elephants can claim to be the most agile elephant in the herd, but they still are not going to be racing up the tree faster than a monkey. CCP is an elephant and it wants to be the biggest in the herd. It can trumpet agile all it wants but at the end of the day it has to plan each step out before it brings down its feet. CSM is trying to be the mahout on top of the elephant but once it is up to speed there are NO sudden turns. Right now the question running on the comms is whether the mahout should give up or whether the elephant may throw the rider completely. I think neither is going to happen.” He took a sip of his coffee. “It is not an even partnership. Never has been, never will be. CSM rides at the permission of the CCP but it is along for the ride and they share a common goal. Both want a better way to go. Five times has the CSM been elected and I don’t think we have the understanding of cooperation between rider and mount, yet. May not happen for a while.” Mike grinned “Maybe when I get elected.”

Laughter answered him. “Going to run again?”

“Try and stop me”

****************************************************

No, I don’t think it is a publicity stunt
No I don’t think the members are in it for the ‘free trip’
No, it is not perfect and probably never will be
Yes, it is getting better
Yes, we did well in the elections choosing good people (I’m looking at YOU Mynxee)

m

Other things said . . . .

1. Growing Pains | CrazyKinux’s Musing
2. CSM: Hoax or Serious Business? « Lost in New Eden
3. CSM-Power to the people or puppets of CCP « A whole lot of Yarrrr!!!
4. Gaming the CSM | A Mule in EvE
5. A Taste Of Democracy | StarFleet Comms
6. CSM: Player Power or Paper Tiger? | I Am Keith Neilson
7. Governance Thrash Redux? « The Ralpha Dogs
8. CCP Doesn’t Care: Blog Banter 19 « OMG! You’re a Chick?!
and a whole buncha others, cross link or go to kinux to see a more complete list