This gaming life: I close my eyes, I see asteroids

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Once again, I find myself floating at the edge of fragments of a once proud asteroid belt that is completely devoid of any other life, waiting for my corpmate to arrive in her hauler. As I drift with yet another near-full load of Pyroxeres and Veldspar, I can't help but feel that there is something important I've forgotten. It's easily done though. I've been at this belt for well over ten hours now; a full day’s work and more. Scargill would be proud.

Actually I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. Time has become meaningless. There are clues to be: Day has turned to night; I know this because my room is now illuminated only by the neon blue glow that emanates from my computer setup. My backside also aches from the sciatica-inducing racing seat I use; even though I have now stacked together three soft cushions to sit on; I've drunk about 12 gallons of milky tea, so much that my pee-stop intervals have now tripled in regularity; My lungs have aged 20 years from having smoked enough cigarettes to stun an elephant and now, every time I close my eyes, I see asteroids.

But still, I sit here. Still, I mine away. I will not rest until I’ve stripped this belt clean. I need to. I’m still 300 million ISK away from my Orca. Logic dictates that in order to afford such a luxury, I must keep mining, regardless of the cost to my real life.

Eve Online does this to her pilots. She lures them in with promises of fame and fortune, excitement of an idea that you can be whoever you want to be and a universe where nearly anything goes. Once she has you sucked in, reality becomes a mere distant figment of the pilot’s imagination and the ideal of the “next big earner” becomes more important than many of life’s lesser evils, such as a balanced diet and basic hygiene.

Then it hits me.

I turn away from the screen for the first time in hours and notice my poor dog, Merlin, sat legs crossed with a look on his face that can only be described as "chuffing desperate!" I soon realise that he hasn't been out for a walk for most of the day and that his dinner is about three hours overdue. Poor blighter.

"Five more minutes", I say to him unconvincingly. He shoots me a look of death, and lies back down. Looks like I blagged me some more game time.

Just as well, as a group of “Rats”, NPC pilots, arrive a few kilometres away. Their timing could have been a little better, as my hauler is not quite ready to load up with the ore yet, and it’s a few too many kilometres away and not quite in range.

Not that I’m afraid of a few 0.6 Rats. My Hulk mining ship can more than handle itself in high security space; I have a small army of very angry drones that really don’t like NPCs, and enough skills to use them effectively. I target the lead ship and launch the drones, only to have my targeting systems jammed almost instantly. This is irritating, as it prevents me from targeting anything for 10 to 15 seconds, and, once my drones have dealt with the main target, they won’t do much else other than orbit my ship relentlessly. My hauler manages to finish the transfer just in time, again, just as well, as the rats have already turned their attention to her.

It’s a dangerous life as a hauler. The ships are simply not built for fighting, or anything else for that matter. I kitted mine out with salvage gear and a tractor beam; handy for collecting loot from dead rats, but unfortunately all the hard points which would normally be used for a few weapons are full. Her only defence is a 10MN Afterburner, which admittedly, isn’t going to outrun anything, and a small shield booster that will hold out for a few minutes.

Rats or not, the transfer stage of a mining op is where you’re most vulnerable. You have to jettison your cargo into space, so your hauler can collect it. This creates a canister that floats there for a few hours, before disintegrating into nothing.

At this point though, anyone can simply fly up and steal your precious ore, and walk away with several million ISK worth. There have been a few measures implemented to combat this though. When someone steals from your can, they get flagged as hostile. This means anyone from your corporation can attack the tea-leaf and serve the justice. That’s all good and well, except, as a miner, you’re often out there on your own and relatively undefended. Sure, a few drones will help chase away a thief, but if that thief comes back with a battleship or missile cruiser support, you’re screwed. It’s always a good idea to take a quick peek at the local area and make sure no one is too close to your operations before making the transfer.

Thankfully, my hauler completes her mission and warps away to safety. At almost the same time, the jamming signal fails, allowing me to finally target these pesky rats. Fortunately, my drones had managed to take out the lead ship, leaving only two left. It’s a walk-over. Within seconds the remaining rats are nothing more than floating scrap. I reset my targeting for asteroids and continue on my way. Still, it was a nice break from the monotony of mining.

By now, my ever-suffering dog is whimpering to go out, or eat, or whatever comes first. Figuring that I don’t particularly want to see how my room would look like redecorated in “Golden Brown”, I reluctantly set course for my home station and prepare to dock. A sigh of relief is heard from the direction of the dog bed, and Merlin gets his long-awaited reward.

Of course, the only thing I can think of now is what I’m going to do when I get back in-game. Should I head over to Sobaseki and pick up my shipment of mining crystals? Or head out to Nonni and pick up the encyclopaedia of skills I bought previously? Am I seriously going to consider another five-plus hour mining operation?? Whatever I decide, the next several hours will be spent within the Eve universe.

I’m hooked. Again…

Written by Tim "Roobarb" Blackley, edited by PCFormat