Determinedly scouring belts and running into destabilizing opposition often, I was beginning to think that maybe the rumors of the EVE Online learning curve were right. This experience was a really hard one, and I wasn’t having much fun minute by minute. I’d been talked into joining a corporation on a whim, although I wasn’t even sure what that meant. It turned out almost like having an awful virtual job; after committing, I got no clear direction, awful management that was either disrupting workflows when present, or was just absent altogether most times. This was starting to get a little frustrating.
I kept trying to find something else to spend my time with, absorbing history while mining and training active shield modules and drone skills to survive to gather tritanium and pyerite. I was approached by a group that was hiring, eventually. A better corporation, they taught, would allow me to unlock a new level of productivity, through something called an Orca. It took some time, but eventually I got to take advantage of boosts and hauling previously hidden from me. This new group was online often and eager to teach me. I signed my contract with It Hangs Starboard, Inc., starting my career in earnest as a miner years ago, on a high security island with a ragtag group of rogue industrialists.
It began peacefully and was very relaxed, but quickly grew. I’d learned a little about industry jobs by the time our little corporation was becoming specialized and productive. We scaled our efforts to match our ambitions, but the resources on this quiet tucked away island were becoming less abundant. Soon there were frustrated grumblings from other, well established nearby groups with their own goals.
Our recruiting got out of control somewhere. New people showed up every day without restriction, happily ready to help us build toward whatever goals that leadership laid out. At some point during this surge, our resource acquisitions became unnecessarily aggressive. Neighbors tolerated impoliteness at first, but our monopolizing resources with little diplomatic effort was an unwise course of action for a small group of new recruits.
A retaliation was ordered against us under the cloak of secrecy. A neighboring group, probably justifiably so, hired a mercenary corporation to rid them of this new and stifling competition coming from us. Those who had been on the island long before we had were ready to return their home to their happy status quo. There was harmony and balance before our group showed up. We were throwing everything out of balance, and we didn’t have the foresight to care about any consequences.
It Hangs Starboard In EVE Online
This was my first experience with a cooperative group, to preface. It happened to be led at the time by the type of person that you wouldn’t want to leave around defenseless animals or small children. I’m not exaggerating; he was convicted of some serious charges and is presumably still incarcerated. I didn’t know anything about him ten years ago. I was thankful to have met him, being one of the first persons of any wealth or power that seemed to see any value in me at all. This was the person that offered me a better job than the awful one I’d had, in the asteroid belts in high security space.
I’d been mining alone in a venture, dodging pirates and can-flippers before I joined It Hangs Starboard. I had no idea what type of person the CEO, Flounder Amarr was, but I knew that he could help me make more ISK much faster than I could make it on my own. His personality was a little abrasive at times but he didn’t strike me as dangerous or anything. A little quirky, perhaps. He was definitely not a good diplomat.
Flounder Amarr’s lack of social tact likely contributed to the difficulties the corporation faced immediately after that explosive IHS hiring initiative I mentioned.
Each recruited rookie was led to our peaceful island with its balanced, self-sustaining economy. We’d even managed to recruit some extremely productive new hires. In fact, some of them turned out to be too productive; they’d subscribed over a dozen accounts between two people, which was unheard of to me at the time. I had only ever played with one account, and the idea of playing with 5-6 characters simultaneously was mind-bending to me. I thought for sure this behavior would result in the banning of our corporation from the island, or worse, from EVE Online.