Here I am, just about five years after first jumping into EVE Online. As I said previously, I feel in my gut that when my subscription lapses in a few day, it will be a long time before I return to New Eden. My capsuleer will be headed for a long sleep.
And the reason is that nothing about the game really inspires me at this time.
EVE requires inspiration. Being a sandbox, you have to set your own goals and pursue them. I have managed to create my own modest goals at various times. Some were simple, like aspirations to fly certain ships. Others were more complicated, like delving into manufacturing and tech II blueprint production.
Most came to fruition, some quite profitably. My days as a minor tycoon, buying and selling in EVE’s dynamic market, made me about double the ISK that all my other activities combined.
A few failed or came to no real net benefit. Tech II turned out to be a money sink, at least the way I went about it. The cost of getting into a freighter never really benefited me that much. And the W-space station plan failed, ironically in the huge volume of space, for lack of a place to raise our control tower.
But there was a point, early on, when just playing the game, just being in space and flying around, was inspiration enough. I tend to think of that time as the age of the Cormorant.
The Cormorant, the Caldari destroyer, was the first ship I really flew on a regular basis. This was primarily prompted by the fact that the very first mission I drew post-tutorial was “Worlds Collide.”
That mission and I have a history.
After losing my Ibis frigate, I decided to work my way towards the biggest ship I could potentially afford. For me, that was the Cormorant.
I managed to scrape together the ISK to get the skills and buy the ship and fittings. For the tier 1 version of “Worlds Collide,” this proved to just about adequate for a complete noob. And so began the run with the first ship I really considered to be mine.
And today I can bring back a glimmer of that feeling, that sense of sheer joy for the hell of it, that sensation I got when playing EVE Online early on in my career, but just looking at some of the screen shots I took at the time.
This is why I take so many screen shots.
And so I give you images from the age of the Cormorant, with a little commentary after each.
That was what EVE seemed like to me early one. I was a tiny ship in a land of giant objects, my tiny little trails marking my path across space.
The classic graphics version of the Cormorant. Back then, this was the only ship model.
Again, a small ship in the giant sea of space.
My Cormorant cutting loose. This has to be the mission “Avenge a Fallen Comrade.” I was probably at the part where you must destroy the station, which allowed me to go into an orbit, turn on weapons, and then work on getting a screen shot. The dust discharge from the rail guns in the wake of the ship is a nice touch. I cannot recall if that effect is still in.
Explosions were both more and less dramatic back then. I am pretty sure that this was a missile kill, just given the range. The six rail guns would chew up a target over time, but a standard missile was close to a one shot kill and could reach out a long ways. I would target the missile launcher separately at more distant targets while I would close for the guns.
Again, back in the mission “Avenge a Fallen Comrade.” That odd-shaped asteroid is always the key. Here are trails, a feature long since removed from the game, describing the arcing flight of the ship. Of course, I probably have some screen shots buried some place that show the flaws in trails. You could get very odd kinks in your trails and once in a while your ship would appear to be about 15 degrees off center from the trails.
But when trails were behaving, they were quite pretty. I miss them.
Those are my Cormorant screen shots. They represent a simpler time for me in the game.
Those pictures, and many more, are available at my “other” site, EVE Online Pictures.