Having convinced a fellow friend to delve into the void I anticipate a tasty mortal for the grinder. My plan for this noob is a baptism of fire. He rarely relies on the sweeter things in life and would appreciate having his head kicked in online for the kicks, obviously.
His introduction had barely begun and already he's lost a ship, his learning curve hitting him as a wall. En-route to the badlands we ran into a posse of pirates keen to introduce our flesh to the frozen wastes of deep space. But this eventuality was a given result, our pathetic frigates already stripped of valuables and ready to implode at a moments notice. The pirates were well versed in violence, both of us locked down and immediately set upon with an eager ferocity, barely lasting the moments notice.
It's odd to be upon the receiving end so decisively - it reminds me of simpler times when everywhere was hazardous and paranoia plagued my decisions. I plan to note exactly whomever we encounter, their abilities judged so that we may soon both earn entry via a noob's skill set, into a pirate corporation of careful choosing.
So with this new mandate comes the inevitable dive to -9.9 and it's consequences. My planetary harvesting operation is on hold and besides, the admin was damn dull. And with it's income now paused I'll have to revert to hunting in 0.0, my noob towing the line as bait. Prospectively I'm looking forward to rewinding myself a few years and again revelling in the order of destruction. So much of me was created through pain that it seems only natural.
Happy hunting, us.