a drunken night of philosophy

In wild celebration of buying my new BC, I got in a philosophical discussion with somebody, no idea who, about the mismanagement of funds from management, management being... welll... agents, police... the works.

As I see it, every starsystem just has a few weakspots in their defences where rats creep in, because every time on the same gods damned mission I get sent to the same spot. Why not save out paying all those triggerhappy gits (like me), save up the doe and hang a battery of missile launchers in deadspace overthere.
Sure, it will be costly, but on the long term much more cost efficient that having to pay those triggerhappy.. oh, well.. you get the point I guess. More drinks!

Shot in the dark

I loved my battlecruiser. Not in a passionalte wet and sloppy personal way, btu still, for a metal hulk of gears and guns, I loved her. Yes, I said her, for of course all my ships are female, appart from that one cargo-hauler, but we won't get into that right now.
But something went wrong.. the universe just blinked out of existence, just when I warped into a band of newfound rats. I don't know what kind of weaponry they had but MAN it killed my systems. On rebooting I found myself in an escape pod... and got the hell back to station.
Luckily I had the backup of trusted friends to pick up my wreck and salvage what they could... which wasn't much... and my miningship lay await for a month of painstroking, hard working mining, until... YES.. I could pay my way into a new BC, this time named Ride of the Valkyrie, just to piss people off so that they'd have the tune in their heads just the entire following day. :)

And she's sweet, too. The new equip from corp works fine... I can now tinker with good stuff to get her working the best she can, though I once again have a lot to learn about shield management, but hey, that's life right?