Oolite Bulletins

spud42 wrote:

... i realised that its been almost a week since i actually played the game as a game...

Beware the attraction of the darkside - it will consume you!

And now you know why we call it "The Dark Side"..

Cody wrote:

spud42 wrote:

... i realised that its been almost a week since i actually played the game as a game...

Beware the attraction of the darkside - it will consume you!

“Inquisitiveness is the path to the dark side. Inquisitiveness leads to tweaking. Tweaking leads to modelling. Modelling leads to publishing and updating the OXP list...” - Commander Yoda

"Can not run out of time, there is infinite time. You are finite. Oolite is finite. This... is wrong tool. No. No. Not good. No. No. Never use this." - Commander Zathras

Ranthe wrote:

This... is wrong tool. No. No. Not good. No. No. Never use this." - Commander Zathras

upon discovering a copy of Notepad on Epsilon III

these forums really need a like button!!!! lol....cookies.......

spud42 wrote:

these forums really need a like button!!!!

As I recall, there was a 'like button' once (albeit briefly) - but it was disliked.

Fair enough... now where did i leave that damn cookie...

I would like to suggest a new "Commanders" topic group into Board index/Oolite for the tales and updates from the progress of the beloved pilots of players. It can appear after Announcements and before Discussion due to the alphabetical order.

In this way every pilots can have a dedicated topic named after the commander ("Jameson" should be allocated by moderators and contain an advice to create your own topic). The first post can be updated with current statistics and the whole history of a game is readable below in one place.

I think we will see more stories and screenshots which will help to know more about the very different playing styles and help the development also.

AAHHH I can see it now:

Commander Yah-ta-hey foot in mouth discussion page....... no thanks

Getting things back on track... a slightly longer version of announcing a couple of milestones for my intrepid Capt James Toohey (currently Dangerous, trading G-2 and helping out his fellow solo traders) with a little bit of 'official' tail coverage

Cruising back to the space lane from the rock hermit “Jefferson’s Secret” after picking up some choice gems, a quantity of gold and platinum and half a hold of radioactives, Capt James Toohey spotted the telltale flash of laser fire somewhere just off Levera Prime. Lining it up in the centre of his hud cross hairs, he jumped confidently toward the upcoming melee. Before long the scanner revealed a Galcop Viper being harassed by a tenacious FDL along with several other contacts engaged with another trader. James made straight for the fugitive Ferdie, but it was twisting and turning in its endeavours with the Viper and difficult to line up. After closing in, James let fly with the Brew’s mil lasers causing it to disengage and lock onto the Brew, loosing its two missiles at relatively short range. James ignored them for the moment and peppered the Ferdie a little more, noting with satisfaction the leakage of plasma and fuel to the aether. The combat alarm sounded another couple of times and James noted on the message screen the acknowledgement from GalCop and a Tnx ping from the harried trader. He was just about to pick the Ferdie off, but was beaten to the draw by the Viper pilot.

Damn, he thought, turning to face the new foes, noting four combatants at various points around his scanner, along with the two blue missile flags. Double damn, was the second thought; still they were all in different quarters, so no concerted attack at least. He gave the missiles the E(CM)-treatment, the blue flags winking out of existence as he carefully lined up on an Asp. He gave it a good burst from his laser and again saw fuel escaping as the Asp disengaged, but his port side was being struck with a withering blast of laser fire. Ignoring the Asp he pulled a corkscrew on to another FDL. This one was a little easier to chase around the sky as it was focussed on him. After a couple of passes, the Ferdie disintegrated into space dust leaving behind a couple of cargo pods carrying some gold and slaves – damn pirates, thought James.

Next target happened to be a big, fat, juicy Python. Lined up, its shields collapsing in one continuous volley from the Brews for’d mils. They must have been depleted somewhat by engaging the Viper or the trader; James almost always had to have a couple of goes at a Python – oh well, all to the good. He went to finish it off, but the Asp had come back together with the last combatant that he hadn’t engaged, putting a fair dent into the Brews upgraded shields. Not only that, the Python had loosed a couple of missiles as well, at him or one of the others he wasn’t sure. Turning to one of the other targets, James kept an eye on the missiles to see if they were bee-lining for him – not noticeably so he took careful aim at the Asp again, hopefully its shields hadn’t fully recovered from his first pass. He poured some megawatts into the pirate, but he hadn’t considered his own limitations, the laser hadn’t cooled sufficiently, so had to take the pirate one shot at a time. The Viper added a few shots as well and the Asp fell apart in short order; onto the next target.

When he eventually picked it up, James almost laughed, it was a Krait; maybe sporting a beam laser, but James thought it was probably max’d out as well since it was only getting a few shots off at him now. He did a bit of dodge and weave giving his lasers a bit of time to cool off, radiating its excess energy to the cold hard black of endless vacuum. Just then there was the tell-tale cyclic wail of an ECM over the comms, the Viper putting paid to the Pythons missiles as James finished off the Krait. That just left the Python, its captain probably struggling to haul its ass out of there, now all his partners in crime were just diffuse clumps of atoms joining the cosmic all.

It hadn’t got far – maybe its engines were damaged? James pulled into its six and proceeded to take it apart – it didn’t last long, spewing a few pods and an escape capsule. James scooped the tonne of pirate scum together with his gem stash, a pod of luxuries, some alien items and a load of Platinum. James had to sacrifice a couple of tonnes of radioactives to fit in what was left of the Python – twisted hull plate alloy. Hopefully the other trader would scoop up the few items that were left including his small gift. And now feeling somewhat satisfied that the Ooniverse was marginally safer than it had been 5 minutes ago, James injected away towards Levera’s main station, shortly kicking in the Torus drive and looking forward to that cold beer at one of the spacer bars.

Once he’d docked and handed over the hapless pirate, Zarneedan Qi, over to the relevant authorities for a couple of hundred reward, he hooked into the systems commodities market; selling off his gems, and the precious metals (at premium prices!), together with his own load of radioactives from the hermit and the majority of the wines and liquor he’d toted from Quedle. It was then he noted two significant milestones in his stats: Accredited bounties had exceeded 900 and his bank account had ticked over 200K!

Now if that don’t make the beer taste so much sweeter

A well-told little tale! I shall look forward to more..

I should by all rights be dead.

I used to be somebody. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I got into the Academy on the fast track, paid for the best instructors, and was able to ditch after graduation without mandatory service and go independant. I never really thought about it as unfair. Sure, I heard other spacers talk about me behind my back, but I figured they were just jealous. It wasn't my fault I got a Fleur De Lance for my 18th birthday, nor that my dad was a sector commander in GalCorp.

Those were the days.

Let's just skip to the part where my body was found pop-frozen in an asteroid field by missionaries in an intact vac suit, my Lance so much scrap on the large rock's surface. Slide on by the whole defrosting and rejuvenation process paid for by them no questions asked. Forget the fact that it was probably my own family that did it, and that I'd been declared legally dead, and if I was smart I'd keep it that way. Even ignore the fact that my one bit of luck was the missionaries offered me a beat up ship to get away on, one they'd planned on selling for scrap.

No, the reason I should all right be dead is that I ended up with an Adder, no ID, no money, no fuel.

And no joystick.

Like life hadn't pissed on me enough already, I was stuck with an Adder so old it still used key-based maneuvering thrusters. This was back when people still thought space travel was all flight paths and exact procedures. The sort of thing where you go down a checklist and quite frankly a computer was better off doing it all for you while you took a nap.

You know, before people wised up to just how many pirates and privateers were really out there, and dogfighting was considered a basic life skill.

Oh, and I was pretty sure word of my premature declaration of death had gotten out and people were on their way to correct the problem.

I suppose there was always the Black Monks to go to, but quite frankly that might just have been exchanging one death sentence for another. Besides, without any witch fuel, I was stuck on Lave. My options were limited pretty much to scrounging for empties. And by that I meant cleaning up the space lanes of asteroids. The space equivalent of looking for bottles in garbage cans for recycling. Doesn't pay much, but if I was lucky I could get a tank of gas and out of Lave before ninjas or some crap arrived.

I figured it at least would be a peaceful way to while away the time and blast out my frustrations on the galaxy. The hell have I done to deserve this? Just because I demanded the most expensive champagnes in my Lance's dispensary? I have guests to entertain! Or maybe all those traffic tickets and police infractions I kept having to have swept under the rug. Those parties I organized on various stations that tended to get out of control? Who doesn't like a party?

But come on, it's not like I killed anyone! Well, not directly. I mean, there was that one guy I nudged out of the way en route to the docking station who crashed against its hull, but I'm think he was a pirate. He looked like one, and I'm sure he gave me the stink-eye before his ship exploded.

All I'm saying is, this is totally unfair. I did not deserve this!

So I'm turning big rocks in to smaller rocks, wondering how that actually makes space any safer...doesn't it just means there a lot more rocks out there to smash against your hull, small enough that you can't see them? I guess the shields handle them at that point. Anyway, that's when some jackass decides to attack me.

I did mention I don't have a joystick control system, right? Hell I don't even have a missile. Not even those little party favors that are only good for exploding uselessly when the other guy hits their ECM.

The only thing there is for me to do is run. Pick up trash some other day. Hope the space ninjas don't find me.

Except, I'm in an Adder, and pretty much everything out there is faster than me, including this asshole. Several hits to my hull and I realize three things: 1) I'm not getting away. 2) he's the only pirate attacking me and 3) he's in a Sidewinder with a pulse laser.

As far as good news goes this is on par with "it's cancer, but...". However, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I might have had all the breaks growing up, but that doesn't mean I wasn't a good pilot (not good enough to fend off six Viper Interceptors, but that's another story).

The next five minutes are spent not trying to throw up as I overcompensate with my roll and pitch, trying to get a bead on the little bugger. The pilot was green as a Thorian's butt crack. He'd dive at me headlong firing, then run away. No jinking, no special maneuvers, just in an out. Of course your standard Sidewinder has a head on profile about as thin as a sheet of paper, and my fine tune thrusters were as subtle as thrown brick.

Eventually I nailed the bastard, and when the fireball faded I saw the sweetest sight imaginable on my screen.

Bounty: 22cr.

So this piece of junk Adder with no hyperspace fuel, missiles, or anything else for that matter, still has its GalCorp bounty tracker intact? Who owned this ship before me? I'd made maybe 3 credits before that blasting asteroids for half an hour, not even enough to get a tank of fuel. Now I had enough for both fuel and some food to sell. Of course, best case scenario the profit from that food would only buy me another tank of gas, so for the time being you can expect me to keep on making the spaceways safe for all... of asteroids.

What? You thought I'd realize my true calling as a bounty hunter? What are you, high?

Entertaining one!

Once I stripped away the facade of who I once was - the money, the ship, the heritage, the fawning social scene who clung to my every word; when all I was was cut away so close to the bone I could no longer hide behind family or fortune; when it came down to looking at myself in the mirror and judging myself as a man on my own terms, I was forced to come to a realization.

I am a coward.

No, not just a coward. I am the most craven little coward this side of the galaxy. Every stupid system is full of bloodthirsty pirates! They always left me alone because I had a Fleur Du Lance and that meant money, money for ECM hardened missiles and if you were really unlucky, a Q-bomb. You probably also had some cop buddies in Vipers just a radio call away, too.

But a rustbucket Adder with a pulse laser? You might as well put a sign on your thrusters saying "Free Kill".

Obviously you stick to the safer systems, but you know what? THERE'S NO SUCH THING! You read on the travel guide that the place is a stable democracy and you fly in and what do you know? It's coup day and everyone's invited. First come first serve for the wall to get shot against, no waiting.

By the time I finally managed to leave Lave I figured a nice safe corporate state would be the place to sell my discount rotting Spoo cargo and try and pass it off as haute cuisine to some sap. I had it all figured out. Jump in, move far far away from the main spacelane, and wait till I was in planet orbit before heading back for the station. Safe as safe can be.

You'd think that, wouldn't you?

Not one, but two pirates block my torus drive. At first I think they're just traders and fly away to get a clear path, only they stay on my tail. That leaves only two other possibilities.

"GO AWAY!" I yelled over the comms. "If you're missionaries, I've already found God. If you're pirates, I'm in no hurry to meet him!"

I'm not heading for the planet, the sun, or the witch point beacon so--oh look they're shooting at me what a surprise. Because that's the way my life goes these days. Last week I was in a zero-G bed with two models on my Lance, drinking globules of champagne off their bodies. Today I'm being mugged for 2 tons of crappy Spoo in an Adder that should have been recycled for the 20 credit deposit.

I think I mentioned before the impossibility of my outrunning anyone is my ship? The same is just as true when two are after you. I can't outrun them and I can't outshoot them, so what the hell is left. Outthink them? Hello? Space tactics at the Academy was better known as "nap time". I got all my tactics from the movie Top Lazer. Do a barrel roll, that's a good trick.

The only good news was that these pirates were worse shots than I was a pilot. They couldn't catch up too fast and kept taking turns making wild shots at me.

I was thousands of miles away from anywhere. No chance in hell of reaching the planet's space station, but I did see something else.

A Black Monk temple.

Coming from a rich family meant I know all about other rich people, and the Black Monks, for all their claims of solvency being a sin, are as rich as it gets. Seriously, does NO ONE wonder how they can afford such huge stations, deadly ships, and giving out loans that they enforce with deadly efficiency? What a scam.

But those big stations have really big guns, and they don't like it when people shoot at them... maybe these jokers can't hit the side of a barn, but maybe they can hit the broad side of a temple...

I never got a chance to try the scheme out, though. Just then, like an avenging angel, a GalCorp Viper started taking them on. Hallelujah! It drove one fighter off and started doing some serious damage to the Asp.

I had a clear shot to escape, make my way to the station and sell my goods. The police could take it from here. I didn't have to get involved.

But you know what? That asshole had pissed me off. I was minding my own business. It's not like I could be carrying much. What part of 2 ton cargo capacity don't you understand? You couldn't possibly expect to get a big payday from me. You're just squashing bugs. And quite frankly, I'm sick of being stepped on.

I spun around and joined the fight. Since the Viper was the real threat, the Asp knew it, so it ignored me - which was a mistake. I watched the Viper pound the crap out of the Asp until I saw his engines start to sputter, then finished him off.

"Thanks for you assistance" the Viper pilot said. "You head on somewhere safe, there might be more around."

"Will do, but I'll take that bounty first if you don't mind. I got the kill shot. Check your camera."

I might be a craven little coward, but I'm a GREEDY craven little coward.

well done mossfoot, very entertaining....