Saturday, June 29, 2013
Carl Sandburg once said, "To be a good loser is to learn how to win"
By this criteria, not only am I not a winner, I am not even a good loser.
Earlier today, I made a conscious decision to pack my meager belongings in my zippered station issue "velize" and get the "HELL OUTTA DODGE".
Pator tech station in HEILD, once my beloved home away from home and sometimes revered sanctuary, holds nothing but grim reminders of my collosal failings as a PvPing capsuleer.
My quarters are littered with reams and reams of computer printouts documenting upgraded clone procedures and insurance payouts for ships lost while performing my duties.
Did I mention I perform them badly?
There are copies of letters I have written to loved ones of crew members who have been lost while serving under my tutelage on ships that many mockingly christen "TITANIC" behind my back.
My invitations to the best parties are being retracted at record pace and are sent registered mail!
None of my "love interests" will return my calls and local proprietors no longer see fit to wait on me personally, choosing instead to have their associates handle my business.
The universe does love a winner. Losers, not so much.
My dwindling supply of ships also pays ready testament to the fact that I am currently behind the proverbial eight ball.
Thank New Eden deities that I am wealthy beyond belief or I would surely be in dire straits.
My God in Heaven things have been tough.
I have been pounded harder than my new Invader V3 drum practice pad. (I highly recommend this pad along with the drummers bible "STICK CONTROL", the venerable classic by George Lawrence Stone. A year with this thing and Joe Morello's spirit will be looking over his shoulder.)
I need to clear my head.
Drink, floozies, designer drugs, cigarettes, and unmarked ISK in canvas bags no longer take my mind off my shortcomings.
A change of scenery is called for as well as an attitude adjustment.
Who said, To thine own self be true?
I stink. That is a "true".
As my deeply disturbed cousin "Tornillo" Torres used to say to me after beating me 30 straight times at the card game "HEARTS" while we waited to be processed at the Juvenile facility for incorrigibles in my birth system, "Lhorenzho, NO SOPLAS para nada vato!".
YOU SUCK AT EVERYTHING DUDE!
The MOLDEN HEATH area has not treated me kindly as of late and his fateful words are starting to ring prophetic yet again.
I hate you PRIMO!!
(He is only my second cousin.)
Yes, things have turned sour for me here in HEILD.
Who said when life hands you sour lemons you make lemonade?
Fuck that guy! It is not quite that easy now is it?
When I start to resent MOLDEN HEATH, a place I have always held dear to my heart, its time to make a change.
The HEATH is now replete with bad karma and I do not want to associate HEILD with any feelings of inadequacy and failure.
The worm will not turn until I make it so.
I have encountered surly, unaccomadating marketplace proprietors, love interests who either don't know of or purposely choose to remain oblivious to my existence, overly aggressive blobbers and faggoty ECMers, and I have had the misfortune of encountering a series of PvP solo savants that have put such a collective whipping on my ass that it has set my EVE proficiency and development back a year.
How do I know they were PVP prodigys?
Well, they were SAVANTS to me and that's all that matters.
Its all relative.
They comprised my own hellish "murderers row" of opponents. (see 1927 NY Yankees)
In those harrowing encounters, I was the gangly rookie pitcher with a 67 MPH fastball and they, these fucking SOLO Savants, were the sultans of swat, the mighty Babe Ruth.
Each and everyone of those little fuckers pointed to deep center field and called their shot!
Lhorenzho's pod in the 90 cent bleachers.
WHACK!!!! Hello clone vat!
BASTARDS!
To say that I have been going through a rough patch in game would be an understatement.
As my dear uncle Pierdemucho used to say after a heavy day of gambling losses at the Jai Alai courts in Tijuana..."Que chinga me metieron hoy Lencho!"
It may be in my genes to lose, but I must play this hand out to be sure.
I have made one bad decision after another in my PVP encounters and the disheartening results have impacted my psyche much worse than I expected.
I have generally been very resilient in the past and have always "bounced back" like a champ after a streak of bad luck, but of late, I have noticed a different trend.
I go down and I stay down, like some badly scarred, cauliflower eared fighter who needs a quick paycheck.
I am Gilbert Glassjaw, sprawled on the canvass, surreptitiously opening one eye and peeking at the referee as he tolls the count.
Just count to 10 ref and hurry!
I got a bottle of whiskey and an envelope waiting for me.
No more pride.
Frankly, my confidence is shot.
I no longer believe I can beat ANYBODY!
Without a belief in yourself, you are doomed to certain failure as a PVPer in New Eden.
Few will disagree with that conclusion.
How many self help books have been written driving home that very point?
You have to believe you have a shot at beating the guy or gal in your overview.
When you spit out your mouthpiece and fall prostrate on the celestial canvas at the sight of the first flashy red then you know you have reached an unappealing watershed period in your pirate life.
You don't want to be in that place.
Where are your HUEVOS Cabron??
The last fight I was in I was so nervous that I know my eyes were wider than MICHAEL SPINK'S eyes were just before the start of round 1 in his clash with the fearsome Mike Tyson in his prime.
Like with SPINKS, the question was not, would I get popped, but rather how long would I last before my corpse woud be floating in the freezing darkness of space.
What the fuck happened to me?
Did my penchant for CYNO popping ruin me?
Targets that shoot back on a regular basis are tough!
WTF!
Could I have suddenly aged to the point that my reflexes are shot?
I am going to be 62 years old in August?
Many athletes suddenly lose it and often with little warning.
We New Eden pirates are a type of "athlete" are we not?
Food for thought?
Back to my problems.
A 3 month old noob player in a Catalyst took my Executioner out yesterday because I blundered badly.
I have become a "stepping stone" for young warriors.
I have been patronized a lot lately by corpies and friends but nothing hurt like that Catalyst flying noob making excuses for ME!!
"If we fought 10 times you would win 9", he said to me with pity in his voice!
Even my normally supportive CEO, Miura Bull, was strangely quiet when I relayed the results of that travesty to him in corp chat.
He claims he does not care about KILLBOARDS or Efficiency ratings.
His silence at hearing my tale says otherwise.
I am certain my losing streak has him concerned.
Dammit, my hands are tied.
I gotta leave town!
I cannot look anyone in the eye anymore.
I have to go somewhere and rehabilitate my combat style and abilities.
Mental imagery, positive reinforcement, mega-doses of vitamins, high colonics, and clone cleansings are mandated.
It's the only way.
Only when I can make a triumphant re-entry will I return to MOLDEN HEATH.
I must be like the great general MacArthur! I shall return!!
(If I owe you money you might want to collect as I could be gone a long time)
Sounds like a good plan. NO?
Yes, I think so.
I have put my plan into action.
I am proud of myself for initiating the healing process.
I have recently JC'd out of Heild and made my way back to Placid and set up operations, at least temporarily, out of the Pelille system, a locale once utilized by a former CORP of mine.
Unfortunately, I did not have a clone in Pelille intself to jump into, so I elected to JC to AMAMAKE.
The dangerous and deadly AMAMAKE!
The last place you would expect to find the "COWARD OF THE COUNTY!"
(I still owe you and your buddies one KATE MOSH you punk!)
I fought my inner demons and fears and went to AMA.
The plan was to use AMAMAKE as a springboard to make the remaining 27 or so gate jumps ending at the Duvolle station in Pelille.
I am already feeling better about myself.
Having made the decision to "help myself" and forego expensive therapy has proven palliative.
After I JC'd from Heild to Ama, I settled into a comfortable rifter I keep in AMA for occasions just like this one, and made the trek to Placid.
It was a good trip and I was in a contemplative mood and state the whole way.
It was only a start. A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step right?
I wish I could tell you that I experienced a transformative eye opening epiphany on my journey to Pelille.
I cannot.
Was this my "ROAD TO DAMASCUS"?
NO!
No thunderbolt out of the heavens suddenly put me at the top of the BATTLECLINIC rankings.
There was only the hum of my rifters engine.
I passed the time reading Dr. Phil's latest and scrutinizing the SCREAMING HAYABUSA Killboard.
Somewhere in that mass of numbers was the answer to my problem.
Row after Row of cyno noobship kills were listed for one Lhorenzho.
A lead? Maybe.
I did not have the stomach to review the LOSSES column!
Clearly, I have a long row to hoe.
Wish me luck dear friends.
We will see how it turns out.
One last quick narrative before I close, because it touches at least peripherally on the discussion above.
On that last leg from AMA to Pelille, I did make a stop in OYONATA system for supplies and to stretch my legs a little more comfortably than is permitted by my Rifter.
While doing some minor reconnaisance prior to docking at the top station, I encountered a young pirate named VALATIE, who was tooling around in a scary little Tristan.
Needless to say in my current state, the last thing I wanted to do was lock horns with this fellow. Yes, my fucking eyes were wide!!!
At one point, I ran into him in a system acceleration gate and while dawdling was suddenly set upon by what seemed like an army of drones.
Does a Tristan hold 50 drones?
It certainly seemed so to me.
Perhaps the bending of time and space created a visual distortion?
In any event, I tucked tail and beat a hasty retreat and once safed up, I did what many of us do in game, especially after a fright, I opened up his BIO and read.
I followed some of his links and soon found myself watching a string of Videos he had posted.
Apparently, the kid is some kind of PVP Savant!
Another FUCKING SAVANT!
(I told you my luck is rotten!!!)
Several of the titles listed caught my eye.
One in particular made me stop in my tracks.
He had a video on maximizing the efficiency of your UI!!
Caramba, just what I needed.
Well, one of the things on my long list anyway.
(I also have a 12 step process I have to adhere to, but that is another story.)
I watched the video 5 times and then applied its sage advice and tips to my own UI.
I know this UI change will set me back even further for a spell.
As most of you know, having an instantaneous reaction time in New Eden combat is pivotal and often this reaction time depends on how quickly you respond to combat stimuli without having to think about your actions.
Your moves and reactions must invariably be instinctive and second nature.
This ability to react is of course aided by muscle memory and training.
Changing my UI will undermine my reactions and procedures in the short term, but I am hopeful that in the long run my ability to deal with an opponent will be greatly enhanced by these changes.
The young SAVANT was congenial and very approachable and did not hesitate to impart any of his hard won knowledge.
Most PVP virtuosity is paid for in blood as most of you know.
Often times MY fucking blood!
I thank you young VALATIE!
Finally, a shout out to my good buddy Ronen Marin.
Sorry I haven't had the chance to talk to you lately buddy but I intend to rectify that soon.
Remember, you are not in KANSAS anymore!
By this criteria, not only am I not a winner, I am not even a good loser.
Earlier today, I made a conscious decision to pack my meager belongings in my zippered station issue "velize" and get the "HELL OUTTA DODGE".
Pator tech station in HEILD, once my beloved home away from home and sometimes revered sanctuary, holds nothing but grim reminders of my collosal failings as a PvPing capsuleer.
My quarters are littered with reams and reams of computer printouts documenting upgraded clone procedures and insurance payouts for ships lost while performing my duties.
Did I mention I perform them badly?
There are copies of letters I have written to loved ones of crew members who have been lost while serving under my tutelage on ships that many mockingly christen "TITANIC" behind my back.
My invitations to the best parties are being retracted at record pace and are sent registered mail!
None of my "love interests" will return my calls and local proprietors no longer see fit to wait on me personally, choosing instead to have their associates handle my business.
The universe does love a winner. Losers, not so much.
My dwindling supply of ships also pays ready testament to the fact that I am currently behind the proverbial eight ball.
Thank New Eden deities that I am wealthy beyond belief or I would surely be in dire straits.
My God in Heaven things have been tough.
I have been pounded harder than my new Invader V3 drum practice pad. (I highly recommend this pad along with the drummers bible "STICK CONTROL", the venerable classic by George Lawrence Stone. A year with this thing and Joe Morello's spirit will be looking over his shoulder.)
I need to clear my head.
Drink, floozies, designer drugs, cigarettes, and unmarked ISK in canvas bags no longer take my mind off my shortcomings.
A change of scenery is called for as well as an attitude adjustment.
Who said, To thine own self be true?
I stink. That is a "true".
As my deeply disturbed cousin "Tornillo" Torres used to say to me after beating me 30 straight times at the card game "HEARTS" while we waited to be processed at the Juvenile facility for incorrigibles in my birth system, "Lhorenzho, NO SOPLAS para nada vato!".
YOU SUCK AT EVERYTHING DUDE!
The MOLDEN HEATH area has not treated me kindly as of late and his fateful words are starting to ring prophetic yet again.
I hate you PRIMO!!
(He is only my second cousin.)
Yes, things have turned sour for me here in HEILD.
Who said when life hands you sour lemons you make lemonade?
Fuck that guy! It is not quite that easy now is it?
When I start to resent MOLDEN HEATH, a place I have always held dear to my heart, its time to make a change.
The HEATH is now replete with bad karma and I do not want to associate HEILD with any feelings of inadequacy and failure.
The worm will not turn until I make it so.
I have encountered surly, unaccomadating marketplace proprietors, love interests who either don't know of or purposely choose to remain oblivious to my existence, overly aggressive blobbers and faggoty ECMers, and I have had the misfortune of encountering a series of PvP solo savants that have put such a collective whipping on my ass that it has set my EVE proficiency and development back a year.
How do I know they were PVP prodigys?
Well, they were SAVANTS to me and that's all that matters.
Its all relative.
They comprised my own hellish "murderers row" of opponents. (see 1927 NY Yankees)
In those harrowing encounters, I was the gangly rookie pitcher with a 67 MPH fastball and they, these fucking SOLO Savants, were the sultans of swat, the mighty Babe Ruth.
Each and everyone of those little fuckers pointed to deep center field and called their shot!
Lhorenzho's pod in the 90 cent bleachers.
WHACK!!!! Hello clone vat!
BASTARDS!
To say that I have been going through a rough patch in game would be an understatement.
As my dear uncle Pierdemucho used to say after a heavy day of gambling losses at the Jai Alai courts in Tijuana..."Que chinga me metieron hoy Lencho!"
It may be in my genes to lose, but I must play this hand out to be sure.
I have made one bad decision after another in my PVP encounters and the disheartening results have impacted my psyche much worse than I expected.
I have generally been very resilient in the past and have always "bounced back" like a champ after a streak of bad luck, but of late, I have noticed a different trend.
I go down and I stay down, like some badly scarred, cauliflower eared fighter who needs a quick paycheck.
I am Gilbert Glassjaw, sprawled on the canvass, surreptitiously opening one eye and peeking at the referee as he tolls the count.
Just count to 10 ref and hurry!
I got a bottle of whiskey and an envelope waiting for me.
No more pride.
Frankly, my confidence is shot.
I no longer believe I can beat ANYBODY!
Without a belief in yourself, you are doomed to certain failure as a PVPer in New Eden.
Few will disagree with that conclusion.
How many self help books have been written driving home that very point?
You have to believe you have a shot at beating the guy or gal in your overview.
When you spit out your mouthpiece and fall prostrate on the celestial canvas at the sight of the first flashy red then you know you have reached an unappealing watershed period in your pirate life.
You don't want to be in that place.
Where are your HUEVOS Cabron??
The last fight I was in I was so nervous that I know my eyes were wider than MICHAEL SPINK'S eyes were just before the start of round 1 in his clash with the fearsome Mike Tyson in his prime.
Like with SPINKS, the question was not, would I get popped, but rather how long would I last before my corpse woud be floating in the freezing darkness of space.
What the fuck happened to me?
Did my penchant for CYNO popping ruin me?
Targets that shoot back on a regular basis are tough!
WTF!
Could I have suddenly aged to the point that my reflexes are shot?
I am going to be 62 years old in August?
Many athletes suddenly lose it and often with little warning.
We New Eden pirates are a type of "athlete" are we not?
Food for thought?
Back to my problems.
A 3 month old noob player in a Catalyst took my Executioner out yesterday because I blundered badly.
I have become a "stepping stone" for young warriors.
I have been patronized a lot lately by corpies and friends but nothing hurt like that Catalyst flying noob making excuses for ME!!
"If we fought 10 times you would win 9", he said to me with pity in his voice!
Even my normally supportive CEO, Miura Bull, was strangely quiet when I relayed the results of that travesty to him in corp chat.
He claims he does not care about KILLBOARDS or Efficiency ratings.
His silence at hearing my tale says otherwise.
I am certain my losing streak has him concerned.
Dammit, my hands are tied.
I gotta leave town!
I cannot look anyone in the eye anymore.
I have to go somewhere and rehabilitate my combat style and abilities.
Mental imagery, positive reinforcement, mega-doses of vitamins, high colonics, and clone cleansings are mandated.
It's the only way.
Only when I can make a triumphant re-entry will I return to MOLDEN HEATH.
I must be like the great general MacArthur! I shall return!!
(If I owe you money you might want to collect as I could be gone a long time)
Sounds like a good plan. NO?
Yes, I think so.
I have put my plan into action.
I am proud of myself for initiating the healing process.
I have recently JC'd out of Heild and made my way back to Placid and set up operations, at least temporarily, out of the Pelille system, a locale once utilized by a former CORP of mine.
Unfortunately, I did not have a clone in Pelille intself to jump into, so I elected to JC to AMAMAKE.
The dangerous and deadly AMAMAKE!
The last place you would expect to find the "COWARD OF THE COUNTY!"
(I still owe you and your buddies one KATE MOSH you punk!)
I fought my inner demons and fears and went to AMA.
The plan was to use AMAMAKE as a springboard to make the remaining 27 or so gate jumps ending at the Duvolle station in Pelille.
I am already feeling better about myself.
Having made the decision to "help myself" and forego expensive therapy has proven palliative.
After I JC'd from Heild to Ama, I settled into a comfortable rifter I keep in AMA for occasions just like this one, and made the trek to Placid.
It was a good trip and I was in a contemplative mood and state the whole way.
It was only a start. A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step right?
I wish I could tell you that I experienced a transformative eye opening epiphany on my journey to Pelille.
I cannot.
Was this my "ROAD TO DAMASCUS"?
NO!
No thunderbolt out of the heavens suddenly put me at the top of the BATTLECLINIC rankings.
There was only the hum of my rifters engine.
I passed the time reading Dr. Phil's latest and scrutinizing the SCREAMING HAYABUSA Killboard.
Somewhere in that mass of numbers was the answer to my problem.
Row after Row of cyno noobship kills were listed for one Lhorenzho.
A lead? Maybe.
I did not have the stomach to review the LOSSES column!
Clearly, I have a long row to hoe.
Wish me luck dear friends.
We will see how it turns out.
One last quick narrative before I close, because it touches at least peripherally on the discussion above.
On that last leg from AMA to Pelille, I did make a stop in OYONATA system for supplies and to stretch my legs a little more comfortably than is permitted by my Rifter.
While doing some minor reconnaisance prior to docking at the top station, I encountered a young pirate named VALATIE, who was tooling around in a scary little Tristan.
Needless to say in my current state, the last thing I wanted to do was lock horns with this fellow. Yes, my fucking eyes were wide!!!
At one point, I ran into him in a system acceleration gate and while dawdling was suddenly set upon by what seemed like an army of drones.
Does a Tristan hold 50 drones?
It certainly seemed so to me.
Perhaps the bending of time and space created a visual distortion?
In any event, I tucked tail and beat a hasty retreat and once safed up, I did what many of us do in game, especially after a fright, I opened up his BIO and read.
I followed some of his links and soon found myself watching a string of Videos he had posted.
Apparently, the kid is some kind of PVP Savant!
Another FUCKING SAVANT!
(I told you my luck is rotten!!!)
Several of the titles listed caught my eye.
One in particular made me stop in my tracks.
He had a video on maximizing the efficiency of your UI!!
Caramba, just what I needed.
Well, one of the things on my long list anyway.
(I also have a 12 step process I have to adhere to, but that is another story.)
I watched the video 5 times and then applied its sage advice and tips to my own UI.
I know this UI change will set me back even further for a spell.
As most of you know, having an instantaneous reaction time in New Eden combat is pivotal and often this reaction time depends on how quickly you respond to combat stimuli without having to think about your actions.
Your moves and reactions must invariably be instinctive and second nature.
This ability to react is of course aided by muscle memory and training.
Changing my UI will undermine my reactions and procedures in the short term, but I am hopeful that in the long run my ability to deal with an opponent will be greatly enhanced by these changes.
The young SAVANT was congenial and very approachable and did not hesitate to impart any of his hard won knowledge.
Most PVP virtuosity is paid for in blood as most of you know.
Often times MY fucking blood!
I thank you young VALATIE!
Finally, a shout out to my good buddy Ronen Marin.
Sorry I haven't had the chance to talk to you lately buddy but I intend to rectify that soon.
Remember, you are not in KANSAS anymore!
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