When the Loot Table Knows Your Lore

I wasn’t expecting anything sentimental from the Winter Nexus loot tables.

SKINs, boosters, the occasional questionable fashion choice—sure. But halfway through clearing another icy site, my cargo scanner chirped and flagged something… odd. I cracked open the container and just stared at the manifest for a long second.

Industrial-sized container of bubble bath.
Concentrated. Viscous. Enough to drown a station in foam.

The shipping label caught my eye next.

Destination: R-AG7W
Sender: A.E.

I laughed out loud in my Endurance.

Of course.

I could picture it instantly—the Keepstar, smothered in bubbles, space turned into a bath toy nightmare while fleets clashed and history happened. Asher’s bubbles. The kind that didn’t pop easily, didn’t wash away, and definitely didn’t get forgotten by anyone who’d lived there when the shields went up.

I drifted there for a moment, letting the memory settle. R-AG had been loud. Chaotic. Home, once. And here I was now, mining festive ice in highsec, holding a joke-in-a-box addressed to a place that no longer felt like it existed in quite the same way.

I secured the container back into my hold, still smiling.

Winter Nexus had a strange sense of humor—digging up old wars, old wounds, and wrapping them in tinsel. Somewhere out there, someone had labeled this thing with intention. Maybe nostalgia. Maybe spite. Maybe just a very specific sense of comedy.

Either way, I carried on. Harvesters cycling. Snow drifting. Bubbles in a box.

New Eden never forgets. It just learns how to laugh about it later.