EVE – A Pixel Nomad

[EVE] Signal, Received

I’ve never been very good at asking for things.

Signal Cartel makes it clear, of course. There are steps. Three ranks. Member, C1, C2. Clean. Logical. Earned. C2 is the threshold — the point where doors like Anoikis Division stop being distant ideas and start feeling possible. Someday, I want to walk through one of those doors.

But wanting something and asking for it are two very different skills.

I waited my thirty days as C1. I stayed active. I scanned, mapped, helped where I could. Nothing flashy. No big hero moments. Just showing up, over and over, hoping that counted for something. Still, when it came time to write the message, my hands hesitated over the console longer than I’d like to admit.

Why do you want C2?

Because I believe in this place. Because exploration feels like home. Because I want to give more than I take. I tried to put that into words without overselling it, without sounding like someone I’m not. Then I sent the message off to Aldar Roanaok and told myself not to obsess over it.

I absolutely obsessed over it.

Today, the response came back.

C2 approved.

Just like that. A few words on a screen, and suddenly the weight I’d been carrying slipped away. Relief first — deep and grounding — then excitement, warm and bright and almost surprising in its intensity. I sat there smiling at nothing, stars drifting past the viewport, feeling quietly seen.

This isn’t the end of anything. If anything, it feels like the real beginning. There’s more to learn, more to do, more ways to serve the strange, kind, careful people who call Tranquility home.

I’m still subdued. Still the same explorer who would rather scan than speak.
But tonight, I let myself feel proud.

Fly your way,
E

[EVE] Morning Calculations

Mornings in space are mostly imaginary, but I still mark them. Coffee helps with that. One mug, drifting in a freeport, starfield slowly turning outside the viewport while my hangar inventory stares back at me like it’s judging my life choices.

The Helios sits there, familiar and unassuming. Cheap. Reliable. Invisible in the way that matters most in J-space. It has carried me through more wormholes than I can count, slipped past more dangers than it ever had any right to. No one looks twice at a Helios. That’s the point.

And yet.

Right below it, in the market listings, is the Odysseus.

Sleek. New. Expensive in that quiet way that doesn’t scream wealth, but definitely suggests it. I can afford it — that isn’t the problem. The ISK is there, waiting, whispering that ships are meant to be flown, not admired from a distance.

The problem is attention.

J-space notices things. It notices hulls that don’t quite belong, silhouettes that linger a little too long on d-scan. The Odysseus feels like an invitation to be curious about me, and curiosity out here can get you killed. I like being forgettable. I like being just another scanner passing through.

Still… the temptation lingers. Better performance. Better comfort. A small luxury in a life that’s mostly careful restraint.

I sip my coffee and tell myself there’s no rush. The Helios hasn’t failed me yet. But I don’t close the market window either.

Some decisions don’t need to be made right away. Sometimes it’s enough to just sit with them, coffee cooling in hand, stars turning slowly, and let the universe watch you hesitate.

Fly your way,
E

[EVE] Borrowed Ground

I’ve lived out of a freeport in Anoikis for years now. Long enough to know the rhythms of J-space, long enough to stop pretending that walls mean safety. In wormholes, nothing is permanent—just borrowed.

So when Hard Knocks evicted the Signal Cartel Anoikis Division, I wasn’t shocked. Even knowing it was SC’s first eviction in years, even knowing how careful AD is. That’s the truth of wormhole life: no matter how prepared, how principled, how well-loved you are… you’re never immune. Eviction is just part of the territory.

It still stung.

I know what it feels like to lose a home. I’ve watched asset safety timers tick down while a region I once lived in burned behind me. I’ve been pushed out of space before—Dronelands, back when I wore Horde colors—and that kind of loss leaves a mark.

AD has always meant something to me. The idea of one day earning my place there, after serving my time in Signal Cartel, has lived quietly in my thoughts for a long while. Not as ambition, exactly. More like a north star. So watching them lose a home hurt in that deep, familiar way you feel when good people are tested by a harsh universe.

But if there’s one thing SC does better than almost anyone, it’s how we respond.

Members came together. There were hugs, quiet check-ins, logistics handled with practiced calm. And yes—fireworks. There are always fireworks with Signal Cartel. Bright, defiant flashes against the dark, because even when we lose a structure, we don’t lose who we are.

We stood for the Credo.

In the end, the hole went quiet again. Another system reclaimed by the void, another reminder etched into memory. Homes in Anoikis are temporary. Ideals aren’t.

Tomorrow, I’ll scan again.

[EVE] Dressing Up

I was half-paying attention when I cracked open the next Winter Nexus prize box.

That’s usually how it goes—expecting boosters, maybe a filament, something practical. Instead, my overview blinked and my inventory populated with something that made me stop cold.

A Men’s Rubedo Richesse Jacket.

I stared at it for a second, then checked the market. Then checked it again, just to be sure I hadn’t misread a decimal or imagined an extra zero. Nope. Very real. Very red. Very fashionable. Very much worth over a hundred million isk.

I snorted. Of course the universe would hand me couture.

There was absolutely no scenario where I was going to wear it. I live in j-space, I smell faintly of gas clouds, and my idea of “dressing up” is remembering to insure my ship. So I did the sensible thing: packed it up carefully and sent it off to my hauler friend with a short note that translated roughly to please turn this into liquid isk before I do something irresponsible.

They were clear across the cluster, but that’s never stopped them before. A quick confirmation ping came back: Gallente-bound, watchful of gankers, all very routine for something that shiny.

I went back to chasing snowstorms and ice chunks, feeling faintly amused. Somewhere out there, a very expensive jacket was about to change hands, and it all started because I clicked a box while distracted.

Winter Nexus really does have a sense of humor.

Fly clever, indeed.

[EVE] Winter Nexus Continued

I didn’t want to leave j-space.

That’s the important part. I was perfectly happy drifting between quiet systems, scanning signatures that didn’t belong to anyone yet, pretending the rest of New Eden was a very loud rumor. But the Winter Nexus blinked at me from the Agency window like it knew exactly how weak my resolve was.

The rewards were just… unfairly good.

So I sighed, packed up my bookmarks, and pointed my ship back toward highsec once more, muttering something unkind about seasonal events and my complete lack of self-control.

I ended up in an ice site that felt less like serene winter mining and more like a very cold traffic jam. Seven other Endurances were already there, orbiting chunks of volatile ice like overly polite vultures. Lasers flared. Cargo holds filled at glacial speeds. Every time a rock cracked, half the fleet lunged for the next one like it owed them money.

This was not the quiet, contemplative ice mining I’d imagined.

I jostled for position, trying to keep my Endurance from bumping another hull, all while watching the ice evaporate faster than my patience. Local chat was alive with forced cheer and passive-aggressive “o7”s. Somewhere deep in my soul, a wormhole sighed.

I missed j-space. I missed being alone. I missed knowing that if someone showed up on d-scan, it meant something.

Still, the ice went into my hold. The progress bar ticked forward. And as much as I hated to admit it, I knew I’d do this again tomorrow.

Because the universe might be chaotic, loud, and occasionally packed with far too many Endurances—but it also knew exactly how to tempt me back out of my comfort zone.

And apparently, I was still falling for it.