A Pixel Nomad

Filed by E

I like nomading. There’s something about logging off in jspace — no commute, no alarms, just a quiet ship in a wormhole — that feels like proper capsuleer therapy. So when I logged back in last night and found myself parked beside a C13 (a shattered wormhole, for those of you who don’t collect nightmares in your spare time), I shrugged, launched probes, and went looking for curiosities.

Jspace is indulgent that way. I poked at relic sites, harvested a couple of signatures that looked like they’d forgotten to bother anyone, and then, because I’m indecisive and the universe rewards whimsy, I popped into a random C1–C3 chain. Probes out, Allison (my little AI who nags me about d-scan and occasionally judges my fashion choices) narrated the system like a bored tour guide: “Two anomalies. One magnetometric. Local: 1.”

Then Allison paused. Her tone was the kind that makes you sit up — professional, soft, and alarmed.
“Dispatcher ping detected. There is a pilot in this system requesting rescue.”

My heart did a small, delighted flip. Signal Cartel’s Locator/Rescue service is one of those tiny corners of EVE I’ve admired from afar: polite people who will patiently route you back to safety when you forgot probes, forgot to bookmark an exit, or the wormhole closed like a door behind you. I’ve read the posts, sighed at the screenshots, and thought, one day I’ll join them.

Tonight, apparently, “one day” was tonight.

A Dispatcher messaged me, calm and brisk. They asked for my position, what connections I could see, and whether I’d be comfortable scanning the system for an exit. Comfortable? Absolutely. Scanning felt less like work and more like being handed a treasure map and told not to be rubbish at it.

I found the High-sec connection tucked behind a magnetometric signature — lucky for the stranded pilot, lucky for me, since logging out in jspace meant there was no clear breadcrumb trail left behind. I pinged the coordinates and handed off the details. The Dispatcher said thank you, and then their team took over: the actual, dramatic rescue part. That part is their art. Mine was the breadcrumb.

They told me later that the pilot was local, frightened but calm, and very, very relieved to see the bridge show up on their overview. I smiled in the dark, absurdly proud — the sort of pride you get from helping someone find the restroom in a crowded station. Tiny, meaningful, and wholly disproportionate to the effort.

It was my first ever Locator event. I sat in my astero afterward, watching the wormhole blink and pulse, a dozen certs of curiosity still floating on my scanner. I felt like an explorer who’d accidentally done a good deed.

This is the tiny gameplay I love — the hush between pings where someone gets unstuck and goes home. I hope the pilot who was rescued had a warm cup of something when they reached highsec, and I hope I get to do it again. If you’re ever stranded and too proud to ask, Signal Cartel 911 exists for exactly that reason. Probes are useful. Bookmarks are better. But if all else fails, someone in a quiet channel will help.

Fly your way. o7

My name’s E — short, simple, and probably a lot easier to remember than the number string CONCORD assigned me back in 2009. I’ve been a capsuleer for quite a while now, most of that time spent in the gentle hum of highsec, scanning, mining, running the occasional mission, and generally doing my best not to get blown up.

For a long time, I thought nullsec was just too chaotic for me. Then, a few years ago, I joined Pandemic Horde, and found out I was absolutely right — but I loved every second of it.

I lived through a handful of deployments, an uncountable number of pings, and more fleet doctrines than I can remember (though I’m pretty sure half of them involved Maelstroms). I saw Keepstars rise, fall, and sometimes just… vanish overnight. It was loud, confusing, and completely unforgettable.

But lately, things have been different. Corporations leaving. Friends scattering. Leadership changing hands. The comms are quieter, and the old familiar hum of life in Horde space has faded. It’s been a good run — I learned how to survive, how to adapt — but I think it’s time for me to follow a different signal.

So I’ve gone back to what I’ve always loved most: exploration.

There’s nothing quite like the calm of scanning down signatures, chasing relics through forgotten wormholes, or watching the nebulae swirl as I align to some unknown star. It’s quiet work, but it feels right.

That’s what brought me to Signal Cartel — a home for explorers, rescuers, and the kind of people who see the best in New Eden even when the rest of it’s on fire. I’d rather help another pilot find their way than fight them for it.

If you see me out there scanning in some backwater system, say hi. I’ll probably be the one humming to myself while trying to remember which button launches probes and which one warps me straight into a sun.

Fly your way,
E