Reflecting on Failure: Slavery is Thriving in Robigo
09 Jan 2016Anubite
About 6 months ago I ended my month-long assault on the exploration community goal for the Sirius Corporation in Lembava. It was strongly promoted by CEO Li Yong Rui as an endeavor for mankind's dream of expanding ever farther into the frontier using the proven engines of capitalism as propulsion.An insider at the company informed me of the out-of-bubble exportation of prisoners from the surprisingly numerous prison colonies in Sirius space. Fearing the worst, I investigated one of the colonies and followed the wakes of a freighter while disguised as a rear escort. Upon reaching their destination, I scanned its contents and made a break for home. In the mere time it took to make 16 jumps, the prisoners had been set up and labeled for sale into slavery. Something had to be done.
Enraged, I did the only thing the tools I had allowed. I kit my Orca for war. It was easy, too easy honestly, but it was for the best of reasons, I believed. So common was it for them to remain still after interdiction, I started to salivate at each beautiful target presenting itself. One broadside and away went their shields and half their hull, my armaments, speed, and mass lock doing the rest.
I killed CMDR after CMDR, the blood of dozens staining my yellow hull a dark red. I almost lost myself, to be honest. A sane individual can only kill in this manner so much before their mental state begins to degrade. These explorers didn't know what was going on. I found myself role-playing the Orca, eating the fish and clubbing the seals. Perhaps the only thing that kept my sanity was ensuring the survival of the mostly harmless and asking them to tell the people at Goldstein Port who I was, why I was laying waste.
Many hunters tried to claim the bounty on my head, believing my actions to be that of a madman. My temporary loss of professionalism added to the case against my word. One guy began to call himself CMDR Ahab and swore his new motivation was to grind the cash to afford to kill the spacewhale. He was apparently losing himself as well.
I made the mistake of accepting the challenge of a Battle-Annie pilot to prove I was not a chicken. I didn't scan his sub-targets likely due to complacency; he was pure shield with all gimbled lasers, a pair of them being cytoscramblers. I danced around him for a bit, ramming and unloading my guns, but when that nose looked at me I was hit like a train. A cold sense of mortality began to cloud my vision and I fumbled maneuvers to safely turn off an SCB that disables my FSD. Tail between legs, every possible module malfunctioning and thrusters nearly shot, I escaped with 8% hull. At this point, united in the many and bolstered by my near death, multiple wings swarmed around me and I could no longer capture, let alone kill, passing explorers before being interdicted myself.
It was time to retire, I could do no more. I only hoped that the full tier of data I deleted would spare some souls if the trade took hold. Perhaps I retired too early. Perhaps I did too little. Maybe slaughter was not the right course. If only I had hard evidence. Alas...
A golden route was found in the crowd-source, and the Robigo Run was born. It is now the most lucrative and entrenched slave trade in all of history, such that only a professional navy could be capable of putting an end to the misery.