Having woken up in a new pod, with my ego bruised, and my pride now almost non-existent, I decided to lick my wounds and get in my Flycatcher, then set up a camp in the pipe leading towards our precious home here in Goonland. As I lay in wait, quietly hoping for some prey to enter my trap, I come to find myself thinking about normal fleets and the fleet I had just taken the pod express back from.
Someone once told me flying a fleet interdictor was doing the Lord’s work. I didn’t much think about it at the time. He wasn’t wrong; fleet ‘dictors seem to be lacking weapons, are usually buffer tanked, and definitely lacking all the utility of one you’d take out for a brawl. “You are not there for the kill,” they tell me. I’d be lying if I said it was anything other than a thankless job. The job is simple: drop bubble and run. Burn away or cloak up—you are not there to fight.
You’re expected to bubble when a bubble is desired, but most of the time you have to use your best judgment. At best, you trap your enemy in the bubble with you, your shiny fleet melts the hapless target, and you all burn free. At worst, you just trapped your entire shiny fleet in a bubble with cyno bait. It’s like being the beheader in feudal Japan. You do the job right, as it is expected, and nothing is said of it. If you miss by a hair and send the head lobbing towards the lord of the house, then you bring yourself shame forever. You’re really only ever as good as your last bubble.
Thoughts of my ‘catcher led me back to the fleet I had just returned from. It was your normal roam. Doctrine fits, everyone was trying to fit into a fleet composition that is balanced enough to win. Unfortunately for me, our fleet composition was off. We had more DPS (damage per second) ships on the field than support. My normal roles of ‘dictor or interceptor were utterly full and the Fleet Commander couldn’t allow it to get anymore skewed less he loses the whole fleet. “Logi or go home,” they said, so I did what I must and reshipped into an Osprey, examined my control panel, and prayed it would all turn out alright. I’ve never flown logistics ships (repair ships) before, but there I was in an Osprey trying to keep the fleet alive. Let me tell you: flying a combat ship can be tricky, but it’s far less tricky than flying logi for your first time.
Any new-bee can orbit around a target and warp disrupt or scramble them. The capacitor chains (linking remote capacitor boosters) between members to keep all of you cap stable. The different anchor than the fleet has. Even anchoring in general really can be daunting when you’re used to being fast tackle. Let me tell you: when you are caught in a logi ship, boy are you caught. These are things a lot of small gang brawlers don’t much think about.
The Chaos of Logistics
I’ll admit, logi never really appealed to me. I thought it was likely a boring squadron of the fleet. I couldn’t have been more wrong. At every step, the enemy dogs you. Every jump the enemy seeks to tackle you. All the while you are managing your capacitor and trying to help others manage theirs. Broadcasts are coming, they need shields, but so do you. No one lives forever, so you make the sacrifice. Boom. Minus one Logi.
Today changed my perspective. Logi are the true unsung heroes of New Eden. Most people thank Logi in the moment. “Thank you so much for keeping me from going pop!” But you don’t find yourself on the killboard. You have no footprint. If you appear nowhere, were you ever really there?
So please everyone, thank the logi next to you. Let them know you appreciate their role in the fleet. If only so they come to the next fleet and you don’t get stuck with a guy like me in the Osprey.
