The barkeep placed my order in front of me, and taking it, I stood to look for a decent place to sit.
There was no denying: I had been somewhat grumpy ever since our WH operation got crippled a few days ago, more than actually warranted by the loss. But I knew a recipe against this mood: find a place with other capsuleers, and just kick back with a drink for a while.
A soft drink, that is. History had shown that inebriation does nothing to ungrumpy a Druur, just to cause her to undock in too-shiny ships.
Finding a nice spot next with a good view over the room, I relaxed and let the sights and sounds wash over me.
Suddenly, the conversation at the table next over caught my ear.
“Wait, say that again: you think that POS refineries are useful?” A young’ish voice.
“That’s what I said.” Old, grizzled. “If you look carefully enough.”
“But why? Even the Intensive array only gives you 75% yield. Why waste 25% by refining at the POS?”
“In a word: Opportunity Cost. Imagine you’re in a wormhole with only sporadic safe connections. Now imagine you don’t get a good connection for a long while, the corp hangars fill up, and you have to go let Grav sites to waste. Depending on the circumstances, these sites you can’t mine can be worth more than the 25% the refinery loses.”
“Hmm, I can see that.” Young voice wasn’t quite convinced yet, though. “But if you have a good connection, or enough hangars, then this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Well..., now you also have look at the time you spend. Let’s say you have enough raw ore that it takes you 8-12 hours to move out of the WH - refined down to minerals, it would take you only an hour. That’s 7 to 11 hours you could have used for mining more, shooting some sleepers - or cuddling with your sweetie.”
“Hey, leave me out of this!” New voice, young, amused.
“But then tell me this: if refining arrays are so good, why isn’t everyone using them?”
“Because of fuel cost.” I could almost see Old Voice smiling. “Running an Intensive refinery costs you 0.2 ISK/m3 of ore, a Medium refinery 0.4 ISK/m3 of ore. That is if you have a suitable tower running anyway. If you set up a tower just for the refinery, the costs would be...” I heard tapping on a padd “... 12.8 ISK/m3 for the Intensive, and 28.1 ISK/m3 for the Medium. And that is before defenses.”
“Riiight...” You could hear the Young Voice’s gears turning. “So depending on the setup I’d have to make sure that my ore is worth more than the fuel. On average, and taking yield into account.”
“Precisely.”
“Ok, I’ll bite.” This was Sweetheart. “How about using a Rorqual to compress the ore?”
Old Voice was unperturbed. “Good question. But keep in mind that a Rorq is a 1 Billion investment: you will have to mine a lot just to pay off that investment. Especially if you’re in a lower-class WH which the Rorq can’t leave. But true - if you know you have the time and/or people, a Rorq could be the better choice. Don’t ask me for numbers on that one, though!”
“You’re no fun!” mocked Sweetheart. “But what then about normal refining arrays - those with 35% yield. Those you will agree are useless.”
“Trying to make my evening difficult, eh?”
“Yup!”
“I should have known.... Right, then. One primary application: Ninja mining. You only need a small tower to run a normal refinery. Actually, you can put two on them, but let’s keep it simple. Just a couple of transports, or an Orca, can transport the tower, refinery, and fuel. Run it of for a few hours or a day, then take it down again. And if it gets popped - heck, it’s cheap.”
“You said ‘in theory’...” Sweetheart. “Let me guess - fuel cost vs. ore price?”
“Right. At the moment...”, more tapping, “... a Ninja refinery would cost 5.2 ISK/m3, so your ore better be worth 16 ISK/m3 or more. Which at the moment applies to all of them - but that changes with the fuel prices, and with how many Ninja POSes you lose. And with how correctly I typed in those numbers. But you get the idea.”
“Fun!” Young Voice, sarcastically. “How do you know when to use which setup, if at all? ...no, wait, I’m going to regret asking this, am I?”
“Spreadsheets, son!” Old Voice was chuckling. “Lots and lots of spreadsheets!”
“God, I hate those. Takes all the fun out of things. - Death To Spreadsheets!”
And I started quietly laughing into my drink.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
16 Months
“no no No No No NO NO!”
A calculator flew threw the air in our common room, impacting the wall right next to the door I just entered through, shattering into dozens of pieces.
I sighed - only one person could get angry enough to violence a harmless piece of corporate machinery...
“Ok, Sis - spit it out.”
“The Oxy-Tope market!”, she bellowed, waving a bundle of spreadsheets at me. I couldn’t read any of the writing from this distance, but the diagrams were visible enough: colorful curves of averages and channels, and all pointing upwards. “Might as well not bother reacting anything,” continued Eta, “by the time it’s done, I can be lucky to just break even. Damn Goons!”
Suddenly I had a strong feeling of deja-vu.
“One sec, before you go any further.” I walked over to her, pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “You are not, by any chance, considering joining Hellfleet again?”
She looked puzzled. “No, why would I? Why do you ask?”
“Nothing,” I waved dismissively, “just checking. Besides I think they closed doors. Anyway, talk to me.”
She leaned back. “You remember the Goon’s new campaign - Goonswarm Shrugged - targetting the Gallente ice miners?”
“Yep. I noticed the Oxy-Tope price wobble somewhat precariously...” - something clicked in my mind - “...oh, that’s the stuff you use.”
“Right. My fuel cost almost doubled - and if the Goons continue their campaign, it may climb even further. Right now there are a few things I can react for profit - but who knows what happens in two months?”
I rubbed my face tiredly. I had just finished a hauling trip to our local market hub, and was actually longing for a shower and my bed. But this took priority.
“Well, how about you switch to a tower using different isotopes?”
“I thought of that.” She tapped onto her console, and a number of tower configurations started flickering over the screen.
“For my purposes, pretty much only the Caldari are suitable - the others don’t have enough CPU.”
I nodded - our corp tower Next Door had the same limitation.
“However,” she continued, “if I go with a plain Caldari, the fuel cost is about the same as my current one. Plus I wouldn’t have the powergrid to anchor proper guns - I’d have to make it a Dick Star and hope for the best.”
She interrupted herself. “Actually, that might not be a bad idea in general.” She made a note to herself, then continued her thought.
“A faction Caldari would reduce the cost, but I’m not sure it would pay itself off in time.”
“I see - so what are you going to do?”
She sighed. “I’ll keep my current towers, maybe try the Dick Star configuration - and wait what happens in two, three months. Besides - did you read this?”
I took the printout she held out, and glanced over it. Then I read it again, and whistled through my teeth.
“Nasty. Capsuleer-Owned Custom Offices - that’ll throw the fuel market into a frenzy.” Possibilities ran through my mind. “We’ll have to reconsider our research POS. Try to pre-produce the gantry materials, and hope that the BPCs get onto the market quickly. And I don’t even want to think about our WH operation...”
“Precisely.” Eta snagged the printout back, crunched it up into a ball and threw it violently into a corner of the room. “We might make some money playing the market at first - but long term?”
“Great.” I slumped into my chair. “Anything else?”
“Well, since you ask...”
I tried to stop her, but she had already entered more commands into her console. The display flickered briefly, and the system started playing a recorded message. According to the time stamp displayed, it had been received just five hours ago, originating from our WH operation. No visual, so it had been sent directly from a ship.
A bad feeling came over me.
A hiss of static, then Lance’ voice became recognizable.
“Hello folks. Unfortunately I have some bad news.
About three hours ago the POS ran out of fuel - right in the middle of our rest period. The reason why we didn’t refuel it in time is because the indicators malfunctioned: we didn’t see anything amiss when we called it a night. But that is only half of it.
One hour ago, a Stealth Bomber and a Battlecruiser attacked the then-offline POS. While they couldn’t break the tower itself, they destroyed both hangars. Our ships are lost, but worse: so are all materials we collected in the last months. Luckily we had made it a habit of sleeping in our ships, otherwise we would have taken the pod express home.
Anyway. We have enough fuel left to power the tower for an hour or two - but I don’t think that’s very useful at this point. So for now we’re just going to hold station, until we hear from you.
Lance out.”
I leaned back, let my head flop over the back of the chair, and closed my eyes. While we had pondered closing down our WH operation before, the loss of the goods had not been part of the plan.
And we had just managed to make back the ISK we lost in the two wars this year!
Eventually Eta softly cleared her throat. “I hear the Tuskers are recruiting?”
I straightened up and looked at her sternly. “Don’t toy with me, Sis! Besides, we both know that I don’t have the right stuff for that!”
“Well, in that case...”, she handed me a calculator, “I suggest that you throw this. It relieves immensely.”
And she was right.
A calculator flew threw the air in our common room, impacting the wall right next to the door I just entered through, shattering into dozens of pieces.
I sighed - only one person could get angry enough to violence a harmless piece of corporate machinery...
“Ok, Sis - spit it out.”
“The Oxy-Tope market!”, she bellowed, waving a bundle of spreadsheets at me. I couldn’t read any of the writing from this distance, but the diagrams were visible enough: colorful curves of averages and channels, and all pointing upwards. “Might as well not bother reacting anything,” continued Eta, “by the time it’s done, I can be lucky to just break even. Damn Goons!”
Suddenly I had a strong feeling of deja-vu.
“One sec, before you go any further.” I walked over to her, pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “You are not, by any chance, considering joining Hellfleet again?”
She looked puzzled. “No, why would I? Why do you ask?”
“Nothing,” I waved dismissively, “just checking. Besides I think they closed doors. Anyway, talk to me.”
She leaned back. “You remember the Goon’s new campaign - Goonswarm Shrugged - targetting the Gallente ice miners?”
“Yep. I noticed the Oxy-Tope price wobble somewhat precariously...” - something clicked in my mind - “...oh, that’s the stuff you use.”
“Right. My fuel cost almost doubled - and if the Goons continue their campaign, it may climb even further. Right now there are a few things I can react for profit - but who knows what happens in two months?”
I rubbed my face tiredly. I had just finished a hauling trip to our local market hub, and was actually longing for a shower and my bed. But this took priority.
“Well, how about you switch to a tower using different isotopes?”
“I thought of that.” She tapped onto her console, and a number of tower configurations started flickering over the screen.
“For my purposes, pretty much only the Caldari are suitable - the others don’t have enough CPU.”
I nodded - our corp tower Next Door had the same limitation.
“However,” she continued, “if I go with a plain Caldari, the fuel cost is about the same as my current one. Plus I wouldn’t have the powergrid to anchor proper guns - I’d have to make it a Dick Star and hope for the best.”
She interrupted herself. “Actually, that might not be a bad idea in general.” She made a note to herself, then continued her thought.
“A faction Caldari would reduce the cost, but I’m not sure it would pay itself off in time.”
“I see - so what are you going to do?”
She sighed. “I’ll keep my current towers, maybe try the Dick Star configuration - and wait what happens in two, three months. Besides - did you read this?”
I took the printout she held out, and glanced over it. Then I read it again, and whistled through my teeth.
“Nasty. Capsuleer-Owned Custom Offices - that’ll throw the fuel market into a frenzy.” Possibilities ran through my mind. “We’ll have to reconsider our research POS. Try to pre-produce the gantry materials, and hope that the BPCs get onto the market quickly. And I don’t even want to think about our WH operation...”
“Precisely.” Eta snagged the printout back, crunched it up into a ball and threw it violently into a corner of the room. “We might make some money playing the market at first - but long term?”
“Great.” I slumped into my chair. “Anything else?”
“Well, since you ask...”
I tried to stop her, but she had already entered more commands into her console. The display flickered briefly, and the system started playing a recorded message. According to the time stamp displayed, it had been received just five hours ago, originating from our WH operation. No visual, so it had been sent directly from a ship.
A bad feeling came over me.
A hiss of static, then Lance’ voice became recognizable.
“Hello folks. Unfortunately I have some bad news.
About three hours ago the POS ran out of fuel - right in the middle of our rest period. The reason why we didn’t refuel it in time is because the indicators malfunctioned: we didn’t see anything amiss when we called it a night. But that is only half of it.
One hour ago, a Stealth Bomber and a Battlecruiser attacked the then-offline POS. While they couldn’t break the tower itself, they destroyed both hangars. Our ships are lost, but worse: so are all materials we collected in the last months. Luckily we had made it a habit of sleeping in our ships, otherwise we would have taken the pod express home.
Anyway. We have enough fuel left to power the tower for an hour or two - but I don’t think that’s very useful at this point. So for now we’re just going to hold station, until we hear from you.
Lance out.”
I leaned back, let my head flop over the back of the chair, and closed my eyes. While we had pondered closing down our WH operation before, the loss of the goods had not been part of the plan.
And we had just managed to make back the ISK we lost in the two wars this year!
Eventually Eta softly cleared her throat. “I hear the Tuskers are recruiting?”
I straightened up and looked at her sternly. “Don’t toy with me, Sis! Besides, we both know that I don’t have the right stuff for that!”
“Well, in that case...”, she handed me a calculator, “I suggest that you throw this. It relieves immensely.”
And she was right.
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