In the sprawling, ever-complicated politics of New Eden, there’s one constant: eventually, someone will ask you to set someone else blue.
Maybe it’s a favor. Maybe it’s “good for content.” Maybe it’s a backroom alliance deal negotiated by someone five jumps removed from the front lines. The logic is always the same — fewer fights, fewer surprises, fewer threats.
For some, that makes sense. For pirates like us, it’s the beginning of the end.
At Echoes of the Hollow, we don’t blue everyone. We don’t want to. That’s not just a tactical choice — it’s a matter of principle. We believe that piracy, real piracy, demands a certain level of chaos. It thrives on distrust. It lives in the space between diplomacy and destruction. And when you start handing out blue standings like candy on Halloween, you smother the very thing that makes low-sec fun: the unknown.
The Comfortable Lie of Blue Donuts
Let’s talk about the blue donut.
If you’ve been around New Eden long enough, you’ve heard the term — a massive web of mutual non-aggression pacts, coalitions, alliances, and gentleman’s agreements that reduce large swaths of the game into no-shoot zones. The intention is usually defensive: “We just want to secure our space,” or “We’re tired of third parties crashing our fights.”
But the effect is always the same: a slow, creeping death of spontaneity. Roams become logistics. Hunting becomes politics. And PvP — the messy, bloody, glorious heart of EVE — becomes a scheduled activity in someone else’s spreadsheet.
We’ve all seen it. Null-sec blocs where 500-man fleets spend more time waiting for bridge pings than actually fighting. Wormhole groups so interconnected by out-of-game deals that the most dangerous thing you’ll encounter is boredom.
Sure, it’s stable. Sure, it’s “efficient.” But is it fun?
Is that the EVE you logged in for?
Because it’s not the EVE we signed up to play.
The Pirate’s Perspective: Why We Choose Red
At Echoes of the Hollow, we live by a simpler code: shoot first, ask nothing. It’s not just about being bloodthirsty — it’s about embracing the full, unpredictable nature of low-sec life.
We don’t blue because it dulls the edge.
We want to log in and know that danger is everywhere — and that we are part of that danger. We want every neutral in local to be a potential fight, every gate activation a chance to spring a trap or spring into one. That’s not madness. That’s EVE at its most alive.
You don’t need a massive coalition to create content. You need bold pilots, sharp instincts, and the freedom to engage whoever you want — without worrying about violating some NAP written six months ago by a director who’s already quit the game.
We don’t want the “safety” that comes with blues. We want the tension of a grid where everyone’s a target. Because in that tension is where the most memorable moments are made: the last-man-standing brawls, the sudden turnarounds, the messy fights that make no sense on paper but live forever in fleet chat and killboard comments.
Standing Alone (But Never Empty-Handed)
Make no mistake — choosing to stay red isn’t always easy. It means you’re often outnumbered. It means you have to fight smarter, move faster, and think twice before lighting someone up on a gate. It means fewer friends on paper and more enemies in practice.
But it also means you’re free.
You’re not waiting for the FC’s approval to engage. You’re not running a spreadsheet of diplomatic standings every time you undock. You’re not calling off a fight because “they’re technically allies.”
You see something worth shooting? You shoot it.
That’s not chaos. That’s clarity. That’s what it means to fly as an independent pirate crew — to know that your friends are your fleet mates, and everyone else is fair game.
And when we do make friends — when we find those rare groups that think like we do — the bond is stronger, because it’s real. It wasn’t brokered over some backroom Discord call. It was earned in fire.
A Code, Not a Coalition
We might be pirates, but we’re not anarchists.
There’s a difference between being unpredictable and being unprincipled. We don’t shoot allies. We don’t betray trust. We don’t exploit blues just to flip on them later. Our code is simple, but it’s a code — and we live by it:
- Shoot what moves.
- Trust who bleeds beside you.
- Stay red, stay dangerous.
That code keeps us sharp. It keeps our killboard honest. And it keeps our game — our game — worth logging in for.
Because once you start bluing everyone for convenience, you’re not a pirate anymore. You’re just another cog in the same machine you claimed to rebel against.
Final Thoughts: Make It Matter
This isn’t a moral crusade. If you want to join a null bloc and fly in 200-man fleets, go for it. If you want to trade corp standings like baseball cards and chase “efficiency,” be my guest.
But don’t pretend that’s piracy.
Real piracy is red. It’s uncertain. It’s lonely, sometimes. But it’s never boring.
So if you’re tired of being told who you can and can’t shoot…
If you’re tired of ten-jump roams through blue space…
If you’re ready to embrace the chaos, stake your own claim, and live by your guns—
Then maybe it’s time to set everyone red and see what happens.
We’ll be waiting on the out-gate.
