Confession Is Good for the Soul

One of the most important things to keep in mind when you're playing a game like EVE is that the other players aren't just pixels on a screen--they're people. By nature, people are imperfect. They go through rough patches. They struggle. Whom can they turn to in times of crisis? Me, obviously. I'm always there to provide a shoulder to cry on (from a respectful distance).

Haytrid needed to get some things off his chest. He knew the Father of the New Order would understand.

Everyone's EVE career path is different. Some begin the game wrapped in the tentacles of bot-aspirancy. Some never get out of highsec. But for Haytrid, things were good right from the start. He had a sterling, PvP-focused career. He wasn't a stereotypical carebear. If you met him at a barbecue, you'd think he was a swell guy.

Bot-aspirants come in all shapes and sizes. Greed for isk and the slothful appeal of mindless PvE can latch themselves onto people even late in life.

Self-reflection and accountability are important for every EVE player, even those who don't follow the stereotypical carebear career path of "tutorial -> highsec PvE -> quit".

Haytrid hit rock-bottom when he gazed upon the Miner Bingo board and recognized the wretchedness that had overtaken his life. He's sorry, and he means it. He came to the highest authority in highsec seeking forgiveness.

Haytrid, you're welcome, and I forgive you. What the rebels don't understand is that the Agents of the New Order aren't here to bully and harass people. We're here to rescue people. Granted, sometimes the mechanisms by which we rescue people may, on the surface, resemble "griefing" tactics. Look more closely. The carebears we encounter are already submerged in their own grief, just like Haytrid was. Who's gonna save them from that--some guy with an ORE Strip Miner? Or an anti-tanked Orca? Not likely. Those people are AFK and can help no one. When disaster strikes, the people you can depend on are the ones with Stabbers and Catalysts. Our Agents are at their keyboards, standing by, and will happily sell you a permit. It's only 10 million isk for a year. What a deal!