Ty sat in his quarters, scratching notes on a digital pad.
If the crappy little Griffin wants to tackle you, solo, he has a plan.
As a matter of fact, the crappy little Griffin CAN jam your Wolf (and then kill it) 95.5% of the time.
If you rebuild an Incursus to counteract Griffin jams and head back for a rematch, the Griffin will avoid you.
If you take the time to buy a set of anti-ECM implants to increase your chances even more, you will not only fail to find the Griffin, you will get jumped by a Thrasher, shredded, and get your escape pod caught on the acceleration gate and destroyed.
You wanted this. You wanted to lose ships. You wanted to learn.
Ty sighed and let the pen drop to his desk. It had been a rough night — lots of solo roaming looking for fights that consistently went poorly, followed by poor sleep and a lot of second guessing. He’d barely caught four hours of rack time, but there was no point in trying to get any more rest, because he wasn’t resting — his mind wouldn’t let him.
“Assemble one of the Merlin flatpacks,” he said, checking the clock. He had obligations today, but there should be just enough time if he got moving right now. “We’re going to try something… different.”
Yeah, that all happened. I let a Griffin tackle me because I figured “Eh, he’s a Griffin, he’s not going to perma-jam me, right?”
Not a great night. Let’s see if it turns around…