Gareth "Gazimoff" Harmer begins his life as a capsuleer in New Eden

Like a massive fish tank, EVE Online is a game that I love to watch. Unusually for an MMO, it’s the actions of players that create headlines across the gaming world. Whether it’s a simple mistake that has major consequences, or all-out war between two major factions, it’s fascinatingly unique.

But if there’s one thing I learned from EVE FanFest in Reykjavik, it’s that observation only gets you so far. I couldn’t spend my days tapping on the glass and peering into the murk – I needed to dive in and experience it for myself. I was also curious – could I find my own stories about life in New Eden?

After grabbing the EVE Online bundle from Steam, I really didn’t know what to expect. Would I end up playing the spread sheet-based MMO that some friends had warned me about? Or would it be closer to my spacefaring days in X-Wing: Alliance? In the end, neither turned out to be true.

The reality? EVE Online is like no other MMO I’ve played before.

Like any seasoned traveller, I asked some friends for advice before heading out to New Eden. ‘Don’t worry about character creation,’ they said. ‘Just get into a ship and start flying.’ But I couldn’t resist – EVE’s design and modelling tools are some of the best I’ve used. As long as you’re comfortable playing a godlike, immortal human, you can spend hours fine tuning your appearance.

My initial feeling compared EVE to a driving sim like Gran Turismo; the tutorial gave the impression that it’s all about the ships. And yet that’s exactly how it should be. When I climbed into a small pod and went out into space for the first time, I was amazed at what surrounded me in the darkness. Gigantic haulers stuffed with cargo. Menacing battlecruisers bristling with turrets. All manner of smaller frigates and cruisers. And, like a gasoline-head with grand designs, I wanted to fly all of them.

Space, with all the nebulae and star systems that surrounded me, is beautiful. But nothing prepared me for hitting warp speed, the sun vanishing to a faint dot as I sped toward some waypoint. With backdrops that could have been lifted straight from Hubble, EVE doesn’t look like a ten year old game. The ships themselves are intricately detailed, with each of the four factions inspiring a style and strategic focus of its own.

As I chewed through the tutorial, EVE started to open up. This isn’t a game about space tourism – capsuleers have a range of career paths open to them, from being a battleship commander to industrial manganite. But I had no clue what I’d enjoy – did I want to build the most impressive ships the stars had ever seen, or did I want to punch buttons and watch the galaxy burn?

In the end I tried everything, from blasting pirates to mining asteroids. I discovered the joy of autopilot; although I have a feeling it will come back and bite me. I learned about manufacturing, and started building my first ships from blueprints. I even did a little haulage, developing a sense of paranoia that gank squads were waiting to burst me open like a piñata.

In some ways, EVE’s tutorial reminds me of Minecraft: you either learn to hit the trees with your fists or you get eaten by the zombies. Sometimes I’d need to buy skillbooks in order to use new equipment, or I’d need to fit new sensors to my ship. Much of this is supplied by the regional marketplace – a list of buy and sell orders that cover a small cluster of star systems. The tutorial made it clear that I shouldn’t expect to be spoon-fed everything I need like some other MMOs – be prepared to figure things out or look it up.

By the time I’d finished the tutorial missions, I wasn’t any closer to working out what I wanted to be. All I had was an ambition – to fly a big badass ship and blow stuff up. But for that I’d need piles of ISK – EVE’s in-game currency – and the skills to actually pilot it. Due to the way the system works (skills are learned gradually over time), it could take months for me to be at the helm of something imposing and deadly.

I needed a regular, stable source of income with little risk, and decided to try mining in a system packed with asteroid belts. But I also needed somewhere to sell my ores and make a healthy profit, and the nearest one was ten or so jumps away. If I was going to reach my goal, I’d need to leave the starting area behind and head out into unknown territory. There was no other choice – I climbed into my small mining Venture, punched in my chosen destination and hit the autopilot.

I leaned back in my leather chair and wondered if I’d made the right decision. Time will tell.

Gareth “Gazimoff” Harmer, Senior Contributing Editor