Resurrected from June 2014 via the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine:
https://web.archive.org/web/20150220135713/http://mobilepartyinc.com/archives/1516

The hands behind the Dire suffer multiple limitations.  One limitation is a degree in philosophy.  Another is general lack of intelligence.  Behold the catastrophe that follows when you combine those two:

Socrates, a stunningly intelligent snub nosed Greek tells us “The unexamined life is not worth living.”  As a recognized founder of Western Philosophy, who are we to argue?  If you’re anything like me, you probably spend a notable amount of time engaged in Eve related activity.  If we’re to follow Socrates’ dictum, we ought to percolate a bit on that fact by examining why.

First Bubble – A Clever Evasion
An explanation, in a simple sense, is a satisfactory answer to a “why” question.  Ask a poor “why” question and you set yourself up for an ugly “no satisfactory answer is available” response.  “Why play Eve” is simply too broad a question to yield a pleasing reply so let’s hone it down to a contrast question.  “Why play Eve rather than some other MMO?”

Second Bubble – An Important Caveat
T’would be presumptuous of me to explain why you play Eve.  Accordingly, I’ll play it safe and explain only why I play Eve.  (It’s the CareBear in me.  Don’t judge.) My real life career includes toting around an emergency pager 24/7/365.  When the pager beeps I must immediately drop everything and attend to the emergency.  Consequently, I can’t guarantee I’ll be available at some specified time for any particular duration.  This limitation makes me an obsessively casual player.  As MMO, Eve can excel at casual play.  Combining that glorious skill queue with a little patience enables to me to rumble with the giants grind free.  Updating market orders and production jobs over morning coffee keeps me in the ISK. When the occasional opportune moment appears I even get a little pew in.  At a family gathering a few months back I paused to consider all that was happening in Eve while I gorged on a niece cooked dinner: Which toons were training?  To what purpose?  What production lines were cranking?  What BPOs were being researched?  What sell orders were up?  What raw material buy orders were accumulating?  While chatting with the family between bites of tasty pork roast, I was getting my game on.

Simmer – The Gentle and the Brutal
One pleasure of real life self-employment is keeping an ongoing concern afloat.  Are all the cogs meshing to deliver the sold service?  Eve can be similar.  The Market Maven works the trade hub.  The Industrialist manages the factory and researches the BPOs.  Transportation shuffles raw material and completed product.  It’s a gentle game generating gentle pleasure.  While puttering about their business the toons keep their eyes open for tasty targets because every Hi-Sec Criminal worth their salt has a suicide alt coiled to inflict brutal malevolence.  When a target is observed, a call is made.  The Industrialist broadcasts the murder live on the factory floor.  Line workers cheer.  Everybody has purpose.

Rolling Boil – An Epiphany
“You find the game mechanics convenient?  You enjoy assembling cog puzzles?  What shallow answers.  Your evasion isn’t clever at all.  It’s annoyingly simple minded.”   Very well.  When I was young, my Mom and I didn’t see eye to eye on much of anything.  Mostly this was failure on my part to correctly interpret her baffling approach to communication.  Fortunately, I was able to disentangle the differences before she passed away and we patched things up.  Mom was an avid Bridge player.  So avid she once popped in at a tournament on the trip home from surgery to wave and say hello only to end up politely excusing her alternate and playing her cards herself.  Who convalesces when there’s Bridge to be played?  Turns out I have a similar gaming bug.  Though the young me wouldn’t hear of it, Mom and I have more in common than meets the eye.  My Eve is her Bridge.

Boiling Over – Getting Irritated?
“What a load of crap!  You start out quoting Socrates only to end on a sentimental ‘The hands behind the Dire love their mom’.   Crap, crap, crap!”  But that’s the beauty of Socrates’ dictum.  Explanation never ends.  There are always more questions and you never really know where the examination will take you.  Even more important, the opportunity to declare, “I love Mom” before a crowd of psychopathic Eve players was far too tempting to resist.