Being around bitter vets is hard. On one side, they are fantastic resources They have immense knowledge of the game. They can explain minute and intricate detail. They understand why, when, how, and what. Getting one to teach you is like finding a gold mind that spits out platinum encrusted diamonds.
On the other hand, they make me feel bad.
Sometimes, I have to close some of my chat windows and let them vent. I know that things have changed. I know that things have been different. But being told that everything I fly sucks, everything I do is now terrible, everything I enjoy is a horrible shadow of what it once was makes me feel terrible and mildly depressed like the game is going to self destruct under me.
I'm not the most cheerful person in the world. I'm not a very cheerful person at all. Yet, I enjoy Eve and listening to the bitter vets almost makes me ashamed of that fact. They can excise joy from a new discovery with swift, neat strokes while shredding the ship I am so thrilled to be flying and leaving me with a hollow emptiness that nothing I do will ever be worth the time I put into it.
Someone once asked me how I can stand to be around new players. How I can deal with the same question over and over again. It's the joy. The simple joy that they feel upon trying the game. It is their happiness at making a million ISK off of their mining haul. It is the thrill they feel the first time they get into a destroyer.
It offsets the bitter.
I know Eve isn't perfect Its changing. Things that they once loved are gone, changed, or harder. I've experienced enough changes to make me feel awkward and unbalanced and I've only been playing just over a year. I don't think CCP should not work with Eve, that things that are broken should not be fixed.
Maybe it is because I am not bitter too. I cannot relate to their darkness. It's been explained to me before. The endless disappointments. The unfixed changes. The bugs everywhere. How it wears them down and darkens their soul.
Even I feel the tug sometimes and so early in my play.
But, I still like Eve. And sometimes the bitterness is to much. I start to feel demeaned. As if my enjoyment of things that are no longer what they were makes me a fool. Ridiculous. Stupid.
I remind myself that they still play. There is some pleasure in there, somewhere. Its just covered. Coated. A thick, britle crust that at times soften. I remember the good times. The roams. The teaching. The help. The pleasure when things go as they should.
I sigh. The bitter vets need love to. It can hurt sometimes, to be so close to their prickles, but they are worth it. Somewhere. Out there... a bittervet needs a little love.