(*All names have been changed)
When the intel officer handed out the summary of the reports, I couldn’t help but smile. This was going to be a psych-war primarily. Shadow-dancing, cloak and dagger work. My kind of war.
Our main targets were a German/English-speaking alliance (call them ZG*) who had called in another alliance (EN* if you will) to cover their timezones against us. This second alliance was mainly English-speaking. They may have had some German translation going on, but if they did, none of or intel showed it, so it probably wasn’t prevalent.
A plan was hatched. As it stood, the difference in numbers was too great for us to do any real damage to ZG. We needed to start creating holes in their ranks before we could effectively fight them in a more traditional brawl. We needed to isolated them and make sure they had no one left to turn to. And it would be no ones fault but their own.
Now, as I did my patrols, I had a simple rule to follow: Smile to EN, smack with ZG.
Now, just because I was smiling doesn’t mean I stopped the attacks. I was just pleasant and talkative as I was doing it. Chatting idly with cap pilots as I was popping their cyno ships, giving them (bad) fleet advice while we harassed their ratters and complex-runners. They didn’t trust me, but they knew I was good for a laugh.
To ZG though, I was a trolling, mean-spirited ghost who would revel and cackle as millions of Isk in loot decayed and drifted away after they docked up because of our presence. There was almost always a gank fleet with a lure out and active in their home system.
Over time, we began shifting our operation times, easing pressure off of EN’s timezone, and piling ever more pressure onto the already harried pilots of ZG. The war with EN became an almost light-hearted game of tag, while ZG’s war was a logistical nightmare, with our gangs reinforcing multiple PoS’es and Customs Offices only to disappear into the darkness at the first hint of a serious fight. When the timers rolled over, they repaired and refueled, never knowing why we never came to finish the job.
Tempers began to fray very quickly. And my social engineering plan began to bear fruit.