Imagine an outpost, orbiting a gas giant in some unimportant corner of human space. It’s an extraction facility, built long ago to take advantage of the mineral wealth that this particular system once had, and home to several thousand souls who spend their time mining the rings for what little of value now remains. At the moment most of them are asleep, as the outpost is drifting silently through the shadow of the planet, and this period of natural darkness has been officially observed as ‘night-time’ for as long as anyone on board can remember. But the limb of the world below has already started to brighten, and it will not be long now before a new day begins.
Hurtling towards this quiet backwater are four players. They do not know each other, and it is only by chance that they are all converging on the same location; soon, they will go their separate ways, and never cross paths again. Yet despite being complete strangers, they actually do have quite a lot in common, not least the fact that they are all about to face a conundrum that will test their trading credentials to the limit.
Take Player 1, for example. He only bought the game a few days ago, but already he is flying a shiny new Cobra Mk III, of which he is very proud. Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm to outfit it for trading, he has somehow ended up with no shield generator, and precisely 50 tons of cargo space; he also has a mere 10,000 credits left, a perilous circumstance for any trader to be in. But Player 1 has never visited the forums, so he knows nothing of rebuy costs – all he knows is that he is enjoying himself. Dropping out of supercruise and boosting towards the outpost, he requests docking permission and heads towards his allotted pad, cheerfully unaware of the risk that he is taking.
After wrestling a little with the unfamiliar handling of his new ship, Player 1 touches down safely and opens the Starport Services menu, eager to see what potential riches the commodity market might have in store for him. But much to his disappointment, he finds that this particular market has by far the most limited selection of goods that he has ever encountered in his short career, as there are just three types of commodity available for purchase:
Bauxite, selling for 200 credits per ton;
Uraninite, selling for 1,000 credits per ton;
and Gold, selling for 10,000 credits per ton.
His natural inclination is to buy the Gold, as he knows of a starport just a few jumps away that would pay him 13,000 credits for it, netting him a tidy 3,000 credits profit per ton… but with only 10,000 credits to his name, he quickly realises that he could only afford to buy 1 solitary ton of it, and that 3,000 credits is all the profit he would make. This seems like a bit of a waste to him, especially after he just went to all the trouble of giving his ship a 50 ton cargo hold; so he reluctantly turns his attention to the minerals, hoping that they might prove to be a better investment.
With his 10,000 credits, Player 1 could afford to buy 10 tons of Uraninite, which he could then sell to the Refinery where he so recently bought his Cobra. Racking his brains, he recalls that the going rate for Uraninite at that Refinery was 1,400 credits per ton – and so with 10 tons, he could make 4,000 credits profit, one thousand more than he would have made with the single ton of Gold. New player that he is, this all seems like a very good deal, and he wastes no time in selecting ten tons of Uraninite to be loaded onto his ship.
But just as he is about to confirm his purchase, Player 1 hesitates, his eyes drawn to the final item on the shelf. He has never traded in Bauxite before – the guide that he found online certainly did not mention it – but now, with his finger poised above the mouse, something about the lowly ore calls out to him. He dimly remembers that at the Refinery they were willing to buy Bauxite for 300 credits per ton, a profit margin of just 100 credits… but with Bauxite being so trivially cheap, he could afford to buy far, far more of it. In fact, after a few seconds of mental arithmetic, Player 1 reaches the startling conclusion that with the 10,000 credits at his disposal he could afford up to 50 tons of Bauxite, filling his cargo hold completely – and at 100 credits profit per ton, those 50 tons would allow him to make a huge 5,000 credits profit in total, better than either of the other, more valuable commodities!
Feeling pleased with himself for having successfully deduced this without the use of any third-party tools, and with a sense of vindication for his rather dubious outfitting choices, Player 1 smiles as he rejects the Uraninite and replaces it with Bauxite, safe in the knowledge that he has made the correct choice. But just a few hundred metres away on the other side of the station, our second player now finds himself confronted by this same puzzle… and for him, the ‘correct choice’ is entirely different.
In a remarkable coincidence, Player 2 is also flying a shieldless Cobra, with the same 50 tons of cargo space; but he has been playing the game for a few hours longer than Player 1, and has amassed the modest fortune of 50,000 credits. As a result, although he could simply buy the same 50 tons of Bauxite that Player 1 opted for (to make the same 5,000 credits profit), he could instead afford to buy up to 5 tons of Gold, which, with a profit margin of 3,000 credits per ton, would earn him a total of 15,000 credits.
But as Player 2 squints at the numbers in front of him, frowning in concentration and working his jaw absent-mindedly, it is upon the Uraninite that his attention ultimately comes to rest. With his 50,000 credits, he could of course afford to get 50 tons of the radioactive mineral, enough to fill his cargo hold precisely; and with a profit margin of 400 credits per ton, those 50 tons would equate to a 20,000 credit profit, easily the best option available.
No sooner has Player 2 made this decision than the landing pad beside him lights up, ready for the arrival of Player 3. In yet another coincidence, Player 3 also has 50,000 credits to spend, although he is at least not flying a Cobra – instead, he has an Adder, small but tough, with an engineered shield generator and only 14 tons of cargo space. Its little wingtips fold up smoothly as he deploys his landing gear and nose-dives into position, touching down with all the grace of a swan on ice.
Engines disengaged, Player 3 opens up the commodity market and stares in disbelief at what he finds. With just 14 tons of cargo space, there is no point even considering the Bauxite (which, at best, could make no more than 1,400 credits profit); and as for the Uraninite, 14 tons of it would still only make a profit of 5,600 credits. Of course, with 50,000 credits available, Player 3 could always just buy 5 tons of Gold, to make the same 15,000 credit profit that Player 2 briefly considered – and without any other commodities to choose from, it looks like purchasing those 5 tons of Gold will be the best option almost by default. After only a moment of hesitation, Player 3 selects the Gold, and begins choosing the quantity to be loaded onto his ship…
But wait! Player 3 has not bought 5 tons of Gold; instead, he has chosen to buy only 4 tons! And with his remaining 10,000 credits, he is at this very moment purchasing 10 tons of Uraninite… what could he be thinking? Has he lost his mind?
Far from it. Player 3 is in fact a much more experienced trader than his little Zorgon Peterson ship might suggest, and as soon as he saw the commodity market, the gears in his brain began to turn. Those 4 tons of Gold will yield a profit of 12,000 credits, while the 10 tons of Uraninite will yield a further 4,000… for a grand total of 16,000 credits, one thousand more than the 5 tons of Gold would have been worth!
Suddenly, the sleeping outpost re-emerges from the gas giant’s shadow, and a wave of light obliterates the darkness…
This is what trading should be about! The goal of maximising your profits should be a mathematical mini-game in and of itself, with every station you visit presenting you with a fresh challenge, and with the solution varying from one player to the next. All too often we think of traders as mere ferrymen, shuttling high-value goods backwards and forwards, grinding out their profits with scarcely a thought for any of the cheaper commodities available – but instead, the game should encourage players to take more of an opportunist approach, by rewarding anyone who has the good business sense to make full use of their ship’s potential. And as I see it, the best way to incentivise this kind of gameplay would be to raise commodity prices across the board.
In the three examples I have given so far, I had to impose a strict limit on the amount of money that each player had at their disposal – because after all, why would anyone bother purchasing Bauxite or Uraninite, if they could instead simply fill up their ship with Gold? But in the actual game, there can be no such limit on the bank balance of the player, so the only way to stop high-value commodities like Gold from becoming the path of least resistance is to make them much more expensive, enough to prevent most players from being able to buy them in bulk. This way, players would be left in the same position as the traders in my story, forced to rely on low-value commodities in order to maximise their profits – although, as long as all commodities rise in value, even trading in minerals should allow a player to earn a decent wage.
Raising prices would also be a boon to player pirates, of course, by making the cargo that they steal actually worth stealing – and what with the new changes to Crime and Punishment, pirates need all the help they can get. Smugglers would also benefit, as would miners; and although we know that there is a Mining Update coming later this year, I’m sure that buffing their profits in the meantime would help to tide them over. And if Frontier need some sort of in-universe reason to increase prices like this, well, isn’t there a Thargoid war on the horizon? Perhaps, now that the Bugs have reached the Bubble, the ensuing chaos will result in widespread shortages, causing the value of many commodities to naturally rise…
(Also, it has always seemed strange to me that there is such a difference between the prices of goods on the commodity market, and the prices of the modules that we can buy for our ships. There are dozens of cargo types that are worth less than an empty Class 1 Fuel Tank; and even Painite, one of the rarest and most valuable items in the game, has a galactic average price comparable to that of a 16-ton Cargo Rack. How can it be that in many systems, a literal ton of Space Diamonds is worth less than the shelf it sits on? It makes no sense…)
But it is the added depth to trading that must surely be the most compelling reason to raise prices in this way, the fact that it could transform one of the grindiest aspects of the game into a cerebral activity, something to challenge and reward players in equal measure. With so many variables to consider (the availability of credits, cargo space, and of the commodities themselves, not to mention their ever-changing prices on the galactic economy), efficient trading would become a skill, simple to learn but hard to master, and players would constantly need to adapt as their individual circumstances changed over time. In fact, it was the excitement I felt when I first saw this potential that inspired me to actually type up a story, transporting the reader to a neglected old mining outpost in the hope that this tale of four traders might spark your imagination more effectively than any mere description ever could have.
And now, right on cue, here comes Player 4, in a fully upgraded Lakon Type-6 with a 100-ton cargo hold. Skilfully he brings the box-like vessel into position, the light of the dawn reflecting off his cockpit as he turns, descends, and touches down. As luck would have it, he too has 50,000 credits, which as we have seen could buy him 5 tons of Gold (for a 15,000 credit profit), or 50 tons of Uraninite (for a 20,000 credit profit); or, he could simply fill his hold with 100 tons of Bauxite (for a 10,000 credit profit). Faced with options such as these, what will he choose?
We watch in anticipation as Player 4 goes to the commodity market, and smile at the eyebrow he raises when he sees it for the first time – but his surprise is only fleeting, and not even for a moment does he seem confused. Casting a practiced eye over the data presented to him, he thinks for a few seconds, reconsiders, and then grimly nods his head. With all the self-assurance that comes from being a Tycoon in the making, he purchases 38 tons of Uraninite (which, with a profit margin of 400 credits per ton, will make him 15,200 credits), and then spends his remaining 12,000 credits buying 60 tons of Bauxite (which, with a profit margin of 100 credits per ton, will make him 6,000 credits), earning himself not only a combined total profit of 21,200 credits, but also, perhaps, a round of applause.
And so we near the end of our story, the moral of which could so easily have seemed absurd were it not for the able demonstration provided by our small yet talented cast. Who would have believed that Bauxite could ever be more profitable than Gold? Or that by subjecting the raw materials of trading gameplay to the artificial pressures of this far-fetched scenario, we could refine them, and transform them into something a lot more versatile? Who would have thought that by reducing the purchasing power of the player, we could increase the range and variety of viable goods… and that as a result, we could enhance not only trading, but also a whole host of other occupations, all in one fell swoop. It might seem too good to be true, and even counter-intuitive, but I think that the examples of the traders above speak for themselves. Remember, two of them had identical ships; three of them had identical sums of money. And yet all four of them made radically different purchases in order to maximise their profits, and they did so despite the fact that they only had three commodities to choose from!
Their business concluded, each of our four heroes now turn their attention to the task of plotting a new course and preparing their ship for take-off, little realising the parts that they have played in this drama. One by one they launch, and resume their never-ending voyage across the stars, setting their sights upon bigger and brighter treasures, and leaving the little outpost behind. None of them will remember its name; and in a few short minutes it will once again be nothing more than an insignificant speck, lost against the epic vastness of space. And yet even here, at this small and feeble venue, there were meaningful choices to be made… and within each choice, the tiny seed of a player’s satisfaction, the most valuable commodity of all.
Player 1 is the last to leave. Thrusting vertically away from his pad, he stops, retracts his Cobra’s landing gear, and then boosts fearlessly into the void, rolling and pitching the heavily laden ship to align it with his selected destination. A second boost carries him out of the starport’s mass lock shadow, whereupon he begins charging the Frame Shift Drive – and as we watch, we see the distinctive Faulcon deLacy heat vanes start to rise from the ship’s hull, glowing ever brighter as their temperature increases, until they are ablaze with the surplus energy of a spacecraft under way. Seconds pass; the countdown begins; and in the early morning starlight, the Cobra appears to glide with supreme effortlessness as it prepares to make the jump to hyperspace, aiming beyond the fabric of reality, reaching out to the Frontier.
And then, with a flash, it winks out of sight.
Hurtling towards this quiet backwater are four players. They do not know each other, and it is only by chance that they are all converging on the same location; soon, they will go their separate ways, and never cross paths again. Yet despite being complete strangers, they actually do have quite a lot in common, not least the fact that they are all about to face a conundrum that will test their trading credentials to the limit.
Take Player 1, for example. He only bought the game a few days ago, but already he is flying a shiny new Cobra Mk III, of which he is very proud. Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm to outfit it for trading, he has somehow ended up with no shield generator, and precisely 50 tons of cargo space; he also has a mere 10,000 credits left, a perilous circumstance for any trader to be in. But Player 1 has never visited the forums, so he knows nothing of rebuy costs – all he knows is that he is enjoying himself. Dropping out of supercruise and boosting towards the outpost, he requests docking permission and heads towards his allotted pad, cheerfully unaware of the risk that he is taking.
After wrestling a little with the unfamiliar handling of his new ship, Player 1 touches down safely and opens the Starport Services menu, eager to see what potential riches the commodity market might have in store for him. But much to his disappointment, he finds that this particular market has by far the most limited selection of goods that he has ever encountered in his short career, as there are just three types of commodity available for purchase:
Bauxite, selling for 200 credits per ton;
Uraninite, selling for 1,000 credits per ton;
and Gold, selling for 10,000 credits per ton.
His natural inclination is to buy the Gold, as he knows of a starport just a few jumps away that would pay him 13,000 credits for it, netting him a tidy 3,000 credits profit per ton… but with only 10,000 credits to his name, he quickly realises that he could only afford to buy 1 solitary ton of it, and that 3,000 credits is all the profit he would make. This seems like a bit of a waste to him, especially after he just went to all the trouble of giving his ship a 50 ton cargo hold; so he reluctantly turns his attention to the minerals, hoping that they might prove to be a better investment.
With his 10,000 credits, Player 1 could afford to buy 10 tons of Uraninite, which he could then sell to the Refinery where he so recently bought his Cobra. Racking his brains, he recalls that the going rate for Uraninite at that Refinery was 1,400 credits per ton – and so with 10 tons, he could make 4,000 credits profit, one thousand more than he would have made with the single ton of Gold. New player that he is, this all seems like a very good deal, and he wastes no time in selecting ten tons of Uraninite to be loaded onto his ship.
But just as he is about to confirm his purchase, Player 1 hesitates, his eyes drawn to the final item on the shelf. He has never traded in Bauxite before – the guide that he found online certainly did not mention it – but now, with his finger poised above the mouse, something about the lowly ore calls out to him. He dimly remembers that at the Refinery they were willing to buy Bauxite for 300 credits per ton, a profit margin of just 100 credits… but with Bauxite being so trivially cheap, he could afford to buy far, far more of it. In fact, after a few seconds of mental arithmetic, Player 1 reaches the startling conclusion that with the 10,000 credits at his disposal he could afford up to 50 tons of Bauxite, filling his cargo hold completely – and at 100 credits profit per ton, those 50 tons would allow him to make a huge 5,000 credits profit in total, better than either of the other, more valuable commodities!
Feeling pleased with himself for having successfully deduced this without the use of any third-party tools, and with a sense of vindication for his rather dubious outfitting choices, Player 1 smiles as he rejects the Uraninite and replaces it with Bauxite, safe in the knowledge that he has made the correct choice. But just a few hundred metres away on the other side of the station, our second player now finds himself confronted by this same puzzle… and for him, the ‘correct choice’ is entirely different.
In a remarkable coincidence, Player 2 is also flying a shieldless Cobra, with the same 50 tons of cargo space; but he has been playing the game for a few hours longer than Player 1, and has amassed the modest fortune of 50,000 credits. As a result, although he could simply buy the same 50 tons of Bauxite that Player 1 opted for (to make the same 5,000 credits profit), he could instead afford to buy up to 5 tons of Gold, which, with a profit margin of 3,000 credits per ton, would earn him a total of 15,000 credits.
But as Player 2 squints at the numbers in front of him, frowning in concentration and working his jaw absent-mindedly, it is upon the Uraninite that his attention ultimately comes to rest. With his 50,000 credits, he could of course afford to get 50 tons of the radioactive mineral, enough to fill his cargo hold precisely; and with a profit margin of 400 credits per ton, those 50 tons would equate to a 20,000 credit profit, easily the best option available.
No sooner has Player 2 made this decision than the landing pad beside him lights up, ready for the arrival of Player 3. In yet another coincidence, Player 3 also has 50,000 credits to spend, although he is at least not flying a Cobra – instead, he has an Adder, small but tough, with an engineered shield generator and only 14 tons of cargo space. Its little wingtips fold up smoothly as he deploys his landing gear and nose-dives into position, touching down with all the grace of a swan on ice.
Engines disengaged, Player 3 opens up the commodity market and stares in disbelief at what he finds. With just 14 tons of cargo space, there is no point even considering the Bauxite (which, at best, could make no more than 1,400 credits profit); and as for the Uraninite, 14 tons of it would still only make a profit of 5,600 credits. Of course, with 50,000 credits available, Player 3 could always just buy 5 tons of Gold, to make the same 15,000 credit profit that Player 2 briefly considered – and without any other commodities to choose from, it looks like purchasing those 5 tons of Gold will be the best option almost by default. After only a moment of hesitation, Player 3 selects the Gold, and begins choosing the quantity to be loaded onto his ship…
But wait! Player 3 has not bought 5 tons of Gold; instead, he has chosen to buy only 4 tons! And with his remaining 10,000 credits, he is at this very moment purchasing 10 tons of Uraninite… what could he be thinking? Has he lost his mind?
Far from it. Player 3 is in fact a much more experienced trader than his little Zorgon Peterson ship might suggest, and as soon as he saw the commodity market, the gears in his brain began to turn. Those 4 tons of Gold will yield a profit of 12,000 credits, while the 10 tons of Uraninite will yield a further 4,000… for a grand total of 16,000 credits, one thousand more than the 5 tons of Gold would have been worth!
Suddenly, the sleeping outpost re-emerges from the gas giant’s shadow, and a wave of light obliterates the darkness…
This is what trading should be about! The goal of maximising your profits should be a mathematical mini-game in and of itself, with every station you visit presenting you with a fresh challenge, and with the solution varying from one player to the next. All too often we think of traders as mere ferrymen, shuttling high-value goods backwards and forwards, grinding out their profits with scarcely a thought for any of the cheaper commodities available – but instead, the game should encourage players to take more of an opportunist approach, by rewarding anyone who has the good business sense to make full use of their ship’s potential. And as I see it, the best way to incentivise this kind of gameplay would be to raise commodity prices across the board.
In the three examples I have given so far, I had to impose a strict limit on the amount of money that each player had at their disposal – because after all, why would anyone bother purchasing Bauxite or Uraninite, if they could instead simply fill up their ship with Gold? But in the actual game, there can be no such limit on the bank balance of the player, so the only way to stop high-value commodities like Gold from becoming the path of least resistance is to make them much more expensive, enough to prevent most players from being able to buy them in bulk. This way, players would be left in the same position as the traders in my story, forced to rely on low-value commodities in order to maximise their profits – although, as long as all commodities rise in value, even trading in minerals should allow a player to earn a decent wage.
Raising prices would also be a boon to player pirates, of course, by making the cargo that they steal actually worth stealing – and what with the new changes to Crime and Punishment, pirates need all the help they can get. Smugglers would also benefit, as would miners; and although we know that there is a Mining Update coming later this year, I’m sure that buffing their profits in the meantime would help to tide them over. And if Frontier need some sort of in-universe reason to increase prices like this, well, isn’t there a Thargoid war on the horizon? Perhaps, now that the Bugs have reached the Bubble, the ensuing chaos will result in widespread shortages, causing the value of many commodities to naturally rise…
(Also, it has always seemed strange to me that there is such a difference between the prices of goods on the commodity market, and the prices of the modules that we can buy for our ships. There are dozens of cargo types that are worth less than an empty Class 1 Fuel Tank; and even Painite, one of the rarest and most valuable items in the game, has a galactic average price comparable to that of a 16-ton Cargo Rack. How can it be that in many systems, a literal ton of Space Diamonds is worth less than the shelf it sits on? It makes no sense…)
But it is the added depth to trading that must surely be the most compelling reason to raise prices in this way, the fact that it could transform one of the grindiest aspects of the game into a cerebral activity, something to challenge and reward players in equal measure. With so many variables to consider (the availability of credits, cargo space, and of the commodities themselves, not to mention their ever-changing prices on the galactic economy), efficient trading would become a skill, simple to learn but hard to master, and players would constantly need to adapt as their individual circumstances changed over time. In fact, it was the excitement I felt when I first saw this potential that inspired me to actually type up a story, transporting the reader to a neglected old mining outpost in the hope that this tale of four traders might spark your imagination more effectively than any mere description ever could have.
And now, right on cue, here comes Player 4, in a fully upgraded Lakon Type-6 with a 100-ton cargo hold. Skilfully he brings the box-like vessel into position, the light of the dawn reflecting off his cockpit as he turns, descends, and touches down. As luck would have it, he too has 50,000 credits, which as we have seen could buy him 5 tons of Gold (for a 15,000 credit profit), or 50 tons of Uraninite (for a 20,000 credit profit); or, he could simply fill his hold with 100 tons of Bauxite (for a 10,000 credit profit). Faced with options such as these, what will he choose?
We watch in anticipation as Player 4 goes to the commodity market, and smile at the eyebrow he raises when he sees it for the first time – but his surprise is only fleeting, and not even for a moment does he seem confused. Casting a practiced eye over the data presented to him, he thinks for a few seconds, reconsiders, and then grimly nods his head. With all the self-assurance that comes from being a Tycoon in the making, he purchases 38 tons of Uraninite (which, with a profit margin of 400 credits per ton, will make him 15,200 credits), and then spends his remaining 12,000 credits buying 60 tons of Bauxite (which, with a profit margin of 100 credits per ton, will make him 6,000 credits), earning himself not only a combined total profit of 21,200 credits, but also, perhaps, a round of applause.
And so we near the end of our story, the moral of which could so easily have seemed absurd were it not for the able demonstration provided by our small yet talented cast. Who would have believed that Bauxite could ever be more profitable than Gold? Or that by subjecting the raw materials of trading gameplay to the artificial pressures of this far-fetched scenario, we could refine them, and transform them into something a lot more versatile? Who would have thought that by reducing the purchasing power of the player, we could increase the range and variety of viable goods… and that as a result, we could enhance not only trading, but also a whole host of other occupations, all in one fell swoop. It might seem too good to be true, and even counter-intuitive, but I think that the examples of the traders above speak for themselves. Remember, two of them had identical ships; three of them had identical sums of money. And yet all four of them made radically different purchases in order to maximise their profits, and they did so despite the fact that they only had three commodities to choose from!
Their business concluded, each of our four heroes now turn their attention to the task of plotting a new course and preparing their ship for take-off, little realising the parts that they have played in this drama. One by one they launch, and resume their never-ending voyage across the stars, setting their sights upon bigger and brighter treasures, and leaving the little outpost behind. None of them will remember its name; and in a few short minutes it will once again be nothing more than an insignificant speck, lost against the epic vastness of space. And yet even here, at this small and feeble venue, there were meaningful choices to be made… and within each choice, the tiny seed of a player’s satisfaction, the most valuable commodity of all.
Player 1 is the last to leave. Thrusting vertically away from his pad, he stops, retracts his Cobra’s landing gear, and then boosts fearlessly into the void, rolling and pitching the heavily laden ship to align it with his selected destination. A second boost carries him out of the starport’s mass lock shadow, whereupon he begins charging the Frame Shift Drive – and as we watch, we see the distinctive Faulcon deLacy heat vanes start to rise from the ship’s hull, glowing ever brighter as their temperature increases, until they are ablaze with the surplus energy of a spacecraft under way. Seconds pass; the countdown begins; and in the early morning starlight, the Cobra appears to glide with supreme effortlessness as it prepares to make the jump to hyperspace, aiming beyond the fabric of reality, reaching out to the Frontier.
And then, with a flash, it winks out of sight.
