For a certain definition of "deep space," of course. 
A five kilo-light year round trip isn't really that far to most explorers, but it's the furthest I've been out to the black myself. I'd finally scraped up enough assets to purchase an Asp Explorer, which I called Emerald's Dawn, and fit it with an A rated FSD, along with the bare minimum necessary to power and operate the ship's systems. I also had also gathered up more than enough materials for some spins on the level 4 FSD modifications, and got extremely lucky on the third, yielding a maximum jump range of 45.96 light years, though its "functional" range is just short of 40. I pretty much had to reduce my two ships, an "A" rated Cobra Mk 3 and a souped up exploration Hauler, to nothing but frames and their modified FSDs, but it was finally time to "graduate" to the medium class.
I'd originally planned to do a run for the Colonia CG, but upon discovering it was literally set up to test how well groups can coordinate their activities, I scrapped my plans for Colonia, purchased a set of size 5 and 6 passenger and cargo modules, and departed for my home system to test out my new ship in relatively safe conditions. I wanted to make sure I'd actually like the ship before I took the ship on missions outside the Empire. Besides, with only one million left in ready cash, I could use a bigger "rebuy safety net." Not to mention the fact that I still wasn't allied with my home station. So new ship and modules in hand, I set out for home. When I got there, I called for the modules I had bought, checked the bulletin board for any juicy missions, and logged out for the night.
When I got home from worked and logged in, I checked the passenger missions, including the "unavailable" missions, hoping for something interesting. What I found was one of those "once in a lifetime" missions. A deep space tourist mission to collect data someplace 2.4 kly away. Ten people wanting travel there in first class accomadations, and they were willing to pay over 15 million for the privilege. Needless to say, I took it.
The actual mechanics of gathering exploration data is the same no matter how far out you go, but I had never traveled farther than an hour away from civilization. Seriously, Frontier, we need better exploration mechanics besides "jump, scoop, honk, and maybe point at something for 30 seconds." I would definitely like a reason to visit the surface of alien worlds beyond gathering materials, role playing purposes, and nice pictures.
Anyhow, for the first couple of play sessions, I was clearly travelling down roads others had clearly been. The stars and planets all had "discovered by" tags on them. I found a couple waterworlds and an ELW that had already been discovered by someone else, but other than that, nothing interesting.
At the beginning of my the third session, about half way to my destination, I found my first undiscovered planet. In fact, only the primary star had a "discovered by" tag on it! Needless to say, I scanned the entire system. Towards the end of THAT session, I found my first completely undiscovered star system. Yay!
I was scanning everything I could find that day, using the fact that I was playing in VR to get up out of my seat for longer hauls and pace across the Asp's bridge, and gazing out of the Asp's windows at the star field ahead. It made the longer supercruise trips more fun to stand beside my headless "pilot," inches away from the glass canopy of the bridge.
As I maneuvered my ship to land on a moon for the night, Barnard's Loop came into sight, and that's when it really hit me: I wasn't in the Bubble anymore. I had traveled so far out, that Barnard's Loop wasn't loopy anymore. The familiar arc was distorted, as if a giant hand had tried to squash it!
During the next two play sessions, I became obsessed with Barnard's no-longer-loopy Loop. Every single jump, I would have to take an extra minute or two getting away from the star I'd jumped to, in order to see what that galactic land mark would look like now. Eventually, I decided to call it "Barnard's Jellyfish," because it was kind of reminded me of one. At the end of my fifth day away from the Bubble, I arrived at my passenger's destination. I scanned the tourist beacon (which had several ships in the area, thanks Frontier ), and settled down on a nearby moon for the night, my AspX basking the soft blue glow of the emission nebula the system was in.
The next day was spent scanning everything in the system. My passengers were paying me almost 16 million to bring them here. Might as well make sure they get their money's worth. The last thing I did before heading back to the Bubble was a single short-range jump, to see what that system and its nebula looked like from close by. I could barely see it, so I decided to bump up my gamma settings a couple of notches. I like my nights to look dark, so it was down quite a bit. The fuzzy blue patch was surprisingly small, even from several light years away.
Taking one last look at the nebula I'd come so far to visit, I plotted a route to my first return bookmark, about 800 light years away. Spooling up my FSD, I aligned with the first jump in the sequence, and immediately cancelled the jump. I got up out of my chair, walked to Emerald's Dawn's canopy, and stared out the glass in shock.
It was the Milky Way as I'd never seen it before. Standing at the front of the Dawn's bridge in VR, with the Gamma setting bumped up, the Milky Way Galaxy spread out before and beneath me. Without really knowing it, I had been travelling rimward and upward from the plane of the Galaxy. The Central Bulge shone brightly just above the star I had been about to jump to. The disc of the galaxy stretched out below me in all directions. I was transfixed. I probably spent fifteen minutes just staring at the view, occasionally moving to the other window to see what THAT view was like. Eventually, the knowledge that I had to be at work at 5 AM the next day managed to break that siren's spell, and I logged out for the evening.
The return to the Bubble was uneventful.
No, wait... I lie.
The systems I jumped through were uninteresting.
Especially compared to the sights I kept seeing before me, silhouetted against the haze of the Milky Way galaxy. Dark nebula that were like holes punched into the fabric of the universe. Emission and planetary nebula that I would see once and never be seen again. Barnard's Loop looking increasingly loopy, and less like a jellyfish. I had to keep reminding myself that I needed to get my passengers home in time to collect my pay, and I shouldn't take detours to get a closer look at that weird looking blob in the distance.
Today, I've finally returned home, and dropped of my passengers and sold my data.
Passenger mission: 15.62 million
Exploration Data: 3.78 million
First Discovered Bonuses: 763 thousand
Watching Barnard's Loop become Barnard's Jellyfish, and that view of the Milky Way? Priceless
A five kilo-light year round trip isn't really that far to most explorers, but it's the furthest I've been out to the black myself. I'd finally scraped up enough assets to purchase an Asp Explorer, which I called Emerald's Dawn, and fit it with an A rated FSD, along with the bare minimum necessary to power and operate the ship's systems. I also had also gathered up more than enough materials for some spins on the level 4 FSD modifications, and got extremely lucky on the third, yielding a maximum jump range of 45.96 light years, though its "functional" range is just short of 40. I pretty much had to reduce my two ships, an "A" rated Cobra Mk 3 and a souped up exploration Hauler, to nothing but frames and their modified FSDs, but it was finally time to "graduate" to the medium class.
I'd originally planned to do a run for the Colonia CG, but upon discovering it was literally set up to test how well groups can coordinate their activities, I scrapped my plans for Colonia, purchased a set of size 5 and 6 passenger and cargo modules, and departed for my home system to test out my new ship in relatively safe conditions. I wanted to make sure I'd actually like the ship before I took the ship on missions outside the Empire. Besides, with only one million left in ready cash, I could use a bigger "rebuy safety net." Not to mention the fact that I still wasn't allied with my home station. So new ship and modules in hand, I set out for home. When I got there, I called for the modules I had bought, checked the bulletin board for any juicy missions, and logged out for the night.
When I got home from worked and logged in, I checked the passenger missions, including the "unavailable" missions, hoping for something interesting. What I found was one of those "once in a lifetime" missions. A deep space tourist mission to collect data someplace 2.4 kly away. Ten people wanting travel there in first class accomadations, and they were willing to pay over 15 million for the privilege. Needless to say, I took it.
The actual mechanics of gathering exploration data is the same no matter how far out you go, but I had never traveled farther than an hour away from civilization. Seriously, Frontier, we need better exploration mechanics besides "jump, scoop, honk, and maybe point at something for 30 seconds." I would definitely like a reason to visit the surface of alien worlds beyond gathering materials, role playing purposes, and nice pictures.
Anyhow, for the first couple of play sessions, I was clearly travelling down roads others had clearly been. The stars and planets all had "discovered by" tags on them. I found a couple waterworlds and an ELW that had already been discovered by someone else, but other than that, nothing interesting.
At the beginning of my the third session, about half way to my destination, I found my first undiscovered planet. In fact, only the primary star had a "discovered by" tag on it! Needless to say, I scanned the entire system.
Towards the end of THAT session, I found my first completely undiscovered star system. Yay!I was scanning everything I could find that day, using the fact that I was playing in VR to get up out of my seat for longer hauls and pace across the Asp's bridge, and gazing out of the Asp's windows at the star field ahead. It made the longer supercruise trips more fun to stand beside my headless "pilot," inches away from the glass canopy of the bridge.
As I maneuvered my ship to land on a moon for the night, Barnard's Loop came into sight, and that's when it really hit me: I wasn't in the Bubble anymore. I had traveled so far out, that Barnard's Loop wasn't loopy anymore. The familiar arc was distorted, as if a giant hand had tried to squash it!
During the next two play sessions, I became obsessed with Barnard's no-longer-loopy Loop. Every single jump, I would have to take an extra minute or two getting away from the star I'd jumped to, in order to see what that galactic land mark would look like now. Eventually, I decided to call it "Barnard's Jellyfish," because it was kind of reminded me of one. At the end of my fifth day away from the Bubble, I arrived at my passenger's destination. I scanned the tourist beacon (which had several ships in the area, thanks Frontier
), and settled down on a nearby moon for the night, my AspX basking the soft blue glow of the emission nebula the system was in.The next day was spent scanning everything in the system. My passengers were paying me almost 16 million to bring them here. Might as well make sure they get their money's worth.
The last thing I did before heading back to the Bubble was a single short-range jump, to see what that system and its nebula looked like from close by. I could barely see it, so I decided to bump up my gamma settings a couple of notches. I like my nights to look dark, so it was down quite a bit. The fuzzy blue patch was surprisingly small, even from several light years away.Taking one last look at the nebula I'd come so far to visit, I plotted a route to my first return bookmark, about 800 light years away. Spooling up my FSD, I aligned with the first jump in the sequence, and immediately cancelled the jump. I got up out of my chair, walked to Emerald's Dawn's canopy, and stared out the glass in shock.
It was the Milky Way as I'd never seen it before. Standing at the front of the Dawn's bridge in VR, with the Gamma setting bumped up, the Milky Way Galaxy spread out before and beneath me. Without really knowing it, I had been travelling rimward and upward from the plane of the Galaxy. The Central Bulge shone brightly just above the star I had been about to jump to. The disc of the galaxy stretched out below me in all directions. I was transfixed. I probably spent fifteen minutes just staring at the view, occasionally moving to the other window to see what THAT view was like. Eventually, the knowledge that I had to be at work at 5 AM the next day managed to break that siren's spell, and I logged out for the evening.
The return to the Bubble was uneventful.
No, wait... I lie.
The systems I jumped through were uninteresting.
Especially compared to the sights I kept seeing before me, silhouetted against the haze of the Milky Way galaxy. Dark nebula that were like holes punched into the fabric of the universe. Emission and planetary nebula that I would see once and never be seen again. Barnard's Loop looking increasingly loopy, and less like a jellyfish. I had to keep reminding myself that I needed to get my passengers home in time to collect my pay, and I shouldn't take detours to get a closer look at that weird looking blob in the distance.
Today, I've finally returned home, and dropped of my passengers and sold my data.
Passenger mission: 15.62 million
Exploration Data: 3.78 million
First Discovered Bonuses: 763 thousand
Watching Barnard's Loop become Barnard's Jellyfish, and that view of the Milky Way? Priceless
