What's refreshing about EVE Fut 15 Coins is how much of that change is user-driven. Player characters in the game are canonically immortal, their consciousness tied to clones that are awakened whenever they find themselves on the wrong end of the metaphorical photon torpedo. So-called pod pilots are the movers and shakers of the EVE universe, and enjoy a privileged position as mercenary demigods (consider for a moment the level of desperation that would drive a non-player character to enlist under a commander who, by definition, never goes down with the ship, and you'll begin to grasp the morbidity of EVE's lore). What gets moved or shaken is a matter of taste. It might mean battle, as a soldier or pirate. It might mean cleaning up after said battles, and pawning the salvage. Or it might mean moving goods from one place to another, and shaking whenever outlaws start eyeing your loot. Each endeavor can be pursued in the name of EVE's four hawkish NPC empires, a smattering of lesser powers, or the great host of player corporations.

Picking what banner to fly is always an important decision in an MMORPG, but in EVE, the decision can make or break the experience entirely. Should you have no allies, the vast reaches of space can be brutally lonely and unforgiving. Sure, there are hundreds of space stations to rest in, nominal communities strewn about the network of solar systems that dot EVE's pointillistic map. But though the game now allows you to walk the interiors of these structures, there's little humanity to be found inside.

NPCs are still just portraits in the interface that proffer textual missions. Other players are just smaller portraits in your chat feed. The resultant sense of disembodiment impinges on every interaction in EVE, and it helps to explain the popularity of extra-game forums and meet-ups. Absent a few friendly faces, it's just not that easy to make regions with names like The Bleak Lands or Stain feel like home. Go figure.