0.30
- Kills
- 7,062
- +125 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 970
- +3 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 95%
- ISK destroyed
- 3.51T
- +11.17B in the last 90 days
- Activity
- High
- 1.4 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 7,062
- Losses
- 970
- Danger Ratio
- 92%
- Final Blows
- 2,055
- Points
- 6,865
ISK
- Destroyed
- 3.51T
- Lost
- 185.18B
- Balance
- +3.33T
- ISK Efficiency
- 95%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 902
- Solo Ratio
- 13%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 75
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 8%
- Activity
- High
Damage Dealt417.5M
Damage Ratio · 95%
Damage Taken20.5M
Activity
What they fly, where they fight, latest kills and losses
Most Valuable
The priciest kills in the window
Matchups
Who they kill, who kills them, what they lose
Last 90d
Killed
Killed By
Hulls LostLosses broken down by hull class.
In-game bio
Whoever appeals to the law against his fellow man is either a fool or a coward. Whoever can not take care of themself without that law is both. For a wounded man shall say to his assailant, "If I live, I will kill you. If I die, you are forgiven." Such is the rule of honor.
Fire on the innocent and the guilty
On the saints and sinners alike
Though apophis knows no mercy
He's an angel compared to the man
Who has nothing to lose
The sad hunter the forsaken swain
societies most malignant creation
if idle hands are the devils play things
these hands will crack the earth to tear the devil apart
I've lost that lust for life
I once possessed when there were fewer years
And mass upon my shoulders
I've lost that need to thrive
That compulsion to feel to create to discover
Somebody please call in the coroner
Just because I'm moving
Doesn't mean I'm not a corpse
Soon I'll be building our casket
From the scraps of these bridges destroyed
By the storms I've been brewin'
No matter how low, there ain't no rock bottom for me!
1 2 3 666
You are parasites. Festering wet little parasites. Squirming atop the corroded crust of a world that never asked for you.
An infestation of meat. Living breathing meat. Poisoning everyhing you touch. Your're history is a flicker, a rounding error
in the equation of eternity, You breed without reason. You cling to your chaotic little lives out of terror. and when at last
you die...you poison the very ground that bore you only for your offspring to repeat the folly of your ways...you're twitching brains cannot
conjure meaning, sweating lumps of pink and grey matter, trembling in the dark, conflating spasms for thought. You have mistaken the
convulsions of meat for the weight of a meaningful life...and soon the cosmos shall scrub you from its skin, Your bones will be the
last remnants of what was.
Fire on the innocent and the guilty
On the saints and sinners alike
Though apophis knows no mercy
He's an angel compared to the man
Who has nothing to lose
The sad hunter the forsaken swain
societies most malignant creation
if idle hands are the devils play things
these hands will crack the earth to tear the devil apart
I've lost that lust for life
I once possessed when there were fewer years
And mass upon my shoulders
I've lost that need to thrive
That compulsion to feel to create to discover
Somebody please call in the coroner
Just because I'm moving
Doesn't mean I'm not a corpse
Soon I'll be building our casket
From the scraps of these bridges destroyed
By the storms I've been brewin'
No matter how low, there ain't no rock bottom for me!
1 2 3 666
You are parasites. Festering wet little parasites. Squirming atop the corroded crust of a world that never asked for you.
An infestation of meat. Living breathing meat. Poisoning everyhing you touch. Your're history is a flicker, a rounding error
in the equation of eternity, You breed without reason. You cling to your chaotic little lives out of terror. and when at last
you die...you poison the very ground that bore you only for your offspring to repeat the folly of your ways...you're twitching brains cannot
conjure meaning, sweating lumps of pink and grey matter, trembling in the dark, conflating spasms for thought. You have mistaken the
convulsions of meat for the weight of a meaningful life...and soon the cosmos shall scrub you from its skin, Your bones will be the
last remnants of what was.