4.90Pilot
Torako Yuuta
GallenteJin-Mei
- Kills
- 247
- +11 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 112
- +7 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 98%
- ISK destroyed
- 372.48B
- +5.58B in the last 90 days
- Activity
- Medium
- 0.1 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 247
- Losses
- 112
- Danger Ratio
- 88%
- Final Blows
- 42
- Points
- 192
ISK
- Destroyed
- 372.48B
- Lost
- 9.25B
- Balance
- +363.24B
- ISK Efficiency
- 98%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 18
- Solo Ratio
- 7%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 14
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 13%
- Activity
- Medium
Damage Dealt2.5M
Damage Ratio · 80%
Damage Taken633.8K
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
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.