Pilot
Gallente Citizen A
GallenteGallente
- Kills
- 212
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 341
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 100%
- ISK destroyed
- 514.43B
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Activity
- Inactive
- 0 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 212
- Losses
- 341
- Danger Ratio
- 20%
- Final Blows
- 32
- Points
- 212
ISK
- Destroyed
- 514.43B
- Lost
- 1.16B
- Balance
- +513.27B
- ISK Efficiency
- 100%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 23
- Solo Ratio
- 11%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 272
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 80%
- Activity
- Inactive
Damage Dealt475.8K
Damage Ratio · 46%
Damage Taken559.2K
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
What is meant here by saying that existence precedes essence? It means first of all, that the capsuleer exists, turns up, appears on the scene, and, only afterwards, defines themself. If man, as we conceive him, is indefinable, it is because at first he is nothing. Only afterward will he be something, and he himself will have made what he will be.
What then can be said of the bot-aspirant highsec miner - that strange sort of hermit who settles not in the hills or in some faraway cave, but in the heart of the city? What can we say of someone who, granted the mind and body of a god, in the company of immortals, chooses to return to the harvest? Within the most vibrant society New Eden has ever seen, they choose to remain in the company of rats and rocks - never, "turn(ing) up, appear(ing) on the scene."
We can't rightfully say anything about nothing, and we shouldn't waste our time trying.
No doubt this thought may seem harsh to someone who has not made a success of their life. But on the other hand, it helps people to understand that reality alone counts, and that dreams, expectations and hopes only serve to define a capsuleer as a broken dream, aborted hopes, and futile expectations.
For many have but one resource to sustain them in their misery, and that is to think,
“Circumstances have been against me. I admit I have never had a great love or a great friendship; but that is because I never met a man or a woman who were worthy of it; or if I have not written any very good books, it is because I had not the leisure to do so. There remains within me a wide range of abilities, inclinations and potentialities, unused but perfectly viable, which endow me with a worthiness that could never be inferred from the mere history of my actions.”
But in reality and for the existentialist, there is no love apart from the deeds of love; no potentiality of love other than that which is manifested in loving; there is no genius other than that which is expressed in works of art, and no might other than that which is shared through imposition of The CODE.
What then can be said of the bot-aspirant highsec miner - that strange sort of hermit who settles not in the hills or in some faraway cave, but in the heart of the city? What can we say of someone who, granted the mind and body of a god, in the company of immortals, chooses to return to the harvest? Within the most vibrant society New Eden has ever seen, they choose to remain in the company of rats and rocks - never, "turn(ing) up, appear(ing) on the scene."
We can't rightfully say anything about nothing, and we shouldn't waste our time trying.
No doubt this thought may seem harsh to someone who has not made a success of their life. But on the other hand, it helps people to understand that reality alone counts, and that dreams, expectations and hopes only serve to define a capsuleer as a broken dream, aborted hopes, and futile expectations.
For many have but one resource to sustain them in their misery, and that is to think,
“Circumstances have been against me. I admit I have never had a great love or a great friendship; but that is because I never met a man or a woman who were worthy of it; or if I have not written any very good books, it is because I had not the leisure to do so. There remains within me a wide range of abilities, inclinations and potentialities, unused but perfectly viable, which endow me with a worthiness that could never be inferred from the mere history of my actions.”
But in reality and for the existentialist, there is no love apart from the deeds of love; no potentiality of love other than that which is manifested in loving; there is no genius other than that which is expressed in works of art, and no might other than that which is shared through imposition of The CODE.