5.00Pilot
Gattsume
CaldariCivire
- Kills
- 469
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 22
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 92%
- ISK destroyed
- 58.80B
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Activity
- Inactive
- 0 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 469
- Losses
- 22
- Danger Ratio
- 82%
- Final Blows
- 377
- Points
- 466
ISK
- Destroyed
- 58.80B
- Lost
- 5.03B
- Balance
- +53.77B
- ISK Efficiency
- 92%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 290
- Solo Ratio
- 62%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 4
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 18%
- Activity
- Inactive
Damage Dealt4.7M
Damage Ratio · 95%
Damage Taken268.2K
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
Been around the World. Universe too. ツ
They call me Gattsume. Most don’t say it with kindness. I’ve been a soldier, a teacher, a drifter, a ghost. If you're looking for heroics—go read a comic. This story is about ruin. About the things you bury so deep, they hum beneath your skin.
I come from a place where winter doesn’t forgive, and people don’t either. I worked in kitchens—burning my hands while feeding mouths that never thanked me. I trained the next generation to lead, but no one ever taught me how to stop running.
When Ukraine caught fire, I didn’t think—I just went. Not for politics. Not for medals. Just to bleed with purpose. For nearly two years, I fought beside men whose names I’ve forgotten but whose screams I remember. A blast took a chunk out of my leg. It left the rest of me in pieces no surgeon could fix.
Coming home? There’s no such thing. People talk like they understand. They don’t. They never will. The world was cleaner without me in it—so I stepped back into the wind.
That’s when I returned to EVE. Cold, vast, unforgiving—finally, something honest. Out here, I am Gattsume the Cossack. I raid what I want, burn what I can’t carry, and answer to no one. I am keeping the fire going… just under different stars.
I’m not here to be admired. I’m not here to be understood. I’m still limping, still logging in, still teaching the few who know how to listen. Everything else? Noise.
I don’t believe in redemption. I believe in memory.
And mine’s sharp.
My name is Gattsume.
I didn’t come back whole.
I came back mean.
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They call me Gattsume. Most don’t say it with kindness. I’ve been a soldier, a teacher, a drifter, a ghost. If you're looking for heroics—go read a comic. This story is about ruin. About the things you bury so deep, they hum beneath your skin.
I come from a place where winter doesn’t forgive, and people don’t either. I worked in kitchens—burning my hands while feeding mouths that never thanked me. I trained the next generation to lead, but no one ever taught me how to stop running.
When Ukraine caught fire, I didn’t think—I just went. Not for politics. Not for medals. Just to bleed with purpose. For nearly two years, I fought beside men whose names I’ve forgotten but whose screams I remember. A blast took a chunk out of my leg. It left the rest of me in pieces no surgeon could fix.
Coming home? There’s no such thing. People talk like they understand. They don’t. They never will. The world was cleaner without me in it—so I stepped back into the wind.
That’s when I returned to EVE. Cold, vast, unforgiving—finally, something honest. Out here, I am Gattsume the Cossack. I raid what I want, burn what I can’t carry, and answer to no one. I am keeping the fire going… just under different stars.
I’m not here to be admired. I’m not here to be understood. I’m still limping, still logging in, still teaching the few who know how to listen. Everything else? Noise.
I don’t believe in redemption. I believe in memory.
And mine’s sharp.
My name is Gattsume.
I didn’t come back whole.
I came back mean.
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