- Kills
- 0
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 0
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 0%
- ISK destroyed
- 0
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Activity
- Inactive
- 0 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 0
- Losses
- 0
- Danger Ratio
- 0%
- Final Blows
- 0
- Points
- 0
ISK
- Destroyed
- 0
- Lost
- 0
- Balance
- +0
- ISK Efficiency
- 0%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 0
- Solo Ratio
- 0%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 0
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 0%
- Activity
- Inactive
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
The university was not the life he had wanted. It was the life he had been assigned.
He had wanted more. He had imagined more. And now, he possessed nothing to show for it. Absolutely nothing.
Fathers were like that, though. Killing hopes and dreams to satisfy their own. "He deserved what he got,", he thought. And, yet, permanent clone death seemed almost too kind for the man who now, years later, still ushered in emotions of inexplicable rage & hurt.
Still, here he was, an accomplished academician. Imperial expansion in the post-revelatory age. The collapse of the pan-Amarrian Representation. The failure of transpatial foreign policies to stem the endless tide of permawar. He knew these disciplines well. He had contributed greatly to these fields, was lauded, even celebrated in some quarters of the academic community. And, yet, it wasn't enough...
He knew. It was time to go elsewhere. His life wouldn't be wasted.
He would do more...
---
tl;dr: Waah, emo rp shit.
He had wanted more. He had imagined more. And now, he possessed nothing to show for it. Absolutely nothing.
Fathers were like that, though. Killing hopes and dreams to satisfy their own. "He deserved what he got,", he thought. And, yet, permanent clone death seemed almost too kind for the man who now, years later, still ushered in emotions of inexplicable rage & hurt.
Still, here he was, an accomplished academician. Imperial expansion in the post-revelatory age. The collapse of the pan-Amarrian Representation. The failure of transpatial foreign policies to stem the endless tide of permawar. He knew these disciplines well. He had contributed greatly to these fields, was lauded, even celebrated in some quarters of the academic community. And, yet, it wasn't enough...
He knew. It was time to go elsewhere. His life wouldn't be wasted.
He would do more...
---
tl;dr: Waah, emo rp shit.