- Kills
- 43
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 49
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 71%
- ISK destroyed
- 2.50B
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Activity
- Inactive
- 0 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 43
- Losses
- 49
- Danger Ratio
- 82%
- Final Blows
- 25
- Points
- 43
ISK
- Destroyed
- 2.50B
- Lost
- 1.03B
- Balance
- +1.47B
- ISK Efficiency
- 71%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 17
- Solo Ratio
- 40%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 9
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 18%
- Activity
- Inactive
Damage Dealt4.5M
Damage Ratio · 97%
Damage Taken155.7K
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 socket at the back my neck still itches, and when I leave my pod to spend a night in the station with whores or with the ladies I call “wife,” I can’t sleep. If I do, it’s Right. Fucking. Here. where the knot is in the morning. Yeah, I’m new, but I’ve died and cashed my credits for an empty me, curled like a fetus and bobbing in a vat, before jumping in a ship and doing it again.
I was born on Stacmon X , the only rock with a station in orbit. The first girl I kissed was Minmatar.
When I was 16, Mom and Dad said we were leaving. Between Mom’s job at the refugee school and Dad’s job at the biocells plant, they’d scraped together enough dirtcoin for three seats to the station.
Long story short, Dad’s crew got lucky with a Deimos wreck when they sidetracked for a salvage op. They sent me to school where I talked my way into co-ed quarters and flight school. Last thing I remember before choking on goo was what my basic spaceflight instructor said: G’night you fucking smart ass.
I was born on Stacmon X , the only rock with a station in orbit. The first girl I kissed was Minmatar.
When I was 16, Mom and Dad said we were leaving. Between Mom’s job at the refugee school and Dad’s job at the biocells plant, they’d scraped together enough dirtcoin for three seats to the station.
Long story short, Dad’s crew got lucky with a Deimos wreck when they sidetracked for a salvage op. They sent me to school where I talked my way into co-ed quarters and flight school. Last thing I remember before choking on goo was what my basic spaceflight instructor said: G’night you fucking smart ass.