0.00
- Created on
- …
- Next Birthday
- …
- Security Status
- 0.00
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 0
- Losses
- 0
- Efficiency
- 0%
- Danger Ratio
- 0%
ISK
- Destroyed
- 0
- Lost
- 0
- ISK Efficiency
- 0%
- Balance
- +0
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 0
- Solo Ratio
- 0%
- Final Blows
- 0
- Points
- 0
Other
- NPC Losses
- 0
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 0%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
- Activity
- Inactive
Combat profile
How they fight, with whom and against whom — last 90 days
Activity
What they fly and where they fight
Most Valuable
Matchups
Who they kill, who kills them, what they lose
Top ListsLast 90d
Hulls LostLast 90d
Losses broken down by hull class.
Career
Corporations flown for, most recent first
In-game bio
What’s up, space peeps? It's your boy, Jesus F. Christ, back at it again with the eternal life gig. Yeah, you heard right. I’m the guy whose dad thought it’d be “educational” to send him to die for others. Talk about tough love, right? f612
Born to a carpenter who moonlights as the ruler of the universe (no biggie), I got famous not for my sick hoverboard tricks or my lo-fi synth beats, but for being nailed (literally) by my old man’s grand plan. Now I’m stuck roaming the cosmos in my teenage years, trying to forgive sins and flip tables in true rebellious fashion.
So here I am, flying through the stars, trying to deal with the fact that my dad’s idea of father-son bonding is a bit too intense for my taste. I pilot my ship, the "Divine Angst," rocking out to emo tunes that get me in the feelz, contemplating existentialism and the irony of being immortal. Anyone else think it’s a bit much to ask a guy to save humanity before he’s even had his first space beer?
If you see me in the void, come say hi—or don’t. Whatever. I might just turn your water into wine (if I’m in a good mood). Fly safe, or don’t. Free will, am I right?
Born to a carpenter who moonlights as the ruler of the universe (no biggie), I got famous not for my sick hoverboard tricks or my lo-fi synth beats, but for being nailed (literally) by my old man’s grand plan. Now I’m stuck roaming the cosmos in my teenage years, trying to forgive sins and flip tables in true rebellious fashion.
So here I am, flying through the stars, trying to deal with the fact that my dad’s idea of father-son bonding is a bit too intense for my taste. I pilot my ship, the "Divine Angst," rocking out to emo tunes that get me in the feelz, contemplating existentialism and the irony of being immortal. Anyone else think it’s a bit much to ask a guy to save humanity before he’s even had his first space beer?
If you see me in the void, come say hi—or don’t. Whatever. I might just turn your water into wine (if I’m in a good mood). Fly safe, or don’t. Free will, am I right?