- Kills
- 28
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 25
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 45%
- ISK destroyed
- 2.22B
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Activity
- Inactive
- 0 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 28
- Losses
- 25
- Danger Ratio
- 96%
- Final Blows
- 20
- Points
- 28
ISK
- Destroyed
- 2.22B
- Lost
- 2.67B
- Balance
- -446.4M
- ISK Efficiency
- 45%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 11
- Solo Ratio
- 39%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 1
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 4%
- Activity
- Inactive
Activity
What the corporation flies, where it fights, 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.
Battles
Engagements in the selected window, from our own killmail archive
Description
*Recruitment subjectively open for people daft enough to join us*
-() ()
-(ƒ;..;)ƒ
o(___)
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
~John Donne
**We require FULL API and will complete a comprehensive background check before admittance.
-() ()
-(ƒ;..;)ƒ
o(___)
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
~John Donne
**We require FULL API and will complete a comprehensive background check before admittance.