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CorporationActive

[--OG] Order of Extrodinary Gentlemen

102 membersTax 0%Founded in 2019
CEOAlex Moran07Independent
Kills
9,651
+0 in the last 90 days
Losses
5,232
+1 in the last 90 days
65%
Efficiency
ISK Efficiency 96%
ISK destroyed
15.60T
+0 in the last 90 days
Activity
Inactive
0 kills/day · last 90 days

Combat Record

Career-long numbers from eve-kill

Combat

Kills
9,651
Losses
5,232
Danger Ratio
92%
Final Blows
1,765
Points
9,651

ISK

Destroyed
15.60T
Lost
611.02B
Balance
+14.99T
ISK Efficiency
96%

Solo

Solo Kills
653
Solo Ratio
7%
Avg Kills/Day
—

Other

NPC Losses
405
NPC Loss Ratio
8%
Activity
Inactive

Activity

What the corporation flies, where it fights, latest kills and losses

ShipsLast 90d
SystemsLast 90d
Latest killsKillboard
Latest lossesKillboard

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

So how did we get started with this mess of a corporation? Well, the story itself is a mess, filled with messy people doing messy things. We crossed paths years ago, Judge and I. By that point I'd long been known as danglecity21, the code name I'd received growing up in the Dangle City Asylum after the incident. But that's a story for another day. I was number 21 and he was this man named Judge by his parents for some reason, but he was a softy. We met up again after escaping with guns blazing from Jita's most notorious prison, ended up in a brothel in O1Y with New Eden's unsexiest prostitutes and strongest whiskey. When we came to, Judge was married to a girl named Kat who danced like a dying cow and we had incorporated a new corporation - Order of Extrodinary Gentlemen. Extrodinary. The level of how drunk we were when we filled out the forms clearly. "Did you mean to misspell it?" "Yeah. Did you mean to get married?" "This is my lady now." And that was that. Judge left Kat in that brothel before it was unceremoniously destroyed by some guys with the sniffles and a bunch of tree people. Convenient divorce I guess. We took off from there, lured by dreams of wealth and the demands of a bunch of assholes we picked up as employees along the way. They demanded blood, and all I asked of them was that they didn't do stupid shit and then looked the other way when they did just that. Doesn't matter. We thought we'd left that shit behind and moved on, moved forward, gotten our ducks in a row and our shit together. Then Kat showed back up with a baby named Judge Jr, dragging behind her a fleet of castoffs and fanatics saved from the wreckage that was our previous life.
Right when you think you're free, they put the shackles back on your leg and tie you down to a rock called reality. I could have escaped, run off long ago for greener pastures, set down an Astrahus of my own and made a comfy life of rocks and reprocessing. Would've been nice. Safe. I closed that door and ran back for the danger where I belong. We're here now, cornered with a case of black market whiskey, a pack of cigarettes, a bunch of Muninns, some dumbasses, a screaming baby, and some motherfuckers staring us down with death in their eyes. "How're we getting out of this one, 21?" "I don't know, Judge, but we're going down with guns blazing, that's for sure. Put your head between your knees, kiss your ass goodbye, and let's do this.