3.40
- Kill
- 1
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Perdite
- 8
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Efficienza
- Efficienza ISK 0%
- ISK distrutti
- 3.9M
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Attività
- Inattivo
- 0 kill/giorno · ultimi 90 giorni
Scheda di combattimento
Numeri da eve-kill, di tutta la carriera
Combattimento
- Kill
- 1
- Perdite
- 8
- Indice di pericolo
- 100%
- Colpi finali
- 1
- Punti
- 1
ISK
- Distrutti
- 3.9M
- Persi
- 2.74B
- Bilancio
- -2.73B
- Efficienza ISK
- 0%
Solo
- Kill in solo
- 0
- Percentuale solo
- 0%
- Kill medie/giorno
- —
Altro
- Perdite contro NPC
- 0
- Quota perdite NPC
- 0%
- Attività
- Inattivo
Danni inflitti1.5K
Rapporto danni · 1%
Danni subiti172.1K
Attività
Cosa vola, dove combatte, le ultime kill e perdite
I più preziosi
Le kill più costose del periodo
Chi incontra
Chi uccide, da chi viene ucciso e cosa perde
Ultimi 90g
Uccisi
Ucciso da
Scafi persiPerdite suddivise per classe di scafo.
Bio in gioco
My early life was spent wedged between cargo containers, sneaking across docks to watch capsuleers board their ships. I wasn’t fascinated by their glory — I was fascinated by the moment right before they undocked. Fear, ambition, arrogance… you could see worlds written in their eyes. That’s the moment I decided I’d be one of them.
The academy told me I was ideal Gallente material: adaptable, observant, reckless enough to exploit an opening but clever enough not to die in it. I found early comfort in the hum of drones and the elegant brutality of hybrid weaponry — not because I wanted to fight, but because I wanted control. Control of the grid, the field, and most importantly, my story.
I began in high-sec, running belts and scanning signatures in quiet constellations where the only company you got were the same pirates you were paid to exterminate. Belt rats taught me patience; wrecks taught me ingenuity. I hauled loot in ships that barely deserved to fly, until eventually I could afford hulls that were mine, not rented or borrowed. My heart still belongs to Gallente metal: Vexor, Dominix, Stratios — ships that feel more alive than half the capsuleers I’ve met.
I don’t believe in shortcuts — but I do believe in luck, and I believe we make our own.
These days, I keep to my own rhythm: ratting and salvaging when I need quiet isk, hunting data and relic sites when I feel clever, and ignoring advice whenever it gets too loud. I’ve learned not to bow to Amarrians, not to trust Caldari contracts on principle, and to never assume a Minmatar ship is broken just because it’s on fire — sometimes they fly better that way.
I’ve seen fleets torn apart, and I’ve flown alone for months just to watch an entire nebula shift colors through a polarized viewport. I fight when I must. I run when I’m smarter. I smile whenever I hear someone whisper that I’m lucky — because that usually means I’ve just walked away from something that should have killed me.
I am Mirina —
Gallente by blood, explorer by heart, pilot by choice, and eternal believer that somewhere just one jump away is everything I haven’t yet become.
The academy told me I was ideal Gallente material: adaptable, observant, reckless enough to exploit an opening but clever enough not to die in it. I found early comfort in the hum of drones and the elegant brutality of hybrid weaponry — not because I wanted to fight, but because I wanted control. Control of the grid, the field, and most importantly, my story.
I began in high-sec, running belts and scanning signatures in quiet constellations where the only company you got were the same pirates you were paid to exterminate. Belt rats taught me patience; wrecks taught me ingenuity. I hauled loot in ships that barely deserved to fly, until eventually I could afford hulls that were mine, not rented or borrowed. My heart still belongs to Gallente metal: Vexor, Dominix, Stratios — ships that feel more alive than half the capsuleers I’ve met.
I don’t believe in shortcuts — but I do believe in luck, and I believe we make our own.
These days, I keep to my own rhythm: ratting and salvaging when I need quiet isk, hunting data and relic sites when I feel clever, and ignoring advice whenever it gets too loud. I’ve learned not to bow to Amarrians, not to trust Caldari contracts on principle, and to never assume a Minmatar ship is broken just because it’s on fire — sometimes they fly better that way.
I’ve seen fleets torn apart, and I’ve flown alone for months just to watch an entire nebula shift colors through a polarized viewport. I fight when I must. I run when I’m smarter. I smile whenever I hear someone whisper that I’m lucky — because that usually means I’ve just walked away from something that should have killed me.
I am Mirina —
Gallente by blood, explorer by heart, pilot by choice, and eternal believer that somewhere just one jump away is everything I haven’t yet become.