- Kill
- 386
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Perdite
- 279
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Efficienza
- Efficienza ISK 88%
- ISK distrutti
- 1.59T
- +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
- 386
- Perdite
- 279
- Indice di pericolo
- 93%
- Colpi finali
- 32
- Punti
- 386
ISK
- Distrutti
- 1.59T
- Persi
- 211.73B
- Bilancio
- +1.38T
- Efficienza ISK
- 88%
Solo
- Kill in solo
- 17
- Percentuale solo
- 4%
- Kill medie/giorno
- —
Altro
- Perdite contro NPC
- 20
- Quota perdite NPC
- 7%
- Attività
- Inattivo
Danni inflitti21.2M
Rapporto danni · 79%
Danni subiti5.6M
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
Truckers work for god
To Pod, or not to Pod: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the AutoCannons and Missiles of outrageous Pirats,
Or to take arms against a sea of Rats, And by opposing end them? To die: to Logg; No more; and by Logg to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That Clones are heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to Logg; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what Loot may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long a Clone;
an ode to EvE.
Taken shamlessley from Hamlet Act3 scene 1
To Pod, or not to Pod: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the AutoCannons and Missiles of outrageous Pirats,
Or to take arms against a sea of Rats, And by opposing end them? To die: to Logg; No more; and by Logg to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That Clones are heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to Logg; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what Loot may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long a Clone;
an ode to EvE.
Taken shamlessley from Hamlet Act3 scene 1