1.20Pilota
D3monicPho3nix
GallenteGallente
- Kill
- 16
- +3 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Perdite
- 168
- +17 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Efficienza
- Efficienza ISK 16%
- ISK distrutti
- 3.51B
- +103.5M negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Attività
- Bassa
- 0 kill/giorno · ultimi 90 giorni
Scheda di combattimento
Numeri da eve-kill, di tutta la carriera
Combattimento
- Kill
- 16
- Perdite
- 168
- Indice di pericolo
- 77%
- Colpi finali
- 7
- Punti
- 15
ISK
- Distrutti
- 3.51B
- Persi
- 18.11B
- Bilancio
- -14.61B
- Efficienza ISK
- 16%
Solo
- Kill in solo
- 6
- Percentuale solo
- 38%
- Kill medie/giorno
- —
Altro
- Perdite contro NPC
- 39
- Quota perdite NPC
- 23%
- Attività
- Bassa
Danni inflitti439.7K
Rapporto danni · 15%
Danni subiti2.5M
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
**D3monicPhoenix:** Corporate Overlord of Dawn Of The Dark Phoenix, Tyrant of the Moon Belts, and the reason gankers suddenly become very interested in local chat.
D3monicPhoenix doesn't run a mining corporation. He commands an industrial war machine fueled by moon goo, rage, and an unhealthy obsession with efficiency. While other CEOs hold meetings, D3monicPhoenix is already anchoring the next moon drill and planning three more.
His daily routine:
* Wake up.
* Check moon timers.
* Check market prices.
* Check killboards.
* Wonder which idiot ignored the doctrine fit this time.
He has issued the same warning a thousand times:
**"Use the doctrine fit."**
And yet every time someone explodes in a paper-thin Hulk, a distant scream echoes across New Eden.
D3monicPhoenix views gankers as content, war declarations as paperwork, and hostile fleets as an inconvenience delaying mining operations. His response to danger is usually, **"Form up."** followed by several paragraphs of instructions nobody reads until after they've lost a ship.
The belts belong to him.
The moons belong to him.
The industrial projects belong to him.
The spreadsheets belong to him.
The moon goo definitely belongs to him.
Pilots entering fleet quickly learn there are only two acceptable outcomes:
1. Make ISK.
2. Make more ISK.
Failure to achieve either may result in being volunteered for the next corporation mining operation.
Stories are told of D3monicPhoenix detecting a neutral in system before the neutral even loads grid. Some say he can smell incoming gankers through the server hamsters. Others claim he has personally written enough MOTDs to fill an entire station database.
His final form is rumored to be an Orca with so much tank that CONCORD uses it as a reference point.
When the stars burn out and New Eden collapses into darkness, one final corporation ping will be heard across the void:
D3monicPhoenix doesn't run a mining corporation. He commands an industrial war machine fueled by moon goo, rage, and an unhealthy obsession with efficiency. While other CEOs hold meetings, D3monicPhoenix is already anchoring the next moon drill and planning three more.
His daily routine:
* Wake up.
* Check moon timers.
* Check market prices.
* Check killboards.
* Wonder which idiot ignored the doctrine fit this time.
He has issued the same warning a thousand times:
**"Use the doctrine fit."**
And yet every time someone explodes in a paper-thin Hulk, a distant scream echoes across New Eden.
D3monicPhoenix views gankers as content, war declarations as paperwork, and hostile fleets as an inconvenience delaying mining operations. His response to danger is usually, **"Form up."** followed by several paragraphs of instructions nobody reads until after they've lost a ship.
The belts belong to him.
The moons belong to him.
The industrial projects belong to him.
The spreadsheets belong to him.
The moon goo definitely belongs to him.
Pilots entering fleet quickly learn there are only two acceptable outcomes:
1. Make ISK.
2. Make more ISK.
Failure to achieve either may result in being volunteered for the next corporation mining operation.
Stories are told of D3monicPhoenix detecting a neutral in system before the neutral even loads grid. Some say he can smell incoming gankers through the server hamsters. Others claim he has personally written enough MOTDs to fill an entire station database.
His final form is rumored to be an Orca with so much tank that CONCORD uses it as a reference point.
When the stars burn out and New Eden collapses into darkness, one final corporation ping will be heard across the void: