0.00
- Kill
- 0
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Perdite
- 0
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Efficienza
- Efficienza ISK 0%
- ISK distrutti
- 0
- +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
- 0
- Perdite
- 0
- Indice di pericolo
- 0%
- Colpi finali
- 0
- Punti
- 0
ISK
- Distrutti
- 0
- Persi
- 0
- Bilancio
- +0
- 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
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
The university was not the life he had wanted. It was the life he had been assigned.
He had wanted more. He had imagined more. And now, he possessed nothing to show for it. Absolutely nothing.
Fathers were like that, though. Killing hopes and dreams to satisfy their own. "He deserved what he got,", he thought. And, yet, permanent clone death seemed almost too kind for the man who now, years later, still ushered in emotions of inexplicable rage & hurt.
Still, here he was, an accomplished academician. Imperial expansion in the post-revelatory age. The collapse of the pan-Amarrian Representation. The failure of transpatial foreign policies to stem the endless tide of permawar. He knew these disciplines well. He had contributed greatly to these fields, was lauded, even celebrated in some quarters of the academic community. And, yet, it wasn't enough...
He knew. It was time to go elsewhere. His life wouldn't be wasted.
He would do more...
---
tl;dr: Waah, emo rp shit.
He had wanted more. He had imagined more. And now, he possessed nothing to show for it. Absolutely nothing.
Fathers were like that, though. Killing hopes and dreams to satisfy their own. "He deserved what he got,", he thought. And, yet, permanent clone death seemed almost too kind for the man who now, years later, still ushered in emotions of inexplicable rage & hurt.
Still, here he was, an accomplished academician. Imperial expansion in the post-revelatory age. The collapse of the pan-Amarrian Representation. The failure of transpatial foreign policies to stem the endless tide of permawar. He knew these disciplines well. He had contributed greatly to these fields, was lauded, even celebrated in some quarters of the academic community. And, yet, it wasn't enough...
He knew. It was time to go elsewhere. His life wouldn't be wasted.
He would do more...
---
tl;dr: Waah, emo rp shit.