CorporazioneAttiva
[1GUN] Wealthy Dropouts
68 membriTasse 0%Fondata nel 2014
CEOFear ClearyIndipendenteScheda di combattimento
Numeri da eve-kill, di tutta la carriera
Nessun dato killboard disponibile per questo pilota.
Attività
Cosa vola la corporazione, dove combatte, le ultime kill e perdite
I più preziosi
Le kill più costose del periodo
Chi incontra
Chi uccide, da chi viene uccisa e cosa perde
Ultimi 90g
Uccisi
Ucciso da
Scafi persiPerdite suddivise per classe di scafo.
Battaglie
Gli scontri nella finestra scelta, dal nostro archivio killmail
Descrizione
W E A L T H Y D R O P O U T S
est. a very long time ago, in a belt far from anyone's permission
They told us to sit down. Get the degree. Take the job. Climb the ladder somebody else built, and wait politely for a life to be delivered to us in a tasteful little box.
We looked at the box. We looked at the ladder.
We got in a mining barge and we left.
That was twelve years ago. That is longer than some of you have been sentient. Since then, alliances have risen and crumbled into dust. Wars have been won, lost, and forgotten by everyone but the dead. Whole careers began and ended in the time it takes us to clear a single anomaly. And through all of it — every collapse, every headline, every "this changes everything" — we were right here. In the belt. Mining. Occasionally remembering to eat.
We have pulled so much ore that three asteroids unionized, went on strike, and lost. A rock once filed a restraining order against us. We mined the courthouse. We have stared at the same Veldspar so long it blinked first, achieved consciousness, begged for mercy, and is now Employee of the Month. Our reprocessing efficiency is so immaculate that geologists have quietly left the profession and CONCORD sends us a handwritten card every birthday.
But here's the part they never tell you about dropping out:
You don't end up with nothing. You end up with EVERYTHING — on your own terms.
We answer to no market. No boss. No landlord. No five-year plan. We mine our own ore, build our own future, and forge our own steel while the rest of the cluster waits for delivery. We didn't reject education. We rejected average — and average has been seething about it ever since.
WHAT WE OFFER
▸ Fleet mining ops with full foreman boosts + compression — your yield, supercharged
▸ Ore buyback at proper rates — we pay you on the spot, you never crawl to Jita again
▸ Lowsec & null ore — Crokite, Gneiss, Dark Ochre. The good stuff. The stuff cowards won't touch
▸ A covert scout finding hidden veins and watching the gates, so you mine rich, not dead
▸ Twelve years of legacy, allies across the region, and medals we forged with our own hands
▸ Newbros: we'll teach you everything. Vets: we'll hand you a laser and point at the horizon.
We are self-made, self-fueled, gloriously unsupervised, and exactly one ore deposit away from ascending bodily into a higher dimension where the rocks are bigger and the WiFi is free.
If you've ever looked at the "normal" path and felt absolutely nothing —
welcome home.
est. a very long time ago, in a belt far from anyone's permission
They told us to sit down. Get the degree. Take the job. Climb the ladder somebody else built, and wait politely for a life to be delivered to us in a tasteful little box.
We looked at the box. We looked at the ladder.
We got in a mining barge and we left.
That was twelve years ago. That is longer than some of you have been sentient. Since then, alliances have risen and crumbled into dust. Wars have been won, lost, and forgotten by everyone but the dead. Whole careers began and ended in the time it takes us to clear a single anomaly. And through all of it — every collapse, every headline, every "this changes everything" — we were right here. In the belt. Mining. Occasionally remembering to eat.
We have pulled so much ore that three asteroids unionized, went on strike, and lost. A rock once filed a restraining order against us. We mined the courthouse. We have stared at the same Veldspar so long it blinked first, achieved consciousness, begged for mercy, and is now Employee of the Month. Our reprocessing efficiency is so immaculate that geologists have quietly left the profession and CONCORD sends us a handwritten card every birthday.
But here's the part they never tell you about dropping out:
You don't end up with nothing. You end up with EVERYTHING — on your own terms.
We answer to no market. No boss. No landlord. No five-year plan. We mine our own ore, build our own future, and forge our own steel while the rest of the cluster waits for delivery. We didn't reject education. We rejected average — and average has been seething about it ever since.
WHAT WE OFFER
▸ Fleet mining ops with full foreman boosts + compression — your yield, supercharged
▸ Ore buyback at proper rates — we pay you on the spot, you never crawl to Jita again
▸ Lowsec & null ore — Crokite, Gneiss, Dark Ochre. The good stuff. The stuff cowards won't touch
▸ A covert scout finding hidden veins and watching the gates, so you mine rich, not dead
▸ Twelve years of legacy, allies across the region, and medals we forged with our own hands
▸ Newbros: we'll teach you everything. Vets: we'll hand you a laser and point at the horizon.
We are self-made, self-fueled, gloriously unsupervised, and exactly one ore deposit away from ascending bodily into a higher dimension where the rocks are bigger and the WiFi is free.
If you've ever looked at the "normal" path and felt absolutely nothing —
welcome home.