CorporazioneAttiva
[GOUGE] Irrational Decisions
1 membriTasse 10%Fondata nel 2015
- Kill
- 199
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Perdite
- 136
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Efficienza
- Efficienza ISK 32%
- ISK distrutti
- 23.32B
- +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
- 199
- Perdite
- 136
- Indice di pericolo
- 99%
- Colpi finali
- 86
- Punti
- 199
ISK
- Distrutti
- 23.32B
- Persi
- 49.58B
- Bilancio
- -26.27B
- Efficienza ISK
- 32%
Solo
- Kill in solo
- 37
- Percentuale solo
- 19%
- Kill medie/giorno
- —
Altro
- Perdite contro NPC
- 1
- Quota perdite NPC
- 1%
- Attività
- Inattivo
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
Mother looked at the shiny missiles in her hands and felt aroused.
She walked over to the window and reflected on her cold surroundings. She had always loved bloody New Eden with its empty, elated emptiness. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel aroused.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Father. Father was a lactating angel with warm legs and silky fingers.
Mother gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a lovely, brutal, Quafe drinker with wrinkly legs and weathered fingers. Her friends saw her as a graceful, gleaming goat. Once, she had even jumped into a river and saved a fragile simpleton.
But not even a lovely person who had once jumped into a river and saved a fragile simpleton, was prepared for what Father had in store today.
The sunny teased like flying dogs, making Mother satisfed.
As Mother stepped outside and Father came closer, she could see the powerful smile on his face.
"I am here because I want peace," Father bellowed, in a controlling tone. He slammed his fist against Mother's chest, with the force of 90 fedo. "I frigging hate you, Mother ."
Mother looked back, even more satisfed and still fingering the shiny missiles. "Father, that wasn't my cheese," she replied.
They looked at each other with confused feelings, like two curious, crazy cats shooting at a very religious reunion, which had jazz music playing in the background and two sterile uncles screaming to the beat.
Mother studied Father's warm legs and silky fingers. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you peace," she explained, in pitying tones.
Father looked determined, his body raw like a spluttering, slippery slave.
Mother could actually hear Father's body shatter into 9902 pieces. Then the lactating angel hurried away into the distance.
Not even a drink of Quafe would calm Mother's nerves tonight.
She walked over to the window and reflected on her cold surroundings. She had always loved bloody New Eden with its empty, elated emptiness. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel aroused.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Father. Father was a lactating angel with warm legs and silky fingers.
Mother gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a lovely, brutal, Quafe drinker with wrinkly legs and weathered fingers. Her friends saw her as a graceful, gleaming goat. Once, she had even jumped into a river and saved a fragile simpleton.
But not even a lovely person who had once jumped into a river and saved a fragile simpleton, was prepared for what Father had in store today.
The sunny teased like flying dogs, making Mother satisfed.
As Mother stepped outside and Father came closer, she could see the powerful smile on his face.
"I am here because I want peace," Father bellowed, in a controlling tone. He slammed his fist against Mother's chest, with the force of 90 fedo. "I frigging hate you, Mother ."
Mother looked back, even more satisfed and still fingering the shiny missiles. "Father, that wasn't my cheese," she replied.
They looked at each other with confused feelings, like two curious, crazy cats shooting at a very religious reunion, which had jazz music playing in the background and two sterile uncles screaming to the beat.
Mother studied Father's warm legs and silky fingers. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you peace," she explained, in pitying tones.
Father looked determined, his body raw like a spluttering, slippery slave.
Mother could actually hear Father's body shatter into 9902 pieces. Then the lactating angel hurried away into the distance.
Not even a drink of Quafe would calm Mother's nerves tonight.