Gallente
Jin-Mei
3.35
McMineFace
Last Active:
1 day ago
Birthday:
Apr 17, 2017 (8 years old)
Next Birthday:
Apr 17, 2026 (164 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
101
Losses
36
Efficiency
73.7%
Danger Ratio
73.7%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
50.05B ISK
ISK Lost
8.68B ISK
ISK Efficiency
85.2%
ISK Balance
41.38B ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
0
Solo Losses
26
Solo Kill Ratio
0.0%
Solo Efficiency
0.0%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
21
NPC Loss Ratio
58.3
Avg. Kills/Day
0.0
Activity
Medium
Character Biography
From a very young age, McMineFace has disliked Biographies.
It started on a cold winter's night when the last remaining warmth from a stolen fighter's micro warp drive died. Huddled around the now junk metal in the middle of an abandoned hangar, McMineFace and his small family were attacked by a rogue biography.
It burst through the door waving phasers in the air and screamed, "Ther terk er jeeeerbsss!!!". Clearly upset, drunk and most likely high, this biography was not messing around. Tears streaming from his eyes, and the bruises of what was likely the result of escaping some sort of restraints, this particular biography was not in the mood for a conversation.
He stormed into the middle of the room, pointed his phasers at McMineFace and his family, and gazed upon his new hostages. Suddenly time seemed to slow, the chill in the room swept through everyone's soul. The biography locked eyes with McMineFace and said in a deep and raspy voice, "watch... look at me in the eyes..."
McMineFace frozen in terror could not think of anything to say except, "What?"
"Look at me in the eyes!" Responded the Biography. Without breaking his glare, not even blinking, he slowly undid his belt. He let his pants slide to the floor, dropped down on his haunches and took a massive dump in the middle of the room.
Still staring at McMineFace he smiled for a second, exhaled, and then slowly breathed in through his nose. The cold in the room emphasized the warmth of the turd by allowing steam. In a comical way the steam trail traveled from his freshly laid coil to his nose.
"Aaaah. Mmmmhmmhmm..." he moaned, "Sometimes you have to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Stop and smell the roses as they say."
The biography kept his phaser pointed at his hostages while doing a little twerk to try get any remaining bits off. He slowly stood and pulled up his pants and trousers with the other hand.
The family still in shock at being witnesses to what just happened remained paralysed with both fear and confusion.
The biography finished his business. Did up his belt. Packed his phaser away. And slid out into the cold night through the door he entered.
Since that day McMineFace vowed to never write a biography. A vow he just broke.
It started on a cold winter's night when the last remaining warmth from a stolen fighter's micro warp drive died. Huddled around the now junk metal in the middle of an abandoned hangar, McMineFace and his small family were attacked by a rogue biography.
It burst through the door waving phasers in the air and screamed, "Ther terk er jeeeerbsss!!!". Clearly upset, drunk and most likely high, this biography was not messing around. Tears streaming from his eyes, and the bruises of what was likely the result of escaping some sort of restraints, this particular biography was not in the mood for a conversation.
He stormed into the middle of the room, pointed his phasers at McMineFace and his family, and gazed upon his new hostages. Suddenly time seemed to slow, the chill in the room swept through everyone's soul. The biography locked eyes with McMineFace and said in a deep and raspy voice, "watch... look at me in the eyes..."
McMineFace frozen in terror could not think of anything to say except, "What?"
"Look at me in the eyes!" Responded the Biography. Without breaking his glare, not even blinking, he slowly undid his belt. He let his pants slide to the floor, dropped down on his haunches and took a massive dump in the middle of the room.
Still staring at McMineFace he smiled for a second, exhaled, and then slowly breathed in through his nose. The cold in the room emphasized the warmth of the turd by allowing steam. In a comical way the steam trail traveled from his freshly laid coil to his nose.
"Aaaah. Mmmmhmmhmm..." he moaned, "Sometimes you have to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Stop and smell the roses as they say."
The biography kept his phaser pointed at his hostages while doing a little twerk to try get any remaining bits off. He slowly stood and pulled up his pants and trousers with the other hand.
The family still in shock at being witnesses to what just happened remained paralysed with both fear and confusion.
The biography finished his business. Did up his belt. Packed his phaser away. And slid out into the cold night through the door he entered.
Since that day McMineFace vowed to never write a biography. A vow he just broke.