Amarr
Ni-Kunni
5.01
Kylo Ren00
Last Active:
5 days ago
Birthday:
Feb 3, 2018 (7 years old)
Next Birthday:
Feb 3, 2026 (90 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
1
Losses
55
Efficiency
1.8%
Danger Ratio
1.8%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
824,055 ISK
ISK Lost
3.12B ISK
ISK Efficiency
0.0%
ISK Balance
-3,119,151,062 ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
0
Solo Losses
36
Solo Kill Ratio
0.0%
Solo Efficiency
0.0%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
20
NPC Loss Ratio
36.4
Avg. Kills/Day
0.0
Activity
Low
Character Biography
Ashes of Venture, Fire of Friendship
I began like many others in a Venture, alone in the void, mining veldspar and dreaming of something more. The drone of mining lasers was my lullaby, the silent belt my sanctuary. The capsuleer life was new, raw, and unforgiving, but something in me sparked every time I warped between asteroids and stations. I was small, but I was free.
That’s when I met him another capsuleer, not much older in clone age, but seasoned in experience. He didn’t just see a miner in a Venture; he saw potential. He taught me how to scan, how to fit ships properly, how to make ISK — but more importantly, how to survive. From gas huffing to ninja salvaging, lowsec dives to wormhole peeks we did it all. He became my mentor, and in time, my friend.
We carved out a small life together in the same constellation, always pushing, always chasing the next thrill. But stars shift, and so do people.
New Stars, New Blood
An opportunity rose Brave Newbies, the alliance I had watched from afar, extended its hand. I was drawn in by their raw energy, their chaotic courage, and their hunger to throw frigates at problems until one exploded in victory. I joined. My friend? He chose to stay behind, grounded in the quiet system we called home. We respected the difference but it still hurt.
The fleets, the battles, the doctrines, and the drunken comms Brave was a storm I dove into headfirst. Every killmail a badge, every loss a lesson. Yet, even among the new friendships, something tugged at me.
A message came. Not through official channels, but personal. My old friend quiet, simple: "The belts are quieter without you." That was enough.
I left Brave. I returned. To the same sun, the same station, the same belts. And to my old friend older now, wiser, but still that familiar voice on comms. We mined. We laughed. We remembered.
Years passed.
Clones sat in bays. Stations collected dust. Logins became rare, then none at all. Life both real and digital drifted. The war drums of New Eden pounded on without me. I was gone.
Until now.
I began like many others in a Venture, alone in the void, mining veldspar and dreaming of something more. The drone of mining lasers was my lullaby, the silent belt my sanctuary. The capsuleer life was new, raw, and unforgiving, but something in me sparked every time I warped between asteroids and stations. I was small, but I was free.
That’s when I met him another capsuleer, not much older in clone age, but seasoned in experience. He didn’t just see a miner in a Venture; he saw potential. He taught me how to scan, how to fit ships properly, how to make ISK — but more importantly, how to survive. From gas huffing to ninja salvaging, lowsec dives to wormhole peeks we did it all. He became my mentor, and in time, my friend.
We carved out a small life together in the same constellation, always pushing, always chasing the next thrill. But stars shift, and so do people.
New Stars, New Blood
An opportunity rose Brave Newbies, the alliance I had watched from afar, extended its hand. I was drawn in by their raw energy, their chaotic courage, and their hunger to throw frigates at problems until one exploded in victory. I joined. My friend? He chose to stay behind, grounded in the quiet system we called home. We respected the difference but it still hurt.
The fleets, the battles, the doctrines, and the drunken comms Brave was a storm I dove into headfirst. Every killmail a badge, every loss a lesson. Yet, even among the new friendships, something tugged at me.
A message came. Not through official channels, but personal. My old friend quiet, simple: "The belts are quieter without you." That was enough.
I left Brave. I returned. To the same sun, the same station, the same belts. And to my old friend older now, wiser, but still that familiar voice on comms. We mined. We laughed. We remembered.
Years passed.
Clones sat in bays. Stations collected dust. Logins became rare, then none at all. Life both real and digital drifted. The war drums of New Eden pounded on without me. I was gone.
Until now.