Minmatar
Vherokior
0.01
Pinky Industry
Birthday:
Apr 9, 2025 (0 years old)
Next Birthday:
Apr 9, 2026 (155 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
0
Losses
0
Efficiency
0%
Danger Ratio
0%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
0 ISK
ISK Lost
0 ISK
ISK Efficiency
0%
ISK Balance
0 ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
0
Solo Losses
0
Solo Kill Ratio
0%
Solo Efficiency
0%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
0
NPC Loss Ratio
0
Avg. Kills/Day
0
Activity
Minimal
Character Biography
┌─────────────────────────────────────┐
│ COMMAND DECK — FELINE 02 - Industry Alt
└─────────────────────────────────────┘
Name: Pinky
Faction: Minmatar Republic
Former Affiliation: Nemexia High Command
Reputation: Psychonaut
__
| \\
=[_|H)--._____
=[+--,-------'
[|_/""
Drawn to the raw, tribal pulse of the Minmatar Republic, he resurfaced not as a politician or general, but something stranger. Something freer.
In a universe where discipline is worshipped, protocol is survival, and espionage is welcomed, Pinky chose another path. He became infamous for piloting under the influence of powerful narcotics — his fleetmates have long since stopped asking why — they follow him in battle, and somehow, it works.
Inside his ship, the cockpit becomes more than an interface — it becomes a ritual space. One moment, guttural hard rock metal tears through the hull as if the engines themselves are screaming. The next, tribal psytrance pulses in sync with evasive maneuvers.
Despite the altered mindstates, or perhaps because of them, Pinky remains one of the most unpredictable and effective small-gang pilots in his corner of the cluster. Those who engage him often walk away unsure of what just happened. Did they win? Why did Pinky's ship cost less than 1m ISK?
But beware, the moment the laughing stops, the music cuts, and the tone shifts. When you piss Pinky off he is no longer just exploring — he’s hunting.
│ COMMAND DECK — FELINE 02 - Industry Alt
└─────────────────────────────────────┘
Name: Pinky
Faction: Minmatar Republic
Former Affiliation: Nemexia High Command
Reputation: Psychonaut
__
| \\
=[_|H)--._____
=[+--,-------'
[|_/""
Drawn to the raw, tribal pulse of the Minmatar Republic, he resurfaced not as a politician or general, but something stranger. Something freer.
In a universe where discipline is worshipped, protocol is survival, and espionage is welcomed, Pinky chose another path. He became infamous for piloting under the influence of powerful narcotics — his fleetmates have long since stopped asking why — they follow him in battle, and somehow, it works.
Inside his ship, the cockpit becomes more than an interface — it becomes a ritual space. One moment, guttural hard rock metal tears through the hull as if the engines themselves are screaming. The next, tribal psytrance pulses in sync with evasive maneuvers.
Despite the altered mindstates, or perhaps because of them, Pinky remains one of the most unpredictable and effective small-gang pilots in his corner of the cluster. Those who engage him often walk away unsure of what just happened. Did they win? Why did Pinky's ship cost less than 1m ISK?
But beware, the moment the laughing stops, the music cuts, and the tone shifts. When you piss Pinky off he is no longer just exploring — he’s hunting.