Caldari
Civire
5.01
Last Active:
2 days ago
Birthday:
Jun 30, 2010 (15 years old)
Next Birthday:
Jun 30, 2026 (292 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
427
Losses
21
Efficiency
95.3%
Danger Ratio
95.3%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
51.31B ISK
ISK Lost
4.97B ISK
ISK Efficiency
91.2%
ISK Balance
46.34B ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
258
Solo Losses
12
Solo Kill Ratio
60.4%
Solo Efficiency
95.6%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
4
NPC Loss Ratio
19.0
Avg. Kills/Day
0.1
Activity
Medium
Character Biography
Been around the World. Universe too. ツ
They call me Gattsume. Most don’t say it with kindness. I’ve been a soldier, a teacher, a drifter, a ghost. If you're looking for heroics—go read a comic. This story is about ruin. About the things you bury so deep, they hum beneath your skin.
I come from a place where winter doesn’t forgive, and people don’t either. I worked in kitchens—burning my hands while feeding mouths that never thanked me. I trained the next generation to lead, but no one ever taught me how to stop running.
When Ukraine caught fire, I didn’t think—I just went. Not for politics. Not for medals. Just to bleed with purpose. For nearly two years, I fought beside men whose names I’ve forgotten but whose screams I remember. A blast took a chunk out of my leg. It left the rest of me in pieces no surgeon could fix.
Coming home? There’s no such thing. People talk like they understand. They don’t. They never will. The world was cleaner without me in it—so I stepped back into the wind.
That’s when I returned to EVE. Cold, vast, unforgiving—finally, something honest. Out here, I am Gattsume the Cossack. I raid what I want, burn what I can’t carry, and answer to no one. I am keeping the fire going… just under different stars.
I’m not here to be admired. I’m not here to be understood. I’m still limping, still logging in, still teaching the few who know how to listen. Everything else? Noise.
I don’t believe in redemption. I believe in memory.
And mine’s sharp.
My name is Gattsume.
I didn’t come back whole.
I came back mean.
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They call me Gattsume. Most don’t say it with kindness. I’ve been a soldier, a teacher, a drifter, a ghost. If you're looking for heroics—go read a comic. This story is about ruin. About the things you bury so deep, they hum beneath your skin.
I come from a place where winter doesn’t forgive, and people don’t either. I worked in kitchens—burning my hands while feeding mouths that never thanked me. I trained the next generation to lead, but no one ever taught me how to stop running.
When Ukraine caught fire, I didn’t think—I just went. Not for politics. Not for medals. Just to bleed with purpose. For nearly two years, I fought beside men whose names I’ve forgotten but whose screams I remember. A blast took a chunk out of my leg. It left the rest of me in pieces no surgeon could fix.
Coming home? There’s no such thing. People talk like they understand. They don’t. They never will. The world was cleaner without me in it—so I stepped back into the wind.
That’s when I returned to EVE. Cold, vast, unforgiving—finally, something honest. Out here, I am Gattsume the Cossack. I raid what I want, burn what I can’t carry, and answer to no one. I am keeping the fire going… just under different stars.
I’m not here to be admired. I’m not here to be understood. I’m still limping, still logging in, still teaching the few who know how to listen. Everything else? Noise.
I don’t believe in redemption. I believe in memory.
And mine’s sharp.
My name is Gattsume.
I didn’t come back whole.
I came back mean.
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