Amarr
Amarr
3.89
gorak battilio
Last Active:
5 months ago
Birthday:
Jul 4, 2011 (14 years old)
Next Birthday:
Jul 4, 2026 (296 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
309
Losses
99
Efficiency
75.7%
Danger Ratio
10.9%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
43.42B ISK
ISK Lost
11.79B ISK
ISK Efficiency
78.6%
ISK Balance
31.62B ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
59
Solo Losses
49
Solo Kill Ratio
19.1%
Solo Efficiency
54.6%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
15
NPC Loss Ratio
15.2
Avg. Kills/Day
0.1
Activity
Low
Character Biography
Look into my eyes
“Stood in firelight, sweltering. Bloodstain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night.
Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else.
Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It’s us. Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world.
Was Rorschach.
Does that answer your Questions, Doctor?”
― Alan Moore, Watchmen
“Stood in firelight, sweltering. Bloodstain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night.
Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else.
Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It’s us. Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world.
Was Rorschach.
Does that answer your Questions, Doctor?”
― Alan Moore, Watchmen