Amarr
Amarr
4.23
Nasty Person
Last Active:
about 5 hours ago
Birthday:
Dec 19, 2013 (11 years old)
Next Birthday:
Dec 19, 2025 (99 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
669
Losses
178
Efficiency
79.0%
Danger Ratio
79.0%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
2213.73B ISK
ISK Lost
16.11B ISK
ISK Efficiency
99.3%
ISK Balance
2197.62B ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
12
Solo Losses
92
Solo Kill Ratio
1.8%
Solo Efficiency
11.5%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
18
NPC Loss Ratio
10.1
Avg. Kills/Day
0.2
Activity
High
Character Biography
Born in the neon-drenched underbelly of a Gallente pleasure hub, Nasty Person grew up dodging drones and dodging rules, a street rat with a knack for hacking holo-feeds. The Federation’s “liberty” was just a fancy word for chaos, and he loved it—until he stole a Tristan frigate from a drunk senator’s hangar and blasted into the stars. Rumor has it he once ran drones for his mom’s illicit gas-harvesting gig in lowsec, only to jet when Sansha goons showed up—her last transmission was a slurred “you ungrateful bastard.”
Nasty Person made his mark in the wilds of nullsec, a scarred vet of the galaxy’s dirtiest brawls. Around YC119, he rigged a salvaged Incursus into a streaming rig, beaming his roams and rants to a rabid pack of capsuleer degenerates via jury-rigged Intaki Syndicate relays. He co-founded the Kings of Chaos alliance, a motley crew of rebels and psychos who live for the fight and laugh at the wreckage. Their turf’s a patchwork of smashed stations and shady deals in bootleg holoreels—word is he’s got a stash of banned taco-flavored stims hidden in a wormhole.
A maestro of mischief, Nasty Person’s got a mouth that’d make a Brutor blush. He’s been blacklisted from Caille’s trade districts for howling about “highsec snowflakes” and CONCORD’s “drone-spam tyranny” in public channels. His motto? “If it’s still breathing, you’re not shooting enough.” Once dared a rival FC to a knife-fight in a deadspace pocket—guy ghosted, but Nasty Person still claimed the loot.
His signature ride, the Taco Tormentor, is a battered Gallente Navy Comet decked out with garish murals of serpents and half-dressed dancers. He flies it with reckless glee, piling up killmails that’d make a Serpentis capo jealous. When he’s not ganking or griefing, he’s crashed in his pleasure yacht, surrounded by empty food packs, plotting his next big middle finger to the galaxy.
“o7, scrub. Freedom’s messy—deal with it.”
Nasty Person made his mark in the wilds of nullsec, a scarred vet of the galaxy’s dirtiest brawls. Around YC119, he rigged a salvaged Incursus into a streaming rig, beaming his roams and rants to a rabid pack of capsuleer degenerates via jury-rigged Intaki Syndicate relays. He co-founded the Kings of Chaos alliance, a motley crew of rebels and psychos who live for the fight and laugh at the wreckage. Their turf’s a patchwork of smashed stations and shady deals in bootleg holoreels—word is he’s got a stash of banned taco-flavored stims hidden in a wormhole.
A maestro of mischief, Nasty Person’s got a mouth that’d make a Brutor blush. He’s been blacklisted from Caille’s trade districts for howling about “highsec snowflakes” and CONCORD’s “drone-spam tyranny” in public channels. His motto? “If it’s still breathing, you’re not shooting enough.” Once dared a rival FC to a knife-fight in a deadspace pocket—guy ghosted, but Nasty Person still claimed the loot.
His signature ride, the Taco Tormentor, is a battered Gallente Navy Comet decked out with garish murals of serpents and half-dressed dancers. He flies it with reckless glee, piling up killmails that’d make a Serpentis capo jealous. When he’s not ganking or griefing, he’s crashed in his pleasure yacht, surrounded by empty food packs, plotting his next big middle finger to the galaxy.
“o7, scrub. Freedom’s messy—deal with it.”