16 Members
Old Farts [OLD]
Combat Metrics
Kills
640
Losses
210
Efficiency
75.3%
Danger Ratio
50.1%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
150.60B ISK
ISK Lost
34.44B ISK
ISK Efficiency
81.4%
ISK Balance
116.16B ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
25
Solo Losses
72
Solo Kill Ratio
3.9%
Solo Efficiency
25.8%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
4
NPC Loss Ratio
1.9
Avg. Kills/Day
0.1
Activity
High
Character Biography
OLD FARTS: OUT OF STASIS AND BACK IN SPACE!
Tired. Cranky. Forgetful. And ready to mine again.
After decades (or at least a couple of naps) drifting through the void, the legendary Old Farts corp is back in action! We’re reopening the Old Fart Tavern, dusting off our steam-powered barges, and looking for brave—or just very confused—pilots to join our ranks.
WHO ARE WE?
A collection of crusty, space-worn veterans and their equally senile friends. If you’ve ever:
Tried to warp to a belt but ended up in your hangar
Argued that "back in my day, we mined Veldspar and liked it"
Thought D-Scan was a blood pressure monitor
Or just need a place to belong after forgetting which corp you were in last week...
Then you’ll fit right in.
WHAT DO WE DO?
Sit in our rockers, muttering about the old days
Run mining ops (when we remember to fuel the ships)
Hunt Blood Raiders, if our aim holds steady
Take naps (against corp policy, but heavily practiced)
And share questionable tales that begin with, “I remember when...”
BENEFITS INCLUDE:
A steady supply of “coffee syrup” (the kind that burns on the way down)
Ship fitting advice that hasn’t changed since 2008
A corp channel louder than a retirement home bingo night
Zero pressure, 100% laughs, and the occasional accidental war declaration
So if the Secure Commerce Commission won’t insure you due to cataracts, if CONCORD rolls their eyes when they see your name, or if you’ve forgotten how to undock—Old Farts wants YOU.
No skillpoint minimum. No expectations. Just log in, laugh, and maybe don’t leave your ship on autopilot through low sec.
Tired. Cranky. Forgetful. And ready to mine again.
After decades (or at least a couple of naps) drifting through the void, the legendary Old Farts corp is back in action! We’re reopening the Old Fart Tavern, dusting off our steam-powered barges, and looking for brave—or just very confused—pilots to join our ranks.
WHO ARE WE?
A collection of crusty, space-worn veterans and their equally senile friends. If you’ve ever:
Tried to warp to a belt but ended up in your hangar
Argued that "back in my day, we mined Veldspar and liked it"
Thought D-Scan was a blood pressure monitor
Or just need a place to belong after forgetting which corp you were in last week...
Then you’ll fit right in.
WHAT DO WE DO?
Sit in our rockers, muttering about the old days
Run mining ops (when we remember to fuel the ships)
Hunt Blood Raiders, if our aim holds steady
Take naps (against corp policy, but heavily practiced)
And share questionable tales that begin with, “I remember when...”
BENEFITS INCLUDE:
A steady supply of “coffee syrup” (the kind that burns on the way down)
Ship fitting advice that hasn’t changed since 2008
A corp channel louder than a retirement home bingo night
Zero pressure, 100% laughs, and the occasional accidental war declaration
So if the Secure Commerce Commission won’t insure you due to cataracts, if CONCORD rolls their eyes when they see your name, or if you’ve forgotten how to undock—Old Farts wants YOU.
No skillpoint minimum. No expectations. Just log in, laugh, and maybe don’t leave your ship on autopilot through low sec.