0.70
Sunday Ulrich
13d ago
Jun 11, 2020(6y)
Jun 11, 2027(250d)
Combat
Kills6
Losses28
Efficiency18%
ISK
Destroyed163.78m
Lost1.49b
ISK Eff.10%
Solo
Solo Kills1
Solo Ratio17%
Final Blows1
Combat Points20
Other
NPC Losses0
NPC Loss Ratio0%
Avg Kills/Day0.00
ActivityLow
Minmatar
Vherokior
0.70
Sunday Ulrich
Last Active
13d ago
Birthday
Jun 11, 2020 (6 years old)
Next Birthday
Jun 11, 2027 (250 days)
Combat
Kills6
Losses28
Efficiency18%
Danger Ratio100%
ISK
Destroyed163.78m
Lost1.49b
ISK Efficiency10%
Balance-1324854797
Solo
Solo Kills1
Solo Ratio17%
Final Blows1
Combat Points20
Other
NPC Losses0
NPC Loss Ratio0%
Avg Kills/Day0.00
ActivityLow
Nothing in the last 7d
Bio
Born beneath the red sun of Matar, into a Vherokior family whose roots stretched back farther than any living member could remember.
Her ancestors had once crossed the Sobaki Desert in great caravans, carrying medicines, stories, trade goods and the old wisdom of the Vherokior between the settlements of Matar. By her generation, the family had abandoned the wandering life, but the desert had never truly left them.
Her grandmother still kept the old traditions. Her mother knew the names of distant relatives by heart. Her father could repair almost anything with enough time and patience. Their home was small, their possessions modest, and their family enormous.
To outsiders, they were unremarkable.
To her, they were everything.
The Vherokior have always understood that survival is rarely an individual achievement. A person survives because someone taught them. Someone feeds them. Someone carries their name. Someone remembers who they were when they are gone.
She learned that lesson early.
She learned the second one much later.
Everything can be lost.
The drones came without warning.
At first, they were little more than a nuisance. Strange machines had been appearing in the region for weeks, scavenging equipment and stripping abandoned structures for components. People assumed they were isolated rogue drones—dangerous, certainly, but manageable.
They were wrong.
The machines had found something beneath the settlement.
Something worth building around.
The first attack lasted minutes.
The last survivors remembered it as hours.
The drones did not negotiate. They did not hate. They did not even seem to understand the people they were killing. To them, flesh was simply another obstacle between themselves and the resources they needed.
Her family died defending their home.
Her father bought time for the others.
Her mother refused to leave without the youngest children.
Her grandmother stayed behind to retrieve the family records.
None of them survived.
She did.
She has never decided whether that was a blessing or a punishment.
For years afterward, she carried the guilt of survival with her. She remembered every lesson her family had taught her, charting a new life into the vast unknowns of a new desert of stars.
Her ancestors had once crossed the Sobaki Desert in great caravans, carrying medicines, stories, trade goods and the old wisdom of the Vherokior between the settlements of Matar. By her generation, the family had abandoned the wandering life, but the desert had never truly left them.
Her grandmother still kept the old traditions. Her mother knew the names of distant relatives by heart. Her father could repair almost anything with enough time and patience. Their home was small, their possessions modest, and their family enormous.
To outsiders, they were unremarkable.
To her, they were everything.
The Vherokior have always understood that survival is rarely an individual achievement. A person survives because someone taught them. Someone feeds them. Someone carries their name. Someone remembers who they were when they are gone.
She learned that lesson early.
She learned the second one much later.
Everything can be lost.
The drones came without warning.
At first, they were little more than a nuisance. Strange machines had been appearing in the region for weeks, scavenging equipment and stripping abandoned structures for components. People assumed they were isolated rogue drones—dangerous, certainly, but manageable.
They were wrong.
The machines had found something beneath the settlement.
Something worth building around.
The first attack lasted minutes.
The last survivors remembered it as hours.
The drones did not negotiate. They did not hate. They did not even seem to understand the people they were killing. To them, flesh was simply another obstacle between themselves and the resources they needed.
Her family died defending their home.
Her father bought time for the others.
Her mother refused to leave without the youngest children.
Her grandmother stayed behind to retrieve the family records.
None of them survived.
She did.
She has never decided whether that was a blessing or a punishment.
For years afterward, she carried the guilt of survival with her. She remembered every lesson her family had taught her, charting a new life into the vast unknowns of a new desert of stars.
Dashboard
Stats
Kills6
Losses22
Efficiency21%
ISK Destroyed163.78m
ISK Lost1.45b
ISK Efficiency10%
Solo Kills1
Solo Losses16
NPC Losses0
Blob Factor3.5
Active TimezoneEUTZ
Final Blows1
Points20
Activity Heat Map (EVE Time)
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Flies With (Corps)
Flies With (Alliances)
Dies To (Corps)
Intel Profile
PlaystyleSmall Gang (6 kills)
Solo 17% Small 67% Mid 17%
Avg Fleet: 3.5 Bait (6x)
Typically Flies
Typically Loses
Targets (Alliances)
Top Fleet Partners
