Characters You've Never Heard Of: JOHNNY BISHOP

~September 6, 1978.~
  
 The crowd was dispersing from the cinema after the film, animatedly discussing Gary Busey's portrayal of Buddy Holly.  Most agreed he had done a bang-up job - he was certain for an Academy Award nod for that performance.
  
 It was a cool but beautiful late summer evening. Two couples - Paul and Linda and Keith and Annette, exited the theatre from the backstage door to avoid the reporters and autograph hounds gathered in the lobby.  They quickly walked down an alley and across the street, hoping not to be recognized.
  
 "Blimey, that was a fine film," Paul said cheerfully.
  
 "Indeed!" agreed Linda.  "That Busey fellow shall go far!"
  
 The other man, Keith, was looking haggard.  He was leaning heavily on his girlfriend Annette, who looked embarrassed in her pretty dress with her disheveled, red-eyed man hanging off of her. 
  
 "Are you all right, mate?" Paul asked.
  
 "He's just drunk," Annette groaned in a thick Swedish accent.  "We should go home and let him sleep it off."
  
 "Oh, we hoped you would join us for dinner!" Linda exclaimed.  "We have reservations at Peppermint Park!  Please, it would be lovely if you come out with us."
  
 Paul looked at the other man with concern.  He knew Keith, and knew he could out drink an entire pub full of Irishmen.  The man looked ill, not drunk.  But the women would not be reasoned with.
  
 "That's sounds fabulous!" Annette agreed.  "Keith, pull yourself together."
  
 Keith nodded and trudged along behind the others as they headed across Covent Garden toward the restaurant.  They had walked for about five minutes, chatting about the film and music and mutual friends before Paul noticed the odd-looking fellow skulking along behind them.
  
 "Damn it." He grumbled.  "That's the wrestler again, isn't it?"
  
 "Why you give him the time of day, Keith, I'll never know." Annette harrumphed.
  
 "Oy, he's not that bad," Keith replied.
  
 The stalker - a short, thin fellow in a jogging suit with the hood pulled up - approached them with his hands in his pockets.  He kept looking over his shoulder as if he was afraid he was being followed.  When he got closer, they could tell he had deep bags under his eyes, his skin was sallow and his breath reeked of booze and dead things.  He looked nearly as bad as Keith.
  
 "Ev’nin boys.  Ladies." He spoke curtly, nervously.
  
 "Evening," Paul replied, looking down his nose.
  
 The hooded man glanced around again.  "Keith mate, can we talk?"
  
 Annette rolled her eyes, but Keith staggered off a few feet to talk privately with the other man while his friends waited impatiently.  "What's up, Johnny?" He asked.
  
 "Your friends don't like me very much, do they?"
  
 "They think wrestlers are filthy meatheads, criminals and drug addicts. No better than gypsies, really."
  
 "Aye, and musicians are better?"
  
 Keith smiled.  "No, no I suppose not.  What d’ye need, Johnny?"
  
 "Blues, mescaline, whatever the fuck ye got, man.  I've got the shakes, Keith, I need something - anything - bad."
  
 "Christ, Johnny, what happened to your dealer?  Most people don't go asking famous rock stars for drugs.  People usually give us drugs."
  
 Johnny kept looking over his shoulder.  "I owe Mickey two thousand quid.  And I busted Big Jim's girlfriend's nose so he cut me off, too.  I don't know anyone else, Keith."
  
 Keith shook his head sadly.  He'd been there. "Jesus. Look, I don't got nothing on me, okay?  Meet me at me flat in about 2 hours.  Nine Curzon Place at Shepherd Market.  Number 12."
  
 Johnny looked relieved.  "Thank ye, mate.  You're a saint!"
  
 "Yeah, just don't get yourself killed before then, okay?"
  
 Keith started to walk away, back toward his impatient friends.  Johnny called out after him.  "Hey Keith!  You look like shit, man."
  
 "So do you, ye dumb cunt."

* * * 

He's the first of two fake wrestlers to appear on the list.

Johnny "Bishop" in the 1970s
Source

I won't deny it, I've participated in fantasy wrestling games on and off for years. It's really just an extended writing exercise. You create a character, then write short chapters of their life how they deal with the other characters they encounter in their wrestling world (their opponents, partners, etc). Sometimes it's a simple as writing interviews or promos about how you're going to beat your opponent's ass at the next show, other times its long adventures of how your character is fighting terrorists to rescue their kidnapped kids.

Johnny Bishop was loosely modeled after a real British wrestler named Johnny Saint, but his life is a little more... weird. Bishop was born at the end of WWII, grew up poor and got into wrestling to find money and glory. In his twenties he found a small amount of success but also got into drugs and the swinging 60s party scene. He rubbed elbows with famous musicians and artists, and became good friends with The Who's Keith Moon.

The day before Moon died, he asked Johnny to do him a favour: Steal his remains and smoke his ashes. (Come on, you know Keith Moon would be into something like that) Bishop did, and spent the next thirty years slowly smoking little sprinkles of the legendary drummer, especially before big matches. He became very successful and eventually came to believe that the ashes were what gave him his power and allowed him to win.

Johnny today
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Bishop managed to stretch his supply for decades, but eventually he ran out and became obsessed with finding more. Though he was in his sixties and probably should have retired, some bad investments had left him broke and penniless and he had to keep wrestling to survive, and thus he convinced himself he needed more ashes to help him through it. He just need another drug-soaked dead rock star to power his comeback.

So, he stole Amy Winehouse's body and took her to a magical island in the Gulf of Mexico, but before he could incinerate her corpse the island brought her back to life.

Bishop ultimately got her pregnant and she gave birth to a son, who he named Keith Moon Bishop. And there was some wrestling mixed in here and there.

I should really write this into a full length proper story.

Characters You've Never Heard Of: ISAAC

“Wake up, boy.” The voice came from directly beside Isaac’s ear, and he immediately woke to full alertness and jumped to his feet.

He was still in his apartment. He was still naked. It was light outside. How long had he been asleep?

“Put this on,” said a man standing next to him, thrusting an armload of clothes at Isaac. It was the man from the street corner, with the neat little black moustache and the horrible teeth. He was still dressed in his luxurious tuxedo, and his overcoat and hat were tossed over a chair at the kitchen table.

“How did you get in here?” Isaac asked, painfully aware of his nakedness and feeling ashamed and uncomfortable. “What do you want from me?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the man answered, holding the clothes toward him. Isaac caught a glimpse of his disgustingly twisted teeth. “But if you want to save your wife, you need to get dressed and come with me. Now.”

Isaac knew then he was dreaming. Yet everything, including the man’s wretched teeth, white starched shirt and Isaac’s own shame, all felt perfectly real. “Save her? What are you talking about?”

“Get dressed.” He said again, firmly, finally. Isaac gave up arguing, and took the clothes from him. He got dressed in the clean, neatly pressed pants, shirt and jacket. There were shiny wing-tip shoes nearby to go along with it. Everything fit perfectly.

“Where are we going, a wedding?” Isaac asked, buttoning the cuff links on his sleeves.

“No, a funeral. You should know better than that. Come on.”

-excerpt from the soon to be published "Ten Thousand Days"

* * *

Isaac is the protagonist in Ten Thousand Days. He's a pretty ordinary dude, living in Toronto with a beautiful wife at a lousy job he hates, but he life is pretty simple and carefree.

And then everything goes to hell.

I really run Isaac through a lot of weird shit over the course of Ten Thousand Days, but he handles it well. He's tougher and more resourceful than he seems, and shows immense willpower and determination to be able to go the extremes that he does to get back the things that he loves.

I am purposefully pretty vague about Isaac's description in the book. I know who he is, what is background is, where he's from and so on, but little of it is mentioned in the story. I want him to be an everyman for modern twenty-somethings/early thirty-somethings. I want the reader to be able to connect with him, to sympathize with him, to really feel for him. I want them to place themselves in his shoes. He really is an ordinary guy placed in an extraordinary situation. How will he handle it? How would you handle it, if it were you?

What would you do to save someone you love?

* * *

So I was kinda hoping I could reveal the cover of Ten Thousand Days today, but I still haven't put the finishing touches on it. I'm VERY close, but I just can't share it, not yet.

Of course, I can't mention it and not show you ANYTHING, so here's a little teaser...

That's gotta be worth something, right? (It'll be ready soon, I promise...)

Characters You've Never Heard Of: HANK (THE TANK!)

Leading the pack and barely waiting for the others to catch up was Hank, who called himself "The Tank." A giant of man - over three hundred pounds - he was not quick or smart but he was tough and absolutely ruthless. Many survivors had died due to Hank's actions - and inaction - but somehow he had survived it all when better men and women had fallen. The kid Noah had survived by sticking close to him. The blood-caked Heckler & Koch submachine gun slung over his shoulder was a perfect symbol of his brutal determination. He had charged the original owner and wrestled it away from him, killing two bystanders in the process when the weapon went off. After running out of ammo, Hank continued to use the gun as club, beating zombies to death when he had to and running when he could, often leaving his fellow survivors behind to fend for themselves.

The broken table leg in his hand, studded with rusty nails, was also a pretty good symbol for how he got the job done.

This is the first of a few characters on the list that I didn't create, but since I did write a story about Hank the Tank, I don't mind stealing him for our purposes here.

Hank is one of the survivors in my recent zombie apocalypse game. In fact he's one of the few survivors. The mortality rate is insanely high (something like 75%) and it's not unusual for a player to lose 2 or 3 characters a night. That's half the fun. Like a cheesy horror movie, the best part is watching characters do stupid things and get killed in ridiculous ways.

Source

Very often, it's not the people who you think should survive who are left standing at the end of the night, though. The smartest and toughest people are often relied upon more to do more dangerous stuff, so they don't survive very long. Then again, the weakest don't do well either (the guy who played a character in a wheelchair tried valiantly, but he was zombie food from the get go).

Hank the Tank survived and continues to survive through sheer assholery. He's overweight, slow and has no special skills, but he will do whatever it takes - and I mean whatever it takes - to survive. He used the wheelchair guy as bait so he could get away. He pushed people down stairs to slow approaching zombies. He straight up shot a guy and stole his gun. And of course, the story linked to above was his crowning achievement.

Hank is a brilliant character and I really want to keep playing this game just to see if he gets his comeuppance. I don't know who's more of the dick - the character or the guy who plays him.

Characters You've Never Heard Of: GREGORY VALTAS THE FIFTH

“So who is this woman?” Gregory asked.  He strode immediately to his father’s huge, mahogany desk and sat upon it, raising one knee and planting his soiled boot firmly on the edge of the well-oiled wood.  “Who are you marrying me off to?”

“I’m not ‘marrying you off’ to anyone,” the Baron said, irritated.  He snatched a stack of parchment away from his son’s foot.  Gregory suspected his father knew he was annoying him on purpose.  It mattered little.  The knowledge did not make him any less annoyed.  “A very lucky family is going to gain the heir to Andorak as a son-in-law.”

“What kind of backwater shithole is this ælfish wench from, if marrying me is a move up?  She’s not a peasant, is she?”  Gregory knew she was not.  As small and insignificant as Andorak was—nestled between the vast, empty Klamath forest and the even vaster and emptier Desolation—Baron Gregory the Fourth had enough pride for ten men with twice his station, and would never dare soil his already questionable family name with marriage to a commoner. The younger man only asked so that he might see the look on his father’s face.

Baron Gregory twisted his lip into a snarl, as if he had bitten into a particularly sour lemon.  “Do not mock me, boy.  You will be married to a woman worthy of your birth, and both our families will benefit from the union.”

“But father,” the young man asked in mock concern.  “What if I do not love her?”

“You know I did not love your mother any more than you loved that dog you kicked to death as a boy.  A wife is the same thing; a loyal, trusting companion with but few—if very important—uses, but whom you must not be afraid to educate or discipline as necessary.”

Gregory the Younger’s humour drained away, and he felt his face grow hot even as his blood froze icy cold in his veins.  All joking aside, his father truly was a bastard.  Gregory’s mother had been a beautiful and loving woman, who had been a faithful wife and caring mother, undeserving of his father’s cruel and bitter scorn.  “Your lordship,” Gregory said, his voice flat as a still pool of water.  “Why did you ask me here?”

Source

Many years ago I wrote a lengthy fantasy novel based on a D&D campaign my friends and I played shortly after University (I've written about it a few times at ruleofthedice.com). It was the longest book I've ever written by far and had some deep characters and an expansive world, but I never really planned to do anything with it because I was kinda embarassed it was based on an RPG. That being said, the story has mutated and changed, and is no longer that closely tied to the original game (I've even changed the characters names and backstories, the original players may not even recognize their own characters anymore). If I did want to move forward with it, it could easily launch a series if I ever had the amibtion to return to epic fantasy.

Anyway, Gregory Valtas the Fifth, called Gregory the Younger (his father Baron Gregory was the Elder) was a minor character in the original game, the son of the Baron who was one of the main antagonists, but somehow in the book he became a major player. I think I enjoyed writing him because he was the one person who was entirely my own creation and had nothing to do with my player's characters. He started out as a selfish whiny little prick but had a tragic arc  that becomes very important to the meat of the book later on. I've always been attached to characters who start off as quasi-villains who are not blatantly evil but whom you still want to see get choked to the brink of death, but eventually turn out to have a redeeming side and do the right thing in the end. Diarmuid from the Fionavar Tapestry is probably my first and favourite example of this archetype, and now that I think about it was probably a direct inspiration for Gregory.

Characters You've Never Heard Of: FITZ

No one would have mistaken Fitz for a successful man, nor a handsome man, nor a particularly smart man. Hell, there were some idle afternoons he even wondered if he was a man, or if somehow a pile of lint from the corner of his living room had become sentient and started coming to work at the comic shop one day.

Obviously that wasn't true. He knew he had been around longer than that because he was still paying off the student loans from the half-finished visual arts degree he had abandoned eight years ago. On his current repayment schedule he should be done somewhere around 2050, but the joke was on the National Student Loan Service: At the rate he was going there was no fucking way he was going to live that long.

Fitz is the main character in my current WIP. He's a painfully average and hopeless loser surrounded by people and supernatural beings with fantastic powers and abilities. He works in a dead-end job, can't find a girlfriend, his only friend is a drugged-out-of-his-mind professional wrestler who keeps getting them in trouble, and he's crushing on a women who is so far out of his league that I can't even make a joke about it because it's too ridiculous.

I'm having a ton of fun writing this story. I've gone in with little planning outside of the opening scene and the ending and a handful of rough character ideas. The main drive of the story is the relationship between Fitz and his buddy Dee, the wrestler. They are so abusive and terrible to each other, it's awesome. I could see this story (if I can stick with it) spinning off sequels and further tales.

So far the story reads like the script of a Seth Rogen/James Franco or Jay Baruchel movie. I don't know if I'll keep it that way or not, but it's really the introduction of a couple of loser stoners to the world of the supernatural. Their reaction to it is ridiculous and over the top. I don't know if anyone else will find it amusing, but I'm having a lot of fun with it, so even if it doesn't go anywhere, at least I have that.

Yeah, basically it's about these guys.

There's some other weird characters in the story that I don't think I'll use for posts this month, so I'll run through them now. There's the owner of the comic shop, a conspiracy theorist nutjob who claims to be the descendant of a famous vampire hunter and a wizard. There's the disabled fortune teller who can talk to dead people, who Dee is obsessed with sleeping with because she's a lesbian. There's a pair of government agents investigating weird phenomenon who are like the competent version of Fitz and Dee - they're actually skilled and get to do cool shit, but they have the same dysfunctional relationship. And of course there's the baddy, who is purely and unabashedly evil for the sake of being evil. I didn't want a nuanced, sympathetic villain, but a homicidal monster of comic-book level villainy, so far above the level of the "heroes" that they have no chance whatsoever of stopping him.

Hooked you yet? I'll let you know how it goes. Cause I don't have a clue where this is going.

Characters You've Never Heard Of: ERIC

DM: You meet an ogre.

Player: I hit it with my katana of destiny.

DM: How much damage do you do?

Player: Um, 500?

DM: It's dead. You find a potion, but it's not labeled.

Player: I taste it, does anything happen?

DM: It was poison. You die.

I can't remember if his name was Erik or Arik, but since I already used "A" let's stick with Erik.

Erik was my very first Dungeons & Dragons character. We had no idea how to make characters at the time so we just made up numbers. I remember he had 600 hit points, and I gave him a magic sword that let him control the elements.

He didn't have much of a story. He drank a potion that he thought was a healing potion but was actually poison and died. That was how most of our characters bit it back in the day.

Characters You've Never Heard Of: DARKLIGHT

"You want this, don't you? The hate is swelling in you now. Take your Jedi weapon. Use it. I am unarmed. Strike me down with it. Give in to your anger. With each passing moment you make yourself more my servant. It is unavoidable. It is your destiny."

- Emperor Palpatine, Return of the Jedi

Back to nerdy RPG stuff. Nomi Darklighter was my character from a Star Wars game many, many years ago (holy crap, it was a good 20 years ago, now that I think about it). She was a pirate and bounty hunter but was Force sensitive and started some irregular Jedi-type training that led her down a dark path.

Actually, to be 100% honest, she gave the Emperor a lap dance and his man juice gave her Jedi powers. I take no responsibility for this. That was entirely on the guy who was Game Mastering at the time. I thought it was ridiculous, but I didn't argue because I got the Force powers for free and saved a ton of Character building points.

Shut up, we were 15. All of this happened while another player character was being crushed to death by mindless repair droids for the Emperor's enjoyment. (Actually, it was mostly for the GM's enjoyment - he was being a total dick at the time)

I wrote an extended Star Wars fan fiction a year or two later that featured Nomi prominently. In my version she became Empress Darklight, taking over after the Emperor died and becoming a formidable dark Jedi in her own right. That version of the story glossed over the lap-dancing-Jedi-apprenticeship. I have no idea what happened to that story - it's probably on one of the many floppy disks buried in The Closet. That's one I'm actually glad will probably never see the light of day.