On The Seventh Day Of Christmas, Evil Gave To Me…
Seven Mini Profiles!
Brief character profiles for the main characters.
A born misanthropic megalomaniac, who sneers at and scorns so-called civilised society, constantly dissecting it with his surgical wit; his inherent nature was nurtured and refined in his early years on one of the very Dickensian Educatory Reform Habitoids. This same nature was further compounded by the frustration and rejection he experienced in his adolescent quest to become an intergalactic rock star. Since fully matured into a consummate snob, he has left such pathetic aspirations behind him, holds beauty in utter contempt and rates nihilism extremely highly.
Cool, slick and sexy, he values himself for his intellect more than his looks and impeccable fashion sense and is never fully satisfied until a scheme of his has acquired a requisite minimum of complicated layers. He labours under the conviction that a plan simple enough for his band of villains to work out will never stand a chance of success.
So supremely malevolent and cunning is Dexter Snide, that he has succeeded in floating Evil on the intergalactic stock market. Evil has always been a promising commodity throughout history, and now all he needs to do is ensure that it maintains consistent profit margins to satisfy his shareholders. Dexter himself is the majority shareholder of course.
Superior, sophisticated, eloquent and elegant, Mr Snide is all these things and much more. But then, he has to be, since it will take a remarkable character indeed to fulfil a destiny such as his: i.e. becoming supreme master of all the universe. At least, that’s one of his goals.
Mr Knucks is not just your average thug. He’s a thug with cybernetic arms. Which makes him stronger than most and additionally handy in less usual scrapes in that his arms are fully detachable and he can operate them independent of their actual attachment to his shoulders.
His shoulders are a good deal broader than his intellect, it must be said, but he’s not altogether thick. In fact, he can boast a degree in Cybernetics for a start, and he’s constantly trying to improve his brain power as a means of breaking the unfortunate thug stereotype with which his size lumbered him from an early age.
He has a confident swagger and a ready wit to meet any situation, although it is not quite as well-honed a wit as Mr Snide’s. But then, Mr Knucks is very much a working class criminal and would fancy himself as something of a champion of the lower classes, were it not for the fact that he thieves exclusively for himself. This selfishness he attributes to a keen social conscience, which doesn’t permit him to involve others in his criminal activities against their will.
Mr Knucks is, in effect, an educated bouncer with a taste for thieving. He also has an unfortunate gambling addiction. Which explains how he lost his arms…
Mr Ferret may sound like a rejected character from Wind in the Willows, but there is very little he doesn’t know about pain. In fact, despite a slightly squeamish nature which he doesn’t like to broadcast too widely, he has made a lifetime study of pain and torture.
It has all been part of his ongoing endeavour to be more bad. An aim hampered by his harmless boyish features and a slightly camp, effeminate air that ideally he wouldn’t have chosen if he’d known the career he was going to take up. Still, he hadn’t much choice as far as that goes: villainy runs in his family. His father was a villain, his father before him was a villain, and so was his father before him. His great, great grandfather was in fashion retail. But his father was a villain and his father was a villain before him.
As such, Mr Ferret is the last in a long line of villains, and has a reputation to live up to. If pressed, he will confess that he doesn’t exactly care for many aspects of his job, but he is doing his best to look the part.
The Woody Allen of the intergalactic underworld (or the Underverse, as it should technically be known). Ernest Doomladen chose his name because he felt it fitted his personality. That is to say, he is very much aware of his own misery and suffers an intense frustration, some might call it paranoia, that none of his Machiavellian brainchildren have flourished. In fact, despite being a scientific genius, he has sadly never had a brainchild get past puberty. It’s why he feels he can best make a go of it with Mr Snide’s outfit; although he’s not too optimistic. But that’s nothing new.
Doomladen is pronounced as if it were a Scandinavian surname (Dume – leyden) and also reflects his claim to Nordic, nay, Viking ancestry. This, despite his moderate stature and rather willowy complexion. Willowy? No, make that grey. The colour goes very well with his hunched shoulders.
He’s something of a reluctant villain and has been thinking for some time that he should get out of the business, but he doesn’t feel he has the adequate skills or training for an alternative career. Besides which he knows he was constantly spurned and mocked by the scientific community; so, as a veteran and inveterate tinkerer, he knows his role within Evil UnLtd will afford him every opportunity to put the machine into machination.
Meanwhile, he can still peruse the situations vacant columns on local newsgroups and wonder what he might be happier doing. If anything.
Evil Robot has no other name or designation. Evil Robot is an enigma, a dark and powerful armour-clad enigma, brimming with a lot of hatred and big guns. Along with all the firepower, Evil Robot comes equipped with a multitude of handy appendages for all manner of eventualities.
Still, despite his indispensable skills, he is not much of a talker. In fact, he can only communicate in any intelligible form when he taps into a computer and puts a translation up on the screen in a form that the Flesh Things can understand. And that’s not something he does very often, because he is a very taciturn fellow.
Perhaps understandably, since no-one really knows what goes on in that nanotronic brain of his. All they do know is that he is the sole surviving member of a race of evil robots who were, once upon a time, bent on the destruction and domination of the entire universe. Apparently something went wrong.
Evil Robot has in fact hooked up with Mr Snide’s band of villains in the hope that this venture will provide a platform from which he can re-launch the old campaign which has, by his own reckoning of the tactical situation, suffered a disagreeable setback. In other words, his entire race was wiped out.
All the same, he is proud of his glorious heritage and he nurtures dark electronic visions of new conquests and his race’s return to universal supremacy. And he absolutely refuses to stoop to manual chores.
The Hatchling is a sinister, powerful blast-cannon-toting behemoth, a veritable tower of ferocious strength from a war-hungry race of life-hating aliens. The origins of his species are shrouded in mystery and, quite often, a sticky albumen-like substance.
Of course, this is because he, like the rest of his race, spends much of his life as an embryo, hibernating in his egg. But that’s not to say he’s ever in a good mood when he experiences his rebirths and hatches out of his shell.
Fact is, whatever goes on in that egg of his, he’s always in the foulest temper when he hatches and that’s why his fellows are keen not to rouse him if they can possibly avoid it, only calling on the Hatchling in times of direst necessity.
The Hatchling, when in his egg, is somewhat aware of events around him but generally refrains from comment unless pushed. And even in his egg, he is easily provoked. When hatched, he grows very quickly to a height of about eight foot and is a bulky Stegasaur of a creature, who quickly evolves the use of energy weapons and he’s ready to go. At each hatching he evolves some new nubbin or other; the express purpose of which is not always clear but shows evolution has not been idle while he’s been back in his egg.
He has one of the largest brain-pans of any creature in the galaxy. Unfortunately, just like the Stegasaurus, it is in his butt.
Adventurous and independent, temperamental and exquisitely self-centred. The daughter of a couple of megabillionaires, she is essentially a spoilt little starlet, who wanted daddy to buy her way into the movies. Before her acting career could really get off the ground though, events took an unexpected turn and now, with a bad girl attitude developed and honed to perfection in her role as Dynamite Jones in the notorious movie series of the same name, she finds the temptation of a walk on the wild side simply irresistible.
Sexy and seductive, she has a charisma that is positively smoking, a kind of empathic charm over males in general, and she is all too aware of her powers. She is incredibly assertive and self-willed, and makes camels and mules look like the most pliant even-tempered creatures in existence.
She can act like the model lady, but has a wicked streak which, once given rein, no man is able to curb. She thoroughly enjoys pulling people’s strings and watching the results. She looks after herself and takes so much looking after that she scarcely has any time left to regard the needs and concerns of others.
As such, she doesn’t take foolish risks which endanger herself, but will make certain she gets away with as much as she possibly can. Those around her had best consider themselves collateral damage.