Remember, a goat is for life, not just for dinner.
He was the biggest bad-ass in the wasteland. At least he wished he was. He was a raider, one of the many feral gangs who roamed the land, plundering, killing, destroying wherever they went. Dressed in spiked masochist leather, a homicidal sneer permanently etched across his scarred features, he struck fear into the hearts of the wanderers and merchants foolish enough to risk the dangerous wastes.
At least he liked to think he did. Because aside his near-rabid aggression, aside his fearsome spiked apparel, aside the terrifying mohawk hairdo he sported and aside the arsenal of blades and firearms he kept about himself, there was one major issue in his life that rendered it all quite useless.
His name was Ricky.
The decent people of the wasteland were hardly likely to be frozen with fear when they heard that Ricky the Raider was on the scene.
It made him mad that he had been cursed with such a stupid name. It made him mad and even worse it made him insecure. Terribly, horribly insecure. The other raiders laughed at him. They made fun of him, jeered him, degraded him. How could he possibly be the biggest bad-ass when he courted only mockery and ridicule amongst his peers?
All because of that stupid name.
Well, things would be different from now on. He had abandoned his gang and gone solo. He would be the lone wolf from now on, the man with no name, the rebel without a cause. He would become the bad-ass he had always wanted to be.
He would make the wasteland pay, starting with the poor sap in the vault-suit heading straight into the ambush he had prepared. He watched him approach, from behind his hiding place, a great protruding rock standing alone in middle of the flat, dusty land.
Ricky the Raider watched the fear and surprise in Player Name's eyes as he leapt from his hiding place and liked it. He was thrilled by it. Waving the shotgun in his hands he began laughing maniacally.
"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you slow, bitch!" he roared. "I'm gonna tear your goddamn heart out and eat it! I'm gonna crack ya motherfuckin' skull open and rip your freakin' brains out!"
"Please don't kill me," begged Player Name. "I don't want any trouble."
"Ha! You'll always find trouble when I'm around. I'm the biggest muthafuckin' bad-ass this wasteland has ever seen! I'm the fuckin' king! I'm..."
"Do you have to swear to gratuitously? I kind of got the idea that you're a big scary guy by the dirty great gun you're waving about, not to mention the spiky leather bondage thing you've got going on."
"Yeah, that's right, I'm a scary muthafucka, 'cos I'm a bad shit-ass raider!"
"Wait, what did you say?"
"I said I'm a scary muthafucka."
"No, after that."
"I said I'm a bad, shit-ass raider."
"You're a bad shit-ass raider? Do you even know what that means? You're just swearing unnecessarily now. Saying you're shit-ass just suggests you suck as a raider."
The words struck Ricky like a brick to the head. He was suddenly gripped by a flashback of all the other raiders in the gang laughing at him. All of them, pointing at him and laughing and saying mean things. Really mean and nasty things. The gun in his hands began to quiver.
"The other raiders said I suck," said Ricky weakly. "They all did."
"Guess you made a Freudian slip huh?"
It was all too much. Ricky collapsed in a sobbing heap, his spirit crushed like a flea beneath an anvil. What kind of a raider lets a dorky vault-dweller get the better of him?
"It's true!" he wailed. "I do suck! I ain't no raider! I'm just a big fat failure."
"Oh, there there," said Player Name giving him an unenthusiastic pat on the back. "I'm sure there's something else you can do instead."
"But being a raider is all I've ever known! I don't even know how to tie my own shoelaces! What else could I possibly do with myself?"
"I don't know. You could become a farmer and grow a nice little vegetable garden, or maybe become an artist, or maybe you could sing or act or...or..."
"Or maybe you should go home and be a family man," said Guile from Street Fighter.
"Hey, where did you come from?" asked Player Name.
"Never mind that maggot. Now shut up and give me twenty."
"Twenty what?"
"Sonic boom," said Guile and Player Name was immediately struck full in the face by a sonic boom. The blast knocked him off his feet and he hit the dust, unconscious.