[ooc] Here's Garam. I wasn't quite sure what he was like, because I've only ever played JSRF, not JGR so I don't know if I've missed something that's different bettween the two games. Please fill me in if I have. And please, when you reveiw, don't kust say 'thumbs up' or 'that was good write more' but could you please give me an opinion of the portrayal of the charachters, whether or not I've made any mistakes and whether there's any points I've missed. I've been trying to make it seem like each charachter (except Pots) has an issue or a problem and don't have a completely rosy life. anyway, once this fanfic is done, I will write a story with a plot, which is developing as you read. So now, on with it...[/ooc]
Doing the rounds are you kid? Been bugging everyone else for gossip and now looking for me? Well look no further junior, for I am here. The lone wolf, bug-eyed alien, black thug, slum shadow or Garam, whatever name you know me by, whatever handle you decide suits me best.
Personally, I'd rather be called Garam. Those other names are downgrading, you noticed?
Most people know who the heck I am, so don't bother asking short stuff. Boogie's older bro, the moving shadow in the forgotten parts of this 'glorious' city of ours.
I been hanging out in the sewers more than is probably good for me, but it's the only place in this city of ours that's got enough space to breathe, even if the air is kind of farty.
But hey, at least you know you're breathing!
Them fish Poison Jam are a bit of a drag though. I don't think they like me there for some reason. It's not like I bug them, I know I look like a bug, but I don't act like one.
In any case there's good company in the sewers.
His name is Turdle. Not turd, even though that's what he looks like, and not turtle, because that's his pace, but Turdle.
I suppose he's an alligator. He just walks around the place, and let's me ride on his back, and he's pretty docile really. He eats fish and chips when I give them to him, other that that I'm not sure what he does. Or even if there's only one of him. I can't tell.
I think there's only one of him, it makes more sense.
It's kind of ironical, me and Turdle. We both don't have anyone else on our same level, we're both isolated. Even though there may well be other members of our race or species, they don't know what we know. They're unaware and completely oblivious to the truth.
What is the truth, you ask?
What is this one thing that makes me so different from you and everyone else here?
Ha ha ha ha ha, wouldn't you like to know, sucker?
Wouldn't everyone like to know?
You gonna find that out for yourself kid, else you wont believe me. Trust me on that one, I didn't believe him, no I didn't, but I found out all by myself and realised he was right.
And he said I wouldn't believe him. He was right about that too.
Who is 'he'? Never you mind. You'll meet the dude one day, and he'll change your way of seeing the world, he'll fix your eyes.
No! That's not why I wear these big orange things on my head!
For your information, they're a fashion statement. I look really dodgy when people can see my real eyes. People don't recognise me.
Yeah, that too. If I ever get my pic in the paper, or the post office with 'WANTED' under it, I can ditch these orange things and nobody will recognise me.
That's all people remember when they look at me as I race past. That I've got these big orange things on my head.
And of course, that I'm black.
Let me explain something to you: if a black man had joined Attila the Hun's huge hoard of millions of barbarians and helped them raid ancient Rome, people would have definitely remembered one of the was black. If there was one black man in Hitler's army, born black I mean, not burnt black or anything, historians would have recorded it.
They would not have said, there were thousands of white men, they would say, there was this black guy.
Trust me, it happens.
People are like that. Humanity just seems not to like people who are different. And in this 'fair' city, black is different.
But so are skates.
But look, if I go somewhere with my sis, everyone remembers two black people skating by making a ruckus. If it's Jazz with me, the crowds just, well, they just forget her. Don't ask me why. Maybe it's just her and she has a knack at being forgotten, but I don't think so.
I call it racism.
There junior, that's all I feel like talking about right now. And if you're waiting around for a witty punch line, forget it.
Doing the rounds are you kid? Been bugging everyone else for gossip and now looking for me? Well look no further junior, for I am here. The lone wolf, bug-eyed alien, black thug, slum shadow or Garam, whatever name you know me by, whatever handle you decide suits me best.
Personally, I'd rather be called Garam. Those other names are downgrading, you noticed?
Most people know who the heck I am, so don't bother asking short stuff. Boogie's older bro, the moving shadow in the forgotten parts of this 'glorious' city of ours.
I been hanging out in the sewers more than is probably good for me, but it's the only place in this city of ours that's got enough space to breathe, even if the air is kind of farty.
But hey, at least you know you're breathing!
Them fish Poison Jam are a bit of a drag though. I don't think they like me there for some reason. It's not like I bug them, I know I look like a bug, but I don't act like one.
In any case there's good company in the sewers.
His name is Turdle. Not turd, even though that's what he looks like, and not turtle, because that's his pace, but Turdle.
I suppose he's an alligator. He just walks around the place, and let's me ride on his back, and he's pretty docile really. He eats fish and chips when I give them to him, other that that I'm not sure what he does. Or even if there's only one of him. I can't tell.
I think there's only one of him, it makes more sense.
It's kind of ironical, me and Turdle. We both don't have anyone else on our same level, we're both isolated. Even though there may well be other members of our race or species, they don't know what we know. They're unaware and completely oblivious to the truth.
What is the truth, you ask?
What is this one thing that makes me so different from you and everyone else here?
Ha ha ha ha ha, wouldn't you like to know, sucker?
Wouldn't everyone like to know?
You gonna find that out for yourself kid, else you wont believe me. Trust me on that one, I didn't believe him, no I didn't, but I found out all by myself and realised he was right.
And he said I wouldn't believe him. He was right about that too.
Who is 'he'? Never you mind. You'll meet the dude one day, and he'll change your way of seeing the world, he'll fix your eyes.
No! That's not why I wear these big orange things on my head!
For your information, they're a fashion statement. I look really dodgy when people can see my real eyes. People don't recognise me.
Yeah, that too. If I ever get my pic in the paper, or the post office with 'WANTED' under it, I can ditch these orange things and nobody will recognise me.
That's all people remember when they look at me as I race past. That I've got these big orange things on my head.
And of course, that I'm black.
Let me explain something to you: if a black man had joined Attila the Hun's huge hoard of millions of barbarians and helped them raid ancient Rome, people would have definitely remembered one of the was black. If there was one black man in Hitler's army, born black I mean, not burnt black or anything, historians would have recorded it.
They would not have said, there were thousands of white men, they would say, there was this black guy.
Trust me, it happens.
People are like that. Humanity just seems not to like people who are different. And in this 'fair' city, black is different.
But so are skates.
But look, if I go somewhere with my sis, everyone remembers two black people skating by making a ruckus. If it's Jazz with me, the crowds just, well, they just forget her. Don't ask me why. Maybe it's just her and she has a knack at being forgotten, but I don't think so.
I call it racism.
There junior, that's all I feel like talking about right now. And if you're waiting around for a witty punch line, forget it.