Tommy 'Madfist' Ethrigan
From HOTGT
| Tommy 'Madfist' Ethrigan | ||||||||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| ||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||
Contents |
Background
Excerpts from an interview with Thomas Ethrigan by psychologist Dr. Donald Reece:
Dec 7 2006,
How did I get here?
In a car you dumbass.
I suppose you mean how my life got to this point.
Ah, what the hell, I’ll tell you.
See, everything started out just peachy. Born June 9, 1971 to a steel worker and his stay-at-home wife, in the suburbs of Portland. Mom said that I was a quiet but smart bugger, hardly a bit of trouble. Made straight A’s in school and was the star of my little league baseball team. Everything was going great, and may parents were sure they would have either a pro-ball player, or a lawyer. Then came the summer of ’81. I was 10 at the time and a new game had just been released in the Starcade on 5th street called Polybuis.
From your face I see that you’ve heard of it, and don’t believe it ever existed. But it did, and any kid who lived near 5th street who claims they didn’t play it that summer is a f***ing liar. Everyone played it. We stood around the machine like crack-heads looking for their next fix.
Yeah, crack-heads. That’s EXACTLY how we acted.
For four months, it was all many of us thought about. We spent all of our time either waiting to play, or scrounging up enough money to continue to play. When I couldn’t earn money fast enough by mowing lawns and such, I stole the money from my mom’s purse.
Our need…
What?
Fine, I’ll speak for only myself.
MY need got so bad that when the Bartley kid from two doors down, jumped my place in line I hit him. Then I hit him again… and again… and again. He cried like a baby. Heard he only had to get a couple stitches, the little pussy.
My parents were furious and made me apologize again and again, to him and his mom. I did it, but he word felt like bile in my throat, and I can’t say I was the least bit sorry. As a matter of fact I was anxious for him, or anyone, to give me a reason to do it again. It was that night the dreams started.
What kind of dreams?
Christ, I can explain them any more than a blind man can describe polka-dots.
They were… are… red.
And black.
And they make me scared and angry at the same time, until I lash out and bring the whole thing tumbling down. The strange thing was that the dreams never came on day that I had played the game. So when the game vanished from the arcade about two weeks later, I found myself in a real fix. Every night I dreaded to go to bed, and every day I was left with the anger and fear of the night before. I searched all over town for another machine, but they had all disappeared. Called arcades in other cities, but none of them had even heard of it. My grades plummeted, and I landed in detention two or three time a week, for fighting or talking back to the teachers. Got kicked off the little league team after hitting a parent that was heckling me, and knocking out four of his teeth.
And that’s how it was until high school. My parents spent huge amount of money on psychologists but none of those pricks could fix me. I didn’t want to be fixed.
When I was 17 and a sophomore…
No, I failed the 7th grade after I was suspended for the year, that’s how.
Anyway, that year I joined the wrestling team. I was pretty good, but got kicked off the team for dislocating some kid’s shoulder. He had tried to “check the oil”, that’s wrestling slang for when a wrestler sticks his finger in your asshole to shock his opponent into loosening his hold, so he is lucky I didn’t dislocated his head.
Well, word seem to get around after of that little match, and about a month later this guy calling himself Vinnie Riche gave me a call. See, Vinnie was a promoter for underground street fighting, and he was looking for new blood. I said “what the hell”, and signed up under the name Tommy Mad-Fist.
My first match was against a guy named Doug the Gravedigger. He was six-foot-five, and two-hundred and sixty pounds of muscle. For two minutes and seventeen seconds he beat the living hell out of me. Then something in me broke. Eleven seconds later, Doug was on the ground, bleeding and unconscious.
That night, for the first time in years, I did not have the dream.
Over the next three years, I made quite a name for myself. Learned a little Jujitsu, a little Kempo, a little Muy Tai, and even a little good ‘ol boxing. I never lost unless I took a dive for some of my new “family” friends. And the more I won, the more infrequently the dreams came. The money wasn’t bad either. And I loved it all.
Then, in late 1991, one of my mob friends, who we called Lurch, came to me and said that a new competition called the Ultimate Fighting Championship was coming up to be broadcast on pay-per-view, and he wanted to sponsor me in it. Hey, pay-per-view wasn’t much in those days, but it was a chance at some kind of legitimacy. It also helped that Lurch was sure that I’d mop the floor with the other bozos in the tournament. “A sure win”, he said.
And it might have been. But on February 2nd, 1992, I beat a man to death in a bar fight. I think it was over some hoe, who I had made a drunken pass at. This Bobby Wright dude took exception to me banging his girl, and got put six feet under for his trouble. Why are you looking at me like that? I wasn’t my fault he wasn’t as tough as he talked.
Naw, I am sorry that he died, but I’m not sorry about the fight.
I’m not a killer.
Well, can’t say the courts much liked me. Gave me ten years for manslaughter.
Prison it turned out wasn’t so bad, one I established that I was going to be nobody’s girlfriend, and that I was one SOB you did not want to cross. Free food, free housing, free TV. Hell, I even learned mechanics in the shop there. Did the dreams come back? Oh yeah, they came back with a vengeance. Spent most of my first year in solitary confinement, beating the walls, the door, or whatever I could reach. I heard they were thinking of sending be to a psychiatric hospital if I didn’t calm down. But after awhile I seemed to just become… I don’t know… numb to the dreams somehow.
HA! No they didn’t let me out for good behavior for sure. Every once in awhile I had to lay down the law to some of the s***heads who got to full of themselves. Would get me a week in the hole, but everyone knew who was boss. But my time was up I guess, and they let me out.
Now I’ve got me a job down at Lee’s Car Service Center, and have become a productive member of society.
That’s it.
No, I got another year of probation, and this psych evaluation bs.
Am I still fighting? A couple of bawls at the local pub, but no serious injuries. Not like it use to be.
What, you think this “normal” life is getting to me? That it’s only a matter of time before I snap and go postal?
F*** you doc, because the hour is up and I’m not saying anything that is going to get me thrown in some padded cell!
Yeah, have a nice f***ing day to you to.
Physical Appearance
Average height, with a wirey, muscular build. Arms and torso are covered with tatoos.
Psychological Profile
"Thomas Ethrigan shows signs of agressive anti-social behavior." That is how his psychologist discribed it. Everyone else describes him as an angry hardass. Either way, his boss trys to keep him away from the customers.
Character Sheet
Strong 3
Str: 16
Dex: 12
Con: 15
Int: 15
Wis: 10
Cha: 7
Saves:
Fort: +4
Reflex: +2
Will: +1
HP: 23
Defense: 14
Occupation: Technician (Craft Mechanical, Repair, Knowledge Technology)
Skills:
Craft (Mechanical): +8
Craft (Structural): +3
Knowledge (Current Events): +3
Knowledge (Popular Culture): +4
Knowledge (Streetwise): +8
Knowledge (Technology): +4
Profession: +6
Repair: +9
Feats:
Brawl
Streetfighting
Combat Martial Arts
Defensive Martial Arts
Talents:
Melee Smash +1
Extreme Effort +2
| Heroes of the Great Tree Topics | ||
| Impossibilities | I-verse background • Player Characters • NPCs • House Rules | |
| Phantapunk | Aeryn Background • Player Characters • NPCs • House Rules | |
| Concrete & Crimson | World Background • Scoobies • NPCs • House Rules | |
| Keep Flying | The 'Verse • The Crew • NPCs • House Rules | |
| Polybius | The World • Investigators • NPCs • House Rules | |
| Labyrinth | The World • PCs • NPCs • House Rules | |
