Planetquake’s Fargo: The Unauthorized Biography
The Unauthorized Biography
Fargo’s Early Years
Young Fargo announced his intentions to become a Space Marine at his fourth birthday party, shortly before blowing out the candles with a shotgun. The reasons for such a bold measure at such a young age are still a major point of contention for Fargo scholars. Some note that it may have been rooted in an unresolved oedipal complex involving his mother, while others argue that such a presumption is ridiculous–since young Fargo’s entire extended family was slaughtered by hideous hell-spawned demons on Phobos when he was but three. So Fargo’s reasons for becomming a space marine remain a mystery, but nobody can argue about his determination to become part of the force: by age five, he had DOOM II Underoos to prove it.
Raised by Gypsies and trained in the martial arts before he had mastered reading and writing, Fargo had a difficult childhood. His alienation from the other children was intensified by a terrible accident in the fifth grade, where he was unfortunately run over by the school bus (six to seven consecutive times.) Luckily, he was wearing yellow armor, and was out of the hospital within eight months (the school bus was undamaged.) Forced to be held back a school year because of his injuries, Fargo was soon older and bigger than all those around him. While they all played Duck-Duck-Goose and Hide-And-Seek, Fargo was forced to stand alone in the corner of the playground and practice sniping from the water tower with his nailgun.
The Troubled Times
Eventually Fargo completed his degree at a small Liberal Arts college, where he majored in Home Economics. But he still hadn’t given up his dream. That Summer, he applied to the Space Marine Academy. “Had he not fired his application through the Dean’s office window strapped to a rocket propelled grenade,” notes Director of Admissions John Aboud (Colonel), “We might have given him more serious consideration as a candidate.” Fargo was unphased by his first (nor his second, third, or fouth) rejections. That next semester he was already striving to catch their attention again, this time by rocket-jumping through the second-story window of the athletic complex. “A shame he landed headfirst onto the free-weights,” notes Captain Angie Buchine, “It was an otherwise spectacular maneuver.”
Unable to get into the Space Marine academy, Fargo was forced to take up employment at an adult bakery decorating erotic cakes in order to pay the bills. “It was a sad time for the poor guy, wearing that apron over his full exo-plate armor like that,” says long-time friend Leslie Albright (who insists she doesn’t even like naughty pastries, no no no, she’s never even tried them, honest). Then his big break came only three years after his initial rejection, when Fargo tunneled under the Space Marine campus with a lightning gun. “He came within inches of the Academy swimming pool,” notes Academy General Dan Burke. “He was more dangerous to us outside the Academy than within.”
Fargo’s Big Break
Only days after his recovery, Fargo was hired on as assistant to the inter-office memo proofreader at Space Marine headquarters on Mars. There he worked ceaselessly, dotting i’s and crossing t’s, day in and day out, for months on end. His initial joy turned sour. Soon he became fed-up with the Space Marine corporate bureaucracy. “This isn’t what I came here for!” he cried. “What about my art? Have I sold out? I’m a killer, dammit! A badass! I have to kill, kill, kill!!”
At last the turning point came. The young man who ran the office confectionary cart ran out of Ding-dongs one day and started taking hostages. As negotiations dragged on, Fargo took matters into his own hands. One successful capture and only 398 innocent civilian casualties later, the Space Marines decided to promote him and send Fargo on suicidally dangerous missions as far away from civilization as possible. That’s how our hero got involved in the Slipgate project.
And that’s where he is to this day, a Space Marine at last–Fargo roams the nether dimensions slaughtering hideous demons, ogres, undead, and occasional teammates when he gets a little too frisky with the ol’ rocket launcher. His valuable memo-proofreading experience was noted by the folks here at Planet Quake and he’s since become their news editor, which is a pretty good deal for all parties involved. Except when he delivers his “Special Features” using a rail-gun.
Lately a story has been circulating that Fargo is not really Fargo at all … That he’s really Dave Kosak, a young copywriter for an interactive media agency in New York City. To be fair, Fargo and Mr. Kosak have never been seen together in the same room… mighty suspicious, don’t you think? Nonetheless, if you for any reason need to contact Dave (non-Quake related material only, please) he can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. As always, of course, you can send your Quake-stuff to Fargo at Fargo@planetquake.com. And please be careful where you aim that thing.