Drew556
Murdoc Alphonse Niccals was born in Stoke-On-Trent on the 6th of June 1966, 666. his lucky numbers that brought him the most fortune. He was born in The Three Legged Dog. a filthy pub made for degenerates, deadbeats, and the down trotted, and out the back by the wheelie bins, although it was rumored that his mother [IDENTITY RETRACTED] gave birth to him while still in residence at the Belphagor Sanatorium, a halfway house for "the sick, the needy and the incredibly bored". perfection.
Murdoc grew up to be a pathetic man, one of failure, his favorite drinks were liquor, whiskey and the swear falling from his forehead as he shredded on a bass guitar. the amount of cigarettes he smoked throughout his life fucked up his throat, making it impossible to sing, or well, at least appealingly.
Andrew was a mentally deranged psych ward patient in William severalls institution of the clinical insane. his body was born of a short stature and a few pounds. his head buzzed and shaved from the amount of hair he was pulling out and the nurses deciding it was best to get the job done quicker, voices would taunt him, pleasure him with false sincerity and authenticity. corpses of deceased bludgeoned women on the floors of the hospital, all of it was from Drew's imaginative brain. things he wished would stop, things he wished would be the end of him.
when Murdoc decided to create a band, one that would revolutionary, resilient, and full of cash grabbing qualities to it, he had already gotten a tall pale disabled blue haired Twink for the job, and a titanium, towering bald man with glowing white eyes, but when scamming a man during a art festival, he overheard Andrew's performance, it was breathtaking, incredible, stunning, no, inhumane on a mythical scale, he knew he needed this... psycho, this unhinged idiot in his band.
now, all he needed to do was act on his plan, operation loony bin was in order.