Andrew, or Andy to his friends, was the sort of guy who lived by "I'm here for a good time not a long time". He left school at 16, got a job in the back of some dodgy bar and started pulling pints before he even hit 18. It wasn't long before he was a favourite of the regulars, as he would often ditch the pint-pulling, jump on the bar and dance for hours on end. Whether it be grabbing a mic in kareoke, throwing some shapes on the dancefloor or necking back shots, he would spend more time partying than atually doing his job.
The trouble came when the drugs started. A little weed before a long shift at first, but it wasn't long before he was taking tabs of acid and snorting lines of coke in the bathrooms of the bar. For a few months he was loving life; the true sex, drugs and rock n' roll lifestyle. He most likely would've drank and snorted himself into an early grave if nothing had stopped him, but someone beat him to it; his brother Mark.
Mark had moved out to Chernarus after meeting a Chernarussian girl through his university, but she wasn't the best influence. The party life must've been in the genes, as not long after moving out there Mark died from an apparent overdose, and without any other family it was left to Andy to bring the body back to Australia.
Sod's law in full effect, the infection hit whilst he was out there and he was stuck. After a tough first year of the infection, Andy decided he was going to make the most of his life, given he might not be around for much longer, and so he bounced from settlement to settlement embracing his old party side and spreading a good bit of mischief along the way.