All the way from the gulf coast of Clearwater, Florida was Brady Carrington. He was born as the youngest brother of three, the oldest being “Bam Bam” and the middle child being “Johnny 5.” His brothers were the men in his life that shaped him into who he was. By the seventh grade, Brady was truant from school - smoking pot, drinking cheap beer, and listening to Foo Fighters records in the garage. They were your typical pack of sweet idiots that lacked intelligence, but made up for it by not getting in anyone’s way. Brady learned how to surf, ride on skateboards, and even sling dime bags for cash by the time he was twelve years old. Their mother was rarely around, the only remaining guardian in their life aside from their grandmother who was nearly at her end. Though, when she was around she was extremely difficult to deal with. They liked the fact that they were each other’s best friends. The boys didn’t need school in their life because they were learning how to raise themselves by making their own means of income through the streets of Clearwater. Brady was sort of the back end support, he would scale and tie baggies up for Bam and Johnny, while they were more of the ambassadors of the brand. With the neighborhood as their support, they raked in enough cash to cover the purchasing of food. Brady looked to his brothers like they were immortal and godly in a sense. He thought that their finesse and way of moving was just so immaculate, and they kept themselves composed as these insanely cool jam heads. They knew every lyric to every song that Bradley Nowell wrote.



When Brady was around seventeen, he had already become sort of a carbon copy of Bam and Johnny. However, Brady was slightly more coherent than the other Carrington brothers. He had some sort of a wit to him, he was less dense than them. A few months into the year, Bam was the first to overdose on heroin. Johnny didn’t fall too short behind, it was a few weeks in between his grief that he also dug a needle into his skin and perished in the same way. Brady watched this filthy decay sweep over the only family he had, not to mention his bestfriends. Though it was a difficult thing to stomach, he began repressing the loss of Bam and Johnny with a handful of benzodiazepines and a couple of Heinekins. The drug-slinging was still a current thing in his life, and it actually was something that he enjoyed doing because it was one thing he was good at. Brady was slowly wheeling out cocaine and ecstasy to almost every teenager in the 727. He practically let them come to him, laying back on his filthy couch in that same garage with his boots unlaced and kicked up on the table. He would smoke packs of Marlboro Reds throughout the day and pluck a few guitar chords, even if he didn’t necessarily know how to play the guitar. His entire life was pretty much sinking back into the cushions and getting his mind spun out enough to forget about the bullshit.

Finally, when Brady was eighteen years old he left Clearwater for an opportunity that was somewhat near Atlanta, Georgia. He struck a gig as a roadie guitar-technician for a band called Sound Tribe Sector 9. The jam band lifestyle reeled him in entirely, as he became pretty much a groupie for this band of strangers that sort of became his new family. They traveled from state to state, festival to festival with only a bus and a box full of nitrous oxide canisters. Brady wasn’t in great standings with the police at this point, he had a few outstanding warrants for his arrest in multiple states across the country. His buddies were talking him up one night about this shaman who was based out of Norway that sold package retreats to smoke 5-MEO DMT for a really cheap price. Brady was hesitant about leaving for Europe, but he decided to take the experience and follow his gut to indulge in this psychedelic break through. Brady went on a short hiatus from working for Sound Tribe and initially landed in Oslo, Norway. It took him several taxis to get through the border of the country and into the mountains of a region called Nyheim. Specifications mattered little to Brady because he honestly had no idea where he was, and he didn’t care. When finally he reached the peak of the mountains, he concurred with the other members of the retreat that it would be a great experience to inhale the natural 5-MEO DMT together. The trip lasted over two days in the cold mountains, but all of the takers were exposed to some sort of unnatural God realm that made them think of life in such a different way. By the time that they began trying to contact taxis or any transportation from down the mountain, nothing was going through. About a week went by where Brady and the group had no contact to anyone in the country, so they chose to volunteer themselves for a trek to civilization for help. Brady and a handful of other guys left in the snow to find the nearest town, which took over forty-eight hours of freezing and harrowing conditions. By the time he had made it into a small village closest to their retreat, the other volunteers had fallen to the conditions and he was completely alone. Brady could now see the catastrophic damage that had been done to the country, and he knew that there was no chance for him to get back to the people on the mountain. There was no chance at getting back home, not that there was much left there anyway. He wandered in the freezing winds of Nyheim and found a new family.


Brady found himself as somewhat of a renegade from a true society, becoming one with the new ways of making it by. He still had some whimsical charm to him, but he was starting to conform to the natural laws of survival of the fittest. The slender boy had only ever shot an airsoft gun in his life, so to make the transition over to assault rifles was no easy task. He eventually stumbled into a town called Nyvoll. His relationship with a couple, Natalie and Phillip, had begun growing stronger as they realized the people around them were out for blood. Upon beginning to settle down in the town known as "Dead City" - Brady was given a warning by a man who had historical knowledge of the area. As soon as he let it go over his head as an embellishing of the story, the dead surged the town from beneath. With the city of Nyvoll now compromised, Brady found himself alone again until he was able to narrowly escape the chaos and book it toward the South with some familiar names that knew of his friend Natalie. As soon as he reconnected with Natalie and Phillip they sought to find a new habitat in the morbid wasteland, that journey seemed endless and filled with disappointment as they had been losing fights against the dead over and over again. Fortune struck as they soared out of Nyheim New City, Brady knew that the group could not hold themselves together in the colossus town. With Storvik in mind, he directed the car to keep driving North as he had never known of a city as quiet as Storvik was. With the fresh faces of the Sinclair family joining forces with them, Brady started feeling like he was apart of something bigger. With Natalie at the helm of the ship, Brady learned how to become a man by watching the effortless survival routine of people like Lucia and Liam. New Storvik had sprung from pipe dream into reality, and now he truly had responsibility again. Brady, still churning for a high to fall asleep, was at least at peace inside of the walls of New Storvik.