Growing up in Bancroft, there wasn't much to keep oneself occupied. Being in the middle of nowhere farther north than 98% of other cities in Ontario, the culture was very stereotypically Canadian. Most of his time was spent causing trouble with his buddies, terrorizing the town. As he grew older him and his buddies got a hold of some smokes and beer and hung out on outskirts of the McKenzie farm. After completing the 11th grade Bob decided that school wasn't for him so he dropped out and dedicated himself to the farm, spending more and more time with his father, Timothy. They grew very close and did everything together. Tim taught his boy to hunt and fish, brought him camping and all the general father-son activities. One afternoon in the early days of winter, Tim and Bob went for a hunting trip. All was well, Tim had his own grandfather's trusty Mosin Nagant 1891 that he kept well-maintained. It was engraved with the family name and the first name of each owner. Bob had his father's plain old pump-action hunting shotgun. As the two were tracking deer through the forest they were attacked by a bear. Tim was mauled to death after getting a shot off on the bear, wounding it. Bob fired at the bear and took off out of fear for his own life. Upon returning to the location, Bob found the corpse of his father and a trail of blood leading to a dead bear a few hundred metres off. After Tim's funeral, Bob had an incredibly difficult time coping with such a loss. His mother who is ethnically Chernarussian suggested that he temporarily move in with her family in Chernarus.

Meeting up with his mother's side of the family, Bob lived in Chernarus for 4 months before deciding he'd like to return to his home. Just days before his departure, martial law had been declared in the area. After toughing out another month or so, word of some 'outbreak' began circulating.