Rogye Nightmare

Rogye is a former Sergeant in the army of Nightmares that invaded Clwyd-Rhan in the Summer of 1004. His unit was despatched to secure a monastery near Dungil Fens, where the first room they entered was the brewery's storeroom. Upon sampling the brew, Rogye had a change of heart about his career in the invasion force, and has since taken up drinking and gambling as his main activities. He currently resides in a bar in Hell, the Sulphur pit, where the décor is tasteless, the service terrible, and the dancing girls all of the wrong species for him — but the gin is cheap and methylated for that extra buzz. As a Demonic Dealer of Doom, Death, Destruction and Doom, Rogye is entitled to be a client of the bar, where, in his own timeline, he has spent the past thousand years. To pay for his drinks, he cheats at poker or takes on jobs as a mercenary. Rogye Nightmare is a talkative person when plied with gin and tonic.

Rogye Nightmare fancies himself a master of disguise, but his effectiveness at disguise is diminished, to say the least, by his complete lack of understanding of human gender. Oddly, he does use the correct personal pronouns when referring to Céline Quickenice and Doctor Catastrophe. It is as if he has memorised their genders but the penny hasn't quite dropped as to how to determine gender in a human.


Rogye probably joined the Evil Overlords' campaign for multiversal domination early. However, in the period leading up to his departure, he must have developed a strong dislike of his paymasters, as his writings on the El Goonish Shive boards bear out. Some quotes:

...all this talk of the Overlords "godmoding" on you guys is just ridiculous. Just look at what they've been up to, these past few days! Getting a bunch of drones to stop panicking at the sight of some fuzzy rodents! They can't even get their invincible battle robots to function properly! And their living staff are no better. They got these wolfmen they went to a lot of trouble to borrow, but where have they gone? No one's seen hide nor hair of them after the Incursion into Clwyd-Rhan. Nor smelled them, for that matter, and believe me, they are hard to miss. My former masters got a pig in a poke there and no mistake: those creatures are as thick as the droids. As for my own kind, let's just say that the smart ones have all jumped ship and are working for ourselves now. That leaves... the Ark B types, if you catch my drift, and I know you do.

Let's face it, the Evil Overlords aren't all that. "Doctor" Catastrophe, who got his credentials from a diploma mill in BF, Wyoming? That porn addict Deception? Spoilt little Céline? Don't make me laugh. The Editor is a bit brighter than that, all right, but if he was really smart he wouldn't have hired that lot. That leaves Fallbeck, who I didn't have a lot of dealings with, but to look at him, the first Matrix movie called to say they wanted that trenchcoat back.

...If they don't respond to your taunts, they're not ignoring you, they're too busy finding their bottoms with their own hands. And that arsenal of TF guns isn't going to help them. They should have stocked up on brains instead.

...come to think of it, this gradual declassification of personal information by the individual Overlords may be a sign of internal strife and jockeying for position. Céline, Catastrophe and the others are all deeply insecure people who harbour a wish for sympathy and attention. Even their choice of a corporate identity as "Evil Overlords" could be explained as a passive-aggressive expression of that insecurity. "Yeah, we're evil. So what?" seems to be the underlying idea.

But, I should refrain from further attempts to psychoanalyse human beings and elves. I am, of course, neither, and can't claim to understand them fully. If any of you are trained to read the dispatches from the Evil Overlords for subtle clues as to their mental state, though, it's probably worth your while to do so. I should add, though, that all of them have read Macchiavelli, and would prefer to be loved as well as feared by their future subjects, for practical and political reasons alone. Of this, at least, I approve.

I'd be more impressed with [the Overlords' ability to visit universes and bring back selected items to their own] if the things we'd seen them steal hadn't been mostly houseplants. While it is entirely likely that they are also stealing stuff that they intend to use, so far their actual behaviour seems somewhat ... indiscriminate.

Hey, do you think Catastrophe talks to his plants? It would be just like him. Specifically, I think he'd gibber and laugh maniacally at them. "I'll show them!" he'd rant at some innocent petunia in a bowl. "Those stick-in-the-muds at the Institute will regret calling me crazy and cutting my funding! They will all suffer for their insolence!!! Inethical, they said I was! Well, if they want to cast me as a bad boy, let's see how bad I can be! I shall have my REVENGE! AH-HA-HA-HA-HAAAA!!!!!" And then the petunia would wilt.

...maybe Jason Fellback wants to change his style, grow out his hair, and put some flowers in it. Good luck with that, Jason.