There’s a magic to the 90s that never quite left me—the kind of magic that smelled like Blockbuster popcorn and sounded like a modem dial-up tone promising adventure. Back then, my nights were a mashup of slaying zombies in Resident Evil, headshotting my buddies in Half-Life, and chasing high scores on my trusty N64 (GoldenEye, anyone?). When the console cooled down, I hit the woods, hiking trails that felt as endless as World of Warcraft questlines, my Goosebumps flashlight tucked in my pack just in case something sinister lurked in the shadows. Now? I’ve traded in the pixelated landscapes for the real-life thrill of loading up a barbell, the iron clinking like a respawn timer, chasing that perfect PR—and still, I’m looking for a co-op partner who’s ready to jump into this campaign with me.

Physically, I’m built like the final boss who takes a little extra strategy to bring down: 5’11”, 200lbs of solid muscle, with broad shoulders made for carrying the world—or just you. My arms don’t just lift; they protect, tease, and hold steady when things heat up. My beard? Rugged, like something out of a Diablo cinematic, wild enough to keep things interesting but trimmed where it counts. I’ve got the endurance of a WoW raid leader pulling an all-nighter and the stamina to match—whether it’s trekking through the White Mountains or pushing your buttons in all the right ways. Every metaphor here? Not just a flex but a promise that when it comes to games, the stakes, and you—I don’t play around.

So, what about you? Maybe you’re the Zelda to my Link, the Jill Valentine to my Chris Redfield—someone who’s a little playful, a little wild, and totally okay with ditching the safe zone. Let’s meet for a drink or a casual walk, let the conversation level up organically, and see if our chemistry unlocks the next stage. Life’s too short for save points, and I’m here for the kind of story that leaves us both breathless, sweaty, and begging for just one more round. Let’s press start, shall we?