James "Jack" McKarraig

James “Jack” McKarraig
Gender: Male
Age: 26

The stereotypical Badger is broad and squat, with large hands and heavily-muscled arms. Jack has some of that, but is wiry rather than thick. He’s still shorter than normal, though, standing about 5 foot 6 on a good day. His face is almost always covered in dirt or ash, half permanent stain from years in the mines and half residue from some failed explosive experiment. His eyes are grey, but you can hardly tell as his irises are almost completely replaced by unnaturally-wide pupils; a bioware modification common among Badgers who need to see well in the dark.

His clothing is similarly stained, dirty, and worn, composed almost uniformly of sturdy canvases and denims. He has one pair of clean khaki pants and a white linen shirt that he wears on special occasions, but looks unnatural and uncomfortable when he does. He typically wears a leather-and-steel mining helmet with a pair of thick goggles perched on the front.
The Badgers are the salt-of-the-earth and Jack is no different. Practical, rugged, self-reliant, and more-or-less unlettered, Jack is nonetheless intelligent, resourceful, and perceptive. He has a way with explosives and associated machinery that seems uncanny, and nothing pleases him more than to tinker with a new material, a new detonator, or a new gadget. He also loves the folk music popular among the Badgers, even going so far as to learn a bit of rough guitar. His hands are ill-suited to the delicacy of musical pursuits, but that doesn't stop him from trying!

His experience with the poor miner’s life has made him close and covetous where money is concerned. Whenever he can, he looks for opportunities to make a quick buck on the hopes that he can pay off his debts and leave his life behind. He is also very aware of the Badgers’ second-class status and has a sizeable chip on his shoulder, especially around well-educated, middle-class types.

His whole life has been defined, at least to some extent, by his claustrophobia. Mild as it is, it was still a crippling disability in the mines. Cave-ins are not unknown, even with modern technology, and Jack is plagued by recurring nightmares of being trapped under tons of rubble. He loves to look out of the windows of the starship and imagine the vastness of space. He knows that, somewhere within that black emptiness, there’s a place with an open sky and a surface unmarked by mineshafts and pits.