Elvis Presley - You gave me a mountain

Elvis Presley - You gave me a mountain

Date of birth:July 4th, 2263
Date of death:April 15, 2281
Blood type:Type -A
Occupation:Raider, Apex Predator

―Hunger on one of his common rampages

There are very few beings that can truly claim to be pure, unadulterated, evil. Few beings can be readily written off as base, savage, and incapable of becoming something more. Those few creatures cower in fear of the monster known only as, Hunger.


The Demon is Born

"Mmmm... Mmmeee... Meeeeaaaaat!"
―Hunger's first words

How a creature like Hunger came to be is a complex tale of woe and scientific obsession. His birth itself, however, is a much simpler tale of all to base horrors. Hunger is a Bloodborne, a savage mutant creature that belongs to a sub-strain of the human race that did not exist in the open world until at least 2121. They are creatures born by an Enclave experiment to create the perfect soldier. Instead, they created perhaps the most horrific monsters to walk the wastes since the like of the Masters army. Strong, fast, and ravenous, the Bloodborne spilled into the mountains and plains of Boise, Idaho, ravaging the irradiated countryside, devouring all in their wake. At first they were but a few, a small tribe of killing machines loose in a harsh and deadly land. But soon, the urge to reproduce came to them. Though the first Bloodborne were male, they were, and still are, close enough to their human cousins to interbreed with them. After their first captives bore the first generation of Bloodborne created outside of an Enclave lab, their numbers began to climb. They bred quickly, and within a few short years they began to number in the hundreds.

Hunger was one of many broodlings, born in a littler of four to a poor human mother who was kidnapped by a pack of Bloodborne. It was said that the infant, though built more like a lean predator than the usual human infant, ripped through his mother's flesh and dined on her body alongside his new siblings. Thus Hunger came into this world as his namesake implies, ravenous, and always ready for more meat to fill his cavernous maw.

Nature vs Nurture

"You... You sat in my swing! NOW I'M GOING TO EAT YOU!"
―Hunger playing "nice" with his fellow broodlings

The life of a Bloodborne is one of utmost brutality and only the strongest survive. Hunger was hardly an exception. By the time had turned four he had already eaten two of the other broodlings in his pack in self defense, never mind the nine he devoured on predatory impulse. Of course the adults of the pack cared for him in the traditional Bloodborne way, feeding him with scraps of raw meat from their kills and teaching him how to bash a human skull in with a crude club. Ol' Snagglefang, the closest thing to a father figure Hunger would ever get, even taught the young Bloodborne how to stitch his own pair of jeans from human skin. It was during these formative years that Hunger also discovered that he was a vicious masochist, enjoying pain just as much as he loved dishing it out.

Hunger grew up fast, and by the age of thirteen was a physical adult, but he still had much to learn about survival in the wastes. For too long he had been safe at the camp, guarding it from wildlife and travelers, feasting on meat without the thrill of the hunt. (save for what fellows he killed in disputes) Now, standing a full six feet tall and with a lanky, almost wolfish physique, complete with taught muscle and knee length arms, he was ready for his first raid.

The First Bite is Always the Sweetest

―Hunger as he drags his first female captive home

Hunger was nothing to his tribe until that faithful day. It was the middle of March in the mountains overlooking the city of Boise. Hunger was joining the warriors of his tribe on his first raid. Finally he would get to taste the flesh of his own kill, perhaps he would even earn the right to take a mate, or if he was lucky, many mates for himself. As the pack crept through the woods, their movements like that of the starving coyote, they finally came across a small tribal camp. The camp could not have been more ripe for the picking. All the men were gone hunting, nothing but women, children, and old men. Hunger and his fellows came bursting from the brush, easily overtaking the token force of defenders, ripping them limb from limb. As the mothers whisked up their children and the elders tried to by them time to flee, Hunger was having the time of his life. Sweet lifeblood was spilled with each swing of his scrap maul. Every screaming child crushed underfoot another beautiful note in this symphony of mayhem. He had found true happiness, for he was sure that this glorious feeling was what he had torn his way free of the womb for. But then, it got even better. As he bared down on another tender morsel, an infant that had yet to even open its eyes, he was suddenly struck by a thick branch. The sturdy oak bough broke over the back of his head, and he was knocked off balance. Trying to blink away the double vision, he saw a robed shape scoop the child up and sprint for the treeline. After trying twice to give chance, only to trip over some debris or body, Hunger finally managed to pursue his prey. His target almost escaped the village, wailing infant in hand, but Hunger managed to yank at the rags that covered the figure. As the rags were ripped clean of his prey and the infant rolled into the bushes, Hunger's eyes shot wide. Laying before him was a beautiful woman, fair of skin save for the natural layer of dirt that covered her body and hair like amber. He coveted every inch of her, hungered for that smooth, silky hair. He reached for her, only to have a blade flash out and impale his palm. The tribal snarled at him, bearing her teeth and twisting the blade in his hand. As he had with every wound since the day of his birth, Hunger could not help but shudder at the sweet pain. He pushed the blade through his hand, closing it around her's. With a swift twist he broke her wrist, and in the middle of her horrified screams, cracked her in the side of the head with the pommel of his club. As she faded into unconsciousness, he threw her over his shoulder and tore the blade out of his hand, letting it fall to the dirt.

By then the raid was over, nearly the entire village population had been slaughtered, with the remainder of the women taken alongside the corpses as spoils. They burned the village, and later that night, Hunger was finally considered a man amongst his kinsmen, and likely sired another generation of Bloodborne.


"Y-your just so.... so... PRETTY!"
―Hunger revving up his newly found chainsaw

Hunger soon became something of an Alpha Male within his tribe, proving quickly just how ruthless and savage he was. However, in a few short years, something burned within Hunger. A restlessness that could not be sated by even the most gratuitous acts of savagery. He had grown bored of the simple raiding and pillaging in the mountainous regions of Idaho, he longed for utter anarchy and chaos. Thus, he unceremoniously abandoned his tribe and began his journey down into Boise. Perhaps there he would find the joyful murder he sought. What Hunger found filled him with serene delight. He had never seen war, combat unyielding across a smoldering ruin. It was beautiful. 

In but a few minutes of blundering into a suburban ruin on the outskirts of Boise, Hunger was ambushed by a pack of mutants. He had never seen such strange and relentless foes, they were not like the tribals he had butchered. They did not scream in agony nor did fear permeate their eyes as he ripped their limbs from their bodies. His thrill in these new foes dwindled quickly however, as they provided little in any actual challenge. As he dispatched the final mutant in the pack, he began to question his choice to abandon the harem of "soft meats" he had built in his old tribe. Then it hit him, square in between the eyes. The old 9mm bullet may have merely bounced off of Hunger's thick skull, but it certainly got his attention. Her eyes were brown, full and bright as the moon. He salivated when he saw her, a reaction to the combined scent of a woman and the burning pain of the bleeding scar from the ricochet wound. The smoking 9mm was still leveled at him, but he did not care, he was hungry. Hunger was upon the young raider girl in minutes, a salvo of 9mm rounds doing little to slow his charge. As he slammed her into the ground, Hunger began to cackle with glee. It was the same chilling laugh that the women of the Barkdog tribe had heard as he roasted their children alive over a bonfire, the same laugh that echoed through the Owyhee backwoods as he hacked apart the braves of the Cunning Leaves, and the same laugh that heralded the deaths of a handful of Legate Jigatahi's legionaries. That evil sound was caught in that she-raider's ears as Hunger bashed her head into the concrete, a practiced series of blows, as he had become quite adept at rendering his victims unconscious.

As Hunger dragged his latest rack of "soft meat" to a suitable shelter for the night, he felt vindicated in his decision to leave his pack and wander the wastes alone. Surely, if this was just a taste, then the main course would be... orgasmic. But surely, nothing was quite as sweet as when he smashed down that dusty old appliance store door and discovered... her. He dropped his latest conquest in awe of the angel he had found. Teeth made of steel. A heart of fire. And a body made of mostly consumer grade plastics. As Hunger hefted the ancient chainsaw, he remembered the tales told to him of some of the tribes that lived in the wetlands, how some wielded roaring swords of teeth and gore. How he had imagined such a thing, and now it was here. And just in time for the hardware stores inhabitants to awaken to their intruder. The mutants were upon Hunger in short order, drawn by his concussed victim and her bleeding head wound. Hunger happily went to work with his new lover, but alas, she did not join him in his blood hungry battle-cry. He was confused, though delighted as her sheer bulk was more than enough to crush a few skulls here and there. Then one of the mutants swung its gnarled claws at him, and Hunger, reacting on instinct, brought the chainsaw to bear in his defense. As fate would have it, the claw hooked the pull-string right before his eyes, and he was mystified as his new love came to life. The laugh came once again, deep from the chest and resounding out his fanged maw. The Long's Hardware Store ran red with blood that night, and the screams of a murderer's euphoria echoed through the ruins of Boise. Hunger had his first taste, and he was hungry for more.


―Hunger's last words

Boise proved to be just the place for Hunger, and he became one of the deadliest raiders in the city. In his first few weeks in the city, Hunger managed to gain a whole new rack of "soft meat", raiding settlements owned by the Brotherhood of Steel and preying on members of Lola's Guns.

However, for once, one of Hunger's murders caught up with him. Assassins from Legate Jigatahi's Legion were sent to hunt down the Bloodborne for his crimes but were all slain and put up on meat hooks. Eventually, Legate Jigatahi himself got involved and tracked down Hunger to his base in Long's Hardware Store.

Hunger saw the legionaries surround the Hardware Store, and "the little old man" Jigatahi leading his men into the belly of the beast. Unfortunately for them, Hunger was ready, lunging at the legionaries from the shadows. Using tooth, claw, and his trusty chainsaw, Hunger cut down as many legionaries as he could, tasting gore and bone marrow. Hunger even began to eat one of the legionaries' arms while fighting, chomping down one finger at a time. It was delicious.

Soon enough, the only people left were Hunger with his chainsaw and Legate Jigatahi with his thermic lance. The noise from the battle had caught the attention of the Boise Mutant Horde, and the mutants began to flood into the ruined hardware shop as the battle continued. Hunger's crude swipes with his chainsaw hurt the mutants more than it did Legate Jigatahi. Jigatahi's jabs with his thermic lance began taking a toll on Hunger. His blood flowed, and as a masochist, he was loving it.

Hunger's enjoyment came to an end when one of Legate Jigatahi's jabs pierced through his thick hide, and he felt true pain. That pissed him off. As Jigatahi's stabs became more probing and the mutants came closer, Hunger's swipes with his chainsaw became more primal and erratic. He wanted to end this and get back to munching on that legionary.

This was his downfall. Legate Jigahati used his thermic lance to stab Hunger even deeper, penetrating Hunger's skullbone. Hunger was at that point slowing down as the mutants latched onto him with their fangs and hands like knives. The young Bloodborne's vision became clouded as Jigahati stabbed again, and the mutants swarmed over him. As he entered the void, Hunger kept on swinging, laughing into the darkness.

Hunger's life ended as it had started, in blood and death.


Hunger was a being motivated by his lust for violence and meat, soft or otherwise. He thrived on pain and suffering, both receiving and giving it out.


In his prime, Hunger was a massive specimen, standing almost seven feet tall. Built like a hunter, Hunger looked like a cross between a tank and a wolf, with a tall lanky look and rippling muscles. However, as with most male Bloodborne, Hunger was almost completely bald by the time of his death.

Hunger's clothes were little more than rags and were there less for diginity than guard against the chill, often a Bloodborne's greatest enemy.


At first, Hunger used little more than his own two hands and teeth in battle (along with the occasional club). That was until he found the love of his life, the render of flesh and the knasher of steel teeth, the chainsaw. After discovering it, Hunger never parted from it.

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