As a wee lad, Graham wanted to be a pilot, a butler, a filmmaker and an author. The only one that stuck with him was author. He likes to ponder and plan, and though they say a plan is just a list of things that never happen, he does have a firm roadmap for where he, and TheNeverPress, are going. He has a slate of 50 odd books queued up for the next decade or so, each one planned and developed and just waiting for the start date to roll around. After that, he intends to retire to the Andalusian sun and live in a Hacienda filled with animals, and let the surrounding lands do what she wants. Alongside writing, he loves cooking roasts and The Cure. Graham also takes comfort in the fact that although he is the wrong side of 35, he is always the right side of the bar.
Jackie Racine is a former croupier at the Gran Royale Hotel and Casino in Ropponghi. After long shifts at the tables, Jackie spent her nights in the various clubs and bars in the district, her little notebook never far away. After getting in deep with the sharks, Jackie got out and made a new life for herself running guns for the REDACTED in Nicaragua. After discovering a battered old copy of REDACTED by REDACTED in a rebel outpost on the borders of Honduras, Jackie abandoned that world and walked the earth, finally settling back in the city. Very little is known about Jackie Racine’s life before her Gran Royale days and information on significant partners in her life is nonexistent. The generally held theory is that, given her past, Jackie has gone to great pains to protect the identity of those she loves for their own safety. However, in some more garrulous districts of the city, rumours persist that those Jackie loved “simply didn’t make it out”, and you should read into that as you will. Jackie Racine now lives in Ginza where she writes her crime fiction, drawing from his vast and colourful experiences.
Eugene Bliss was born in the city by the lake and for his first few years lived in relative comfort with his mother, a renowned baker. As a boy without much to verbally say, and with few friends, he wrote constantly. His mother and neighbours, celebrated illiterates, did not know where Eugene discovered this ability. When Eugene was 16 he moved to the Tropics of Bath and spent his formative years in the Neon District making a name for himself as a barfly writer, fierce drinker and gifted with the golden tongue that saw him never once receive a punch to the nose, despite his volatile melancholia. It wasn’t until Eugene met known explorer and adventurer Szilvia XXX from that dark and deranged land where they speak Italian over breakfast and Hungarian during supper that he settled into his literary groove. Eugene has, by his own proud admission, written more books than he has ever read and while the vast majority reside in his battered notebooks and stuffed in desk drawers, those that have been released are generally received with critical nonchalance. Eugene rarely complained. Eugene Bliss passed away sometime in his two hundredth and sixty-seventh year, found by Ted Bane curled up and smiling in the cubicle of Jackie Dolan’s Cocktail Lounge. His last work ‘Love Is Not The End’ was completed by TheNeverPress and presented to those at his funeral.