Rolby is a soldier. Not just any soldier, but one that sleeps with his eyes open and finger on the trigger. Flosses with chaingun ammo and gargles with napalm. He is the biggest red block around; no other red block comes close to his gigantic diameter. His mouth, flush center of his massive block, is overshadowed by a large cigar punctuated with inches of gray ash at the end since Rolby’s hands never leave his guns to flick it. In fact, he has the smaller red blocks flick it for him. Sometimes in the middle of a firefight.
“Private Blockson, where are you solider!” Rolby calls out in a voice that sounds like a Harley going straight from 1st to 5th gear. No one answers. Rolby shoots off some more rounds before he turns around. No one’s there. “Must’ve got too hot in here for them. Hell isn’t for everyone.”
Hell is home for Rolby. Ever since he was a young block, he hated circular objects. Rolby refused to listen to CDs, or relax in a jacuzzi, and he always picks a fork over a spoon. If no forks are available he will eat his cereal with a knife. He even avoids marriage because of the ring. One time he stumbled into a bowling alley…let’s just say some curves were righted. Naturally, he joined the fight against the Blue Circles as soon as he came of age.
Now, in the midst of the Blue Circle army, with dastardly circular foes at every side of his handsomely straight edges, Rolby takes a second to finally flick his cigar. A cubed cigar made specially for him. The Blue Circles form their circular offensive pattern around Rolby. Rolby hates circles. He only has one stance when it comes to evil, diabolical circles – Violence.
Let’s Play: A Solider Called Rolby
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