> Be the sea dweller lowblood.
This is actually a pretty typical afternoon for you.
There are times when you really hate being a SEA DWELLER. Being at the bottom of the hemospectrum sucks roe. On days like this, you half consider slicing off your own fins. It won't change your blood color, but even trying to pass as a SUBJUGGLATOR would be better than being a sea dweller.
But you'd much rather slice off the head of the next LAND DWELLER that looks at you funny.
You can't do that, though. Not unless you want to get culled on the spot.
Your name is ERIDAN AMPORA, and you have a ROTTEN BANANA PEEL on your head.
You are ten solar sweeps old, which means you've been living off of Alternia for several seasons now. But you are fast approaching your eleventh wriggling day, and you only have one quadrant filled. And you have no job. When the imperial drones come around with the FILIAL PAILS, you're glubbed. Of course, as usual, you BLAME THE STATUS QUO RATHER THAN YOUR OWN FAILINGS.
Flowing through your veins is nearly the filthiest blood the hemospectrum has to offer, almost lowest on the scale. As such, you are a SEA DWELLER, an inferior race of troll distinct from your betters by mutation and habitat, an out-caste which serves under the entire species.
In your youth, you had something of a GENOCIDE COMPLEX, making it your sworn duty to KILL ALL LAND DWELLERS in order to ascend to a less benighted social status. But you were unable to acquire any allies or resources in this cause, and eventually gave it up. Now you think the whole idea was silly. You were a silly kid.
You hold a fascination for SOCIO-POLITICAL HISTORY AND REVOLUTIONARY LEADERS. Due to the controversial nature of your idols, you rarely ever bring them up, but you are secretly enthralled with their stories, which tell of the SOLIDARITY OF THE OPPRESSED and the INJUSTICE OF THE MINORITY-MAJORITY RULE and CLASS STRUGGLE and ROMANTIC INTRIGUE. You hide this part of yourself as well as you can, but occasionally your personal outrage leads to IMPASSIONED EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS, and thus most people tend to regard you as a BIT OF A FOOL.
You suppose you had better get this peel off your horn and go home to clean up. Today is the day you are going to attempt to fill one of your empty quadrants, and you're not gonna successfully woo anybody if you smell like a dumpster. Not anybody you'd want to woo, at least.
What will you do?
And who are you wooing in which quadrant, anyway?