1950's narrator
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“Soothing, yet creepy at the same time...”
~ Oscar Wilde on the 1950's narrator
“... a really, really white guy...”
~ Joe Six-Pack on the 1950's narrator
The 1950's narrator (or also called the "monochrome man", "That guy with the really straight voice", and "The White Man") They hail from the civilized parts of Europe and North America, while being employed to narrate Cold War propaganda and what not. Unlike the other forms of a white person, the select breeds of this white person derive from the highly dangerous chemical vats of Heaven when being created by God. God's objective was to create the most boring white person ever created. In fact, God's plan would have worked if the American culture would quit shifting!
The last known 1950's narrators were killed horrifically in a big, fiery volcano. A select few may have survived, but we've caught one that made it through the Great Purge of 1968. They are an elusive breed designed to escape the masses until 1968, where everyone stopped talking like white people (and by talking like stoners and liberals).
Today, there is but one last 1950's narrator being carefully observed by top scientists under the junk world of Alamogordo, New Mexico in a chryo-tube. Top scientists have been deducing how to get this breed to mate in order to strengthen the population.
[edit] History
After World War II, the U.S. government feared of the widespread threat of communism through distinct, subliminal messaging through brain waves that seemed to blow Albert Einstein's FUCKING MIND! After cleaning up the brain matter, the Great Janitor of the White House had been appointed to Galactic Overlord for accidentally pressing the "Bomb Japan" button (on the desk in the Oval Office). As Galactic Overlord, Truman quickly set aside Nazi affairs and went to the evergrowing threat of microwavable dinners. Foreseeing this in a drunken comatose, Truman summoned, with his Necromancer powers, a hellspawn that he called Joseph McCarthy.
McCarthy was the catalyst for Truman's grand plan to call upon the forces of the Nine to summon creatures who talked, walked, and dressed like McCarthy (or any other white man at the time). These creatures were assigned to the task of narrating 1940's and 1950's anti-microwavable-dinner propaganda movies (codenamed Project Communism).
The narrators did exceptionally well for their job in propaganda movies, with their monotone, calm voice and that official "Don't fuck with me!" white-man look. Things were doing well for the narrators until the year of 1968 occurred. Through "peaceful" protests, the hippies gathered up all the narrators and threw them into Mount Doom, in an effort to "cleanse everyone's mind of unequality".
Before the great purge, one narrator fell into a hole in Alamogordo, New Mexico to discover that there was a secret Commi-Can (Communist-American) alliance happening. In an effort to prevent this information leaking out, the Sovimericans captured the last narrator and sealed him in a chryo-tube.
Today, you can see him for under $15 at the Smithsonian museum.
[edit] Weapons
The narrator used to carry high-tech apparel that would give them a permanent +5 increase in Speechcraft and Mercantile. They carried:
- Ties: Good for a suit.
- Suit: Usually black to confuse backwater colored folk.
- White colth: Every narrator had these in his suit pocket. Top Sovimerican scientists have questioned as to what the fuck why?
- The finger of capitalism: Once per day, they could use this special power that would turn any Stalin into a Gorbachev.
[edit] The Narrator Today
In todays times, the narrator has been reborn through a select breed of Fagacelium Sporozytes that evolved into the new hip narrators that you only hear on a commercial advertising a kids toy that no one knows about because it's on Cartoon Network. Please, good reader, if you have the time, please, donate to the Narrators' Guild so we can construct an army of narrators to rules the Earth once more! Fuck detente! We'll kill all the damn Soviets! Wait, what? It's a democracy now? Son of a bitch... oh well... I'll just go do some blow off a $10,000-a-night hooker's back. Stalin bless the Soviet Union!
