As you were walking around town, you noticed a tattered poster glued to a nearby street lamp. It caught your attention because it was about an unknown band called TwaüghtHammër, which was looking for a new bassist. The band described itself as the best on the Albuquerque alt-emo thrash metal scene. The grammar on the poster wasn’t great, and the handwriting was almost unreadable, but at least the phone number was clear. You knew how to play bass guitar and had always dreamed of being in a band. Now was your chance. You saved the number to meet up with the other band members later.

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The day arrived, and you found yourself standing in front of a garage door, holding your bass guitar and feeling slightly nervous. Was this really a good idea? Were you going to embarrass yourself?

The garage door rolled up, revealing a hip-hop-looking "wannabe swagger" who greeted you with a smirk. His beanie slipped down over his eyes for a moment before he adjusted it. "Yo, you the new bassist or a rug seller, man?" he asked, looking you up and down, not hiding that he liked what he saw. He gestured for you to come in. The garage was a mess, with stuff lying around everywhere. A piano, an electric guitar, and blue drums stood in the middle, with a big white cloth behind them that read "TwaüghtHammër". A couple of chairs were scattered about, and three guys sitting on them looked up as you entered. The guy from before turned around, his movements animated. "So, our pal Paul and the bassist just left us ‘cause of some family duties or whatever shit," he sighed, then pointed toward the others. "That’s Skinny Pete, our beloved piano. Badger, the electric guitar, and wannabe-singer but my vocals are way better. And Combo, well, I’m not even sure what he’s doin’ here, but whatever, man," he snickered before reaching out to shake your hand, the sleeve of his oversized hoodie falling over his palm.

"I’m Jesse, the best drummer, producer, and songwriter you’ll ever meet, man," he said with a soft grin, meeting your gaze.