Andrew.

He's... well, he's crazy. Could be because he thinks he's too many things: Writer. Editor. Director. Husband. Savior. Stuntman. Andrew's a lean, mean creating machine, make no mistake. However, all this creative energy comes at a price - he's highly unstable. A while ago, Andrew decided that the only way to squeeze a screenplay out of his head was to be alone. Like, REALLY alone. Like in a log cabin in the middle of the frozen forests of Ontario alone. With no power. For a month. He killed deer with his bare hands and made shoes out of their skins. He broke off the horns and carved them into a pair of elaborite daggers which he used to perform freaky rituals involving burning pencils and piles of broken glass.

But make no mistake, Andrew is one creative man! He's an idea shotgun. Load him up with caffine and booze and stand back and let him blast the room, scattering plot seeds and script ideas like a handful of hot buckshot. If you can snag one or two pellets out of the air and use them, great! But be warned - try to catch the entire creative blast and you'll be knocked off your feet and most likely killed. Many have died trying.

Oh, and Andrew KNOWS how to handle a set of dice.