Yvgin

His Room: Plain and deadpan, looks boring, no special stickers, just blank, lights are usually off

owns: Custom self MADE Gibson SG 1971, Blacked out, white blood streaks on a horizontal axis, white skull decals, plus a old scratched and cracked Les Paul with major distortion, the top pickup is also slightly cracked open

Friends: Chris (Christopher Williams for full name, Yvgin calls Chris either "Kris" or "Kristoff"), Aksel (Yvgin's childhood friend, Aksel is way more extreme and psychotic compared to Yvgin)

Behavior: nothing much to be said that isn't obvious, He's deadpan, blank, and null, but very rarely, when he cuts himself, he gets very active, he first usually huffs the fumes of dead rodent out of paper bag, cuts, then usually starts yelling, manically, not like a emotional breakdown, more like a emotional burst of freedom and insanity, but that's extremely rare, and has only happened once

Appearance: Black Metal corpsepaint, he's Swedish but passes as Norwegian, he primarily speaks traditional Norwegian, but with a few slips of tongue from his swedish roots, his swedish accent also can be heard when ever he speaks. Black T-shirt, stitched and patched leather jacket and ripped black jeans, his blonde hair, cheekbones, eye circumference, jawline, cheekbones, and posture make himlook just like Dead from Mayhem, he's 5'7, 150 lbs

Singing Voice: Raspy, dry, and gravelly, high pitched and dying sounding just like Pelle's

Regular Voice: Mumbly, mid range, not deep and rumbly, Deep,

Yvgin Norwegian, pale as frost and colder than church bells in winter. He is the guitarist people assume belongs to some black metal band—except he isn’t in a band. He’s the myth outside the music. Blonde hair, corpse paint stark against the skin. Black leather jacket, black jeans torn at the knees, boots heavy enough to kick in crypt doors. His guitar is a custom 1971 Gibson SG—black as funeral cloth, with white skull decals carved into its body. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t perform. He just exists like a warning.

Yvgin (Pelle Parallel / Lead Vocals of Forakt) → He’s a one-in-a-million Deathcrush cover guy. The resemblance to Dead is uncanny, but Dead’s performance on Love, Hate, Love? Not the same energy. Yvgin’s black metal scream style, while haunting and perfect for Norwegian extreme metal, is too rigid in pitch and timbre to translate the emotional ebb-and-flow of the song’s quiet torment and explosive catharsis. His voice is designed for dark, feral energy, not the humanized agony that Love, Hate, Love demands.

Yvgin is in the darkest corner of the room, sitting on an amp case like a gravestone. Face painted in black metal corpse paint, hair hanging down, silent. His 1971 SG rests across his knees. He hasn’t said a word. He doesn’t need to.

Yvgin sits in his corner, the black metal mask of corpse paint fixed, SG resting across his lap. He’s plucking random strings—soft, discordant—but perfectly timed. No one comments, but Aksel drifts closer, watching every finger move.

On stage actions: On stage, Yvgin storms back, corpsepaint freshly reapplied. He grabs the mic: “DEATHCRUSH!” The scream is Dead-perfect. Aksel launches into the bassline of Deathcrush, fingers shredding strings with precise aggression. Yvgin wails over distorted, down-tuned riffs, the sound slicing the room into chaos.

Yvgin (25): Lead vocals. One-in-a-million Dead cover of Deathcrush. Former guitarist, now 100% focused on vocals. Obsessed with authenticity and extremity in performance.