Born in an abandoned hospital in the heart of the Lake District, Alex Patterson was left to his own devices in the wild. Having learnt the methods of trapping and skinning rabbits from the ghost of Captain Blackbeard himself, Alex entered society with naught but a brace of hares and a twinkle in his eye, and as a penniless savage with known background piracy was quickly accepted into Oxford, where he learnt many of the ways to not care about things.

Having left Oxford mildly confused, he left for the steel city to seek his fortune and quickly found himself enrolled in a course of speaking to the machines of wisdom found in one of the laboratories in the caverns of the science departments, and he verily learnt the secret language of the java. Some say he learns it still, stalking the cavernous depths for souls foolhardy enough to sign his contracts.

And there may be some truth in this, for there are agents of the Father springing up - talented artists, dedicated scholars, and jacks-of-all-trades who can steal your heart with a quick wink and a sharp grin.

And rumour has it, they enjoy playing games.

Alex Patterson is the founder of Jackal Pack Games, and project lead on Edgewalkers. He will never ever stop thinking of new games.

From whence did the Storm Jackal come? From nothingness? From everywhere? Has he always been here? Was he born in a pit at the bottom of the sea? Was he born atop a mountain underneath the stars? Was he born from the well of creation, in the mealstrom at the heart of the world? Was he forged from the taken and broken pieces of Fate and Fortune's chess board?

No, fools, he was not. The Storm Jackal was forged in the fire pit of taverns in the city of steel. His mind has honed with not just dungeons and dragons, but refined samurai, dangerous psychics and marvelous heroes. For many years did the Storm Jackal dwelt in the city of steel, but now he is gone. Gone to the colder north, to the city of the white rose, where he bends his will to animating unliving contructs of metal, commanding armies and resting his head in the arms of his beloved wife, the Mistress of Commerce and Trade to the High King of Albion surrounded by ferocious feline beasts whose hunger never ends.

Anthony Lupson is project lead on StarStorm, and can kill you with his mind.

Legend has it that the birth of Ink Jackal was first foretold in ancient writings discovered etched into the living rock of the catacombs beneath Swansea. The crude predictions that wound themselves across the face of the cavern walls and the calcified remains of urchins who had crawled into the depths to escape the bitter cold embedded therein spoke of the coming of One known as the Mogshoggoth, an eerie Being green of hair and shrill of voice, capable of causing all snack foods within the immediate area to disappear and of turning those who met its baleful if somewhat unfocussed stare into a pillar of salted crisps (which then, presumably, also vanished).

Many attempts were made to prevent the ghastly prophecy from coming to pass as the time of the birth crept e’er closer, yet all was for naught, and, one fateful day, a child was born to a family of itinerant dog nobblers.

And so it came to pass as Ink Jackal spend her formative years with her clan, hijacking holiday kennels and selling the spoils of the raids to the record industry as the latest teen sensation. It was a happy life, and one with good prospects for a young girl with a stout heart and strong teeth, but alas it was not to last. A strict diet of fishnuggets, porcelain and tights regrettably stunted Ink Jackal’s growth, as well as being thought to be the cause of the gills. Eventually her people were forced to sell their tiny, malformed spawn into the Artistic Business in the hope that their beloved homunculus would fare better amongst others of her ilk.

Being one of the few of her kind still in possession of all her fingers, in time Ink Jackal learnt to hold a pencil and, shortly after, how to put one down again in notably fouler temper. Despite this reticence when it came to production and frequent, desperate lunges toward open windows, Ink Jackal is now really, really happy in her new place as minion to the infamous Father Jackal, who won her from her previous employer in a crooked game of Strip Canasta.

A. Morgaine "Mogs" Newis-Edwards is Jackal Pack Games' Art Director, and we would be utterly lost without her.

Born with no nostrils, Tom Hallam was thrown out of his tribe, but due to a freak accident in a stationery shop two pencils pierced his nose in exactly the right places and he was accepted back as a shaman. Having fought off famine and vanquished many enemies using only knowledge gained from Star Trek, he retired to live the life of a student.

He learned web design and computer graphics from a wise old hermit he found living in a cave in his garden, and armed with these skills went off to seek his fortune as an artist. It was during this time that he discovered his true origin - he was grown in a tank, test subject No.7 in a secret experiment to breed the laziest possible human. Nowadays, Tom Hallam goes by the name of Polybius, although the criminal underword know him as a figure of fear known as The Rogue Scholar, able to move objects with the power of his hand and cut through steel with his powerful breath weapon.

Polybius spends his time in meditation in front of the TV, and brings to the team a sense of terror and apprehension that only a six foot five man with a large combined collection of very sharp swords and Transformers toys can.

Tom Hallam is project lead on Homeland, and he's seen things you people wouldn't believe.