Your name is TAZ.
Of course, you do have a LONGER AND MORE CONVENTIONAL NAME, as per your planet's time-honored, six-lettered tradition. You simply refuse to use it for the very justified reason of IT FUCKING SUCKS.
Luckily for you, nicknames are a rather common occurrence, given the way that the nursery ACCOUCHEMENT GOLEMS drop you into the DENOMINATION LOGE to piece together a personal moniker before you have FULLY DEVELOPED MOTOR SKILLS. Predictably, a good portion of the resulting designations end up being nothing more than unintelligible, jumbled letters with no meaning. Which suits you just fine, as it has let you coast along with your name of choice over the sweeps with nary a raised eyebrow.
Your religious allegiance lies with the MIRTHAMANIACS, a specific breed of ROUGHHOUSING WRESTLER-ESQUE PERSONAS that wish to further their IDEOLOGY OF RIGHTEOUS JUDGEMENT against THOSE WHO WOULD PERPETUATE THE CORRUPTION RUNNING AMOK IN THE FABRIC OF SOCIETY. This is nothing but a duplicitous way of promoting their perverse CHOREOGRAPHED INFIGHTING GRUDGE MATCHES in order to decide who TRULY DESERVES A SPOT AT THE TOP OF THE LADDER with the blessings of the TWO ABOVE.
You're more inclined to think of these "matches" as nothing more than a way to keep BIAS-FUELLED GRIEVANCE SLAUGHTERING out of the public eye, but it isn't your place to say what's wrong and what's right.
It is what it is. Everybody's got a price.
You haven't made a PERSONA of your own yet, nor do you INTEND to. You're not about to sacrifice your selfhood for a goofy chant and some tight spandex, even if you're MEANT TO ADMIRE THOSE WHO HAVE DONE SO. Despite this, you still hold a rather important position in the creed due to your INHERITED INTIMIDATION CHUCKLEVOODOO that is ALMOST ALWAYS ACTIVE.
You are also the disgruntled owner of an EVER-INCREASING COLLECTION OF RUSTIC TORTURE WEAPONRY, most of which you've won as TROPHIES. You spend a significant amount of time trying to FIGURE OUT HOW THEY FUNCTION IN COMBAT, so you can take your opponents out AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE.
You have an unsteady relationship with the majority of your CHILDHOOD FRIEND GROUP, which you more or less keep in contact with — the exception being the ONE AND ONLY PERSON WHO CAN SOMEHOW MAGICALLY PACIFY YOUR SEETHING DISPOSITION.
Your trolltag is perniciousOverkill, and you speak in a manner ~+ha+ is WAY +oo abrasive for your own GOOD.~
What will you do?