The Epic Self-Insert

I don't own Bioware

All present day characters are real people; Brendan Steele is just me with an epically epic last name. Get set for the most epic self insert you have ever read. Like...of MIND BLOWING PROPORTIONS!

AUGUST 18TH 2011



"Hey Brendan," Matt slapped me on the back. "You coming to the party tonight?"

"Not a chance man," I replied instantly. "Got a TAC EX for the whole weekend. Sergeant Major Redfirth is gonna chew my ass off if I show up tired."

Matt grinned knowingly. Both of us were ROTC Staff Cadets, but I was Army, stationed with the Sydney University Regiment, an amalgation from a dozen colleges and universities. Matt was Navy, hoping to become a Navigation Officer on graduation. He viewed the 'bloody legs' or light infantry, as beneath his profession.

We said our goodbyes and went to our individual cars. I frowned as I entered my 1990 Hyundai S Coupe. Just one more paycheck from the Army, for just one weekend of intense field training, and I'd be all set to grab a second hand Mazda RX-8. Anything would be a trade up from this hunk of junk.

Traffic was unusually quiet; normally the streets would be packed with cars and buses of every variety. I shrugged, must be a slow day for some people.



"My brothers, it is almost time," Nashanta spoke gravely as he gazed round the conference table. "Fifty years of work comes down to this moment. The Reaper's will return, no matter what preparations we make or how many warnings we leave. We must summon a warrior, swift, strong and brave, to aid our cause. We will pass on to him all our knowledge, and then send him forward in time, to render assistance to John Shepard and his crew."

"I am slightly concerned," Kesbedo bowed his head politely. "How is it that we have selected this human? This 'Brendan Steele'?"

Nashanta gestured to the table. "See his profile for yourself. This young man is a runner, a fighter and a hunter. The descendent of soldiers. Add to this, he believes our universe to be but a game, a game that he has played many times. He will have additional knowledge, such as troop deployments, or weapons research, that will further help Shepard on his quest."

"And we can assume," Cartaz broke into the conversation. "That he will have additional strengths and powers that these other humans who go to aid Shepard in other parallel universes also possess."

"Very well then," Kesbedo turned back to the centre. "We shall activate the device!"


I of course, had no fucking clue what these guys were discussing. I was cruising down the F4, with Alice in Chains blaring over the speakers. I figured that I'd go home, help my little sisters with their high school assignments, check Facebook, maybe wash the car, and then settle down for a few hours of the greatest game in the world, Mass Effect 2.

Man, I was psyched about Mass Effect 3, just a few more months. The guys on Fanfiction dot net were already going hypo about it. The new trailers just kept getting better and better. Speculative fanfics were the rage at the moment. I preferred not to guess what would happen. Two weeks before the release date, I was going dark, wouldn't read anything or look at any trailers. I was going in spoiler free.

Then suddenly, without explanation, white energy began to writhe about my arms. I glanced left and right in sudden horror. What the hell? What was happening to me? I quickly pulled over to the side of the highway. I reached for my mobile phone, I must need an ambulance or something. This was...


"We have him!" Nashanta called triumphantly. The inside of the chamber blazed brightly, and then faded. A lean human, with short brown hair, and a T-shirt declaring him the 'World's Greatest Poet' was deposited, gasping, in front of the Prothean's.

Kesbedo was the first to step forward. "Welcome good sir, welcome to Ilos. I am Kesbedo, this is my superior Nashanta, and my assistant Cartaz. You, and you alone, have been selected, from the billions of individuals in your galaxy, to be the saviour of this one."



They stared at me, with something akin to amazement. Well, I *thought* it was amazement. I couldn't quite tell. Their faces were long and drawn, vaguely insect like. I repeated my question.


Nashanta stuttered. "Well, because you were the most suitable."

It was my turn to be amazed. I had already accepted that I was in the Mass Effect Universe (After all, I'm a really smart and cool guy, it didn't take me long to figure it out. Ilos? Had to be ancient Protheans.)

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not."

"Well I'm pretty sure you are!" Nashanta said with a tone of finality.

"Well what's your plan?"

"We're going to send you forward in time to assist Shepard."

"I'm pretty sure he can take care of the Reaper's by himself," On that point I was definitely sure. Mass Effect 3 would be a really short game otherwise.

"Well, what about the other characters, I mean crew?" Nashanta asked in surprise. "You know their problems, how to help them. Why don't you go to their assistance?"

"Because Shepard's already taking care of them," This was ridiculous; these guys thought that just because I knew the plot of the game, I'd be invaluable. "He's got a crew of the best specialists in the Galaxy. He wouldn't need an amateur mucking up his team."

This seemed to stump them for a minute. Finally Cartaz spoke up. "Well, you're not really an amateur. You did nine weeks of basic training alongside the regular Army, you're as competent as any infantryman."

"The infantry go to weeks of follow up specialist schools," I pointed out. "And they receive almost constant training once they're posted to their units. So yeah, I' m pretty much an amateur."

"But...what about all the historical documents posted on Fanfiction dot net?" Kesbedo blurted out. "Hundreds of accounts of parallel universes where various males and females go to aid various Shepards? They all seem to be fearless warriors?"

Were these guys for real? Ancient Protheans who thought the best solution for the problem was to..."Do you guys have any idea of how long it takes to become a professional soldier? Or how many years it takes someone to actually be okay with the idea of taking a life? Combat soldiers sometimes have irreparable psychological damage. Did you think plucking a teenager off the street, or sitting in front of an Xbox, or snatching them while they slept, and sticking a fancy gun in their arms automatically makes them Rambo?"

By this time the Prothean's were starting to get annoyed. They were the top scientists of a super advanced race, they were the ones with the plan. "Look, we've already brought you here, so you'll just have to figure it out as you go along. No doubt you'll adapt super fast just like the other humans. They all seem to be natural snipers, explosives experts or assassins."

"But they're not even real," I was in full rant mode at this stage. "Look, the one predictable thing about warfare is change. That means that the weapons and tactics I'm trained to use will be completely different than the one's Shepard's team uses. They know how to use Biotic Charges, and Stealth Cloak's just to move around the battlefield. Do you think I have fucking clue how any of that works? Or how many months it would take me just to become a marksman with one of their assault rifles?"

"It's all for the best anyway," Cartaz tried to act as the peacemaker. "Like all these humans, you most likely have a pathetic social life, no girlfriend and an abusive father who belittles you all the time."

"What are you talking about," I was completely bewildered. "I have a great social life, and I have a girlfriend. And my Dad's always been supportive and encouraging. And I love my family, I don't want to leave all that behind."

"Deal with it," Nashanta turned back to the control panel. "You'll be too busy helping Shepard save the Galaxy, because he clearly can't do it without your help."

"It takes the average human being ten years to become a master at a particular profession," I retorted. "You expect me to be some kind of suave, omnipotent guy that can just wander into the future? I suppose you'll want me to hook up with Tali as well? That would be par for the course so far."

Nashanta muttered something under his breath. "What was that?" I called out angrily. He swung around to face me.

"Well, we were hoping you could get Miranda Lawson pregnant. After all, you have seven sisters and three brothers. Considering your father spent a total of eleven years on deployment, out of the thirty three he's been married to your mother, we were hoping you had some kind of hereditary super sperm. Either that, or your mother's pretty easy..."

"OH YOU SO DID NOT JUST GO THERE!" I charged toward him, murder in my heart.


Cartaz and Kesbedo stared in astonishment as the human began choking Nashanta.

"Maybe we should send him back?" Cartaz suggested timidly.


"Man, that guy was an asshole," Nashanta rubbed his throat. "I hope all his tires go flat."

"To be honest, I didn't think that would work," Kesbedo spoke up. "Did we really think he'd have some kind of rare genetic strand that would turn him into an ice throwing superhero? Or have the ability to act like a total asshole from a bad horror movie and still be liked by every member of the crew? And how would he be able to hook up with Tali? He doesn't have any of the character traits that attract Tali to Shepard in the first place and make her willing to trust him?"

"I agree," Cartaz nodded. "What kind of moron would think he had those kind of abilities anyway?"


The white light enveloped me again. When it faded, I found myself sitting back in my car.

"Man those guys were assholes," I muttered as I restarted my engine. "Gonna play through the Collector Base again, just to blow their mutated descendents to kingdom come. They deserved to get wiped out."


A/N: Just pack the fishing gear in the car, roll on down to the pier, and happily troll ;)

Getting a bit behind in my updates for my main stories, and for that I apologise. Meant to settle down on the weekend and hammer out the next chapter for Five Rounds, but then went Go-Karting with my brother for his Buck's Party (No Strippers, this is Australia after all)

And this weekend I'm headed up the coast, helping my sister with the Annual Tenterfield Show. If anyone lives out near that area, stop by the pub on Friday night, I'll be singing 'The Gambler'. See you all next week. Stay safe out there.