There are heroes and there are gladiators. There are men who fight for the less fortunate, and for those who don't have a voice. There are great warriors who stand up to unyielding evil and incredible odds... ...and then there's Steve. If mediocrity were a packaged product with a mascot, it would be Steve, but his face would be covered by an orange discount price sticker. Steve never amounted to anything in his life and his indifferent parents barely noticed he existed. The few friends he ever made always found ways to disappear out of Steve's life. He didn't just get ghosted. Steve's life was a vast, gothic Victorian graveyard of forlorn spirits that fled as soon as they saw him. Just as Steve's life couldn't possibly get any blander or more meaningless, he is removed from his daily drudgery in a flash of blinding, bright, white light by a booming voice proclaiming that Steve has a great purpose. Steve wakes up naked, with no money of any kind, in a strange place where he doesn't understand the languages, with no idea how he got there. What else was there to do but pull up a bar stool at the local tavern, make a few strange new friends, and go on adventures!
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