Age: 45
Occupation: Woodworker
Current Residence: Back office of his rented Las Venturas woodworking shop.
Early Life: The Burden of the Eldest
Samuel was born into a strict, deeply isolated Anabaptist farming community miles away from San Andreas's major cities. He was raised to value faith, silence, and the grueling satisfaction of honest labor. When Samuel was just sixteen, his father passed away suddenly. Without a second thought, Samuel stepped up. He entirely forfeited his Rumspringa—the brief period where Amish youth are allowed to experience the modern world—to take over the farm, provide for his mother, and raise his younger siblings.
His only solace during those exhausting years was found in the dusty back corners of the barn. There, Samuel taught himself traditional, no-nails, mortise-and-tenon woodworking. He became a master of the craft, shaping sturdy, beautiful furniture using nothing but hand tools and patience.
His only solace during those exhausting years was found in the dusty back corners of the barn. There, Samuel taught himself traditional, no-nails, mortise-and-tenon woodworking. He became a master of the craft, shaping sturdy, beautiful furniture using nothing but hand tools and patience.
The Countryside Patron
About fifteen years ago, a high-ranking Las Venturas casino executive named Marcus Sterling took a rare, quiet vacation in the countryside to escape the heat of a looming gang war. While stopping at a rural general store, Sterling was captivated by a flawlessly crafted credenza in the entry.
Sterling tracked down the builder and began commissioning custom, high-end pieces for his casinos and private estates. Samuel was happy to fulfill the orders from afar. To Samuel, Marcus Sterling was simply a very polite, well-paying "businessman in the desert." Samuel had absolutely no concept of the vice-ridden, blood-soaked reality of Las Venturas, nor did he care to ask.
Sterling tracked down the builder and began commissioning custom, high-end pieces for his casinos and private estates. Samuel was happy to fulfill the orders from afar. To Samuel, Marcus Sterling was simply a very polite, well-paying "businessman in the desert." Samuel had absolutely no concept of the vice-ridden, blood-soaked reality of Las Venturas, nor did he care to ask.
The Incident
Eventually, Samuel's siblings married and moved to neighboring districts, and his mother passed away peacefully of old age. In his early 40s, Samuel lived entirely alone on the farm. Unlike some men who might yearn for adventure in their solitude, Samuel was genuinely content. He found deep satisfaction in the rhythm of the seasons, his daily prayers, and the smell of fresh sawdust.
That peace was shattered in the dead of night. A notorious Las Venturas mobster was murdered, and the culprits drove hundreds of miles out into the countryside to dump the body—right into Samuel's freshly tilled turnip field.
The next morning, an FBI convoy descended on the farm. Because the victim was a high-profile syndicate target, Samuel was immediately detained, loaded into an armored SUV, and transported to the federal field office in Las Venturas for interrogation. Back home, the sheer spectacle of the raid and Samuel's sudden disappearance caused his church to panic. Assuming he had fallen to the devil's temptations, the Bishop seized his property and formally excommunicated Samuel before he could even attempt to explain the situation.
That peace was shattered in the dead of night. A notorious Las Venturas mobster was murdered, and the culprits drove hundreds of miles out into the countryside to dump the body—right into Samuel's freshly tilled turnip field.
The next morning, an FBI convoy descended on the farm. Because the victim was a high-profile syndicate target, Samuel was immediately detained, loaded into an armored SUV, and transported to the federal field office in Las Venturas for interrogation. Back home, the sheer spectacle of the raid and Samuel's sudden disappearance caused his church to panic. Assuming he had fallen to the devil's temptations, the Bishop seized his property and formally excommunicated Samuel before he could even attempt to explain the situation.
Stranded in Sin City
The FBI quickly realized the bewildered man in suspenders was just an innocent farmer. They released him without charges, dropping him on the curb in the middle of Las Venturas. Samuel was 45 years old with no farm, no family to return to, and permanently shunned by his community.
With nowhere else to turn, Samuel sought out the only name he knew: Marcus Sterling. Out of a mix of pity and a desire to keep his favorite carpenter close, Sterling helped Samuel secure a small workshop in an industrial district of the city. Taking a small loan from Sterling, he purchased a battered utility van to haul lumber. Free from the strict rules of his church but entirely bound by his lifelong habits, Samuel drives the van exactly at the speed limit, uses his blinker in empty parking lots, and refuses to use the radio or air conditioning out of habit.
With nowhere else to turn, Samuel sought out the only name he knew: Marcus Sterling. Out of a mix of pity and a desire to keep his favorite carpenter close, Sterling helped Samuel secure a small workshop in an industrial district of the city. Taking a small loan from Sterling, he purchased a battered utility van to haul lumber. Free from the strict rules of his church but entirely bound by his lifelong habits, Samuel drives the van exactly at the speed limit, uses his blinker in empty parking lots, and refuses to use the radio or air conditioning out of habit.
Current Day: The Innocent Fixer
Today, Samuel's handcrafted furniture is legendary among Las Venturas's elite. He builds custom poker tables, reinforced oak doors, and finely carved cabinetry for high-end restaurants and casinos. He treats his clients with the utmost respect, assuming they are all just enthusiastic, legitimate businessmen.
Raised to be relentlessly neighborly and cursed by his inability to say no, Samuel has accidentally become an asset to the local syndicates. While installing cabinetry, he listens earnestly to his clients' woes, happily connecting a stressed 'waste management' boss with an 'exterminator' he recently built a desk for—entirely oblivious that he is brokering sit-downs between rival crews. His naive helpfulness extends to his workshop, too. When commissioned to build a reinforced human-sized wooden box, he simply delivers a flawlessly polished casket, never wondering what they plan to put inside it, but proud of the watertight seal.
Samuel remains a man of deep conviction navigating a city of sin. Stripped of his home, he occasionally wonders if the Lord simply forced him into the Rumspringa he forfeited as a boy—albeit thirty years late and entirely involuntary. Still, he finds himself unable to commit himself to the vice. He is the kind of person to politely order a glass of milk from the bartender while buffing out water rings on the poorly varnished mahogany bar. He might wander to a chaotic Las Venturas nightclub and offer the bouncer unsolicited advice on his posture, fearful that he might suffer long-term damage to his lumbar. He may have lost his community, but Samuel Yoder refuses to lose his manners, his faith, or his commitment to a perfectly sanded finish.
Raised to be relentlessly neighborly and cursed by his inability to say no, Samuel has accidentally become an asset to the local syndicates. While installing cabinetry, he listens earnestly to his clients' woes, happily connecting a stressed 'waste management' boss with an 'exterminator' he recently built a desk for—entirely oblivious that he is brokering sit-downs between rival crews. His naive helpfulness extends to his workshop, too. When commissioned to build a reinforced human-sized wooden box, he simply delivers a flawlessly polished casket, never wondering what they plan to put inside it, but proud of the watertight seal.
Samuel remains a man of deep conviction navigating a city of sin. Stripped of his home, he occasionally wonders if the Lord simply forced him into the Rumspringa he forfeited as a boy—albeit thirty years late and entirely involuntary. Still, he finds himself unable to commit himself to the vice. He is the kind of person to politely order a glass of milk from the bartender while buffing out water rings on the poorly varnished mahogany bar. He might wander to a chaotic Las Venturas nightclub and offer the bouncer unsolicited advice on his posture, fearful that he might suffer long-term damage to his lumbar. He may have lost his community, but Samuel Yoder refuses to lose his manners, his faith, or his commitment to a perfectly sanded finish.