Eggwanners

Back at Pilgrim's Landing, I was walking towards the ferris wheel when suddenly Calvert's voice was everywhere. He suggested that instead of planting the jamming device on the ferris wheel, why didn't I put it into the fairground's trash compactor and destroy it. He assured me his gratitude was worth much more... than that of some old Limey.

Well, that about tipped it for me. This little squabble was a minor annoyance, until the idea of a British agent or spy or whatever trying to sabotage the American government was introduced. The bastards. Most of Europe had been decimated trying to conquer the Middle East and seize their oil supplies, and the US had been forced to distance itself from this conflict as their economies ground to a halt and their nations collapsed in an energy crisis.

That there were people over here, before the war... well, it hardly bore thinking about. Indeed, the thought occured that had the Calvert presidential candidate succeeded, the US and China might not have gone to war and devastated the planet. I'm a bitch, but not that much of a bitch.

The jamming device clanked into the trash compactor, and I closed the lid. With a loud grinding, the centuries-old mechanism surged to life and crushed the small device like a tin can. Calvert's voice appeared again, congratulating me on 'the right decision'. He directed me back to the mansion.

As I was striding up the driveway, a number of small explosions popped into the air in the grounds surrounding the main house. Then, with a mighty explosion, the house itself erupted into a colossal fireball. The blast flung me to the ground.

Returning slowly to my feet, I saw the house was gone, a smouldering crater all that remained. I had to admit, I was good at this demolition thing, though I wouldn't have wanted to have been this close to Megaton.

Debris and ash still raining down from the sky, Calvert directed me past the house and into the lighthouse. As I entered, a secret passage opened in the floor and revealed a staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, a tiled corridor led down towards some kind of hidden prewar lab.

Desmond lurked at the bottom of the corridor. To my surprise, he didn't kill me, though he did rage and curse at me. I calmly told him I was sick of him pushing me around in such a fashion. Incredulous, Desmond stammered for a moment before asking me to pretty please help him kill Calvert. He added that, at 250 years of age, he had quite a collection of weapons and goodies to offer.

I nodded, noting out of the corner of my eye the pristine, shiny gatling laser resting in the corner of the room. Nobody had been here in two centuries, there were a lot of prewar goodies here too, smart guy. Play along for now, I decided, let's see where this goes.

I let Desmond deal with the Robobrain sentries while I poked around inside the numerous terminals in offices off the main hallway. Most was inconsequential crap from before the war, though I did understand that the 'psychic' powers of Calvert were in fact technological in origin, and in fact originated from this very facility. As the facility itself was pristine and clean, I felt a pang of homesickness for the Vault. This dissipated upon reading a log entry indicating the whole place was beneath the floor of the bay, and was relying on the battery backups of pressure systems and pumps to remain this dry.

Further down the hallway a security door abruptly slammed shut as we approached. I heard the distinctive whine of a security turret deploying from the ceiling so, thinking quickly, ran over to the nearby terminal and hacked in. Searching desperately through potential passwords, I heard the gun swivelling. A likely candidate appeared under my cursor and I hit enter. The gun span up... and subsided. Password accepted.

Down the stretch, more turrets and sentries awaited. I decided to let Desmond take point and - what a pity - he didn't survive. The sentry then turned its anger on me, and fired some sort of psionic pulse at me before I was able to damage it into submission.

My head did NOT feel right... but I had to continue on. I passed through a security office and several holding cells. How far did this place go down? Past the cells another chamber lined with gun turrets which I leapt through, and slammed the door behind me.

I turned to see where I'd ended up now. I was in a large circular chamber, dominated by a huge liquid-filled tube in the centre. Around the outside were Protectrons sitting in alcoves. But the tube was the interesting thing... a brain floated within. Several smaller tubes were arranged around the outside, all empty. Was this Professor Calvert?



It was, and he thanked me for getting rid of Desmond for him. He had a reward for me...

Death.

Great. I shouldn't think of it as betrayal, Calvert told me, so much as having simply outlived my usefulness. With that, he activated the robots.

So much for patriotism, I thought, raising my sniper rifle and firing. The big .308 rounds punched effortlessly through the glass casing and shattered it. The fluid surrounding Calvert's brain drained immediately to the base of the chamber, and his functions ceased. Those robots that had been active clattered to the floor, deactivated. My head swirled again from my concussion.

What a foolish waste. I wasn't sure what he'd expected to accomplish next, and certainly should have realized the peril he'd put himself in. But it was too late now. I gave the brain, still suspended by the numerous wires, a final glance before turning and exiting the facility. Along the way I grabbed some of the stuff I'd seen before - there was no point leaving it behind, who knew how long the structural integrity of the facility would last? I noted that all the turrets and remaining security systems had now shut down - Calvert must have been controlling them all.

Emerging from the secret entrance, I decided to climb the lighthouse steps and enjoy the view, as a fitting end to my vacation. Unfortunately, the mist blowing in from the ocean restricted visiblity quite considerably, and I could barely see the remnants of the mansion, never mind Pilgrim's Landing and the Duchess Gambit. I had no time to be disappointed before I felt my concussion again and swayed on my feet, clutching the railing to avoid tumbling over the edge of the lighthouse. Best get some sleep, my Pipboy's clock confirming it was nearly half past one in the morning.

The following morning, I decided to go and see what else this little corner of Maryland had to offer. It wasn't much, but I did find:

-a lot of the locals' houses, out in the swamps. They really don't like tourists.
-the wreckage of a military jet. The black box recording was most chilling - the pilot observed the nuclear blasts but was then stuck to run out of fuel, with no controller to answer his calls. With no visiblity, no navigational aids (all the beacons for airbases having been disabled) and no hope, he'd had to ditch in what he hoped was Chesapeake Bay. Except he'd overshot by a mile or so, and landed right in the swamp. The surroundings told the rest. The skeleton of the pilot hung from his parachute in a nearby tree. A soldier from the nearby military camp, still clutching his sidearm, surrounded by maybe a dozen skeletons all clutching shovels and axes - the hillbilly locals.
-some kind of pre-war detention camp. The security bots objected to my presence.
-a survey ship from a natural gas company run aground on some rocks. Apparently all that bubbling mud was natural gas due to the mass burials in this area during the Civil War. This company was surveying the area to harvest it.
-the world's most (probably) radioactive garbage dump.



Everything else was just miles and miles of swamp. I returned, tired and satisfied, to the motel. I had certainly amassed plenty of money, as well as a gatling laser worth nearly 900 caps. I was looking forward to finally furnishing my penthouse back at Tenpenny Tower... and I remembered the Sacred Book of Bu or whatever it was called. Maybe tomorrow morning. For now, sleep.

I spent the afternoon and night in the motel with a bottle of scotch, planning my attack and what I was going to do to this cultish asshole when I found him. Boning him like a fish seemed good, and perhaps even appropriate given he was hiding out near an old trawler.

The next morning I was back at the cliffs, and climbed onto the deck of the stricken ship. Slotting the key into the lock, I pulled open the hatch and dropped down inside.

I found myself inside an enchanting sea cave. A soft glow illuminated the walls, emanating from mutated fungus growing all over the place. Torches marked a path along a cliff overlooking the water. Mirelurks swam lazily around. Knocking gently against the rocks was an old rowboat. Using my sniper scope I had a closer look, and noticed an old shotgun and some boxes of shells resting on the bow, while piles of prewar money - more of the stuff! - bobbed in the stagnant water towards the stern.



I followed the ledge around, down an underground river leading deeper inland. Eventually the path of torches led up a cave away from the water. The skeletons of previous visitors lay on the ground, though with a quick glance I couldn't tell how long they'd been there. Eventually the cave opened up into a large grotto, fairly well lit. A strange glowing object stood on a raised platform in the centre. Before it kneeled a bearded man, who I guessed must be the cult leader, Jackson. I heard a voice, and ducked behind a rock to observe through my sniper scope.

What appeared to be a glowing, floating brain was being projected from some sort of device. The voice I was hearing was slightly crackly and distorted as if it was being broadcast. I assumed it was coming from the device too. I couldn't hear Jackson, though they seemed to be in discussion.

The brain thing was talking about physic powers, and destroying some sort of jamming device at Desmond's mansion. Interesting. The brain was impatient and angry, and seemed to hold contempt for the cultists. So at least we had that in common. Jackson rose and left, and I crept out further to investigate.

Hopping across a channel of the water I stood up and intercepted Jackson as he came past. He was a surprisingly placid, soft-spoken man, clad in the rough and primitive clothing of the cult. He recognized me as a member, and I explained I wanted to meet the true leader. Jackson said he was only the leader of the tribe's 'physical affairs'. The real leader was someone who Jackson stated had manifested beyond the need for a physical form.

This started to make sense. I remembered reading a book once, back when I was younger, where the author said that any sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic. To these filthy savages, a holographic projection, which is what that device must surely be emitting, would seem to be a divine being. Jackson called this projection the 'Enlightened One' and 'Transcendent Master'. I illuminated my Pipboy's flashlight as we talked and tried to spot a lobotomy scar on Jackson's head. There appeared to be something on his forehead, though it could just as easily be his ridiculous face paint. While dad had taught me a fair bit about medicine, he'd never sawed someone's head open to scoop out the warm goo inside so I couldn't be sure. Jackson explained that they all sought to achieve transcendence in the same manner as the Master. It didn't seem far off most religions I'd read about - that there was a divine being and a higher, spirit plane to be reached either through worship or death.

He made his excuses and left to tend to the tribe, and I walked up to The Master. As I suspected, it was simply a projection unit resting on an old desk. The projection told me that I might be of more use to it than that tribe of 'simpering idiots' on account of the fact I wasn't drooling all over myself.



The projection explained it was in fact one of America's great minds, preserved through the 'miracle of science'. However, due the jamming device I'd heard mentioned, it could only project itself within this cave. Thus, the need for the mansion to be destroyed. The projection also said Desmond was directly responsible for whatever entity was controlling it no longer having a body. Unfortunately for it, the culty tribals were too stupid to follow its instructions properly and saw everything as divine, holy quests and thus screwed them up.

Interesting stuff. I agreed to look into it. The projection haughtily disappeared. Jackson was ascending a ladder, and I followed, emerging from the locked well by the church.

Inside, the kooks were still dancing around in their lobotomy-induced bliss. None of the punga plants had produced more mature fruit yet in the aftermath of Nadine and I pocketing the whole bunch. I decided to go see Desmond.

Desmond explained 'Professor' Calvert was his old rival. Before the war, the Calverts had been a highly influential family, with a number of prominent members highly placed throughout the US Government. One had even been a Presidential candidate. Desmond had been sabotaging them for centuries, and even now, with one party a ghoul and the other a floating brain, the rivalry continued. Professor Calvert could now project himself psychically... but only for a short distance due to the jamming device.

My new task was to fit another jammer to the ferris wheel down at Pilgrim's Landing, and power it up to rotate the wheel around so the jammer was up high. This would enable Desmond to locate Calvert's brain and... squish it. Fiendish.

Only, I don't care to be used like this, for so long. Desmond was constantly rude and condescending, speaking to me in much the same manner as Calvert did to the tribal cultists. Walking out the front door, I decided I was sufficiently offended, and went to plant the bug on the ferris wheel and play along... for now.

With my free afternoon I explored the town... all the houses were all but demolished, with pretty much nothing of value remaining. There was a power switch next to the old ferris wheel but it didn't do anything when I tried it. There was a US Navy recruitment office with some supplies but little else inside. And around the back of the boardwalk I found the loading dock, with a carefully booby trapped truck. I seemed to mostly be someone's stash, as it was almost all booze and a few drugs.

Most interesting, though, was a hardware store on the outskirts. The proprietor was a down to earth fella called Haley who seemed slightly surprised by my arrival. Most of his customers were the swampfolk, who he reckoned left him alone on account of him being a local. He did confirm one thing for me, though: he was pretty good at repairing stuff and had a better selection that Mademoiselle Perambulator. I was right, typical, place yourself where visitors are the first thing you see and you make a killing. I decided to make Haley my first call for goods from now on.



I returned to the motel, got some sleep, and struck out before first light for the 'giant punga plant' or whatever, travelling via Blackhall Manor. I didn't encounter much at all in the swamp. It was creepy as hell but there were a few signs of habitation - mostly old cars and the remains of shacks - and before long I reached the entrance to the 'sacred ground' where the stupid huge fruit thing was. And, naturally, it was infested with mirelurks, which I had to blast my way through.

Eventually I lost interest in having to fight stupid fucking mirelurks in a stinking fucking swamp, and just ran past them. I reached the giant plant, grabbed some seeds, and was greeted by a cloud of spores or mist or something spraying in my face. YUCKKKKKKK!


(the big mutha punga)

I fell backwards onto the ground. Shaking my head, I stood back up. Everything went bluuuuuue.

Oh man, was I tripping? No. I tried to pick some more of the fruit from the smaller plants. I just couldn't seem to get my hands to grap. Okay, maybe tripping a bit. I decided to leave. Out across the swamp, I saw a giant Vault-Tec Bobblehead. Except, when I picked it up, the inscription read Schmault-Tec. "Tsk Tsk, walked right into another trap. Exactly how stupid are you?"

Throwing the insulting trinket aside, I continued on, wading through the waist-deep, murky water. Violin music filled my ears and another bobblehead lurked ahead. "This is one situation you're not going to be able to fight your way out of."

Things took a turn for the purple (or is that tinge?) as I found still another bobblehead. A giant, glowing red saw appeared to my right, sawing through the foliage but with no effect. Small, purple cola bottles on the ground exploded into tiny atomic blasts. I stumbled on and more exploded, with a child-like cry. I realized they were falling out of the trees! Invisible feral ghouls howled and charged at me from the swamp, their position given away by their wakes... and yet disappearing altogether when they reached the narrow strip of land I stood upon.

The very water of the swamp itself was glowing pink, now, and I walked upon a bed of tightly-woven plants. "This doesn't look right, not right at all," another bobblehead informed me, and I found myself vocally agreeing. I returned to solid ground, solid thanks to the giant needle which was emerging from the soil and sewing it back into place with ethereal thread. Ahead stood an operating table, with a skeleton wearing a party hat and surrounded by balloons. An unseen EKG beeping nearby flatlined as I approached. The bobblehead atop the table told me I was so ugly, it'd have abandoned me too if it was my mother.

NOOOOOOO. Holstering my rifle, I ran headlong out, away, away, escaping this place. I plunged into the luminescent water. The bodies of people floated in it. Moira Brown, settlers from the wasteland... Amata. As I touched them, they burned with colour and disintegrated. I struggled against the water and at last splashed up onto a small island in the middle, only to look up and see the bomb from Megaton leering at me. A nearby bobblehead reminded me of it all. "Dead Mother, life in a post-nuclear wasteland and not a friend in it. Yeah, you aren't exactly blessed."

Lounging against the bomb was Mister Burke... Mister Break? Who? "Congratulations, my dear," he said, "you're going to pull through, and everything will be right as rain."

When I tried to speak to him again, the atomic bomb exploded and he shouted that I was going to hurt myself. The blast enveloped me, and everything went white.

...

Suddenly, I was outside. A sharp pain thudded into me. Then another. Bloatflies hovered nearby, splatting me with their spines, trying to kill me. I quickly fired back, killing them. I was outside the entrance to the sacred bog. I checked my Pipboy's clock... it was 10:51am, Thursday. But what day had I gone in? How long had I been... out of it? It was time for some answers. If they asked about the quest, I'd lie. I went back to the cathedral.

Read for a long, angry diatribe, I was left speechless when the intercom voice simply responded 'you are accepted in our tribe' and opened the gate immediately. A tribal calling himself Jimson explained that my mind was now expanded through my, shall we say, experience. The tribe believed that the material world was now corrupted, and so sought to release their minds to seek a better one. I asked why they'd attacked the Calvert Mansion, and he said their 'most enlightened ones' 'divined' that the fates themselves decreed the mansion be burnt to the ground. With each passing word I found myself regaining more and more of the previous anger against these murderous fuckheads and their kooky religion which they had used to justify their attacking me.

But not yet. I still had to work out WHY, both for Desmond's reward and my own curiosity. Other tribals said they dreamed of a better world that was not broken, and when they found that world, they dreamed they did not have to wake up. All spoke of 'Jackson', their great leader. More simplistic, savage nonsense.

Until I went inside. Inside the magnificent old cathedral, Christian symbols mingled with tribals prancing around as if in a trance. And in every available space, hydroponics were growing fine specimens of the punga fruits. One particular one lady had a bit less shit all over her, so I approached her.

It was Nadine, the missing daughter of the woman from DC. She told me a lot about the tribe, including that I should check my head for a scar which apparently is the final stage of the ritual - what amounts to a lobotomy! Nadine, like me, had come out of this crude wasteland surgery intact, and talked more sense than just about anyone I'd met out here. She saw right through this ridiculous charade and was bored already. No spiritual enlightment here, she'd decided, and not enough drugs and sex either. Before going further, she offered to deal with the ugly surgical scar on my head the same as she'd dealt with hers. A few quick medical maneuvers I'd need Dad to explain later and I was my sexy self again. Nadine revealed more.


(Clever Nadine)

She'd come out here to seek her fortune: not to upset her mother so much as to make something of herself and have something to bring back to show for it. She'd already stolen as much punga fruit as she could carry and was happy to make a break for it here and now. It sounded good to me, so I went with her, grabbing as much as I could from the hydroponics as I could.

Nadine was fleet of foot, because she was gone and over the horizon by the time I got out the door. I only regretted not grabbing more fruit before I left - when I got to Haley's, the refined ones were worth a fortune! No wonder she'd decided to get going. From Haley's I went down to the docks. Nadine was there, back in normal clothing, and strode up to me with a big smirk on her face.

"You'll never guess who it was who was poking inside our heads. Let's just say I'm now in charge of his boat."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. I couldn't think of anything but to laugh uproariously in shock and disbelief. It all made sense, now. This carefully cultivated tale of riches, mystery and adventure would attact bored explorers from DC who'd come out here. With an (overpriced) store and a (comfortable) motel, they'd happily set up camp and explore around, inevitably coming into contact with the tribe. Once the punga plant gassed them, Tobar hops out of his hidey hole and cuts open their brain. The tribals get a new recruit, and they give him some of the valuable refined fruit to trade. Everyone wins.

Except him, this time. Nadine had him under what she called 'citizen's arrest', with the huge collection of grey matter in his engine as evidence. As a fellow victim, she invited me to go and pay him a... shall we say... visit?

But that didn't matter now. Nadine finally had everything she'd come out here for, and more. The Duchess Gambit was hers, as was Tobar's shipment of punga fruit. And Tobar was below decks. He tried to gloat, saying I wouldn't believe the things I'd gibbered about while under the punga fruit's spell. And that my father would be very disappointed if I were to kill him.

For whatever reason, Nadine hadn't taken his gun. But he didn't have time to use it. My hunting rifle quickly gave him a lobotomy he'd never recover from - decapitation via .38 bullet.

Now he was dead, I could look around the room. Jars filled with lumps of brain floated everywhere... one, for reasons I can't explain, called to me. Perhaps it was because it was on his table, and I was his most recent 'subject', but I knew it was mine. I took it. I noted it seemed much smaller than all the other lumps of brain floating in their respective jars. Luckily for me, that fucking asshole hadn't cut enough off to leave me a total vegetable open to suggestion like the Tribals.

Taking his cool hat and jacket as trophies, I left.

"We havin' fun yet?," asked Nadine as I emerged from the engine room. I could tell from her look she knew what had been done. I didn't feel any the worse for wear from my unexpected surgery, though I wished I'd been able to make that bastard suffer more than just a bullet to the neck. Nadine grinned and told me to come back whenever I was ready - she felt something of a kinship to me, and was happy to take me back to DC whenever I liked - for free.

That immediately knocked 400-odd caps off my ledger. I still needed to find a fortune here, of course, but for now, I was staying here. It was time for revenge. But first... I did several runs back and forth between the boat and the cathedral, and cleaned them out out of every piece of fruit and medication they had. I then asked Nadine to take me back to DC, so I could sell the fruit to the wealthy merchants in Tenpenny Tower (along with, er, being cured of addiction to whiskey, which I'd somehow picked up along the way).

I now had over 2,000 caps in my bank account. Nadine took me back to Point Lookout. I had some unfinished business.

As a complete change of pace, please enjoy this list of crazy disqualifications due to obscure rules (and the pedantic so-and-sos watching at home who rat them out) in the world of walk wasting.

Here's a taster:

Rule 13-4 c) – During the first round of the 1991 Doral Ryder, Paul Azinger lofted a ball onto the edge of a water hazard. Since his ball was only half-submerged, he decided to wade in and take a whack at it. As he tried to steady himself, Azinger’s foot tapped a small rock, knocking it out of the way.

The Rule: “(T)he player must not … (t)ouch or move a loose impediment lying in or touching the hazard.”

Once again, it was some couch jockey that ratted out Azinger. Though he was only one stroke out of the lead after the second round, Azinger agreed with the ruling and removed himself from competition, since he’d already signed his first day’s card.

I rose just after 5am the following day, and went to the cathedral.

The place was still deserted, but a voice emerged from the intercom box by the gate:

"Hark, who goes there?"

Hark? HARK? I'd heard enough stupid shit out of these idiots yesterday as they said things like, "Sleep forever!" as I shot them. Fucking savages. I pressed the button and told them I wasn't impressed with their 'threshold of transcendance' or whatever they were calling it.

The voice seemed startled, and spoke plainer English and told me I needed to get into the right mindset first. Fine, fine, ooga booga, I am a mindless savage, oh let me come and poke berries up mine nose whilst squatting in thine holy filthy pit of idiocy.

This pleased the voice, and he told me to venture to the west into the 'Great Bog' to seek the 'Mother of All Punga Fruit' (so that's what they're called) and bring back the seeds.

Jesus Fuck, a sacred quest, now? Fine. FINE. I mean, 'Hungerdy bunga, I am off!'

Reasoning that following the roads would be safer, I returned to the motel and then headed west from there. Unfortunately, just outside the town the road quickly vanished and I was more or less in the wild swamps again. Shit.

There was a building up ahead, but before that was another of those giant yahoos. And, before I managed to back far enough away, he spotted me. I backed away, firing desperately. Fortunately for me, he was so deformed that he couldn't run fast enough to keep up. However, I found I'd run us into a field of mole rats, who set upon him. His cries of pain were mixed with - to my surprise - spoken (if accented) English, and he succumbed to the mole rats. The rats came for me, but luckily I remembered I still had Moira's repellent stick, and I defeated them easily.

I was about to resume my journey when I noticed some tents off to the left near the shore. Approaching cautiously, I could make out the words 'Disaster Relief' on the side of one.



Inside one of the tents I found an old terminal, indicating this was a relief effort for St Mary's County, Maryland. The terminal was filled with worrying propaganda about the New Plague which had still be wracking the country when the bombs fell. Most of it just advised isolating anyone affected and alerting the authorities, but some of the worrying material advised isolating yourself anyway, and registering with a national medical database. Registry entered you into prize draws for fuel rations and vacations! Dear me. The former user's diary suggested that the locals had always been a bit reclusive and violent towards outsiders, and that one of the relief workers had been attacked when she drove out to the swamps to try and encourage them to attend the outreach events. I had to assume the bombs had fallen shortly afterwards as there were no further entries.

There were only a few supplies still here, so I wandered out and into another tent.

"Go with god, child..." said a woman's voice, making me nearly jump out of my skin. An unwashed but serene woman stood staring at me. Her name was Marcella, and she was, of all things, a Christian missionary. She had rebuilt the campsite and was seeking to help the locals and spread the word of her faith. She had previously been up in The Commonwealth in Massachusetts but seemed to have encountered some difficulties and had left in a hurry before it, in her words, caught up with her. She'd visited Rivet City too but had decided to stay here for now. She was anxious to gain access to the cathedral but the tribals prevented her. She also had found a man called Obadiah Blackhall who had some connection to the hillbillies or 'swampfolk' as she called them; not to mention a booked called 'Krivbeknih' which appeared to trouble her. I'd bear that in mind as I continued to explore.

There was little of interest in the rest of the camp so I continued back towards the swamp, and soon found myself outside the grand Blackhall Manor, a weathered but intact plantation house. For some reason, little bundles of children's rag dolls were hanging around the place.



Inside, it was still as grand as the outside. By the standards of the post-atomic world it was clean and well-looked after. It was also damned big, and I must have wandered for a good 20 minutes around the room before an irate voice called to me from the great hall.

An old man sat in a wheelchair with oxygen tanks ready by his side. Obadiah Blackhall. He was firm but polite, well-educated, and he told me of the area. The swampfolk, by his reckoning, were no longer human as they once were. They kept to themselves in the depths of the swamps, fighting amongst themselves. They had, however, stolen a book from him and he was keen to get it back. This was the Krivbeknih or whatever, clearly. I agreed to look out for it and bid him farewell.

As I came out onto the porch, Marcella the Missionary (I'm sure I'm not the first to call her that) jogged up and asked if I'd been told to find the book. She warned me that it was evil, that Mr Blackhall was evil, and that I'd be best giving it to her so she could destroy it. The whole thing seemed to be a bunch of gibberish to me, but given the tribal cultists that seemed to be pretty standard around here.

Blackhall had offered me one thousand caps, though, which could get me a ticket home or at the very least a chance to try that Plik guy's stupid safari. It was still the early afternoon but I decided I could never get to the 'great Punga plant' and back by nightfall, so I decided to have the afternoon off and retired to the motel to relax a bit and mull all this shit over.

Bright and early the next day I headed out. My head no longer hurt and I didn't have any more dizzy spells. I warily crossed the covered bridge... no hillbilly people around.

The road became gravel and descended into thick swamp. I walked quickly but carefully, surveying the area with my sniper scope. After some distance I noted movement ahead, down the embankment from the road. Taking cover behind a rusted car I looked. A campfire, with several normal looking humans gathered around it. They were all armed in one way or another, which on the one hand was sensible but on the other made me wary. I started creeping around through the bushes, keeping the road, bush and guardrail between me and them.

At that moment I heard gasping breathing and slimy footsteps quickly approach behind me. I span around to be met with a feral ghoul, mid-swipe. Startled, I fell over backwards as I fired. The ghoul went down, dead. However, the men must have heard the shot. More ghouls were coming, so I got back to my feet and ran off along the side of the road, hoping the men and ghouls might be more interested in each other than me. The road curved sharply around to the right and began climbing a hill, and I paused by a tree to check if I was being followed. Sure enough, another feral ghoul was emerging from the mist to my right and coming for me. BANG. The men rounded the corner too. They were not as well armed as I'd thought... one with spiked knuckles, one with an axe, and the third with a 10mm pistol.

The knuckles man reached me first, and I fired my new lever action rifle at him. He slumped to the ground, just as his colleague appeared around the tree, swinging his axe. I fired and grazed his head and he stagged back, dazed and in pain. A second shot put him down, as the final man opened up from the other side of the road with his pistol. The rifle clicked empty, and I realized I hadn't fully loaded it. Bullets pinging off the tree, I struggled to remember how you loaded it, eventually remembering to open the front of the barrel to insert more rounds. Finally ready, I waited for the shooting to stop and then stepped out and fired. The pistoleer was down. This wasn't a fun place at all, this Point Lookout.

Having scavenged what I could from their bodies, I carried on up the hill and at last found this 'Ark and Dove' Cathedral. The lamp outside was lit, so I decided to investigate. The gate was securely locked, and after walking the perimeter wall I found no gaps by which to gain access... only a disused cot and several plants growing a strange looking fruit. I picked a piece of the fruit and stowed it for later. I noticed what appeared to be a well nearby so I wandered over. A grating covered the entrance and it was at that moment I noticed that a graveyard was immediately adjacent. And sure enough, lots of fucking ghouls came storming out and a desperate battle ensued. My new rifle served me well yet again.


(the Ark and Dove Cathedral)

I found what appeared to be a road and carried on towards my destination, what Tobar had marked as the 'coastal grotto' on my map. Tall cliffs overlooking the bay weren't far past the cathedral, so I reached them and turned north. My destination must be down on the cliffs, which made sense. But now an eerie sound was drifting through the mist, like a ringing bell. I couldn't quite place just where it was coming from. A ship in distress? All I could tell was that it didn't seem to be coming from the cathedral. Spotting a path leading down the cliffs, I headed down and was not thrilled to discover that Mirelurks lived in Point Lookout too.

Luckily, my new gun punched through their shells as I stood above them on a rock, and I was able to reach the sea unharmed. A small recreational boat was half submerged on the rocks up ahead, while further into the cove an old trawler was well and truly wedged up on the base of the cliff. The water here was still radioactive so I have to pick my way carefully along the wall to the ship, which was the 'Seatub' based on the name scrawled on the bow. The gangplank must have been thrown down by the crew when they wrecked, and I scrambled up it and onto the deck. There wasn't much to see, however. The steersman's hut was empty, and the hatch leading below was securely locked. Oh for fuck's sake, can't I get into anything in this stupid place?



I went back along the base of the cliffs and continued around them. Two more of the local mirelurks jumped into the water and swam off. I saw another wrecked pleasurecraft and several clutches of of mirelurk eggs on a protruding rock. As I got nearer I stumbled over several human skeletons, though I'm not sure if they were shipwreck or mirelurk victims. The ringing was quite loud now, and I decided it must be the old warning buoys still bobbing a few hundred yards out. I made my way further along and could now just pick out the shapes of the lighthouse and what must be the 'haunted mansion' in the distance further down the coast. However, the grotto was higher up the cliffs and it was too steep to climb back up from here, so I kept going along the coast.

Eventually another path led back up so I took the opportunity to search once again for this 'coastal grotto'. After much frustrated pacing I noticed a small lamp on a pole near the cliffside. I carefully picked my way down, and spotted a ledge with two glowing lamps on it. Dropping down onto the ledge, I turned and saw a watertight door set into the cliff!

Inside, a cavern lead off into the distance, lit my flaming torches. Rounding a corner, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was a ghoul wearing some sort of improvised environment suit.

"In the mood for a bit of violence?," he asked me, grinning.

His name was Plik, and he offered an 'Extraordinary Safari' adventure. This is to say, he'd lock me in a room so I could experience the thrill of fighting for my life as he released feral ghouls into it. The registration fee was a 'mere' 1000 caps. I hadn't had that much when I left DC, and I had already fought for my life against ferals, up by the cathedral, for free. Suffice it to say, I declined. Plik returned to his armchair, which I noticed was set up next to an old televsion. Cables appeared to run from it and through the large metal door leading to the 'safari'. So he could enjoy it, I guessed. As I left, wondering how much business he actually got, I spotted his living quarters off to one side and peeked in. A journal lay open on the desk. Plik didn't seem to be objecting, so I leafed through, and soaked up his observations of fighting feral ghouls. Interesting. I'll put those to the test next time I see some.

When I got back outside it was later than I realized, so I headed straight back to the motel to spend the night.

The following morning, I paid a visit to Madame Panda and sold her all the stuff I'd collected, and got her to repair that shotgun as well as the lever rifle which I noticed, for all its power, decayed rapdily in use. I got out onto the street and was immediately attacked by more wild dogs. A single shot to each dealt with them, but I immediately noticed a bit of sticking in the action of the lever. I returned to Madame Veranda who advised it would cost three caps to repair... two shots does three caps worth of damage to this thing? Is it made of cheese or something? I vowed to keep it only for emergencies, and returned to my trusty bolt-action rifle instead.

I struck out along the road leading east out of the town, and noted the mansion and lighthouse up ahead. To my left through the trees I could just make out the cathedral atop the cliffs. I was starting to get my bearings in this place. The road ahead, though, was blocked by another mutant hillbilly, and he was the biggest one yet. A big fucking brute of an inbred yokel, the big honkin' mass of muscle lurched heavily off towards the swamp, though I made sure he was a long distance away before proceeding.


(Calvert Mansion)

I reached the mansion without any further incidents, and what a grand old place it was. I walked up the drive, admiring but wary of any surprises.

"You!," hissed a distant but gravelly voice, "you're not tribal, get in here and help me fight these assholes off."

I looked around me, confused.

"Yes, you, I can see you out there, don't just stand there and help me deal with these cocksuckers or they'll be coming after you next."

My eyes returned to the house, and onto a set of speakers and a security camera over the front door. Still a bit freaked out, I followed the instructions and went inside. I walked in on chaos... a group of humans, clad in rough clothing, were fighting a series of gun turrets, a pack of dogs and a well-dressed ghoul. The humans were firing everywhere, and when they saw me they shot at me, too, so I fired back. Soon they were all dead.

"I don't know who you are," said the ghoul, "but you'll have to help me if you want to stay alive."

Surveying a bank of monitors connected to cameras around the mansion, he raced off, beckoning me to follow. An epic battle ensued as we shot our way around the house, blocking off the holes through which these 'tribals' were gaining access.


(Desmond Lockheart)

At the end of it all I was laden with their weapons, covered in blood and very tired. The ghoul introduced himself as Desmond and offered me a lot more rewards if I'd find out why the tribals kept attacking him. Their based, it seemed, was up at the cathedral I'd passed the other day. Grabbing the least bloodstained tribal outfit in case I needed it, I left. The sun was just setting as I emerged - we'd been killing pretty much all day. I went back to Madame Propaganda's shop to cash in my loot, get some stuff repaired and then headed back to my room for the night.

Isn't this civilized. I found myself setting in the palatial Federalist Lounge, enjoying some fine whisky. Jericho lurked nearby, smoking like a chimney. He keeps complaining about chest pains, and yet is going through that carton of cigarettes I got him at an alarming rate. The big ox doesn't see the connection, I suppose. He keeps saying he's glad he left Megaton - after all that arm twisting to get him to come. Even before I blew the place to hell.

I had a nice penthouse, but it was sparsely furnished and all the furniture in the store was really expensive. I'd have to live with it for now - at least I now had a robot butler to purify water for me. As I sat in the corner of the bar, I realized I needed money to ensure my new life was comfortable. It also occurred to me that once word got around about what I'd done, I wasn't going to be so popular any more. Most folks here in Tenpenny didn't go out much, but the whole wasteland must be talking about the atomic blast.

I sipped my drink, and noticed a woman in a revealing dress leading a man out of the bar. That was Susan Lancaster, and she was on the VIP enslavement list I'd gotten in Paradise Falls. She was a complete bitch, and was sleeping her way around the tower. More proof that fucking people over - literally in this case - would get you places. I decided to leave her be... for now.

Concluding that perhaps making myself scarce until the whole 'destroying an entire town with the push of a button' thing blew over, I remembered that steamship I'd seen down on the Potomac. The captain had said adventure waited, right? It might be a good way to make some money. I still had all the equipment I'd gathered, it could be fun, right?

Bright and early the next day I left. I told Jericho to make himself at home in the penthouse or hang around the Federalist Lounge or... just do whatever the fuck he wanted, really.

It was quarter to eight when I got to the shore... the black smoke from the stacks was still there, the steamer was docked. I went aboard and had a word with Tobar. He launched into his spiel but I cut him short and just asked for the damn ticket. He told me no companions were allowed, so it was just as well Jericho was cooling his heels back at the tower.


(The </i>Duchess Gambit)

The ticket was a whopping 435 caps, which cut my funds in half. I'd really need to hit the motherlode to make this trip worthwhile, especially as I'd have to pay again to come back! Still, I needed to get away, so I handed over the caps, and settled down on the cot.

When I woke up, we were just pulling up at some docks. A derelict amusement park was nearby, with a lighthouse just visible in the distance. Tobar blasted the whistle and rang the bell. While misty and unpleasant looking, everything was at least GREEN. Vegetation! Not just brown, struggling gas and twisted, stunted trees! ACTUAL PLANTS! Tobar came up and bid me welcome, noting he'd seen some smoke on the horizon as we were approaching. The smoke, he said, came from an old mansion which he believed was full of pre-war treasure.

He gave me a list of good places to visit, including but not limited to a motel, general store and 'thrill ride'. Enough with the hard-sell, already, asshole, I'm here now. Time to go and have a look around!

Oh.


(Pilgrim's Landing, Point Lookout, MD)

The place was a dump. A decrepit ferris wheel towered over a small assortment of low buildings which had once sold hot dogs and trinkets. The boardwalk was creaking beneath my feet but hadn't started properly rotting yet, and so it supported my weight. Following Tobar's directions, I soon found the 'general store', such as it was. The proprietor was a swarthy kook called 'Madam Panada' who frequently referred to herself in the third person. I didn't really care if it was all just an act for 'tourists', it was the wares that caught my eye. Lever action rifles! And they seemed to be much more effective weapons than the bolt action hunting rifle I was carrying. Interesting. Also, Confederate Army kepi caps! This might turn out to be a more interesting vacation than I thought. I just bought a hat for now, figuring this would be like most tourist places I'd read about, and that I would find a lever action rifle cheaper as soon as I left.

As soon as I left the resort area and entered the town, I found a pack of wild dogs. I also found lots of wanted posters for a suspected Red Chinese spy. The motel, however, was deserted. The front desk area looked fairly lived in, but the owner was nowhere to be seen, so I figured I'd try coming back later. There was a small bank across the street, so I had a look in there instead. Inside a desk near the entrance I found a scribbled password for a safety deposit box. Alas, the system is voice-activated and doesn't just check the password, but your voice pattern too. I guess I don't sound like whoever's box this belongs to! Poking around a bit more revealed a safe (filled with scotch! yummmm) and a working terminal from before the war. The bank workers had noticed the problems with the voice recognition and had resorted to getting customers to play back tapes of their family members to fool the security system. Interesting idea. There were also more warnings about possible Chinese infiltration.

There was nothing else to be found, so I wandered back onto the street. After several paces I noticed I was walking down the sidewalk, even though there was no traffic. I shook my head in despair - back in the Vault, we'd be carefully drilled about proper behaviour on the surface and part of that was staying off the roads so we didn't get hit by cars. I suppose the Vault-Tec folks had expected less devastation than this? Come to that, why weren't there any cars? I personally owned several high tech pieces of equipment including a sentient robot and energy weapons, the guys in Rivet City had talked about repairing the ship to make it seaworthy again... the technology and know-how was obviously there, why was no-one out there restoring some of the old cars and trucks that littered every street and expressway? Hell, I thought I'd heard a HELICOPTER the other night while I was trying to get to sleep.

It didn't matter right now. I'd reached the end of the street and the wilderness seemed to take charge very suddenly. The remnants of a few old houses still stood... just frames, nothing more. Long green grass stretched off into a misty swamp as far as I could see. The highway itself seemed pretty intact so I followed it. I neared a small stream with a covered bridge over it (how quaint) and heard a strange noise to my left. Sort of a soggy squishing sound. Just off the road a few yards was a bubbling pool of what seemed to be mud. As I crouched to examine it, my geiger counter clicked and I quickly withdrew. It was hot mud, and large bubbles were forming, bursting, and releasing some kind of gas. Yuck.

Back at the covered bridge, a sign informed me that the Ark and Dove Cathedral was this way. As I got onto the bridge, I noted someone had made it into their very own encampment. Boxes and shelves of supplies were scattered around an old lawn chair and a very dirty looking mattress. The owner was nowhere to be seen. I looked around, walking forward, and a flash of movement caught my eye.

Two figures were up ahead on the road. I stopped, dropped to one knee and raised my rifle. Peering through the scope, I could see that the smaller was clad only in boots and tattered jeans. Above his scrawny chest was a disproportionate head... the facial features mildly warped and too close together, with a bulbous head covered in badly trimmed hair. He carried a hunting rifle. He companion was taller and healthier looking, wearing what one could have described as a farmer's outfit. His face seemed less deformed too, though his eyes still didn't quite line up and his neck was a strange mass of overlapping skin folds. More important, though, was the large combat knife in his right hand. I decided I'd better not bother them - damn tourists, y'know.


([yes I know this isn't me] A previous tourist meets the Swampfolk)

I turned to leave, and spotted another two scrawny men who'd appeared literally from nowhere and were now behind me, blocking the way back out. Each clutched a baseball bat, their eyes bulging. This wasn't good. As I wondered what to do now, a shot rang out from behind me. I span around to see the larger man sprinting towards me with his knife, while his smaller companion was taking aim for another shot. I fired, catching the large man with a round in the corner of his face. He recoiled, grasping for the wound, but shook his head and continued towards me. I gaped: that sort of injury would soon be fatal, and yet he was still coming. Suddenly, I felt a sharp blow on my right shoulder. My arm sagged, and I lost aim on the large man. Another blow between the shoulder blades. The two smaller men behind had run up and were hitting me with their old baseball bats. I struggled to fire back at the large man as he approached but repeated, painful strikes were blurring my vision. I leapt to one side, narrowly dodging a swipe of the large man's knife, and scrambled back down the bridge towards the town, stowing my sniper rifle and pulling out my faster hunting rifle. My opponents were close behind as I found myself backed up against a rock, and I started firing. The large man sustained another round to the face and finally toppled to the ground dead. The smaller men leapt over his corpse and still advanced. Working the bolt as fast as possible I fired round after round at them, striking both glancing blows and solid hits that should have felled a normal man.

Ducking under another swipe of a bat, I fired into the gut of one of them and he crumpled, next to his colleague who had just succumbed moments earlier. But there was no respite yet, as I felt the hot sizzle of a bullet rushing past my head. The man with the rifle was still out there. I got readied my sniper rifle again and took careful aim. He was now knee deep in the river by the bridge, reloading. I took careful aim and fired. Right between the eyes. He was knocked back and sprawled, lifeless across the rocks. I jogged over to his corpse before the river carried it away and retrieved his weapon and ammunition. I was also able to retrieve a stimpak as the current caught his body and it disappeared beneath the surface. As I stood, everything swirled and went hazy, and I stumbled to my knees. I'd been hit harder than I thought. I patted all over my head and neck and felt no wounds. They hadn't even broken my glasses. But I realized I must be concussed. I went back to the other bodies and found more weapons, supplies and... what had to be a chunk of human flesh.

I tried to figure out what this could mean. This area hadn't been hit by bombs, as all the vegetation was still here. But the water was still irradiated, so the currents must have carried some radiation here, as well as the expected fallout in the air. But these were country folk, or rather, were once country folk. They'd live out in the countryside and... ah. It suddenly made sense. I dimly remembered a word from history class with Mr Brotch... 'hillbillies'. They kept to themselves and - ugh - bred with themselves. The genetic damage of reproducing with your sister combined with the radiation of atomic war cannot lead to a stable frame of mind or indeed body. Combine that with an already wary community and subject it to the sort of post-war turmoil and unrest that Carol told me about.

It seemed like a perfect recipe for crazed hillbilly, who thinks anyone who isn't his cousin (aka his wife) is out to get him. I headed back at top speed to the fairground, and offloaded all the hillbilly loot, before picking out the best looking of her lever action rifles. But it was the evening now, and I needed a place to recuperate. I remembered that the motel had sturdy storm doors as well as its normal room doors, and I headed back there to find a usable room for the night, preferably on the second floor. Alas, the second floor seemed inaccessible from the outside and all but three of the rooms were boarded up. Room 1D seemed the best choice as it faced the town, not the swamp. I decided to go and retrieve the key for it from the office, and nearly gave myself a heart attack as I stumbled over an old shopping cart and sent it clattering into the overgrown parking lot. There still was no sign of the motel owner in the office, but I at least understood why they kept that shotgun to hand. There was no sign of the key to 1D, so I satisfied myself with 1G. As I walked back, another headrush hit me and everything went warm and blurry and a loud tone-like noise sounded in my ears. This was not the sort of thing you wanted to be happening in a dangerous place like this. The feeling passed in a few moments and I used the key to let myself into room 1G.


(the motel)

A macabre scene awaited me inside. A skeleton lay at the side of the bed, after two centuries still reaching for a double-barrelled shotgun in the middle of the bed. Two bundles of old greenbacks were also present. In the bathroom, a second skeleton was in possession of a sawn-off shotgun and a suitcase so stuffed with yet more money that some was spilling out. An interesting situation but one I doubted I'd ever find out the truth behind. Brushing the first skeleton's arm off the bed, I sat down and examined the large shotgun. It was still just about serviceable after all this time, though I'm sure Madame Passanda or whatever her name was would be able to supply me with parts to fix it up again. The lever action rifle, meanwhile, was looking pretty good. I'd need more firepower against inbred hicks who shrugged off mortal bullet wounds to the head. Setting my new weapons down I noticed the TV set was still intact. Nobody was broadcasting any more, but it reminded me of my Pipboy's radio. Nothing, no Galaxy News, no Enclave, just static. Securing the door, I laid back and felt the silence wash over me. Sleeping in a big pile of money might have been a thrill back before the war, but it was of no comfort or thrill to me now. I was alone out here, and it was fucking scary.

In Megaton.

I spent a lot of time collecting supplies. I helped write a book on surviving in the Wasteland... whether I find Dad or not, I figure I'll need it to take care of myself out here. I've explored much of surrounding area too. While researching the book, I saw some plumes of smoke on the horizon. They looked too controlled to be wildfires so I investigated. Sure enough, there was a boat docked at the mouth of the Potomac. It looked like a paddlesteamer from an old Mark Twain book. The guy who appeared to be captain told me he ran between Washington and Point Lookout, which I think was a state park in Maryland before the War... somewhere folks from the DC area went on vacation. I had other things on my mind, though, and decided I might take him up on his offer of a riverboat trip later.

I followed the leads to this 'Three Dog' guy at the local radio station. Along the way I met a group of soldiers in what looked like the Power Armour I remember from the old newsreels they used to show in the Vault... only they called themselves the 'Brotherhood of Steel'. I was glad to have them along, for we reached the radio station only for a colossal mutant... thing to break through the rubble and attack. That seems to be the biggest threat around here: what the locals whimsically refer to as 'supermutants'. Idiots.

Three Dog sent me on some fool's errand, straight into the heart of the city to an old museum to recover some satellite dish to get his stupid radio station back on the air. I have no problem with the music to keep my company while I make my way through the ruins. But Three Dog loves himself, the sound of his voice, and his self-appointed mission to fight what he calls 'The Good Fight'. The asshole kept holding back on information on finding Dad, and even when I fixed his stupid dish he was a dickhead. The information he gave was worthless. I could have found out more myself by just digging around instead of nearly getting killed fighting supermutants on his behalf.

I was furious. And throughout it all, Three Dog had this calm, smug air of superiority. He told me to adjust me attitude and immediately fucked off to bed having - dickhead - DISMISSED me. As soon as he turned over on his cot, I shot him in the head, and stole all his stuff. His buddies in the power armour didn't hear a thing, and I strolled out of there. Hell, they still haven't figured it out. His technician is now spinning the tunes, and griping about how 'some asshole' killed their DJ.


(me outside the radio station, having just offed Three Dog)

I've accumulated quite a lot of stuff now. I've got some decent rifles, some threads to help me fit in better, and a poisonous dart gun that is hilarious to use. Get this - the scorpions are gigantic now due to mutation, and this gun fires darts soaked in their venom. A single hit and your legs turn to mush. Anyone pisses me off, they get darted and they're staggering around in agony in seconds.

While gathering all this stuff I found an old shopping mall called Paradise Falls. The guy at the gate explained that they enslave people! However, he didn't trust me yet, and gave me some experimental weapon called a 'Mesmetron' to go and grab some slaves for him. This thing is great, possibly my favourite toy after the dart gun. It sends people into a trance, like they've drunk an entire bottle of scotch. Then slip one of the patented (I assume) slave collars onto their neck and WHAM! They're a slave and they'd better like it or the collar explodes!

There's a guy in Megaton, called Jericho. He seems like a total badass, the kind of help I could use finding Dad. I get the feeling he used to be what the locals call a 'raider', a kind of murderous outlaw. Raiders are thriving out in the wastes, so they must know a thing or too, and having one on my side should be invaluable. He's a greedy bastard, though, and I had to give over 1,000 bottle caps (the post-war currency, believe it or not) before he'd come travelling with me.


(Jericho)

I decided that I had enough equipment and experience to fend for myself, to begin my search for dad good and proper. Jericho was ready to go, so I figured the time had come to finally activate the bomb in Megaton and collect on my deal with Burke. Late one night, I took the detonation device and slipped it onto the bomb. I had no choice but to do it at night, those deranged weirdoes from the 'Children of Atom' are outside all day worshipping the damn thing. They call the War the 'Division' and think atomic blasts are holy. They're about to get their second coming.


(the unexploded bomb in the middle of Megaton)

I crept around the town, sneaking into houses, breaking into safes, gathering as much information as I had. I activated one of the Stealth Boys Moira had given me for helping with her survival guide and snuck into the town's armour, disabling the robot guard inside. The armoury was pitiful... a few rifles and shotguns in terrible condition. Hell, the whole town was pretty bereft of reasonable loot. A few valuable drugs aside, it was all junk. And it didn't add up to much, but it was better than nothing. The following morning, as the town was waking up to lighter pockets and empty drawers, I was in Craterside Supply selling it all to Moira, who cheerfully accepted it all.

Time to go.

Jericho and I headed for Tenpenny Tower. You could see it from miles around, a majestic, well-looked after building towering over the ruins. As we approached the entrance, I spotted a ghoul arguing with the security staff over the intercom.


(Tenpenny Tower)

Now, I don't have a problem with ghouls. I found a whole settlement of them during my quest for Three Dog's stupid radio dish. They're not pleasant to look at, but they are still people underneath, and I do my best to treat them as such. Thus, an rotten ghoul gets the same treatment as a rotten human. And this ghoul was definitely rotten. He wasn't taking no for an answer. He made some threats to the guard, threw an insult my way and stalked off. No, sorry, you don't get away with that. He was a resilient rude ghoul, and survived my first few shots to turn and draw his rifle. Jericho and I opened fire and took him down easily before he could return fire. I looted his rifle and returned to the intercom.

The security guard launched into a tirade of abuse. When he realized I wasn't the ghoul, he apologized... and still told me to fuck off. As soon as I dropped Burke's name, though, the gate opened. The courtyard was a dump but inside the tower itself, man! I doubt you could ever fully scrub away the grime of the war but a proper attempt had been made in here. Music was piped through concealed speakers, a variety of fashionable boutiques, a clinic and a bar nestling in hallways off the main entrance. A guard at the reception desk told me I was expected in the penthouse. A meticulously restored and maintained elevator carried us up.

Another guard awaited on the top floor. He unlocked the door for me and told me this Tenpenny character and Mr Burke awaited me on the balcony. I could get used to this sort of treatment

A suitcase containing the controls for the detonator had been set up on a table. A magnificent view of the wasteland - the kind you only get from twelve stories up - lay before us. Burke and Tenpenny said I could have the honour of activating the detonator... and suggested I cover my eyes for the flash.

I pressed the button, and immediately turned away, covered my face and eyes. A few moments later I... I don't know how to describe it... FELT an intense light on me from behind, enough that it felt bright even facing away, my hands over my tightly squeezed-shut eyes. As the brightness subsided I finally turned and looked. Burke and Tenpenny were also recovering, and a colossal mushroom cloud was rising in the distance from Megaton. Both Burke and Tenpenny commented on what a magnificent sight it was. Tenpenny called for drinks to be brought while Burke congratulated me and handed me my payment along with a surprise... a deed and key to a penthouse suite here at the tower.


(boom goes Megaton)

With the cloud from Megaton starting to dissipate and Rivet City a crowded, noisy dump, I gladly accepted. Once again, being a complete bitch was paying off.

Hello you all! This is my second, evil, Fallout 3 diary, as promised! It won't be as long as the last, I'm just running through all the DLC that I didn't get to play as Sheelagh and decided that for fun I'd be an evil character. I am aiming to put a new one up every Monday which should take us to just about the end of October, which by no coincidence at all is when Fallout: New Vegas is due to come out. Anyway, enjoy!

Jacqueline Hyde's diary, part 1

THOSE ASSHOLES.

I'd always been a good kid growing up. Sure, I wasn't a girly girl but I had to be able to protect myself and Amata from that asshole Butch and his two minions.

Amata. We could've been together. I know you told me 'gross' but things were developing. Things I don't think either of us totally understood, and I'm sure the rest of the Vault DEFINITELY wouldn't have. Still, you're the Overseer's daughter, that might have helped us. But then this bullshit happens and succeeds in fucking my entire fucking life up.

I still don't know what happened. I was having that dream about Amata (you know, the one where I'm in bed and she floats in through the window) when I was shaken awake by the real Amata. Ja... sorry, Dad, for some reason had stirred the whole place up. Amata said he'd left the Vault! Left the Vault? Nobody leaves! We're born here, we die here. What's more, he'd ordered Dad's assistant Jonas killed. The alarm was sounding, and she told me I'd better leave too before her dad's goons got me. Make no mistake about her, her asshole dad's 'security officers' are just that - goons.

She'd handed me a gun and run off. I grabbed some stuff from my room and looked out into the corridor. One of the officers tried to stop me but was set upon by radroaches. I took advantage of this and ran for it. As I got to the Atrium, Mr and Mrs Holden were arguing about whether they should leave too. The Overseer ran this place like a prison, nobody was allowed out even if we wanted to. They tried to head up the stairs towards the main entrance but... but... O'Brian and Richards just shot them. Tom went down first, and when Mary ran to his side they shot her too.

Fighting back the tears, I ran the other way. I heard Amata's voice... and that of her dad. It was coming from the security office. Amata was crying. As I reached the window, she was being... interrogated, about me! The Overseer, her own GODDAMN FATHER, was getting Officer Hannon to smack her around to get her to talk!


(Amata is interrogated by The Overseer and a security officer)

Something inside me snapped. The Jacqueline Hyde that everyone had known for 19 years ceased to exist at that moment, as I decided that nobody was going to push me around any more. I strode through the door. Raising the gun Amata had given me, I fired into the back of Officer Hannon's head. He toppled to the ground as Amata screamed and leapt from the chair, bolting out the door. The Overseer stared at me. He'd turned the Vault into a hellhole, a police state where people would rather face whatever world awaited them outside than remain. He'd ordered his guards to kill innoncent people. And now, he'd ordered his guards to beat his own daughter while he watched.

I pointed the gun at his forehead, and fired. The front of his head exploded and his corpse was knocked backwards, falling to the ground in a spray of blood and bone. I stood over his body, transfixed. Amata came back into the room, crying that I'd shot her father. She scrambled in his pockets, and handed me the key to his office. "GO!" she shouted, finally shaking me out of my trance. I ran.

Butch DeLoria stopped me as I ran down a hallway. He begged me to save his mother, who was being attacked by radroaches. Fuck you, Butch, said New Jackie. You've made my entire life a living hell of torment, beatings and taunts. You save her. Butch said there was no way in hell he was going back into that deathtrap, and begged again. I told him to get stuffed, and he called me a coward.


(Butch)

A thousand unhappy childhood memories surged through my memory of Butch's leering face and grating laugh. And here he was helpless before me. Payback is a bitch, Butch. I watched his eyes widen in shock as I raised my gun. He turned to run. Who's the coward now, asshole? I opened fire. The first shot hit his shoulder, knocking him off stride. The second struck the base of his neck and he stumbled forward, facefirst into the wall. He was dead before he hit the floor.

I ended up shooting my way through the rooms and hallways I'd called home for my entire life. I reached the Overseer's office and turned on his computer. I couldn't believe it. The Vault had been opened in the past... expeditions had been sent, and had found a settlement outside called 'Megaton'. But this was under a previous Overseer, before Amata's Dad had taken control and locked the place down to be his own little empire. I felt all the more justified in killing him. It seemed the only way to stop evil was to be even more evil, and first.

He even had a secret passage directly connecting his office with the main entrance. When I got there, I threw the switch. The huge mechanism surged to life and started opening the huge steel door. I heard faint voices from behind the security door behind me... more guards, trying to stop me. Amata emerged from her father's tunnel.

She couldn't forgive me yet for what I'd done, she needed more time. I asked her to come with me, and she refused. That was all she had to say. The huge main door ground open, exposing the dark cavern leading out of hill Vault 101 was buried in. As I started walking towards it, the security door finally opened and two more guards ran out in pursuit of me. I leapt across the threshold of the door and they abruptly gave up pursuit for fear of being trapped outside. As they retreated, I opened fire, killing them both.

Gathering their equipment, I gave Amata a final look. She just waved weakly, and I went back through the main door. As I passed the control console I noted several skeletons and placards, imploring to be let into the Vault. I had no idea how old these remains were. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out, but even that was now revealed as a lie. Things did, but only when it suited the assholes in charge.

Up ahead I could just make out a rickety old door. As I headed towards it, the klaxon in the Vault started again, and the door mechanism activated. I turned to face Amata one last time. She was staring back, she hadn't moved from where she'd been standing. Our gazes locked until the huge main door rolled back into place, seperating us.

When I got outside, it was night. I decided this was a good thing, as my entire life I'd only ever experienced artificial light. The sun could well have blinded me. Based on the information from the Overseer's computer, Megaton wasn't far.

I picked my way over the rough terrain, noting what seemed to be the remnants of roads. The ruins of Springvale were to my left. In the distance I noted a faint glow and hum of machinery. I followed the noise and crested a hill to behold Megaton, a colossal, ramshackle construction. Light glowed from within, and I noted several spotlights shining over what must be an entrance. As I got closer, I noted the main gate seemed to be assembled from the wings of airplanes. Indeed, directly above the gate was an old jet engine that spooled up to power the gate mechanism. A Protectron robot greeted me, and I went inside.


(Megaton)

Not many people were around, and unsure of what to do I sat in the corner and dozed, one hand still clutching my gun.

I was awoken the following morning by a rough voice. My eyes struggled in the bright sunlight to focus on his face. It was the local sheriff, who declared this was his town. Megaton was called Megaton because of an unexploded atomic bomb resting in a crater at the centre. I told the sheriff he was living on borrowed time building a town around it. He told me the town had been here for decades already.

With advice from the sheriff and other local degenerates I eventually found my way to a bar where the proprietor, a sly character, told me Dad had indeed passed through. He'd tell me where to look next... for a price.

The hell with that. I told him to get fucked, and as soon as his back was turned, plucked his key off his belt. This allowed me easy access to the cabinet in his office, where this idiot had written his computer password down. In the computer, I found the information I needed. Dad had gone somewhere called 'Galaxy News Radio'. I switched on my Pipboy's radio and found the frequency. Through a roar of static I was able to hear a news broadcast, in which the DJ announced that Dad had indeed come to visit him. This was, it seems, big news, because it wasn't every day someone comes out of a Vault. The sheer gall of that asshole in the bar... trying to charge me for information I could have gotten for free.

Before leaving the bar, a well-dressed man sitting at a corner table beckoned me over. He offered me a lot of money to plant a special detonator onto the atomic bomb, as some 'outside party' would like the town destroyed. Interesting. I put on my sweetest voice and flirtatious told him that I'd be extremely grateful for an even bigger payoff for doing this. All the blood left his brain and he agreed. Once again, I'm out-evilling an evil person, and it's working.


(the 'well-dressed man', Mr Burke)

But I'm not blowing this shithole up yet. The wastelands seem to be a dangerous place, and I've got little more than the jumpsuit I escaped in. I need supplies, and money. So for now, I'm doing odd jobs around the place. No sense letting all these goodies get turning into radioactive ash yet when they could benefit me...

How well does Midnight Club LA's rendition of the city of angels stand up to the real thing?



See the rest of the pics here! (clicky)

Day 7 (Thursday)

I woke up at 8am. I knew it was too early for Packie to be awake, so I got dressed and decided I'd head over to Beechwood City near Bohan and see if Little Jacob wanted to hang out.

As I got outside, Kiki texted me. Well, I suppose we could have some quick 'breakfast'! Time was of the essence, so I jumped on the bike and went for it.

Filtering aggressively through slow moving traffic down Union Drive West, I was making great time. Up ahead, a light was going yellow so I came to a stop. A silver Mitsubishi in the fast lane hadn't seen the light and skidded through the lights. Lucky for him, nobody was in the way, but that could have been ugly if I'd been in the middle of my lane!

It was quarter to 11 when I reached Kiki's apartment. Unsure of where else to go, I decided to take her to a little diner nearby.

A pleasant brunch later and we went back to her place.

So, 12:30pm and finally I can get on with my plans for the final day. I headed back for home. I noted that I was getting increasingly impatient, and had skidded to a stop at several red lights in my rush to get around without doing anything illegal. Others were doing the same - on the way back up Union Drive West a taxi skidded through a red light but, seeing nobody he'd hit, put his foot back down and continued on through.

2pm I'm home, and head straight for the subway. I jump on the K train at Vauxite station and away we go. Checking my phone, it's just after 4pm. Not enough hours in the day, I tells ya! I had to resist the urge to run to the station, to ignore the crosswalks, I'm just so behind schedule it isn't funny.

5:30pm and we're crossing the river. As the train pulls into Huntingdon Street Lower I call Jacob. He's up for some pool, so I head up the stairs to the Upper platforms.

After waiting a hell of a long time, the A train still hasn't come. I need a taxi! There's one just going past as I get down to the street. I jump in, give him directions to Jacob and tell him to go for it.

The cabbie is good as his word, and hauls ass over to Jacob. I jump out and sprint over to him. Jacob is not impressed! I'm late AND we need another taxi.

Fortune seems to have started smiling on me today, though, as one comes around the corner. We jump in and head over to the local rasta bar for a quick game of pool. Along the way, Jacob and I agree we need to chill and take it easy.

The table is shit and has seen better days... the felt is stained, burned and tattered. Our advice to chill hasn't quite sunken in, and I pot the cue ball trying to break. Jacob seems similarly 'off', but I soon settle into a rhythm and clear the table. Unfortunately, I throw it all away when I accidentally pot the cue ball again while pocketing the 8-ball. Scratch that, in more ways than one.

"Yea, at leas ya brudda win. Nuff respec."

Fair enough. Time to get moving. It's 10:23pm, I still have time to go and have a drink with Packie. We hail another cab, and drop Jacob off at home. I tell the cabbie to wait, but he seems to forget and drives off. I angrily whistle after him, and he stops and I get back in. I tell him to head for Packie's house, and call Packie on the way. It's 11:15pm. Another quick taxi ride later and Packie and I are ready to go and get shitfaced. It's the taxi driver's lucky night, he gets an even biggger fare for taking me even further.

We arrive at the famous Steinway. "Here it is, Niko," says Packie. "See if you can remember we were here tomorrow morning.

Technically it IS tomorrow morning when we emerge, as it's 1:22am. I decide to start staggering towards Packie's house, and see if I can get a taxi along the way. Out on the street I somehow still remember to wait for the white man before crossing. As I cross, a taxi stops for the lights. His light is on.

Hooray! I try to get in, but just slide along the side, stumble while turning and smack my head on the back door while falling over. The driver honks angrily and goes to drive off, only to stop abruptly because Packie has followed me across the crosswalk and is blocking his path. Resigned, the driver picks us up, though he insists Packie sit in the front.

I'm still totally fucked when the taxi arrives back at Packie's house, and I stagger hopelessly towards his front door.

"That was fun, Niko, gimme a call!," Packie syas, before walking straight into me, tripping on the curb and falling over again. "I'm not even drunk!" he protests as he lands on the curb.

Okay. Just need to get home. I've had enough paying for taxis. I call Roman's car service. It's 3:15am. My old friend Mohammed comes screech up, sliding with a crunching stop into the supports for the EL which runs down Packie's street.

"Get in very quickly my friend. Do you want me to suck your balls for free because you are Roman's cousin, too?"

I decide to catch up on my sleep, and tell Mohammed to take me to my apartment.

"I was thinking you would say: 'SICK BONDAGE CLUB'!"

Off we go. I start totting up the various crimes I've still managed to commit during my week being 'good'. All but one of them are minor car accidents, and all of them are because I was rushed to get somewhere. The jaywalking had a similar motive - there's just not enough time to reasonably get somewhere and do much, especially when all the important people in your life are so damned impatient. I count myself lucky that nobody I hit tried to take lumps out of my face for doing so, but consider that the number of dangerous drivers, crashes and near misses that I observed during the week means most people have accepted a minor tap as a way of life around here.

We arrive at my apartment, and it's just before 6am. We narrowly avoid crashing into a garbage truck, and I get out and walk towards my front door.

"Go away, head dick!"

I note with happiness my Ducati, and consider how it was superior to just about everything else for getting around this busy city in a hurry.

The sun is just coming up as I step out of the elevator and slump into bed.

THE END*

Crimes today:
none!

Crimes grand total:
Car accident (3)
Jaywalking (1)

*in a very real sense

DAY 6 (Wednesday)

True to my plans, it's 03:19am when I wake up. I check out on the patio: it looks pretty clear outside. Alas, the airport is easily the most eastern point in the city, but I decide that by going up to Bohan I should be able to find somewhere good to enjoy the view. I quickly put on my biker jacket and head downstairs, and jump on the bike.

I haul some pretty serious butt through the early morning traffic, filtering left and right, and reach my destination: Downrock Loop in Northern Gardens just after 5am. The sky was worryingly bright but there's no sign of the sun yet when I arrive.

My patience is reward at 6am with a spectacular sunrise.



Carmen, apparently coming home from the night shift, texts me. She wants to be taken out and treated special. I have to admit, she's probably my favourite girlfriend, and it would be rude to refuse her. I duly call her, and am met by a little voice telling me she's asleep in bed, and to call her back at 1pm. Of course, text me that you want to go out, JUST BEFORE you go to bed.

It's nearly half past six now, what to do? Might as well go for some breakfast, I guess. There's a Burger Shot not far away, so I ride over there.

"Burger Shot! Fuck fuck, wassup?"

I decide the sausage muffin things will be as stomach churning as they look, so I just order a normal burger.

"Enjoy, mo'fuckah!"

It's not even 8am yet. I have some time to kill, and don't want to leave Bohan, so I go over to the apartment Mallorie gave us where I've stored some cars, and decide to take them for a wash.

The Buick is still looking fine, but the Town Car is a bit scruffy. I figure by the time I've gotten it cleaned, I can pick up Carmen in it. Bearing in mind her preference for the finer things, I run inside and get changed.

As I come off the East Borough Bridge, some dude in a pickup takes exception to waiting behind me at a red light and tries to swerve around me. However, he fails and just scuffs me. Again, he's reluctant to discuss this and drives off. I get out and look - hardly a mark, and given the car is filthy already I wonder if the wash will scrub most of it out.

I continue to crawl forward in the traffic, and a silly girl behind me again gets impatient and tries to overtake. She fails, and tries again at some lights, and overshoots the stop line, plowing into a bunch of people crossing the street. One bounces off her hood and lands flat on his back, his bag of groceries spilling everywhere. To my amazement, there's no fight - he just gets back up, swears, and stalks off. She shouts something back, and that was that.

Finally on the expressway, progress is smooth, until I go past an offramp. I wonder why, and sure enough my GPS has ignored it but wants me to later go across the overpass - but for now, it wants me to carry on to the NEXT exit to get off and then basically go back on myself. Dammit!

I follow the ridiculous route, and get to the car wash... just before 1pm. Dammit again! I had better head back to get Carmen, ASAP. I head back onto the expressway and call her enroute. Carmen asks if I've been in jail or something. It's been like three days! Still, she's happy to go out, so I continue over to her place.

I drive far too aggressively, as I know I'm short for time. I slightly overcook one bend and clip a streetlight, which knocks me sideways and I tap another car. Again, the other driver is uninterested and just drives off, so I carry on. I'm really pushing it here. I change lanes, overtake someone to beat them to the toll booths, nearly get pushed onto the sidewalk trying to get past someone in a slow Mercedes, but I get to Carmen's on time. As I'm pulling up, my phone starts to ring. It's Packie. But Carmen's already striding up to the car, so I have to ignore him.

She loves the clothes, the shoes, and the car. This puts her in high spirits, and she laughs and jokes with me as we head back to swap the car for the bike. We head across to my apartment, park up, and start the evening with a quick game of pool on own personal table. We then head around the block to Club Liberty - the hottest nightspot in the neighbourhood and one of Carmen's favourites. She's getting the special treatment, for sure.


(Carmen)

Some time later, we emerge. Carmen tries to steady herself on me using only her face. We stumble sideways.

"Did you see how many guys in there were checking out my tits? You a lucky boy tonight!"

I try to find a taxi but nearly step in front of one. In fright, I step back, my heel tripping on the curb, and I fall against the awning of the club. I slump to the ground. Carmen, trying to find me to lean on again, wanders over and trips and falls across me. We pick ourselves up, and Carmen stumbles into the middle of the road. A police car rounds the corner and stops. Carmen tries to get out of its way and faceplants nicely into the gutter. The cops don't seem to mind, and drive away. I, meanwhile, try to secure a taxi but the driver takes one look at us and drives off. Carmen is back on her feet and walking backwards, trying to stop her reverse momentum. With a brief lurch of clarity I realize the sun is setting. No chance of watching it go down tonight. But... other things... go down... tonight... yes... need taxi.

We start to feel more in control of our faculties, finally get a taxi, and head off for Carmen's house. Carmen gets gently pushed by someone's car as she scurries over to get in. The taxi driver seems to sense the urgency and heads the wrong way down a one way street. Someone whacks into the side of us. Carmen wails as she thinks someone's just been killed. Nope. The taxi continues on.

After some typically crazy taxi driving, we reach safety. In we go.

It's 10:35pm when I emerge, a big grin on my face. There seem to be no taxis, and I'm about call Roman's car service when one happens past. And, he stops to pick me up! Back home we go. The driver, for reasons known only to himself, stops and lets me out in the middle of Frankfort Avenue. I wonder if it's anything to do with the big party he mentioned going to.

Fine, whatever. I cross the street (legally) and head up to bed. It's quarter to two. One day left to go!

Crimes today:
Car accident (1)

Crimes total:
Car accident (3)
Jaywalking (1)

DAY 5 (Tuesday)

It's just after 4am when I drop Roman off at the other apartment. As I drive home, I decide it would be a waste to just go to bed now so I plan to watch some TV and then try and go jogging later in the morning.

The clock strikes six as I come out of the elevator. I settle onto the couch and switch on some cartoons. Republican Space Rangers, my favourite!

The paid programming comes on at 9am so I change into my jogging suit again. Hopping on the bike, I ride down to the park and head in. As I get to the entrance, a passing cops asks if I'd like to have a nasty accident. Lovely. To rebalance the universe's karma, I give some money to the saxophone player. Feeling suitably loosened up, I head off down the path.

My presence jogging seems to alarm some of the other park-goers, who drop items in alarm, recoil or even shout angrily at my passing. Other joggers don't seem to have the same effect. Very odd.

Stopping for a hot dog at the southern end of the park, I head back up the other side and return to the bike at 1pm. I'm feeling a little bit tired and decide if I have a late lunch with Kiki, I can then call it a day and be up bright and early tomorrow for another attempt at watching the sun rise.

Kiki is home so I zip down there on the bike, noting how much faster progress through the city is on it. We go to a nice little Italian place just around the block for her apartment, and then retire to her boudoir.

It's just before 4pm now, which suits me fine. I decide to head for home. I head up Union Drive West, and at a red light some idiot in a Lincoln punts me fairly hard from behind. I don't come off, and don't get push into the actual intersection. The other drive doesn't seem keen to get out and discuss things. There's no damage to either vehicle, so I decided it's best to leave it there - forcing them to discuss the situation might not end well. I mount back up and continue home without further incident. I park in the resident's bay at 5:50pm and note that the concierge has already had a repairman come and attend to the broken tail light on the Subaru.

I get in, shower, change, and go out on the deck to admire the view for a while. The jacuzzi bubbles enticingly. I go back inside and watch The Men's Room before retiring for the evening at 9pm.

Crimes today:
none!

Crimes total:
Car accident (2)
Jaywalking (1)

DAY 4 (Monday)

I get out of bed at 6:41am, and decide to go for a jog around Middle Park.

I put on a jogging suit, step outside and find that it's pissing down with rain. Maaaaaybe not. I'm not sure what to do now. It's too early for all my friends and girlfriends, there's no point going to wash another car as it's raining, and I bought new clothes just the other day.

I run back upstairs and change into a proper jacket, then jump into the Impreza and decide to go and check out the adult video store near Star Junction.

Naturally, by the time I'm passing Middle Park the rain is letting up and the sun is coming out. Oh well, I'm not turning back again. I pull up outside the store (it's on Lorimar Street if you're wondering) and go inside.

I enjoy perusing the various magazines, which invite me to 'Ghetto-hold of dis ass!' and 'Give this pussy some cream!'. I'm torn between 'Tricky Pink - Easy Brown' and 'Just Norks XXXL' but accidentally glimpse the cover of 'Amputeens' and lose all interest. The staff are doing a test screening of one of their new DVDs in the back room. The couch looks a bit too crispy for my liking, so I leave.

It's 11:30am when I leave, and see the sun has dried the rain on my car into a lovely sheen of filth. I decide to take it for a wash. Along the way, I notice that for some reason the traffic lights are fitted right at the stop line, so while you're stopped you can't see them. Surely across the intersection would be better? Oh well.

Car scrubbed of its grime, I decide to give Roman a call and take him for the bowling that he's always wanted. Roman is, of course, waiting as far away as possible, just around the corner from the apartment we shared when we first moved to Liberty City.

Shit. Need to move fast. I go across the Algonquin Bridge and pick my way through Broker.

Unsurprisingly, I'm late, and Roman points this out but says I'm too lovable for him to be mad at me. It's quarter past three already, so I make the snap decision to head back across to Algonquin and go to the bowling alley there. I'm hungry, though, so we stop at the diner. When we emerge, some fucker has dinged the back of my car and then driven off - no note, no nothing. Being a victim of crime doesn't count, and off we go across the Broker Bridge.

In my haste to get past someone going too slowly I miss the turning and head around the block to try again. My GPS then tries to direct me the wrong way down a one way street. I only spot the signs at the last minute, as several other cars - including a police car - had just turned down it! I quickly swerve away from crime and continue straight ahead. Whew!

There is NOWHERE to park around here, except a driveway in front of some garage doors. There's no notices saying you can't park there, and the pile of garbage bags and other stuff suggests the far right door isn't used, so I stick the car there. In we go to bowl.

I bowl almost an entire game of spares the first time, and Roman keeps pace with him defeating me 165 to 159. I find my feet in the second game, while Roman struggles, and I win 165 - 107. Roman says I was always good at handling big balls, so it's ON for the decider. Roman starts mentioning girls from the old country that he managed to bed first, and simultaneously pulls out his A game again. After the closest contest yet, I lose 143 to his 166. Oh well. Time to go... and I step outside to note that it's very very dark. We've been at it almost all night, it's 2am!

Crimes today:
none!
(victim of 1)

Crimes total:
Car accident (2)
Jaywalking (1)

Day 3

It's 2am when I emerge from Carmen's. Now, there's a confident swagger a man can have, and there's two ways he can get it. Firstly, he's carrying a gun. Secondly, he's just gotten some. I'm both, and things are great. I do need some sleep, though, so I hunt for a taxi. No sign of one, so I call Roman's car service. My old friend Mohammed arrives as he always does, knocking over some garbage cans.

"Hello you free-riding doglover. GET IN!"

I decide to go back to my second apartment.

"Piss balls!"

Carmen hadn't been too impressed with my jacket, so I figure I'll go get a new one tomorrow, and the fashionable shops are nearer the other apartment.

One hell of a ride later and it's only 3am when I finally climb into bed. 10am I decide to go shopping, and hop into the Maybach to go and buy some new threads.

Downtown, I park and thoughtlessly open my door into the path of a passing minivan. Whoops.

I spend an hour in Perseus trying on suits and ignoring the cutting remarks from a salesman who thinks he's Gok fucking Wan. I emerge, $2200 lighter, in a handmade suit and some nice brown wingtips. Alas, my car is sill dirty so I decide to take it to be washed.

A quick trip up Union Drive West and my car is scrubbed to perfection. In this condition, I know someone who's guaranteed to be impressed: Alex Chilton.

I call her on handsfree while driving over. It's early yet (just after five) and I'm only taking her around the corner but I know she'll be impressed with the sheer ostentatious nature of turning up in a car worth $400 grand to just drive around the block.

A cunning use of the street that cuts across Middle Park and I reach Alex in plenty of time. Sure enough, everything works as planned. She loves the car and my new suit, though saying that my ass is giving hers a run for its money in the suit pants is a bit worrying.

We drive around the block and have dinner in the ridiculously overhyped Super Star Cafe Bar. After dinner, my splashing of cash has got Alex's vag suitably frothing and we drive back to her penthouse.

I emerge, smoothing the wrinkles and checking for stains to my new suit, and note it's only just before 8pm. Niko, you work fast. I respect that.

Alas, in my hurry to get back to my apartment I try to rush a yellow light and it goes red on me. Damn. Too late to stop, I carry on through. Back at the other apartment, I park the car and get changed. I think I've had enough for what has been almost a continuous day since yesterday, and change into some comfy clothes: puffy jacket, trackpants and sneakers.

Outside on the street, an obnoxious looking student type with a teardrop bag tries to barge past me but stumbles and clangs against the support pole for a scaffolding on the side of a building. "Stupid asshole!" goes his whiny voice as he tumbles to the sidewalk. I ignore him, as that's more irritating, especially as he knows it's all his fault. He picks himself back up and answers his phone.

"Hey, didja see the vidjo I sentcha?" he squeaks. I think of the arsenal of weapons in my pockets but resist. The subway entrance separates me from this provoking fool. A quick subway ride later and I'm just two blocks from home. As I pass through the turnstiles (remembering not to hop them) a bum asks me for money. Figuring if I can blow two grand on clothing and even more just to get some pretentious pusseh, I give him a whole ten dollars.

Up ahead, a woman with a ridiculous bubblebutt answers her cell.

"Hey boo, whas' poppin'? Y'all betta not be wit 'cho bitch on de side aginn!"

Another dude walks past on a handsfree kit.

"True. *pause* I can't find the C drive!"

I chuckle to myself and emerge onto the street. It's raining cats and dogs. Hiding under an awning, I spot an unoccupied cab across the street and dash across. I only realize as I run that the white man is showing. That was almost another naughty. The driver agrees to take me the short jaunt home.

"Here we are," he says, punting a fire plug off the sidewalk and releasing a torrent of water. Not my fault! It's 20 past midnight as I slump gratefully into bed.

Crimes today:
Car accident (1)
Ran red light (1)

Crimes total:
Car accident (2)
Jaywalking (1)
Ran red light (1)

OBSERVATIONS THUS FAR:
-the traffic AI is really strange. On the one hand, people will stop to let someone turning left have priority where they shouldn't, but on the other they don't see your car as legitimately stopped in a line at a red light and will try and overtake you.
-the AI ignores red lights, though this often seems to be at complex junctions where they haven't been programmed in properly.
-honking your horn causes people to drop their coffee in alarm.
-without right turns on red I'd never get anywhere.
-I think DMA ran out of time to make turnstile hopping a crime (it's very common in NYC) hence you being charged as soon as you disembark from the train rather than when you swipe out at a turnstile. Props for programming in the 'hop' animation, at least.

Day 2 (Saturday)

Niko wakes up at quarter past six, and I decided to go on a helicopter tour of the city. I hop on the K train down to City Hall, and then get a taxi to the heliport. I grab a hotdog from a vendor and then amble on down for a tour.

My pilot is 'Vicky' and preemptively refuses to answer any questions about his name. A pleasant tour of Hove Beach and Firefly Island follows, with Vicky's tortured past in Vietnam only showing through a bit.

By the time I get back it's almost 20 to three! Where has the day gone? Oh yeah, spent travelling the slow way. Oh well. I decide I'll take one of my girlfriends out, and jump in a cab to my other apartment on Albany Ave. There's a subway station nearby but since the city 'rationalized' the trains, there's no train that runs all the way up the east side any more.

"Fucking women, we should take back the vote." grumbles my cabbie as we pick our way through traffic. "I've had it with chicks. Lap dancing, that's all they're good for."

We roll past the UN building and we suddenly stop short. "I bet that's a fucking woman!," shouts the driver at the car in front. "My wife, she was a..." he starts, before I cut him off with thanks as we've arrived outside my apartment. It's 18:05 already!

Since I've got my Aston Martin parked outside, I decide to take it to impress Carmen. I arrive at her house in Bohan late but without incident. Carmen doesn't complain, and is impressed by the car. I decide we'll go to an expensive bar for the evening, Jerkov's, which is just down the road from my second apartment. A guy in a pimped up Impala driving far too slowly tests my patience, while a guy in a red Taurus wagon just completely ignores a red light and I narrowly avoid him. Parking the car back at the apartment, it's started raining so I get a passing taxi to take us down to the bar.

We go in at half past ten. It's half past eleven when we stumble out, having somehow spent a hundred bucks on overpriced (but surprisingly strong) cocktails in an hour. We come out of the bar and I immediately trip over my own feet and fall on my face. Carmen turns to look and trips over my splayed legs and lands on top of me. She complains that she's drunk, and she has to be in work soon! I remember to wait for the white man before crossing, and manage to secure us a taxi back to her place.

Everything is a blur, but I feel the need to have a piss so ask the driver to hurry up. The blurs move faster. There's a sudden jolt. Carmen sits back and complains that she's drunk and he's crashing the taxi??

At long last we arrive at Carmen's apartment, and decide we might both enjoy it if I came inside.

Crimes today:
none!

Crimes total:
Car accident (1)
Jaywalking (1)

I am going to try and make it through seven days in GTA IV as a good, decent, law abiding citizen.

It's quite simple. Try and obey the law in a city constantly provoking you to break it.

The rules:
I've decided (somewhat contrary to actual NYC law but in keeping with most of the rest of North America) that you are allowed to make a right turn on a red light, provided you give way to pedestrians.
As there's no speedometer, I will drive at a reasonable speed, more or less keeping pace with the traffic around me.
There's no such crime as 'leaving the scene of an accident' unless the cops get involved, in which case I have to bend over and take my medicine.
AI cars which randomly bump me at traffic lights don't count either.
MaliA-style filtering while on the bike is perfectly fine.
I have to go about a normal life. I can't just sit in my apartment watching TV, and my phone can't be silenced EXCEPT when returning home at the end of the day.
No 'skip to destination' in taxis or subways.

DAY 1

The day begins, inexplicably, at 3:00am as that's when my last save was that's when Niko woke up. I decide to go over to the airport parking lot and watch the sun come up. I go outside and get on the bike. Alas, stopping for every red light slows you down, and I rush a bit on the highway and lightly clip someone's car while filtering. I finally reach the parking lot at about 6:00am, drive up to the roof and realize that the EL station blocks my view, as does the terminal building. Not that it matters, the sun is already just peeking over the top of the terminal building. My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Stevie, who wants me to steal another car for him. He might have to wait a while for that.

At 07:30am I decide to go for some breakfast, and head to the Burger Shot just down the shore. I miss my exit and, unable to make an illegal u-turn, have to continue on to just before the Algonquin Bridge before being able to turn back.

I stop up, and give the bikers (who use this as a hangout) a wide berth. After breakfast, it's 10:00am so I decided to go over to the internet cafe to see that frumpy girl who has a crush on me.

Just as I arrive, Brucie calls and demands we go for a ride in his speedboat. Fair enough, off I go. Alas, he's down in that industrial area and so I'm a bit pressed for time. In my haste, I park up and run across the road against the red hand. A taxi honks angrily.

By the time our little cruise to Pier 45 is done, it's almost 2:00pm. Brucie has kindly left his Range Rover for me, so I go back to his loft and collect my bike. I'm only on it for 30 seconds when Dwayne calls, so I quickly pull over and answer. He wants to go to the strip club. Well, okay, but he's all the way up in North Holland, and I'm down here in Broker. I doubt I'll make it, but decide to try. Union Drive will be quickest, I reason, so I head across the Broker Bridge.

In spite of several drivers' best attempts to run into the side of me, I reach Dwayne without incident. He complains that I'm late. Well, it is after five by the time I drove across half the city. Dwayne produces a helmet from nowhere and we head off for the Triangle Club in Bohan. I narrowly avoid a clip of a guardrail but that's all. Time for a lapdance!

My face ground at by some trailer trash's sweating buttocks, I drop Dwayne off at home and head back to my apartment. It's just after midnight when I step out of the elevator and climb straight into bed. So far, so good.


Crimes today:
Car accident (1)
Jaywalking (1)

Crimes total:
Car accident (1)
Jaywalking (1)

In honour of Canada Day, I am greatly relieved to present the FINALE of my ridiculously long-running Fallout 3 diary. (it was originally finished Dec 10, 2009 if you're interested)



Clover took quite quickly to the Enclave Hellfire armour I gave her. She seemed almost as interested in taking off her clothes to get into the armour as she was in the protective qualities of the armour. Fortunately, the neckpiece of the suit didn't interfere with the slave collar which as yet I had been unable to convince her to let me disarm. After a day she was able to move easily in the armour and we headed out for the Temple Of The Union.

Hannibal was thrilled at the news, and began making preparations to depart immediately. Caleb was likewise thrilled with the huge poster of the Lincoln Memorial that I had acquired for him. In almost no time the whole troupe of liberated slaves were making their way down the road towards the distant city. Clover and I tagged along, and darted ahead after I detected some blips on my radar. We arrived at a four way battle next to a ranch full of Brahmin - an Outcast was battling an Enclave soldier was battling an Albino Radscorpion was battling a Deathclaw. Clover and I joined in and soon only the Outcast still stood.


(Clover and I, unstoppable in our power armour)

Hannibal's group was just coming up on the ranch so I decided to carry on ahead. I was low on microfusion cells so we detoured down the side of the Potomac and around to Rivet City to stop into the market for supplies. I cleaned Shrapnel out of MF cells and then checked into the hotel for the night.

The following morning, we made out way out when I noticed that the Rivet City clinic was, like Megaton, packed with the sick. The doctor observed that the disease wasn't contagious, but that the dead were being cremated just in case. He also explained that no treatment seemed to work, that their own immune systems seemed to be attacking them. FEV was extremely effective, as President Eden has expected.

Clover and I made our way through the metro and emerged on the Mall. The usual Brotherhood/supermutant skirmishes were occurring so we discretely made our way past the Washington Monument to the Memorial. There was no sign of Hannibal, so we went back to the Georgetown Mall metro station to await their arrival.

That took eight hours, but finally the whole group emerged from the metro, safe and sound. Hannibal remained astonished by the help I'd rendered, and the group gratefully made their way into the memorial to set themselves up.


(The freed slaves restore Lincoln's statue)

At long last, my work was done. Nothing remained but to head on over to Vault 112 and shut myself away. I paced around the Memorial, reading the Gettysburg Address again. My thoughts were broken by Clover complaining that this place 'sucked'. Whether these were the words of a philistine or someone happy in their lot as a slave, I don't know. In any event, time to go.

Except, I realized I still had to deliver all those Nuka Cola Quantums to Sierra Petrovita in Girdershade. She seemed to be attracting all sorts of attention - all of it bad - with her quest for Quantums combined with her naiveté. Best to deliver them all, it might shut her up and keep her safe. No problem, I decided, a quick stopover at Megaton to get 30 Quantums out of my fridge.

We plunged back into the metro. And, again, I found myself lost. I eventually realized that I was retracing much of my disastrous journey through the Arlington National Cemetery again. However, this time I spotted another door in the Arlington station, and followed it. A few more tunnels and I emerged from the metro station just south of the Super Duper Mart! I'd never realized that was here! Oh well.

It was still quite early in the afternoon as we approached Springvale. This was the last time I'd be here, so I wandered up the road and into the cavern leading to Vault 101. I'm not sure why, I just... wanted to see. The big steel door was shut and silent, and sure enough, I had no idea what the entry password was. I tried my radio: the emergency frequency was just static, while the PA system was silent. I was sure it was just as well I couldn't hear what was going on inside. But more than ever, I wanted in. I finally sympathised with the dead protestors whose skeletons still littered the entrance. Let. Me. IN!

Too much. I needed to distract myself, and so we wandered into Megaton and into the bar. Even as we popped our helmets off, we were an imposing pair and the locals still recoiled. I didn't care - they were small-minded fools.


(Clover and I, helmets off, intimidating the yokels in Megaton)

It was four thirty in the morning when we left. I'd repaired Clover's treasured rifle with spares from my collection, carefully wrapped up the 30 quantums from the fridge and off we went.

There were a lot of bad things out there today. Particularly worrying was a huge force of Talon mercs who we had to take a huge detour to avoid. We ended up in the parking lot of someplace called 'The Dunwich Building'. Tired from our long hike, I decided to go inside to have a rest. And I'd rather not go into what happened in there. Suffice it to say, I'm glad to be out there.

We weren't far from Girdershade, so I stuck my head around the door of Sierra's house. She was home, and gratefully accepted the 30 bottles. She said she hadn't seen Ronald in some time - I figured that sleazebag was either dead, or still frantically scouring the wastes in search of his threesome. Sierra still didn't seem to understand what he'd been after. She gave me a recipe for what she called 'Mississippi Quantum Pie' and bade us farewell.

The garage and Vault 112 were only a short distance away. Clover watched in silence as I opened the panel in the floor, and lead the way down the stairs into the basement. Again, not a peep as the huge vault door swung open and we stepped through. I worked the control panel and the door rolled shut. I popped off my helmet, and Clover did likewise. I wasn't sure what her expression meant, as I slipped the armour off and into the Vault 112 suit. Clover put her dress back on, and we headed down into the Vault.


(Vault 112's collection of Tranquility Loungers)

And that was it. The world had changed, and I'd changed the world. I thought about dad, and how he'd been the catalyst for all this. From my birth, through my childhood in the vault, to my exile and the eventual activation of Project Purity, he'd been the direct cause. I blamed him for a lot, but I also had a lot to thank him for - certainly I'd be living a much simpler existence in Rivet City, which I was coming to realize was like a rougher, rustier Vault. A part of me almost longed for that easier if more ignorant life. Certainly I would not be in the lonely situation I now found myself, I situation I felt driven into. I'd made the best of it, certainly, but I think I'd have been happier had I never been thrust into it in the first place.

It was too late now. Just Clover and I, locked away in this Vault, the outside world of no concern to us. I had plenty of time to try and come to terms with it all. And the gentle, familiar humming of the Vault machinery, to once again lull me to sleep.


(THE END)

(author's note: I've started my 'evll' playthrough at long last, it's taken more time than I anticipated given that I've had to mess around to level up without too much karma in order to get some of the damned achievements for doing so. But the adventures of Jacqueline Hyde are underway!)

Our heroine is back in Megaton.

I was back home. Just this one thing left to do - the Lincoln Memorial. I'd been unsuccessful trying to find it during my 'tourism' phase but the Temple of the Union folks had marked it on my map.

I descended into the metro, and emerged at station I'd never seen before, effectively behind the Washington Monument. I'd assumed the pile of rubble I'd seen was impassable. The Reflecting Pool was still full, but very radioactive.


(The Reflecting Pool and Washington Monument)

As I approached the memorial, I was sure I could make out some movement. Sure enough, a voice called out ordering me to stop and demanding I explain my trespass. A guard, calling himself Silas, told me to follow, and to stay away from the steps as the other guards would shoot me on sight. Inside, he introduced me to a Leroy Walker, who explained he was from Paradise Falls. They were slavers, and had by chance guessed that their slaves might look to Lincoln as a symbol of freedom. They had accordingly taken control of his memorial, and offered me a job: go into the museums, and bring back any Lincoln-related memorabilia. So they could burn it.

I agreed, and Walker promised I could have a closer look at the memorial afterwards, if I wanted. I strolled thoughtfully away, and the spun around, levelling my plasma rifle. Two bursts liquified Silas, while a startled Leroy Walker grabbed frantically for his assault rifle. A headshot knocked him dead. Bastards.

Outside by the memorial, the guards were already running around in a panic. A brief gunbattle later and I was in the now-peaceful memorial, reading Lincoln's Second Inaugaral Address. Sure enough, the head had been removed from the great statue. With the memorial secure, I headed on to my second objective: to find a picture of the memorial as it had originally been, to guide its restoration.


(A faded picture of the Lincoln Memorial)

As I neared the Washington Monument, a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin emerged from the little garrison and opened fire. Foolish. I soon found myself in the Museum of History, and fought my way through the feral ghouls to the archives where I found a faded but good quality poster showing the memorial. I stopped into Underworld to buy some ammo from Sydney, said hello to Fawkes, and left. I then needed to head straight north to get back to the Temple of the Union. I headed back down into the Metro and started navigating towards the suburbs.

After rather too long, I was hopelessly lost. Tunnel cave ins meant stations previously connected by a short tunnel or indeed escalators were now forcing me to take huge detours up to street level. I found myself in Vernon East station, which sounded right as I knew Vernon Square was near the north. The station was infested with supermutants, and as I wandered down the tunnel it became increasingly clogged with debris. Soon the trackbed was flooded, and I had to stay on the walkways to avoid the radiation. Mirelurks abounded, and with great relief I emerged to the street from 'Takoma' station. Ah. Definitely very lost.

Takoma Park was a pleasant little neighbourhood on the outskirts of the downtown area. Pleasant brownstone townhouses stretched up a hill. I figured that if I was near the edge of the city, I might well find a way out to the wastes from here. Alas, the supermutants were here too, and I had a pitched battle with an Overlord wielding a missile launcher. During the battle an Enclave vertibird soared overhead and dropped bombs, causing some nearby cars to explode. Badly injured, I sheltered in an old electronics store. Someone clearly lived here - the storerooms had been cleared out to make a home, a half-finished cigarette smouldered in an ashtray at the kitchen table. Whoever it was, they'd probably taken shelter when the mutants arrived, and definitely when the shooting had started. Not my place to disrupt their lives further. I tended to my wounds and carried on.

At the top of the hill, more rubble blocked most ways, though I noticed one of the houses had an open front door. The staircase had a barricade of furniture across it (more terrified residents?) but the way through the kitchen into the back yard was open, so I went through there. I skittered down what must once have been some nice wooded slopes, and found myself in an industrial area. More supermutants wandered the ground of the factories, and I dispatched them.

I was confused to see a small raised platform, and investigated to find a dead Talon mercenary lying at a control panel. A small holodisc contained his briefing: the Talons were trying to retake this area, and this particular merc was in charge of the artillery. These controls remotely fired a nearby battery in the large parking lot I could see ahead. With good reason - a Super Mutant Behemoth and his friends lurked therein. Using my science skill to repair the controls, I pelted the area with shells until the giant mutant lay dead. Unfortunately, the parking lot seemed entirely enclosed by collapsed buildings, which left me with no choice. Back into the metro for me, to retrace my steps and find my way out.


(I have caused a small war in Takoma Park!)

The artillery had signalled the other groups of Talon mercenaries, though, and I found myself fighting my way back against them and their robots. By the time the street was cleared and I was back at the entrance to the metro, my armour was barely holding together. A long journey back through the metro was thankfully uneventful, and I emerged back at Farragut West, crossed the bridge by the Super Duper Mart and was back in Megaton in no time at all. I tended to my damaged equipment, crawled into bed, and slept.

Tomorrow, Clover was trying on her first set of power armour, and we were finishing this.