Fallout (Pt 7) - You Can Check Out Any Time You Want

Dear Diary,

Tenpenny Towers is the best, chuck out the rest. I was met with a little suspicion at first, but as soon as I pressed the button on the detonator and watched the horizon back in the direction of Megaton light up like a second sun, I was welcomed with open arms.

Actually, what really let me know I was home was the fact that not only did the Property Developer give me some fun-coupons (caps) for setting the bomb off, he also gave me the deeds to a penthouse suite in the towers. That is the best thing ever. Daddy never gave me a suite. He gave me a BB-Gun that didn't last the first serious confrontation and I'm supposed to stumble around in the wasteland looking for him. All this guy asked, was for me to press a button and I got the top floor of a hotel as a thank you.

I’ve tried feeling guilty about Megaton, but by the time I left that town, there weren't many people who would've noticed the bomb going off and most of them would've been ugly, anyway.

I have a safe and a robot butler (who does haircuts!) a balcony with a view, and any time I get a bit weary or hurt - my own bed fixes everything. I’ve talked to the nice lady downstairs and she’s got lots of things to dress my room up with. I’m going to get her to decorate it in a "Pre-war Theme". Spirit Guide is less than impressed. He thinks we should be saving for more important things, but he can suck it. What’s more important than a girl having a nice room?

Nice friends, that's what, and these people are my sorts of people. They want help with something nasty in the subway tunnels under the hotel. I don’t want that kind of riff-raff around my nice new hotel either, so I’m thinking about helping them out. The ladies have pretty dresses and hairstyles and the men are all really polite. There’s even a private security force and that kind of makes a girl feel special, particularly when you can trade all sorts of goodies with them like guns and ammo and medicine and ammo and cigarettes and ammo and guns.

Right now, going to look for Dad doesn't seem that important. I think I might live it up here for a bit and see about the infestation problem in the tunnels as a favour to my new neighbours. Yeah.

Overwriting data,
Jules, 
Resident of Tenpenny Towers. 

Fallout (Pt 6) – But I Did Not Shoot No Deputy

Dear Diary,

Out of the wasteland rose the walls of Megaton like molerat poo on a brown, lumpy molerat poo backround. Not quite the shimmering city of lights I had expected. I hoped the city walls were deliberately boring to make the surprise of inside, even better. The guard robot on the city gates didn’t say anything about my shoes or my age or whether I needed a shower and let me in.

Megaton: Such a hole they named it after what made it.

With a name like Megaton I expected it to be mega-cool and tonnes of fun. For whatever reason, Spirit Guide had kept what it was actually like to himself. It was anything but. He said something about ineffable mystery. Ineffable, my gorgeous, well toned butt.

It was named after the unexploded nuclear bomb that sits in a pool of radioactive water at the bottom of the bloody big ditch made by other bombs that landed there first – right in the centre of town. I mean, what kind of Darwin-Award-Winning turkey moves closer to an unexploded atom bomb, thinking it would be a nice place to bring up the kids?

Religious types, apparently. There were people praying to the bomb and the local cult’s church was built an arm’s length away. Spirit Guide said something about this being a nice emphasis on the evolutionary disadvantage of the belief reflex. I just thought it was dumb to stand in a puddle when you could be sitting in a bar.

When I first got into town, I was met by the Sheriff who also claimed to be the Mayor. Suspicious! My last relationship with big fish in a small puddle of radioactive water didn’t go so well. One of us is going to have to watch their step.

The doctor’s a grumpy bastard. I went in to his surgery, ready for him to live up to his hippocampus oath and he charged me through the nose for some second-hand rubbish. And talk about ripe for infection. I needed a tetanus shot after just looking at the operating table.

Half the shops are closed. The residents are dags or ugly or both. I don’t see any girls my age and everything’s either really uphill, or really downhill. What’s the point of putting on a nice dress if all you’re going to do is clamber around in the mud in unflattering ways? This place sucks worse than school and that sucked hard.

Spirit Guide told me I had to go to the local bar to pick up information on Dad. While I was milling around trying to attract the right sort of attention, a well dressed guy who said he was a property developer started talking to me. I liked him immediately. He had class. Spirit Guide said I was the worst judge of character, ever, but I haven’t seen him winning any popularity contests lately so he can shut the hell up about who I hang out with.

The property developer had a hat and nice glasses and a really nice suit. You could tell he was making his way in the wasteland. He did talk a bit, though. He was yammering on about all sorts of stuff I didn’t care about but once we got to the crunch, he wanted me to use a device he gave me to do something “de” with. Either defuse or detonate the atom bomb… I’m not sure which. I had some other stuff to do first. I told him I’d think about it.

Turned out that the guy who owned the bar was the guy I had to talk to about Dad. He was even more of a bastard than the town Doctor. I wasn’t able to convince him to just tell me, he wanted 100 caps for the info. I didn’t have a hundred and told him so. He got all, “Well come back when you do.”

So I went off to trade some gear to make the 100 caps and it’s not that easy in a town where all the damn shops are closed, but I managed with a mixture of trade and... never mind.

So I went back to the bar-owning-bastard with the cash and he said the price was now 300 caps because I was obviously willing to go a long way for the information.

As it turned out, he was right. I was willing to go quite a long way. After I’d gone through his clothes for loose change, I went through his computer and found what I needed. Then I went through the clothes of everybody else in the bar, for stuff I might need ‘just in case’. Liam Neeson always said, “Be prepared.”

The nice property developer had already left by the time the trouble started which was another sign to me of his good judgement, but I had paid attention when he told me where to meet him later. It sounded nice. He said I could meet him at Tenpenny Towers. I liked the sound of that. It’d have to be better than that dump of a town.

I realised I might’ve burnt my bridges in Megaton a bit and all I can say about that is, their loss, not mine. After taking drugs that made me smarter (don’t they all?) I attached the thing that the property dude had given me to the bomb and left the stinkin’ pile of crap in my dust.

Tenpenny Towers, here I come. I hope you have a nice lobby bar and restaurant. And a shower. Holy crap I need a shower.

Ovewriting data.

Jules.

Fallout (Pt 5) - You Might Find Yourself, Living In A Shotgun Shack

Dear Diary,

I was looking forward to dropping in on Spirit Guide’s lady friend.

You see, Mum died when I was born (I think) and I haven’t had much girl company since. It would have been nice to have a big sister to ask the stuff I can’t ask Dad. It’s always hard with him. Not just because he’s Liam Neeson pretending to be my Dad, but also because he’s a little bit of a dork and a lot absent. He’s a Deadspace Dad.

My new gal pal’s house looked fantastic compared to the other places in the street. It had walls and a roof. People in the wastelands don’t seem to have much houseproudness. Would it kill them to paint? It’d make a huge difference to the mood and I bet the mood isn’t helped by their property values.

But Spirit Guide doesn’t make it easy to meet people. What is his problem with knocking? I went up to the lady’s house, all ready to say,

“Hi, I’m Jules, you don’t know me but my Dad probably came through here and I was wondering if we couldn’t hang out a bit and I could pick your brains. I’ve got cigarettes, some strange meat that I found… don’t worry, booze, lots of ammo, cigarettes, ammo and some cigarettes.”

SG, on the other hand, likes to get doors open and enter quickly - quite often making me get down behind something as I go. It’s so unfair. He’s got shyness issues but I end up looking like the weirdo.

And, you know, because of that, I can sort of see why she got all huffy. One minute she’s seeing her last client out of the side door, giving herself an injection and having a cuppa in the kitchen; the next, there’s a grubby, heavily armed, hella-spunk-bubble (me) in her living room, going through her stuff.

She had a teensy bit of a temper on her. No excuse for such bad manners in the wasteland. I did end up picking her brains, mostly out of my clothes.

So I was off for another lonely walk. Pip-Boy’s compass let me know what direction to go and by my current standards, the walk was uneventful. I ransacked a few places and killed all of everything that I saw, but otherwise, OK.

I feel kind of bad about killing the molerats. I mean, they are as ugly as a hat full of arseholes, but there’s something a bit ‘family dog’ about them. ‘Specially the way they stand up at urinals. (What? You never seen that? Times have changed.)

What there is nothing family dog about - is the dogs. Man. The targeting system I picked up back in the vault allows for a bit of slow motion as you go into combat mode. It’s called VATS or something. All I know is, you get to see how much mange, ringworm, roundworm, flatworm, hookworm, heartworm, footworm, flukeworm and bald patches, these dogs have. Paint and flea powder. That’s what the wasteland needs. Oh, and fly-spray. The bloatflies are ridiculous.

Diary, I can see Megaton on the horizon and I am so excited. A lonely gal is going to get a shower, a nice hotel, do some shopping, hang out and who knows, maybe even meet a nice guy.

Overwriting data

Jules.

Fallout (Pt 4) - Off To The Principal’s Office I Go

Dear Diary,

I had a real spring in my step when I set off this morning. Spirit Guide (SG) wanted me to go down to the school, near Vault 101. Apparently he has unfinished business there. I assume it’s something to do with school bullying. I understand it’s really damaging when you’re growing up. Can’t say I ever suffered from it, but from the bits of SG’s mind I see, I’d say he was a ripe candidate. Freak!

I wanted to find Dad as fast as I could and that meant I had to go to a nearby town called Megaton. Megaton - that sounds good. With a name like that, I bet it has lots of cool shops and restaurants and bars and I could meet gals of my own age and we could hang out and I could get my nails done. I really need a make-over. I feel gross with all the dried blood in my hair. Megaton sounds like a blast.

But, SG made me go to school after taking a long walk. He was very keen for me to limber up before school. More on that later, skater.

So, after taking the craziest, longest way ever, I eventually got back to the right neighbourhood. Even though the school really could have done with a bit of paint and most of the roof put back on, I could see that maybe kids would’ve had a nice time there. I was home schooled (well, duh) and it never felt special but as I walked down that road, I could see playground equipment and I imagined what it would be like to be swinging my backpack and stealing the other kid’s food.

Like every other kid who’s looked forward to going to school, the reality is a disappointment. I opened the front door and the first thing I saw was a cage, rubbish on the floor and the worst, most depressing, paint job. Oh, and a dead body hanging from some chain-hooks. The place really needed a good airing out.

And then there was the staff. I've read how kids used to play hooky or go truant or whatever it was. SG was thinking “wagging” but that sounds rude. Whatever you call it, it’s no wonder kids before the war weren’t keen on school.

I was looking through the busted lockers in the hall, wondering which one would be mine, when I heard some bone-head yell “Looks like we got a bleeder!” and he came running around the corner, waving something nasty and acting really unfriendly.

Diary, I should tell you about my long walk before school.

SG got me to go all the way up the west side of the map, across the north and diagonally back to the school. In that time, I gained a little cred, quite a few firearms and loads of ammo.

And big knives. I also found explosives and armour. Food and drugs and ciggies and money. It amazes me how I’m able to fit it all in my pockets and still change clothes at a moment’s notice.

Anyway, it’s safe to say I collected a fair bit of stuff while I was out there. Not one friend, though. In fact, the thing I collected most of was a crap reputation. Nice one, Stupid Guide.

The wildlife seems to be permanently pissed off with me as well. Cockroaches, I can understand the instant dislike, but SG is pathological about anything that can’t smoke and ride rollerskates. Anything that snuffles up to me to say hello ends up toast and it’s no wonder the word’s got around that I’m not one for pet shops.

In fact, SG was gloating about all of that. Apparently, I have limbered (or levelled) up five times and some frustrated teacher in a busted-arse school wasn’t going to ruffle my uniform.

So, Mr. Bone-Head, Principal of Angry Elementary School, started up like he was going to dish out some corporal punishment. For what, I don't know. I couldn’t have been late for classes. I’m not even enrolled.

I wasn’t sure if all the teachers were going to be on his side but once his head rolled across the floor of the staff-room, they pretty much assumed I wasn’t there for play-lunch.

While I was going through their clothes for loose change, I kept an eye out for any kids that might have been hiding, but the place was deserted... now. School’s out for summer.

That didn’t go so well. At least SG is happy to let me go to Megaton now. Oh goody – shopping. On the way, he just wants me to drop in on a lady who lives near the school. Sounds nice.

So, Dear Diary, I’m off to find Daddy and scold him for missing my graduation. Stupid absent fathers. No wonder some of my social skills are a bit blunt and rusty.

Overwriting data,

Jules*

*Well done! I guess SG stands for Super Genius, now you’ve sorted out how to do capital letters.

Fallout (Pt 3) – I’m Coming Out So You Better Get This Party Started

Dear Diary,

OMG it’s great to get outside. I didn’t realise this, but my complexion is hell. I’ve got vault pallor. Post-apocalyptic wastiness pastiness. Mind you, I don’t know how much of a tan I’m going to get wearing all this bulky armour I got off the guys inside and it’s going to make it twice as hard to… yeah…look... about the armour and stuff.

That whole “leaving home” thing didn’t go the way I wanted it to. At all. I went to help more folks and maybe look for stuff to “collect” and all of a sudden there was a posse after me and people were yelling and acting all panicked again. (The giant cockroaches were not helping either.) Why do so many adults not know the difference between a warning shot that goes close, and someone actually trying to do them harm? Ok, some warning shots sort of went ‘in’ rather than ‘close’ but a girl’s got to try.

Vault 101 was run by a guy called Alphonse Almodovar. He was sort of the Mayor and Head Doctor and all round creepy dude all in one. Spirit Guide wasn’t impressed either. He kept mumbling about how much he hates Almodovar’s movies and why did he always have to go out with girls who would make him go and see the stupid Almodovar movies when it was really Spirit Guide on the verge of a nervous breakdown, not those noisy women. Honestly, Spirit Guide went on and on and I guess it got the better of him because the next thing I knew, I was standing over the Overseer with a smoking pistol and a dripping knife and the klaxons were even worse than before.

I realised I was in trouble for more than just the accidental homicide of Butch and his Mum... and those three guards. And that annoying scientist dude. And his friend. And that other guy running down the hall near them. Which I felt I could explain.

As I was wondering what to do and going through the Overseer’s clothes for loose change, Spirit Guide realised that it was Pedro Almodavar, not Alphonse, who directed all those movies. Spirit Guide then wondered if he might not have overreacted a little and negatively influenced my fate. Good one, Stupid Guide! It’s me living this, not you. What the hell kind of Supreme-Being-Puppeteer are you? The way you pick me up and put me down is really bad. Dude, it’s not a game!

Spirit Guide was justifying things after the fact by saying stuff like, 'even if he wasn’t an overrated Spanish film director, Alphonse still had the Orwellian stink of a Big Brother about him and it was probably better this way for the oppressed and huddled masses'. What. Ever.

Anyway, I’ve shut the door on Vault 101 and I hope that there aren’t any visitors expected any time soon. They’re going to find one hell of a mess in there and it’s not going to be a three minute job with some Spray & Wipe. (Spirit Guide’s humming some annoying old tune, now).

Diary, I don’t know if my excuses are going to stand up that well if any other authorities try and look into what happened in there. I mean, I had my reasons, but holy-crap it was so easy for everything to spin out of control. It was really nutso. I bet it’s that compressed environment that’s to blame.

But, I have this great feeling it’s going to be much better out here. Even though I lost my Birthday BB Gun in all the excitement, I can already feel a more positive vibe and the sky is such a pretty orange/yellow/brown/purple.

So, Diary, I’m just a girl who’s off to find her dad. Pip Boy 3000 tells me I’ve got three pistols, a couple of security batons, spare armour and half a carton of cigarettes. It’s light and I’m wearing a helmet. Hit it.

Overwriting data,

jules*

*Come on SG, work out how to correct my name, already.

Fallout (Pt 2) - Charity Begins At Home

Dear Diary,

The Spirit Guide (or puppeteer) was super keen to get me out of the house. For a supreme being, he can be quite impatient.

The house, or Vault 101, was where I used to live and for the most part, I liked it. A decorator would’ve needed a nuclear weapon to brighten the place up, but the indiscriminate use of atomic bombs was what put us here to start with, so, mustn’t grumble. The style is what Spirit Guide thinks of as 1950’s Neo-Brutalist. I think 'Dark Brown with Dark Grey Highlights'.

I had a birthday party recently and it was excellent. I got a Pip Boy 3000 which is like a giant digital watch that tells me all about myself and keeps track of everything. I look at it all the time. I also got a gun. This feels transformative and I can say that a couple of giant cockroaches down in the basement sure found it transformative, too. Transformed them into so much perforated meat, is what it did. Liam (Daddy) says I’m a natch.

Butch, the local micro-penis who shouldn’t have even been at my party, wanted one of my cakes and carried on like a right molerat until he got one. Luckily, I’ve got a bit of a salt-tooth and don't care for cakes. Chow down, Butchy-Boy. You’ll get yours, you archetypal bully.

Just as I was about to wrap the day up I was blasted, without any warning, forward in time again and I lost six years. They are taking a lot of time from me, whoever they are but on the upside I have filled out nicely without all the embarrassing conversations and training bras.

I found myself sitting in a lab and Liam Neeson  (or “Dad” as he’s still insisting I think of him. God he’s a dork) was talking to me again. I kind of vagued-off there for a bit. My eye was caught by an enticing little doll on his desk and my palms itched. When I got up to go to my exams, I pinched it and having it seemed to do me some good. I got a nice warm feeling from my Spirit Guide. He likes Bobbleheads too, apparently.

On my way to the Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test (hilariously known as becoming a Goat Whisperer. God my teacher’s a dork) there was a bit of a ‘to do’ in the hallway featuring Butch and his two bumboys. They were giving this girl, Amata, a hard time. Amata’s always trying to be my friend and I don’t hate her, she’s just a bit of a pain. She might be a pain but Butch needs a kick in the cajones and I got a couple of really nice shots in before everybody started running around acting all scared. He’ll get his – Spirit Guide feels certain of this. It’s only a small vault.

Anyway, the test went alright and as my teacher was giving me vocational guidance, I was concentrating on what stuff I could steal from the room. This is becoming a bit of a habit with me. Puberty’s tough enough without being driven to klepto by Spirit Guide. I’m starting to feel like maybe he isn’t such a good and kind being after all, rather an avaricious and immoral one.

I gave Spirit Guide the benefit of the doubt at the time, but not long after we had a bit of an incident that makes me wonder.

I was looking around the vault for more five-finger discounts and Amata was talking at me about this and that, and how Liam Neeson had taken off and the door wasn’t sealed and here, hold this gun for me (God, what  a dork! Who gives away a gun worth that many caps?) and all of a sudden we had a bit of an insect problem. Giant roaches running through the place and all sorts of alarms going off. I felt a little scared, but this is where Spirit Guide really took over and I went a little medieval. I’m going to put it down to how Spirit Guide feels about cockroaches.

So, as I was saying, there were all these roaches running through the place and they sort of nibbled on people a bit and Butch ran up to me and was begging and crying like a little girl to help save his mother. I did the only reasonable thing under the circumstances and quickly put a few shots through his ugly face and went through his clothes for loose change.

Ok, that didn't go so well, but he'd always been too hard to forgive, let alone like.

To make amends, I went to help Butch’s mother. She had a roach in her hair. Spirit Guide hates that. He had it happen to him in the shower once… or was that Goldie Hawn? Anyway, it made him a little crazy, and there was another one slowly crawling towards her. Under the circumstances, I did the only merciful thing and euthanized everything in the room. Then I had a quick look around for things to steal. Dear Diary, you might find that a little inappropriate, but Spirit Guide says I’ll thank him later. Besides, Butch’s mum won’t be needing any of it.

I decided to go and look through the rest of the Vault and see who else needed my help and whatever ‘bargains’ there were that weren’t nailed down.

I think I will overwrite data now.

Yours,

jules (Stupid Guide still hasn't worked out how to capitalise my name)

Fallout (Pt 1) From Fallout

In a disturbing development, I have become addicted to a video game. It has infected my mind. I roam its shattered landscape in my dreams. It’s eaten into blog writing time and that’s no good for the roiling creative drive in my loins (eyeeew).

It’s not even a new game. I picked it up for 30 bucks on a whim. It was sitting next to the thing I was sent to the shop to buy, and the cover design caught my eye. If I can lose my personal will to a three-year-old video game, what’s going to happen when total-immersion holographic environments are available? You’ll find my emptied, inanimate husk with a sensory helmet and a grin on its head, by following the smell.

Damn you Fallout 3 and your depressing, yet fascinating world. Damn you to the fiery, apocalyptic hell of which you so ably illustrate the aftermath.

I have to pull out. I have to make the break. In stages, though baby, in stages. I can’t go cold turkey. I’ve decided to try and kill two mutant birds with one irradiated stone in an effort to get back into the real world. I need to write a blob. Yeah, writing and an addiction in one go – how could you not be entertained?

The Diary of AGA’s Character, in Fallout 3.

Dear Diary,

It’s been an odd sort of day. I came to consciousness with a bright light in my face and Liam Neeson leaning over me in a paternal manner. He bade me welcome to the world, made me pick my name and my gender, fussed around with a lady next to me and then quickly left the room. I gather the lady was my mother, but I’m not certain. She didn’t last long and I didn’t get a chance to question her closely on intent, relations, worth-in-caps or upcoming moves. The next thing I knew, I was cruelly thrust forward in time and found myself inside a drab room with the bars of a playpen blocking my way to a heavy door. If this is childhood, it’s brief, it’s entirely grey and someone needs to see to the amount of fluffiness. There’s way too little fluffiness.

Liam came in to the boring room again and started banging on about things I needed to do and made some broad hints about character defining stuff – he left the room pretty quickly again. I’m confused as to how I knew it was Liam Neeson. It’s sort of like I have the spirit of a bloke from 21^st Century Australia talking in my mind, like a poorly qualified puppeteer. I seem to know inconsequential things about a place and a time that is very far away. I would get to the bottom of this, but first I had to see what Liam was on about.

Dealing with the bars of the playpen was easy and the puppeteer, or my Spirit Guide as I will think of him, advised me to trundle around the room looking for everything I could to pick up and steal. Not finding anything immediately useful, I sat down to read the only book that was at toddler height i.e. on the floor.

At this point, you might be wondering. Reading? Toddler? I’ll put this down to Spirit Guide shenanigans again. Anyway, I read a nice story where I got to move numbers around on the book, which apparently affected the basic attributes of my physical and mental make-up. This is tough work for a little girl, but Spirit Guide (SG) had some pretty strong ideas on what makes up a useful individual in this world.

I had the feeling he’d had a previous vessel to commune with and had found them wanting. I got the real feeling that he had a plan for me. He said I was going to be S.P.E.C.I.A.L. The Spirit Guide (SG) also gets a bit funny about that and starts to laugh and talk about “Special Olympics”.

I’m not sure what any of this is about, but as far as I can tell, I have:    

Strength: of an ox

Perception: of ox poo

Endurance: of an ox

Charisma: of the worm that lives in the ox poo

Intelligence: of the Dean of Smartology at Oxford

Agility: of an ox

Luck: of an ox who, when being transported to the abattoir, is accidentally loaded on to the wrong truck and ends up hosting Top Gear

Like I said, Dear Diary, it’s been a funny old day, let’s [Do You Want To Overwrite This Data] and see what the next one brings. I think that Spirit Guide (SG) might be good and kind... or some kind of wanker.

Yours,

jules (SG cannot do capitals on a console.)