art by Favmir

I'm not worthy.

Of course I'm not. But then, it's not about me... it's about the story. All I can do is to be grateful that I managed to create something that has meant so much to so many. Not to mention utterly surprised. As an author (and this is true, I believe, for most artists), I am naturally predisposed to become focused on the flaws and shortcomings of my work. So it never ceases to amaze me, the love for this book and the absolutely wonderful things that people are doing with Fallout: Equestria. So many people have found inspiration in the story. Many have created their own stories. (And while I've read very few, based on my sampling, I'll say it again: I believe some of them are far better at things I tried to do than I was.) Others have created music. Art, music, readings, animations... the list goes on. Although this particular effort, along with the radio play, has me particularly in awe:

Most of you are already aware of the Fallout: Equestria game being designed by Overmare Studios. The sheer, massive scope of such a project is staggering. Words cannot express how honored I am that people would spend this kind of time and effort to bring Fallout: Equestria to life in such a difficult and wonderful way so that others can enjoy the world in an entirely new fashion. I'm thankful... and frankly amazed at how far it's gotten. They still need more help, so if you have the skill and time to spare, please consider it. And if you aren't familiar with the project, check it out!

I'm beyond humbled to hear there are still so many people that want real-life hardcover editions of Fallout: Equestria. For those who do, Absolutely Everything, the people who had copies printed and bound before, are doing another run. When I learned of this earlier this week, I heard that their prices were based on a projection of 800 copies ordered. I reached out to one of the people involved and asked how close they are to that goal -- the response is that they have already exceeded it! Sign-up only lasts through the weekend, so if you want one and haven't yet, don't delay. (And my condolences to all of those who want a copy but either cannot afford one or who give it a miss because of the issues that prevent them from accepting Paypal.) For more information, see the video below:

By request, here are the next few posts of my contribution to the Fallout: New York City writing project. If readers want me to continue, I have either one really big part after this, or two smaller ones. You can find the beginning of this tale in one of my previous blog entries here.

Again, remember: this is pure Fallout writing, and thus the story lacks the themes, virtues and ultimately positive perspective on the nature of people that makes Fallout: Equestria something uniquely pony.

Coney Island Hospital, Coney Island. Day Three. 12:12 pm The bolt of green energy painted the hallway with ripples of vibrant green light as it shot over Kitrina's head. She ducked further down behind the overturned medical bed, frantically reloading. "There's nothing better than the smell of fresh plasma in the morning." Another bolt flew past, hitting an IV stand a few feet away, melting it into a puddle of glowing, superheated goo. Kitrina finished reloading and shifted her position, waiting for the Mister Gutsy to fire again before poking her head up to take another shot. Fortunately, the sheer amount of debris in the cross-hallway prevented the military robot from maneuvering any closer. So long as it didn't liquefy all the obstructions before she could take it down. Surprise number one had been that the hospital had not, in fact, been thoroughly looted. A veritable wealth of medical supplies were still stored within, waiting for anyone to try to brave it. And many had. The grounds around the hospital had been scattered with corpses and skeletons, many of great age. All of them well-scavenged. The surrounding grounds also told her a clear story of the hospital: Coney Island had not taken a direct hit during the war; shortly after, the military rolled in and took over the hospital, funneling in medical resources and wounded soldiers. There were military trucks parked everywhere. Even a tank sat out front, heavily stripped. (Kitrina was not surprised that the light machine gun was missing from the top, but was amused that people had even torn apart the tank treads and made off with them.) Not having supplies to spare, they barred it from civilians. The remains of protest signs ("YOU'RE KILLING US!", "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE OUR PROTECTORS!", "GO TO HELL, YOU BASTARDS!") lay amongst the skeletons that had piled up around the barricades. The army had trucked in security -- turrets and sentry bots -- to guard the perimeter. It had taken decades of dead would-be scavengers for time and firepower to destroy them. Inside, Mister Gutsy's had been deployed, able to traverse stairs that Sentry Bots could not. The next few decades of scavengers had fallen largely to them. The ceiling turrents all appeared to have been destroyed long before Kit was born, but there were still a few surviving Gutsy's prowling the building, looking for civilian intruders. Surprise number two was the Sawbones they discovered in one of the emergency rooms. The medical gutsy seemed functional, and her twin brother was confident that it was more than qualified to help him... providing he could hack his way into the robot and get it to accept him as a patient. That was what Alex was attempting when she last saw him. With any luck, by now he was on the Sawbones' table. Another bolt of plasma shot by. Kitrina jumped up from her hiding spot, leveling her rifle, and fired. Sparks flew off the rounded head of the Gutsy and it fired again. Green death flew towards Kitrina, impacting the overturned bed she had been using for cover. She yelped, jumping to the side as the bed bubbled and melted. She flattened her back against the wall, taking partial cover behind a drinking fountain. Kitrina hissed, feeling exposed. The fountain didn't provide much shelter. Her armor was designed to be adequate protection against a plasma weapon, but that didn't do her any good if she got hit in the head or neck. She wouldn't run. The whole point of keeping the Gusty engaged here is so it wouldn't wander any further down the hallway it was in. If it did, it would find Alex. Another flare of green, and the large chunk of fallen ceiling that had been the biggest impediment to the Gutsy's movement glowed in the middle, sagged, and crumpled in two. "That's how we do things in the US Army! Hooah!" The Mister Gutsy began hovering deeper into the cross-hallway towards Kit. The remaining ceiling groaned ominously overhead, small bits of debris raining down. Kitrina knew she couldn't shoot the damn robot full of enough lead to stop it before it reached her, so she dropped her rifle. She needed a miracle, and she hoped she knew how to get one. She stood up, exposing herself to the robot, as she reached into her side satchel with one hand and set off a reflex trigger with the other. The world slid into stillness as she slipped into VATS. The front offices and lobby of the hospital had held a great many ammo boxes. Most were empty, but there had been a handful that had still been tightly locked until Alex had worked his magic on them. Not only was she not hurting for ammo any day soon, but Alex had found her a few hail mary's. Kitrina pulled out the grenade, pulling the pin and lobbing it towards the Gutsy in a single, fluid movement. The grenade hit the floor beneath the Gutsy. Bounced. Hit the floor again a couple feet behind it. Bounced again... BOOM Kitrina was knocked back, the serenity of VATS shattered by the explosion, the military robot ironically shielding her from death by shrapnel. The girl wasn't sure if the grenade killed the Gutsy or just knocked it down. It didn't matter, as with a sound of thunder, the ceiling above came crashing down on top of it. Furniture and skeletons rained down after it. A bright red ball bounced down and rolled past Kitrina's feet. She watched it go, feeling oddly disconnected from the world, her ears ringing, vaguely aware she was bleeding in several places. Then turned back, looking up into what had once been a pediatrics ward. Kitrina cocked her head, raising an eyebrow, as she spied the larger skeleton of a dead scavenger propped in a corner amongst many smaller ones, its bony arms still clutching the light machine gun it taken from the tank.

Coney Island Hospital, Coney Island. Day Three. 12:35 pm It was amazing, Alexander thought, how you could take a thing like breathing for granted. Hacking the Sawbones had taken a few tries, requiring him to jump out of the system twice to avoid lockout. But in the end, and with a little help, he had managed it, allowing him to set the old medical gutsy to accept his instructions. The procedure had been blessedly minor, since there was no way he was going to put himself out in a hospital still patrolled by machines of death. He'd been on a gurney with a surgical tube down his throat when he heard the firefight. His first instinct was to tear himself away and run to help her, but he knew that would be foolish (if not suicidal), and that his twin was fighting to keep him safe while he got the treatment he needed. It would be poor gratitude to abandon it and throw himself into harm's way. Breathing would have been enough of a reward, but hacking the Sawbones gave him another prize: the password into the hospital administrator's office. Both the lock and the terminal had proven well beyond his abilities earlier, so he had been eager to get inside, certain whatever lay beyond the door was unlooted and unmolested by all but time. He had been proven partially right in that. The room beyond had indeed been spared scavenging even by the U.S. Army. But it had suffered not only the ravages of time, but of weather. The administrator's office had once boasted a huge window, offering a panoramic view of Coney Island. The only glass that remained was in jagged shards surrounding a gaping hole to the elements. Rain gusted in, soaking the entire room. Amazingly, the terminal on the administrator's desk remained alive. The housing looked similar to that of the old 2000-series Pip-Boys, a soild step above most surviving terminals of the Wasteland. Alex now sat in the remains of the hospital administrator's chair, hacking the terminal. Across from him, a wall safe, ringed by a picture frame whose picture had long disintegrated away, gaped open and bare. Alex had already picked the lock, and claimed it's bounty. One of the first lessons his father had taught him after leaving their former home was to always pick first, hack second. Often enough, a terminal would prove to no longer serve any purpose but safeguarding a lock. Never waste the chance to hone your skills in both. Alex reopened the old issue of Programmer's Digest, skimming helpful passages once again. He expected the terminal here to offer little else than access to the safe. Still, it was proving a beast to hack, pushing his skills to the limit. Far more difficult than the safe itself had proven to be. Tips from the magazine had given him the needed edge to hack the Sawbones, but was yielding no further insight now. Alexander took a moment to ponder the fate of the magazine. He could take it with them, but he had probably gleaned everything he was going to from it. Better to leave it back with the Sawbones, on the off chance that it might help someone else in need. He could, of course, keep it for Kit... but sadly he figured the chance of his sister ever being in a position where her lack of computer skills could be made up for by a magazine were slightly less than that of an invasion by aliens. On his next try, Alex got in... ...and was immediately distracted by Kitrina's appearance in the doorway, covered in dust and plaster, face bleeding from a dozen small cuts, and lugging a rather formidable-looking weapon. It took a few minutes to get the story. Finally, Alex had to laugh. "What, did you think the explosion would politely stop after it reached the Gutsy?" His sister shot him a dirty look while Alex produced a stimpack. "You know, these work best when applied near the wounded area. So I suppose I should stab you in the face..." With an exasperated huff and a "Give me that!", Kitrina snatched the stimpack from his hand. Alex let her self-administer while he glanced back at the terminal... "Whoa!" He could hear his sister perk up next to him, "What?" Alex, however, did not answer her immediately. He was looking over the long stream of entries on the terminal. The first batch dated before the war... and a little after. Oh wow... Alex's eyes scanned the content of one message after another until Kitrina prompted more forceably, "What!?" Looking up, Alex breathed, "There's a Vault about four miles from here." "And?" Alex gestured at the terminal. "Apparently, the hospital administrator was assigned to be the first Overseer of the Vault. He had some sort of connection set up with his office terminal here." After a pause, he added, "I don't think he was supposed to." Kitrina's lips tightened. "And?" "A lot of the people in the Vault were apparently hospital staff. When the bombs started falling, they evacuated the hospital into the Vault and locked it up. That's why there was nobody to stop the Army from steamrolling over the place." Alex glanced back at the last entry he had read. "The military kept demanding they open up, but they never did. After the general here started getting threatening, the Overseer just stopped responding." Kitrina was giving him an odd look. Finally, Alex said, "Look, four miles isn't too far. Normally, a human can walk about 3.1 miles per hour. I'm recovering and you're carrying... that." He waved at the light machine gun. "But even so, if we trim down the rest of our weight, we could probably make at least half that. We should be able to make it before dark." Kitrina looked dubious. "I dunno. That's a lot of ground to cover, especially after what you just went through. And what do we do when we get there? You know what the Vaults tended to be like. It's a deathtrap, if we can get in at all." Alex shook his head. "Look, there are more entries. I want to read them all, but from the sounds of it, this place was okay. No bizarre experiments or catastrophic failures..." Kitrina was swift to point out the flaw in that logic. There were still several dozen entries to go; and nothing promised, even if something had gone wrong, that this terminal would let them know. "And even if this is one of those rare Vaults that wasn't built out of malice by Evil Incorporated, that doesn't mean they haven't long moved out and God-knows-what hasn't moved in. And you want us to hurry to get there in time to be stuck there at night?" Alex hated when she had a point. Stubbornly, he turned back to the computer. And read. And read. And read. And his face slowly grew pale. His heart sank slowly as he read the story of Vault 114. Finally, turning towards his sister once again, he announced, "Well, the good new is: the Vault has never been opened. It should be in relatively good condition... in the very least, the water should be pure. And, to top it off, I have the password to get in." Alexander watched his sister's eyes narrow. He didn't know if she was reading something in his face, or just had the good sense to disbelieve in the sort of luck that had the universe handing them a Vault on a silver platter. After taking a few breaths, she closed her eyes and asked, "And what about the people inside?" Alexander answered her.

Ocean Pkwy, Brooklyn. Day Three. 3:20pm "Is that what I think it is?" Kitrina could hear the awe in her own voice. The rain had shifted to snow. Low cloud cover spilled a steady curtain of snowflakes which twirled lazily in the wind before touching down on a world wet from rain and vanishing into the puddles and dampness. While the snow was not "sticking", as her mother had called it, the weather obscured the road ahead and behind as effectively as fog. Up ahead, between the darkened forms of pre-war vehicles, something huge and living lumbered across Ocean's multiple lanes. Ahead of them, she heard a sudden report of glass exploding and metal twisting. Her Pip-Boy’s IFF was reading one big red mark upwards in that direction. Out of the corner of her eye, Kitrina saw her brother crouch down behind the wreckage of an ancient Cordova, shivering as he shifted the duffle-bag he was carrying from one shoulder to the other. Inside he carried the medical supplies which didn't fit in his backpack, as well as "something special" he had retrieved from a locked military footlocker for their trip into Vault 114. The thought of which made Kitrina scowl. This was a bad idea. She understood why her brother wanted to go. But her instincts were insisting that this would not end well. Kit had always been much more comfortable when it was her talking him into taking foolish risks. Next to her, Alex peered over the roof of the Cordova. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was a topsy!" Kit nodded grimly. “It is.” She unshouldered her hunting rifle and set it down gently. Unhooked her side satchel and dropped it at her feet. Neither had anything that would help her with this monster. There was a reason that hunters had to invent a whole new sort of firearm to handle this thing’s ancestors, and even named that weapon, the “elephant gun”, after them. Kit hefted up her newly acquired light machine gun. “You know,” Alex whispered reasonably, “We could just go around.” Didn’t even cross Kit’s mind. If Alex was going to drag them to a Vault-Tec hell-hole, then she had a right to her own bout of recklessness. And she was going to down herself a topsy! Damn monsters were rarer than a robot with a conscience. Came from Luna Park, originally. Rumor was, a Chinese soldier snuck a dirty bomb into park, setting it off in the middle of hundreds of vacationing families, scores of overweight Americans stuffing themselves on hot dogs and popcorn, thousands of screaming kids. Alex had voiced doubts about the historical accuracy of the story; Kit didn’t care either way. What was important was that whatever happened there had left the amusement park lethally irradiated for two hundred years… and that it had changed the people who were exposed to it. The Luna Park Amusement Park was ghoul central station on Coney Island, making it a place that both she and her brother had sternly avoided. Luna Park Amusement Park had also boasted amongst its attractions all manner of spinning, twirling and speeding rides, water rides, trains… and even animal attractions, starring their free-range elephants. And when the explosion of extreme radiation changed the people, it changed the elephants too. The topsies weren’t like Yao Guai. These weren’t the descendents of native animals, mutated into monsters. Every topsy was one of the originals. This was a once-in-a-lifetime shot. Kitrina braced the light machine gun, using the hood of a Chryslus to help steady the weapon. She brought the shadow of the mammoth into her sights and pulled the trigger. Kitrina had never fired a weapon like this before. The closest she had come to it was shooting the assault carbine Bobby (Brad’s brother and one of the caravan guards) had carried. The staccato roar of the light machine gun was more than she had expected, made seemingly even louder by the silence of the snowfall. The kick of the weapon was far more brutal than Kit had anticipated. The girl flew backwards, dropping the weapon. Of the line of bullets the machine had spit out, only the first two had found her target. The rest had vanished into the winter air. It was enough to enrage the topsy. Kit scrambled up as she heard thunderous crashes coming towards them. Her head cleared the top of the Chryslus in time to see the topsy, now close enough to make out the dead lights of its glowing eyes, brushing against the side of a bus as it came trampling towards them. The wall of the bus dented inwards as the topsy shouldered it aside. “Shit!” Kitrina grabbed for the light machine gun and ran. She could see Alex, running a few feet ahead of her, dive into the open door of a station wagon and flatten himself against the floormats. Kitrina tossed her weapon into the back of a pickup truck, and vaulted in after it. Another scream of metal and shattering glass drew her attention. She looked up to see the topsy’s massive feet smash down a second time on the roof of the station wagon, crushing it down against the seats inside. Bracing the weapon only against herself this time, Kit opened fire. Bullets ripped through the air, peppering the hide of the topsy, sinking into its flesh. Foul ichor oozed from the holes. The roar of the gun was as loud as before, but Kitrina was sure she had heard as well as felt the snap. Firing the gun had broken her arm. She stared at her arm. She felt pain, but her arm still seemed the right shape. She could still move her fingers. It could be hard to tell with her suit still on, but the break seemed to be a mercifully minor one. A thought flashed through her head – she regretted now dropping her satchel within which was her supply of Med-X. The thought had barely occurred to her when the topsy slammed into the pickup truck, sending it spinning, bouncing over the divider and into one of the opposite lanes. Kit grabbed the side of the pick-up’s bed, holding on tightly as the truck attempted to throw her. The topsy charged, hitting the truck again, crumpling in the front of it and throwing Kitrina hard against the opposite side. The monster reared up, its two front feet looking like uprooted trees as they lifted above Kit’s body. Fortunately, while it was big (huge!), she was agile. Kit pulled the light machine gun against herself and rolled out of the truck, falling to the broken asphalt as the topsy’s massive feet hammered down onto the bed of the truck, crushing it down. She could hear something large in the undercarriage snap. Kit ran again, weaving between the hulks of cars, back towards her hunting rifle and satchel. She could see Alex squirming to get out of the station wagon, apparently unhurt but possibly stuck. Only when she reached the Chryslus, snatching up her few possessions, did she dare look back. The topsy was only now turning back towards her, having apparently taken its rage out further on the pickup truck. The colossal, ghoulish mutation stared across the lanes at her, its eyes a greenish radioactive fire of hatred. She swore it was the same look a glowing one gets just before pulsing. Kitrina backpedaled, trying to put some obstacles between her and the enraged monster. She lifted the light machine gun one more time, trying to brace it against her shoulder, her other possessions dangling from her arms by slings, as she aimed at the topsy. The creature lifted itself up on its hind legs, its grotesque trunk lifting in the air, its ears flapping, as it let out a horrific, trumpeting sound and sprayed the air with a sickly green mist! The Geiger counter built into her Pip-Boy immediately went wild. Kitrina hoped that the exposed underside of the creature was a more vulnerable target. Even as she pulled the trigger, the butt of the weapon slid off her shoulder and against her right breast. The weapon’s fury tore through the air as ungodly pain burst through her, nearly knocking her unconscious! She heard bullets hitting metal, the roar of the topsy, the muzzle of her gun striking the asphalt as her legs went out from under her. From somewhere, she heard the soft foomph of something catching on fire. Her hands still clinched the weapon, but the pain in her chest was blinding and her arm didn’t seem to want to lift it. Still she tried again, aiming as best she could towards the sound of the topsy. Pulling the trigger. The gun kicked brutally, the butt striking her right breast again, knocking the wind from her. The pain tripled, and that was it. She fell back, dropping the weapon entirely, her consciousness fading. Disappointingly, from the sounds, all she had hit was metal and asphalt and dirt. The word “pathetic” floated admonishingly through her mind. …Somewhere, not too far, she could hear the topsy bulldozing vehicles out of its way. Getting closer… …Alex was there. Crouching above her. Grabbing her (ow! ow! ow!) and pulling her… somewhere… …there a soft pop that brought to mind father opening a bottle of wine for mother on New Years… …and another. Lots of wine… And then, just before everything went black, the world went very, very, very bright!