9:01 AM: I wake up in a doctors house. My vision is blurry, I can see the doctor sitting in front of me. He claims to have patched my brains up.

He seems like a nice guy. Apparently I went and got my brains blew out by a bunch of angry people. Now I have no memory of anything ever. Doc tells me a robot dragged me out of the grave they made me dig for myself. Huh, robots exist! Cool.

“Do you remember who did this to you?” Doc interrupts my chain of thought.

“I have no idea.”

Suddenly, FLASH; everything goes super white, then a memory flashes. Like old film that someone dropped gravy on, the image is grainy. I see the face of my almost killer. It is unsurprisingly smug. He is also wearing a gay suit. Only an image would do him justice.

Look at the chumps he hangs out with. Not cool. From this memory, I come to understand that in my life that was BS (before shooting) I was a courier (see, BS). Apparently, this guy wasn’t happy that I was delivering some particular chip, so he ambushed me in the middle of the night. Long story short, I am here. And not dead. Well, that’s nice.

Doc said he has some more patching up to do before he can let me go. Time for some sleep, I guess.

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3:31 PM: Doc’s done with me. He gives me some supplies to help me find my way. I have thought about it, and hired gun seems the best profession I can pick up now. Couriering is just not up my street, what with being shot on the job and all. Killing people on the other hand, I think, will turn out nicely.

It’s really easy to get a gun in the wasteland. Doc just gave me one. I wonder why he would have a crate full of extra nine millimeters, but apparently anything goes in the wasteland.

I come out of Doc’s house. I am in the town Goodsprings.



Looks a bit dull, but I guess brain-blown-outs can’t be choosers. I make my way up to the Prospector Saloon.

As soon as I go inside, this woman hands me a rifle and asks me to come target practice with her, if you know what I mean.

I am impressed, news spreads fast in this small town. She must have already heard the tales of my manliness and bravado. I go outside and shoot at bottles with this woman.

After perfectly shooting every bottle, I start flexing my muscles when I notice that she was no longer standing next to me. Her dog tells me she invited to me to kill geckos with her. I didn’t hear it! She didn’t say it. So I run off after her and the dog.



Nice dog she has, Cheyyene. Cute giant thing.

So we come near a spring and spot some Geckos. Apparently they are mutated little lizards, or atleast look like them. When it came down to actual gecko killing, the woman chickened out a bit. She made me kill them. She just stood near a rock, smoking. What a chicken.

I found out Geckos are pretty easy to kill.



Killing geckos is boring. I killed like five of them.

“Lets go kill some geckos!” said so no one ever.

Apparently, since no one important wants to do, it generally comes down to the women to keep towns clean of geckos. I just got tricked into this stupid mission. I also saved a woman from some geckos. She thanked me and then immediately forgot who I was. Maybe it has something to do with the way I have my rifle up everybody’s nose. I still have figured out how to holster that thing.



Ignore me all you want. Like I care.

After that little adventure I hang around the town for a bit. Met the bartender, Trudy, of the Prospectors Saloon. She was having a bit of a scuffle with some guy, but that’s a story for tomorrow.

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9:01 PM: After a long day of boring myself, I return to the shack the town people have given me to lay in. It’s a shit place, but still better than living in the street.

That’s enough for today, folks. See you tomorrow.

Here’s a cool picture. Goodnight.

Yes, that’s a scary dude destroying someone with his sniper rifle. So cool.