Wanderer's Diary: Week Eleven
Day 71: We've Been Walking.
Yesterday's entry was recorded in the early morning after I left Rivet City. From the Jefferson memorial, I later went to Megaton, where I sold all my remaining surplus equipment and put the two bobbleheads I was carrying on the stand. From there, I moved up to Big Town, where I stayed with Red for the night.
I spoke to Moira as well, who gave me my next task for the Wasteland Survival Guide. It was something to do with robots, and I was required to go to the RobCo building near Tenpenny Tower. I told her however that I was an expert on robotics, so I could write it myself. I'm going to be working on that in whatever free time I get until I next see her.
That was yesterday, anyway. Today, I went from Big Town all the way up to the radio tower in the north where Wernher was broadcasting from. I found him under attack by raiders. Not just any raiders though. These were Pitt raiders. Basically, they're the guys who run the Pitt, which is what post-apocalyptic Pittsburgh is now named. Why they're generally considered raiders rather than slavers, I have no idea.
He explained the deal with the Pitt. The place is ran by some tyrannical despot, everyone there that aren't raiders are slaves, they're all dying of some kind of special form of radiation sickness, the raiders have a cure, but they aren't forking it over, so I have to go down there and restore the natural order by putting these scumbags in their place. Pretty simple stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary for me.
What is new is the method of doing all this. I found a whole bunch of slavers and killed them, and freed their captives. One of them that was already dead, I took a slave outfit off of. Wernher wants me to pretend to be a slave and join them in starting the revolution from inside.
This means that I can't take too much gear with me, because for the most part I'm going to be forcing Charon to carry it all for me. Now, Charon's pretty damn strong, but I can't expect him to carry my power armour, the Chinese stealth suit, all my weapons, all my ammunition, and my medical supplies too. That simply isn't fair.
The solution was of course my alien spaceship. I dropped by there again and left a backpack full of my stuff with Elliot, which included the power armour. While there, I also instructed him to look around the ship to see if he could find a G.E.C.K. for dad's project.
Charon will carry the Chinese stealth armour, Blackhawk, Stabhappy, the deathclaw gauntlet, and the sniper rifle with him in his own backpack, along with a few stimpaks and one or two syringes of Med-X. Those will be my emergency supplies. I meanwhile will be going with nothing but a concealed blade and the slave's rags.
I'll be largely on my own in there, and I'll have to scrounge around to find some better armour or weapons to get me by. But when it comes time for the big fight, if I haven't found any decent replacement equipment to get me by, I'll just reunite with Charon. I shouldn't need anything more than the emergency supplies to overthrow this city. If I took on the Outcasts with nothing but a vault jumpsuit and weapons I stole from raiders, then this is equally plausible.
Right now, we're travelling to the Pitt by rail through some old tunnel. It's going to take a long time to get there, and it's getting late. I may just take a little sleep here.
Tomorrow will be fun.
Day 72: Son of a Bitch.
I should learn to shut the fuck up sometimes.
It started well, with killing a bunch of Pitt raiders, surviving the land mines covering the bridge into the Pitt, and convincing the raiders that I was an escaped slave meekly returning. Then I got into the place, and realised that they expected me to do actual work.
I didn't have long before I was expected to go into a place they call the Steelyard to gather steel ingots. I spent all my time before that asking around and getting to know the people I'd be working with.
Among the slaves, there's Adan, who's optimistic for a slave but otherwise un-notable; Midea, the other leader of the revolution alongside Wernher; Milly, a girl I met worried for a friend called Wild Bill who's somewhere in this steelyard and who she wants me to find; Marco, who provided me with a modified steel saw called an auto axe; Brand, who snitches on other slaves and is a good target for me to murder should I feel the need; Nola, who is the worst doctor I've ever met; and Kai, who serves food so disgusting that I can't bring myself to touch it.
That's all I had a chance to do though. I was soon after thrown into this place, and now I'm wandering around, trying to find a substantial supply of these steel ingots to impress the boss.
I did find some better armour though. It's a bit like the metal armour that I sometimes see people wearing in the Capital Wasteland, though this has been designed with enhancements for resisting radiation. Always a plus out here. I've also come across a few guns. Nothing on par with my old gear, but better than nothing. I'm fine for ammunition too, and I found some boxes of medical supplies around the place.
However, the Steelyard is definitely hazardous. The Wildmen in any other circumstance would be my number one concern, being completely crazy yet still able to shoot. In the Pitt though, they're second banana to the trogs, who are feral humans who mutated into a form that makes ghoulification look like something to aspire to.
I was able to find a group of deactivated protectrons that I got up and running to help me with the trogs, but I've still sustained more than a few injuries from these things.
This place has taken a toll. I've been climbing on rooftops, diving into dumpsters and wading into radiation heavy areas to get as many of these bars as I can. I believe I've got thirty six now. I'd leave it at that and go back to hand these in, but I need to find that Wild Bill guy first, late though it may be.
I'm starving here, it's almost night time, and this place is making me even more miserable than usual.
Please, someone save me.
Day 73: Further Reports.
It's two in the morning on the twenty eighth of October, the year 2277, and I'm still in this fucking Steelyard.
I can't sleep. Trogs will eat me.
I can't eat. All I've got is Kai's bowls of slop made from trogs, which are disgusting.
I can't return to the slave boss. It's late, and he would have assumed I'm dead and locked the place up for the night now.
And I have no fucking clue what else I can do.
I found Wild Bill though. Dead. He wrote a note in his final moments for Milly, that I plan to bring back to her. Also had a sidearm with him at the time. A Chinese pistol if I'm not mistaken, in remarkably good condition.
I've since continued travelling around the place, going over catwalks, climbing huge metal towers, walking across conveyor belts, and at one point I scaled down a giant pipe. I've got seventy seven of these damn ingots now, and no-one to return them to.
What do I do?
Day 73 Part 2: The Situation Has Improved.
I'm still starving to death, but at least I found some shelter.
I'm inside an old supply plant now. I had to kill a whole bunch of trogs and Wildmen to make it safely inhabitable, but all that matters now is that I'm here, I'm safe, and I can sleep.
Though again, still starving.
NO. I WILL NOT EAT THE TROG MEAT SLOP. IT'S STILL GOT BITS OF BONE IN IT.
Day 73 Part 3: The Situation Has Worsened.
I can't sleep because my stomach hurts.
I need food. Last time I ate anything was the BlamCo Mac & Cheese that Charon shared with me. That was in the Capital Wasteland at the slaver camp just before we set off here!
I should have had a breakfast yesterday, but I just wasn't hungry at the time. Charon probably still had some spare food for me, but no. I was counting on the Pitt actually having something edible I could scavenge. And I've even found several fridges around here too! They had plenty of water, which is always nice, but water isn't what I fucking need!
Come on! Someone throw me a bone!
Day 73 Part 4: I have fucking standards.
Which is why I will not eat the trog slop. And just to affirm that, I threw all the bowls of it outside. I am practically royalty! I will not eat that gunk, no matter how starving I am.
Day 73 Part 5: I don't have standards.
I ate one of the Wildmen.
No. I'm not ashamed. He was fucking delicious.
Day 73 Part 6: So I think I've gone a bit too far this time...
I woke up around midday today and realised that I ate a man last night.
I blame the Pitt.
I don't even care anymore. This is FAR from the worst thing I've done. You can't judge me, hypothetical reader of my private diary.
But I can't let myself dwell on that for now. Right now, more important things are going on. I've been exploring this plant for an hour now and picking up anything of value I could find. There were a few interesting pieces. Another auto axe like the one I've been using so far to carve up trogs for one, only this one is designed for carving through reinforced armour. And a few flamethrowers for another.
I broke down most of the crappier flamethrowers and used the parts to fix up one of the better ones. I've got a half decent flamer now that should be able to take care of anything else I come across. Since the old auto axe was getting pretty beat up from overuse as well, I also took that apart and used it to replace some parts of the one I found here too.
So I have some pretty decent weapons now. Good enough to destroy the Pitt with? We'll see. But they'll definitely suffice for killing trogs.
Plenty of steel ingots in here too. My most recent count puts me at ninety seven. I think this will be enough to earn me some extra credit.
Day 73 Part 7: Bad Things Are Happening.
I handed in the steel ingots to that raider, Everett. Was he ever pleased with me.
It turns out that there's some sort of prize system for gathering so many ingots, and since I got one hundred of them, (I found another three on the way back to him), I got all of them.
First there was the labourer outfit, which is basically normal slave dress except more comfortable. Then he gave me a filtration helmet, which is used for protecting against radiation, then some steel knuckles, which are like brass knuckles except steel, then some hideous hybrid of spiked metal armour and some standard raider armour types, and THEN a goddamn modified laser rifle called the Metal Blaster.
OH. But it didn't stop there! TWO more sets of armour, one a raider type, another a unique suit of leather armour once apparently worn by a priest. ANOTHER modified auto axe named the Mauler, which I don't think will be as effective against armour but I cringe at the thought of what it could do to bare flesh. TWO infiltrator assault rifles, one a standard model and one customised. AND A SET OF POWER ARMOUR WITH A SKULL ON THE SHOULDER.
I. AM. A. SLAVE.
WHY. AM. I. BEING. GIVEN. THIS?!
Diary. I think I'm being hit on by a gay raider.
I'm scared.
Day 73 Part 8: I'm Just Going to Ball Up and Cry.
Can't sleep.
Raiders will rape me.
Day 74: New Solutions.
I slept in the power armour and filtration helmet last night.
Yeah, it was uncomfortable, but it did no end of help for putting my mind at ease. Traditionally, being clad in power armour has meant that nothing could touch me short of a bullet at point blank range, and when the thing I'm worried about is being raped by gay raiders, (or gaiders), a bullet to the face is unlikely to be what is trying to penetrate me.
Still though, I got up surprisingly early today. And even more surprisingly, I haven't been called to work yet. I guess I earned a break for yesterday. Hmm.
I should go give Wild Bill's note to Milly.
Day 74 Part 2: Reunion.
Audio file embed. Automatic transcription as follows.
Lone Wanderer: Charon? What are you doing here?
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Shh! Do you want me to be found?
Lone Wanderer: Sorry.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Over here, come on. [Footsteps.]
Lone Wanderer: So what's going on?
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] It's been several days. I needed to come in and check on you. You doing alright?
Lone Wanderer: I ate a man's liver.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Yikes! Did...did the raiders make you do that?
Lone Wanderer: No. I was just hungry.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] ...You make it so hard for me to be friends with you. I hope you know that.
Lone Wanderer: Well, sorry. Next time I'll just starve.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Boss...[Sighing.] Nevermind.
Lone Wanderer: Please tell me you brought some actual food?
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] I got a tin of Pork-
Lone Wanderer: Give it here.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Uh...Okay...Here you- WOAH! [Steel saw cutting metal.] BOSS! What the fuck is that?!
Lone Wanderer: I call it the Man Opener.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Jesus Christ. Where did you get that thing?!
Lone Wanderer: The same place I got my last meal. Hold this for me.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Wha-?
Lone Wanderer: Mmm. [Chewing.] Much better.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] You want me to cook those for you?
Lone Wanderer: Fine like this.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] I think the radiation around here is affecting your brain.
Lone Wanderer: Probably.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] And what's that you're wearing?
Lone Wanderer: Tribal power armour. Originally Brotherhood of Steel far as I can tell. Got damaged. Guy who repaired it added parts to make it look like Ashur's power armour. He's the guy that runs the Pitt. Wears a suit just like this.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Ashur wears power armour?
Lone Wanderer: Mmhmm.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Think he's ex-Brotherhood of Steel?
Lone Wanderer: Could be. But I really don't care. I'm just here to kill the man and liberate the city. Then we're done here.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] If you say so.
Lone Wanderer: Of course I say so.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Boss, are you okay?
Lone Wanderer: Not really. No.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] I didn't think so. You're in a bad way right now. Maybe you should just take a break for a few days? I'd be far better to infiltrate the city with all this ambient radiation in the air, and I wouldn't need to worry about-
Lone Wanderer: Charon, I took the job, and now I've got to finish it. You can't take my place now. In fact, how did you even get in here without getting enslaved too?
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] With this thing.
Lone Wanderer: What is that?
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] It's called a mesmetron. I picked it up after we took down Paradise Falls. Slavers use this to capture people. A shot of this thing to someone's head and they'll be stuck in a trance where they'll do whatever you say. Slavers shoot their victims with it, put on the collars, and just tell them to follow them back to Paradise Falls. I used this on the guards outside.
Lone Wanderer: Damn, Charon. That is an incredibly dangerous piece of tech you've got there.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] I know.
Lone Wanderer: Actually though, there is something you can do for me. I want you to take all that extra armour and weaponry from the pile over here, and take it back to the train car for when we leave.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Wh-Where did you get all this...?
Lone Wanderer: From a very ugly man who thinks that I'm a very attractive man. [Awkward silence.] Just take the damn armour, Charon. I don't have a backpack with me in here and I can't carry all this shit.
Day 74 Part 3: Pitt Fighter.
Just got out of multiple rounds in a fighting arena called the hole. Killed a bunch of colourful psychopaths and earned myself a job as a Pitt raider for my trouble.
Am on my way to meet Lord Ashur in the place they call Haven now. Man has an exposed face. I wonder if I should stick a gun in his mouth or stab him in the eye?
And once he's dead, whatever shall I do with the body? I could strip him naked and hang him from a streetlight? Or maybe cut him up into little pieces and run around the city sprinkling bits of him over the raiders like rose petals? I could even roast him on an open fire and eat his legs in front of everyone.
Not that I want to make a habit out of eating people, but the taste isn't so repulsive that I wouldn't be willing to do it again if I had a need to. And I think I'd be willing to eat Lord Ashur just for the sheer spectacle of it.
Oh, I'm overthinking things. This is a debate for later.
My first priority is the cure. Must remember that.
Day 74 Part 4: MOTHERFUCKER.
WHY?!
WHY DID THE CURE HAVE TO BE A BABY?!
AND WHY COULDN'T I HAVE LEARNED THIS BEFORE I KILLED HER MOTHER WITH THE MAN OPENER?!
Day 74 Part 5: I don't even.
Wernher and Midea knew the cure was a baby the whole time.
I...
No. The diary entries can wait until later. I've got shit to do.
Day 74 Part 6: I killed them.
God help me, I killed them all.
There is no more Lord Ashur.
There is no more Wernher.
There is no more Midea.
There are no more Pitt raiders.
There are no more Pitt slaves.
There is no more Pitt.
I killed everyone in the city. Trog, human, slaver, slave, it didn't matter. They all attacked me. They're all dead.
Except the baby.
Marie survived.
This is the worst thing I've ever done.
I'm going home.
Day 75: Depressed.
I don't think there's any way that the fiasco at the Pitt could have possibly ended worse.
Does it even need to be said? I am a horrible, horrible person, and I am most certainly going to Hell. Satan has a wooden chair with a nail sticking out of it waiting at his side just for me.
I'm back in the Capital Wasteland now. I'd say I feel better being home, but all being home means is that I can expect the Talon Company ambushes to start occuring again.
And then there's Marie. What the hell am I going to do with her? I couldn't just leave her in the city. Not when everyone there including both her parents were dead. So I had to take her with me. And now I'm carrying her through the Capital Wasteland on my journey.
She's not even a year old.
Oh sweet Jesus, what do I do? I swear, I came to the Pitt with only the best of intentions. I went there because I heard a cry for help and I wanted to answer the call. It wasn't about being a hero or gaining fame and glory. It wasn't about securing a fortune and riches, or valuable weapons and resources. I didn't want to take over the Pitt to build my own land, or bring ruin and destruction to sate my own urges. I just. Wanted. To help.
And now...Now I've killed everyone who wanted my help. I've ruined what could have been a successful new civilization had I sided with the slavers, and destroyed any hope of freedom that there could have been had I helped the slaves.
I tried to kill just those responsible for these atrocities. But everyone takes sides. Slaves wanted revenge for Wernher. Raiders the same for Ashur. I couldn't die. Not when I was still protecting the baby. If Marie had been far away and safe though, I would have gladly spread my arms open and let the gunfire and blunt objects pepper and bludgeon me until I was another corpse lost to the wasteland.
I'm not sure who I am anymore, diary. What happens now?
Where do I go from here?
What do I do with Marie?
Day 75: First Baby in Space.
We've returned to Mothership Zeta to stay a while. I need a break after the kind of hell that I've been through the past few days. Elliot has been understanding, and given me my space. He's still searching the ship for a G.E.C.K. for the moment. And I've finally got all my stuff back together.
Marie won't stop crying. I can't blame her, but it's so disheartening. I'm usually so good with children.
Maybe music will help?
Day 76: Man of Many Talents.
Audio file embed. Automatic transcription as follows.
[Baby crying.]
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Boss, can you please make it stop?!
Lone Wanderer: Shhh...It's okay, Marie. It's okay. We're all here.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] She's not stopping!
Lone Wanderer: Lord in Heaven, forgive me for what I am about to do.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Please tell me you're not gonna si-
Lone Wanderer: [Low voice.] Under a silver sky I wander...These broken highways have become...my home...Alone in a world of rust and ruin stay...Through grey civilization's dust...I roam...
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] You're an awful singer...
Lone Wanderer: [Low voice.] And my wasteland soul. Fuck you too, Charon. Never will be truly whole...My only remaining goal, now, to survive...
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] I'm going to get a drink.
Lone Wanderer: [Low voice.] Someday the rains will come and...wash it all away...The heart of the wasteland will...awaken on this day...[Pause.] ...She's asleep.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Finally.
Lone Wanderer: Hey, at least we're not making you sing. I think that would actually give her nightmares, what with your voice being like the sound of a mouldy carpet being dragged over gravel and all.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] You're such a charmer.
Lone Wanderer: And you're an ugly cunt. Go make yourself useful and go down to the engineering core. I'm fairly certain I saw a miniature sized Giddyup Buttercup toy somewhere down there.
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Little old for toys, aren't you?
Lone Wanderer: Yeah, but I've wanted one ever since I was a little girl. Would you please just go look for it, Charon?! Kids' toys aren't easy to come by and I need something to keep her occupied when she inevitably wakes up!
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] You know, you gave me permission to speak freely, so I'm gonna do it now. Your attitude has been real shitty since you came back from the Pitt. Do you have anything you want to get off your chest? Because from what little you've told me, you saw and did some fucked up things in there.
Lone Wanderer: For once, Charon, I don't think I do want to talk about it. I want to sit here, and keep myself busy, and remember better times. Can you let me have that, just for a few days?
Charon: [Deep, gravelly voice.] Hmm. Fine.
Lone Wanderer: Thank you, Charon.
Day 77: Oh God.
I just realised something terrible.
I've been thinking for days now, trying to decide who would be best to hand Marie over to. Who would be the one most qualified to raise a child in the Capital Wasteland?
And that's when it struck me.
There's no-one. I don't trust any of these wastelanders. The only one I think could do even a remotely good job is Agatha, and she's too old for that kind of thing now.
I'm all there is.
And according to old world law, at my age I'm not considered mature enough to drink, purchase firearms, or enter a gambling establishment.
This child is screwed.
