Courier's Journal: Week One
Day 3: October 21st 2281
I meant to get straight back to my search today, but I got sidetracked by the Powder Gangers again. There were a couple hanging around near the sky-diving place who attacked me on sight, and a few more at a camp further down the road. Since there were still so many stragglers around, I decided to head back to the prison to see if any of them had regrouped there, wondering if I could make another attempt at negotiating with them. They hadn't, but while up on a guard tower, I discovered that there were more camps to the north, east, and south, so I visited each of them in that order. My thought process was that with the prison wiped out and their leaders dead, they might have been demoralised enough that I could talk them into surrendering to the NCR.
As it turns out, they weren't so keen on the idea. My Powder Ganger disguise did get me close, but every time I revealed that I wasn't really one of them, it was straight to the attempted murder. I don't know what it is with them! It's like they're an entire gang of Daweses! These people were just not open to negotiation. So sadly, yes, I created several more corpses before the morning was through, and that was before I got to Primm.
And oh, let me tell you about Primm. It's a good twenty miles between Goodsprings and Primm, which is a distance to walk even in a mild climate, let alone this godforsaken desert. So after spending my morning getting shot at by convicts and then walking that whole way on top of that, I don't think it was unreasonable for me to expect some relief once I actually got to the town.
Instead, what do I find? More fucking Powder Gangers. The NCR stopped me on my way into town to warn me that a splinter group from the prison had taken over the east side of Primm where I needed to go, and that the residents were all either dead or in hiding. Shocked and outraged by this terrible injustice, the NCR had responded by heroically placing mines on the bridge to keep the convicts off of their side, and then returned to ignoring the problem.
See, this is what I love about the New California Republic. They talk a big game about reuniting the wasteland and bringing back the glory days of the Old World, and they have a million great ideas about how to do it, but you're lucky if you see even one percent of them make it past all the red tape, corruption, and just plain incompetence. There are good people in the NCR earnestly trying their best, and I feel for them, but I just don't know how they expect to get anything done when this is how the NCR operates. I mean, I used to complain about my tribe's bureaucracy, but at least we didn't let people die right on our doorstep.
So since the NCR were no help in Primm, even after learning that I had cleared the prison for them, I disarmed the mines on the bridge and crossed over into the east side to look for any surviving residents. After a brief shootout with some more Powder Gangers, I found several holed up in the old Vikki and Vance Casino and Museum, a strange place themed around an obscure pre-war couple who once went on a famously tame crime spree. It was there that I met Johnson Nash, head of Primm's branch of the Mojave Express, which made him the man I had to report to about the botched delivery job. He was unsurprised. Said it seemed too good to be true, and I agree; for such an apparently simple job, the pay was way too high. Whatever that platinum chip was, it was sure valuable to somebody.
The most consequential thing I learned from Nash is that Victor, of all robots, may have been the one who hired me for this job, which certainly casts some of Trudy's words about him in a new light. She said he'd never helped anyone before, so she didn't know why he'd taken an interest in me, but if he was my client (or at least working for them) then that would explain it. Maybe that was why he came to my defence against the Powder Gangers on the road as well? But if he already knew me and had a vested interest in my safety, then why not tell me? What has he got to hide? And where does the override fit into the equation?
Something else I learned which might be a clue is that I wasn't the only courier Victor hired. There were five others, all delivering various other platinum objects. I found another one dead outside the Mojave Express here who had an order for some platinum dice, though I'm pretty sure he was killed by the Powder Gangers, not my attacker. So whoever my client really is, I think that they expected that man to try and steal it, and hired the five other couriers as decoys to throw him off the scent.
The fucked up thing is that I don't even know if it worked or not. Maybe I was carrying the real package, and the man in the chequered suit outmaneuvered my client, or maybe I was one of the decoys, and me getting shot in the head and buried in a shallow grave was all part of the plan. I don't like the idea that somebody saw my life as an acceptable loss, but it's a definite possibility here. These high-paying clients are like that sometimes. This kind of shit happens all the time in New Reno. And if that's the case, it would certainly explain why Victor is being so tight-lipped. Who even knows what kind of cloak-and-dagger Vegas bullshit I've stumbled into here?
I guess it doesn't matter, though. Truth or lies, decoy or genuine article, I still have a contract to complete, and personal property to reclaim. If the client is surprised to see me alive when I deliver their package at the end of this, then they'll have some explaining to do. And if Victor tries anything, then I guess we'll see what a frag grenade does to a Securitron.
There was one other thing I found strange, too. Nash said that I was the second pick for this job after the first guy cancelled. He saw my name on the list, and immediately decided to pass it onto me instead. He obviously knew something was up, and Nash was under the impression that he knew me too, but I'm new to the Mojave Express, so I don't know any of the other couriers that well. I certainly don't know why any of them would have that kind of reaction to me, unless he was a one-night stand I forgot about who never got over me. Which is a definite possibility, but I'm not sure about that. I guess he could just as easily be someone I worked with out west, maybe back in my edgy phase when I was guarding caravans around the Big Circle.
Then again, maybe Nash was wrong, and the guy didn't know me? Maybe it's just my name itself that tripped him up? Even in the wasteland, how many people go around with a name like mine? I'm well aware that it's abnormal, but it's the only consistent thing in my life, so I'm not changing it. And besides, I'm an abnormal person in the first place, through no fault of my own; I was raised in a society that was basically one step removed from a cult. And not even a regular old crazy cult like the Hubologists. We were into some serious shit. The chanting. Oh, the chanting! I still hear it in my dreams! What do you want, Mother?! I looked into the Void and it's staring back at me! I can see FOREVER, and it's HIDEOUS! FOR WHAT DARK PURPOSE WAS I BORN?! WHAT WHISPERING THINGS LAY DREAMING BENEATH US?! NO! I DON'T WANT A CLOCK! I DON'T EVEN LIKE CLOCKS YOU FUCKING CUNT! WHY IS EVERYTHING CLOCK-THEMED?!
Okay. Sorry. It's been a stressful day and I get a little emotional sometimes. Back to my adventures in Primm.
So besides everything else, Nash also told me more about Primm's recent problems. I learned that the local sheriff and his wife were killed by the Powder Gangers, and that the deputy was being held in the Bison Steve Hotel just across the street. I wanted to help the town and rescue the guy, but even besides that, he was probably the only person left alive who would have seen the guy I'm chasing, so I needed to get inside and find him either way. Good thing I have VATS now, or I might have found this somewhat daunting.
I took some time to recover from my last fight and prepare first. Chatted with some of the locals, including Nash's wife, who told me about this casserole she makes with radscorpion venom (which sounds unhealthy to say the least, but I've heard of worse). Then once I was ready, I headed out to scout the rest of the town, to see if there was anything I could use to help take on the Bison Steve. I started with the sheriff's office. That's where I found the murdered couple themselves, both recently decapitated. It was a gruesome sight. Horrific even. I don't like being the aggressor, but I knew then that this wasn't going to end any way but bloodily, so I borrowed the sheriff's hat, duster, and .357 repeater to dispense justice in his place.
On my way out, I used it to shoot a few other convicts patrolling the roller coaster outside the Bison Steve, though it wasn't easy; VATS can't compensate as much for my poor shooting over that kind of distance, and I was swaying a lot. In retrospect, I should've taken a dose of steady. I was sure I had it, but no. My reliance on VATS and the light weight of the varmint rifle kept me from noticing for a while, but my shooting skills have definitely degraded, and I wasn't exactly a great shot in the first place. My reaction time is still good, so if I happen to line up the gun right and the percentage counter says ninety-five percent chance to hit, I can squeeze the trigger in time. But when it comes to balancing the gun's weight and carefully lining up a long-distance shot, I'm much shakier than I was. Could just be psychosomatic, but I really don't want to start self-diagnosing. Either way, I definitely need some practice shooting unassisted.
Next I returned to the Mojave Express office, which I'd checked on my way into town. Nash had a small, broken eyebot in there which he'd intended to use for courier work, but it was too damaged for him to use, so he let me have it. And being the technical genius that I am, you'd better believe I got it running! Its companion protocol ensures that I now have an armed, flying robot constantly shadowing me, keeping a watch for danger. He's called ED-E.
ED-E was both a blessing and a curse when I finally took on the Bison Steve. I tried to use one of my stealth boys to sneak in through the front door, thinking I'd move silently through the place and quietly pick off the Powder Gangers as necessary with my varmint rifle. Instead, as soon as I was through the door, ED-E started blasting loud music which attracted almost the entire lower floor of the hotel directly to us, so in that respect, he was something of a liability. But on the other hand, he saved my life in the ensuing fight. I switched out to the repeater since we had so many people on us, and I completely failed to notice that it was damn near broken. The gun jammed and stopped working in the middle of the fight, and I could've been killed if ED-E hadn't been holding off the wave of Powder Gangers coming from the other end of the room.
After they were dealt with, I found Deputy Beagle tied up in a back room, who told me that my attackers were heading down to Nipton, on their way up to Novac. Once he gave me what I needed, I freed him, and he ran off. I wanted his help to deal with the rest of the convicts, but I got the impression that he's kind of a coward, and it's not like I could force him to help me. Well, I could, but I'd have probably needed to threaten him into it, and that would be mean. So ED-E and I took on the upper level of the Bison Steve by ourselves.
There were a lot of Powder Gangers up there, but we took them by surprise. I didn't want to chance walking up the stairs and into an ambush in case they heard the gunshots earlier, so I fixed an old elevator and came up from a direction they weren't expecting. So with some clever planning, a few well-placed explosives I borrowed from their friends, and a support robot behind me, they weren't too tough. Mostly I just had to be careful and take cover between shots, and a big old hotel like that offers lots of cover. It was over quick and easy.
I stayed a while after to search the bodies and sweep the back rooms for anything useful. The whole place was pretty much what I expected from a raider base - dark, mouldy, and unpleasant. There were even still pre-war skeletons in there, and weirdly enough, a lot of untouched salvage, including soda machines, medical boxes, books, pre-war money, and alcohol. Very weird for a big building in an inhabited town, especially one currently occupied by a gang. I guess it must have been boarded up until the Powder Gangers got here; people generally avoid those kinds of places, since they tend to be boarded up for a reason. Usually ghouls. Or ghosts. Ghosts are also a problem.
The convicts themselves had some stuff on them as well. Weapons, ammunition, NCR money, chems, the usual. I even found a third star bottle cap lying around. But there was one safe in there I couldn't open. It's frustrating, but there's not much I can do about it for now. I never had much use for manual lockpicking until recently, so I'm rusty at it, but without my old tools, it's my only option (unless I want to risk damaging the lock by trying to blow it open, which I'm not going to do). I'll just have to give it another go next time I come back this way.
I sold what I could to Johnson Nash, including a heavy incinerator that one of the Powder Gangers had, and lots of dynamite and powder charges, some of which I picked up from the camps this morning. I even sold him my Powder Ganger disguise, since it's apparently no good for anything. He couldn't afford everything I had, though. All told, I took two and a half thousand caps off him, and I still had too much left over to physically carry it all with me. There was a plasma rifle and a laser RCW left over which could both potentially be useful, but are just too heavy to keep. Time was I'd have just stuffed it all in my enormous pockets, but alas, my old clothes are gone now, and I am left to obey conventional Newtonian physics again.
ED-E at least helps a little bit with the weight, since he has a small storage compartment (and I am very experienced with shoving big things into small places), but it still wasn't enough. So eventually, I hit upon a brilliant idea: Hire a courier!
Yes, I amaze even myself sometimes. Since I didn't want to just leave potential caps behind, I entrusted them to the Mojave Express instead. What I didn't need or couldn't carry, I instead arranged to be sent back to Goodsprings by package courier, since the town owes me a favour. I sent a letter for Trudy, politely asking for her to take custody of my possessions, or to at least arrange for someone else to if it's inconvenient for her. And then, when next I need them, I'll just send another letter to Goodsprings, and arrange for it all to be sent back to me (at my expense, of course). It keeps all my stuff safe for me while I'm travelling. And the good news is that it didn't even cost me anything, because as a Mojave Express employee, I get an allotted number of free deliveries per month.
Once that was done, there was still the small issue of finding a new sheriff for Primm, since the old one was dead and Deputy Beagle was... unqualified, to say the least. NCR rule was an option, letting the Republic keep the law for them, and I did actually go speak with the lieutenant on the other side of town, seeing if they could do anything, but he cited lack of resources and manpower. Typical NCR. I also heard suggestions for a man up at the NCRCF who used to be a sheriff before he was incarcerated, and he sounded like a reasonable choice, but I distinctly remember annihilating every single person in that place, so... whoops.
I eventually came up with the idea to reprogram a Protectron named Primm Slim to be the new sheriff. He was being used as a sort of tour guide for the museum part of the casino, a waste of a good robot, if you ask me. It only took some rudimentary work, and it was the fastest and easiest solution for everyone. Primm Slim won't impose NCR taxes on the town, and a robot can be trusted to be objective with the law, unlike an ex-con. Only problem I can foresee is that he might sentence criminals to listen to his Vikki and Vance tour, which I would consider a cruel and unusual punishment, but hey, better that than giving them dynamite.
Though, I did notice while interacting with Primm Slim earlier that he'd recently been hacked by somebody else. Cowboy robots getting hacked is something of a theme in the Mojave, I'm noticing. Anyway, remember how the museum is dedicated to the criminal duo of Vikki and Vance? Well, one of the display cases was meant to have Vance's gun in it, and it looks like it was stolen. Primm Slim witnessed a woman named Pauline and a man named Sam taking it, so they tried to wipe his memory. Poorly. Actually, very poorly; the data wasn't even gone, just made inaccessible, and in a blatantly obvious fashion. It was child's play to retrieve it again, including a transcript of the whole encounter, complete with their names and next destination. Idiots. If I ever find myself in Westside, I'll have to look around for them.
With all that taken care of, the townsfolk were finally all able to relax and go home. I played a few games of Caravan against Johnson Nash, and got utterly destroyed again. I'm sure that there must be some trick to this game, but I can't figure it out. Then before I knew it, it was nightfall, and everyone was going home. I don't like travelling at night, and I can't seem to find any operational hotels around here, so I'm bedding down in the Bison Steve for now. There are plenty of rooms here on the upper floors to choose from at least, and not all of them are filthy and filled with corpses. Just most.
On a final note, I should probably mention the letters I found at some of the Powder Ganger camps earlier today. It looks like they were planning to get organised and head up north towards New Vegas until I stopped them. Not sure how many escaped the prison altogether, but I'm going to guess that at least some made it further up the I-15, so the road probably won't be reopening for the caravans any time soon. This isn't great news, but there's not much I can do about it for now. I have my own goals to pursue, and I'd rather not spend the rest of my life killing Powder Gangers. I think I've already killed more than enough people for this lifetime.
Fuck, how many people have I killed in the past three days? I've lost count. I've actually, seriously lost count. Fuck.
Hail to the Keeper.
Killed: Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it.
Today's dinner: InstaMash and Pork n' Beans. Not enough for a full caravan lunch, but halfway there.
Had sex with: Wasn't in the mood today.
Author's notes:
One change which I seriously considered when I was initially planning this rewrite was to make the Courier an amnesiac, inspired by the Logan's Tale series by Rycon Roleplays. For those of you who haven't watched it, Logan's Tale is a roleplay of Fallout 3 and New Vegas, basically a let's play, except Rycon remains in-character as "Logan" the entire time, who in his series is both the Lone Wanderer and the Courier, Tale of Two Wastelands style.
I still wanted my version of the Courier to remain a separate character from the Lone Wanderer, but one idea from Logan's Tale that I really liked was how Rycon handled the concept of the Courier as an amnesiac, someone who was permanently damaged by the experience of being shot in the head by Benny, and who spends the following three seasons of the series coping with that. It's a fascinating idea from a character standpoint which works with the story of the game, and for Courier's Journal it could also easily be played for comedy.
Ultimately, however, I decided that this was far too substantial a change from the Courier's original characterisation, which I feel like I've already altered significantly enough as it is. Also, while having an amnesiac Courier wouldn't totally prevent me from revealing his planned backstory, it probably would make it harder to use that backstory as a source of comedy.
So in the end, I dropped the idea, and in the final version of the rewrite, the Courier's slightly impaired motor skills and subpar shooting is the only remaining remnant of this original concept of the Courier as a man truly damaged by those bullets.