Are You Incendiary?

Dear Amos

I died.  I fucking died.  Just like that.  There I was cruising through my enemies, saving the Capital Wasteland, one jerk at a time, and then it happened.  I died.

I was kidnapped by aliens.  No this is not me being unmedicated.  I was definitely kidnapped by aliens.  I was sucked aboard Mothership Zeta.  The aliens themselves were not the problem.  I was beating my way through them with efficiency and vigour.  Their weak little bodies were no match for my brutish kickassery.  But then it happened.


Mothership Zeta

I fell.  The marker on my compass was confusing me as to where I should be standing.  I was too preoccupied with my PipBoy to realize I was about to fall off a ledge.  But I did.  I fell and I died.  Just like that.  I was mad.  The Fallout 3 gods are ok with dying and respawning but I’m not.  See, I’m a big fat cheater.  When I play this game I use console commands to buff my stats.  But the only rule is I can’t die.  If I die, then that’s it.  No second chances.  I start all the fuck over.

How come I can make weapons out of parts I scavenge such as turpentine, sensor modules, crutches, steam gauge assemblies, toy cars, cherry bombs, leaf blowers, scorpion stingers, medical braces, surgical tubing, wonderglue, lunchboxes, etc.  But I can’t make a bicycle?  I would love a bicycle.  Screw the weapons.  I want a bike!  Walking everywhere is a damn pain.



Although I am not sure I would want to be riding a bike only to get clothes-lined by a Deathclaw.  Speaking of which.  Deathclaws are something on their own.  They stand about 10 feet tall.  They have razor sharp claws.  They’re fast.  They look like a cross between a demon straight outta hell, and a raptor.  I shit you not.  They’re about as fast and cunning too.  Whenever you encounter a Deathclaw, it’s a definite OH SHIT moment.  You’re never in a situation where you’re like, oh look a Deathclaw, I better kill it.  Nope.  It’s OH SHIT!!!  DEATHCLAW!!!

Deathclaws always get the drop on you.  Unless they’re hanging out predictably at Old Olney, they get the drop on you.  They’re jerks too.  It takes a lot to kill them.  So you could imagine how surprised I was to find a DEATHCLAW SANCTUARY.

I’m not kidding.  Let me break this down.

  1. 1.
    a place of refuge or safety.
    “people automatically sought a sanctuary in time of trouble”
    synonyms: refuge, haven, harbor, port in a storm, oasis, shelter, retreat,hideaway, hideout More

  2. 2.
    a nature reserve.
    “a bird sanctuary”
    synonyms: reserve, park, reservation, preserve

    “a bird sanctuary”

    Now let’s have a look at the aforementioned Deathclaw.

    hqdefault (1)


    Deathclaws have a hunchbacked, bipedal reptilian build with long humanoid arms. They stand roughly nine to ten feet tall, with a thick and resilient hide, powerful muscles, and twelve-inch-long, razor-sharp claws that can kill almost any other creature in only a few swipes; hence their name. They have an excellent sense of smell and hearing, though their eyesight is poor. Their build gives them incredible speed, agility and strength in close combat, making them an extreme threat.

    And there you have it.  With the exception of a few well constructed buildings left over from before the war, most houses are little shanties made out of aluminum and dead Mole Rats.  A Deathclaw could look at a wasteland shanty and it would fall over.  But no.  These Deathclaws have a SANCTUARY, aptly titled “Deathclaw Century”.

    But Doug Hell!  Why not just avoid it completely?

    Easy.  First of all.  That would be cowardly.  Well maybe not.  It would be common sense.  But if you want the Endurance Bobblehead, you gotta go in.  Thankfully, it’s near the entrance.  So if you’re competent enough, you can sneak in and grab it, then pull the Texas sneak right back out.  But there is one of the best weapons in the game right in the middle of the sanctuary.  It’s worth it too.  It’s a Gatling Laser called Vengeance.  It’s one badass gun.

    I hate you Deathclaws!

    More later.



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Morality And Its Hardships


Dear Amos.  I fucked up.

I can’t say that I totally fucked up, but I didn’t think things through before I acted.  My policy of shooting first and asking questions later made me make some morally questionable decisions.  This is on the heels of liberating the slaves of Paradise Falls.

I had been receiving transmissions on my PipBoy from a man by the name of Wernher.  He was an escaped slave from Pittsburgh.  Pittsburgh wasn’t affected directly by the bombs but everyone there was suffering from an unknown disease.  I went to investigate.

I met Wehrner by the radio tower north of the Capital Wasteland.  When I got to him he was fighting a few Pitt Raiders.  Pitt Raiders are really no different from Wasteland Raiders.  They just have a different name, although they’re both marked for death by me.  I don’t like Raiders.  They serve no purpose in the wasteland, other than making the survivor’s lives miserable.   So I do my best to make what existence they have miserable.



I caved in their skulls with my police baton, and chastised Wehrner for having problems with an easy foe.  He wasn’t flattered by my comments, but he would be a lot better off not mentioning so.  I could kill this man where he stood, and he knew it.  Wehrner suggested that I disguise myself as a slave in order to sneak into “The Pitt”, which is the new cool Fallout 3 name for Pittsburgh.  I told him I had no intention of doing so.  I would strut in their and kill anyone who looked at me funny.  He didn’t feel this was the best solution, but didn’t dare argue.

The train tunnel leading to the Pitt was guarded by four slavers.  I made extremely short work of them, rescuing the slaves they held captive in the process.  I looked at a dead slave’s outfit considering Wehrner’s advice on disguising myself, but ultimately decided against it.  I like killing.  But I like not smelling like a dead slave even more.

An old railroad cart took us to the Pitt trainyard.  Logically, it must have taken a while but in the Fallout 3 universe you make magic happen.  When we got to the Pitt we were approached by some slavers.  Wehrner advised me to let him do the talking, but I decided to let my hunting rifle do the talking.  Four dead slavers later Wehner didn’t seem pleased about my tactics.  He obviously didn’t understand one’s need for violence, or he was a coward.  Maybe a little of both.


Pitt Trainyard

Wehrner left me at the main gate to the Pitt.  He had things to do.  Or he was just a bitch.  I don’t care.  He would have just gotten in my way.  I fought my way through Wildmen to get downtown.  They fell easily.  I was an unstoppable juggernaut of death.  Then it happened.  As soon as I entered the main downtown core, Reddup, and a couple of dirtbag Pitt Slavers got the drop on me.  They beat me unconscious and stole ALL my gear.

A woman named Medea came to my aid upon regaining consciousness.  She took me to her dive apartment and suggested that I work in the steelyard collecting ingots to earn a berth fighting in The Hole.  The Hole is an irradiated underground arena where slaves fight for freedom while douchebag slavers watch and bet.  That seemed easy enough.

I left her apartment.  The Pitt was an extremely grim place.  Slaves worked away with large heavy auto-axes on various equipment.  The auto-axes looked very heavy, but they also looked like they would make great weapons.  I managed to pickpocket an auto-axe from a slave.  I could have just killed him for it but I don’t kill slaves.  Also, don’t ask me how the fuck I managed to “pickpocket” an auto-axe.


Slave with Auto-Axe

Every slaver, guard, and dickbag in general ended up meeting the wrong end of my auto-axe.  I killed every one of them in plain sight of the slaves, who chose to ignore the gorefest and keep working.  Sadly, a revolution or uprising was definitely out of the question.

At the steelyard I met with the foreman, Everett.  He was a douchebag too, but not the same way the slavers were.  He was just doing what needed to be done.  He informed me that the steelyard was a very dangerous place full of Wildmen and Trogs.  Trogs were grotesque creatures that were responsible for a lot of deaths among workers, Pitt Raiders, and Wildmen alike.  Personally, I was happy to have a new enemy to kill.  Everett informed me that he would give me some loot for every ten ingots I could find.  So I promptly went out to the yard and found 93 out of a possible 100.  For my troubles I received a Man Opener, The Mauler, Metal Blaster, and a Perforator.



The Man Opener looks like a large can opener with a blade.  The same thing.  The Metal Blaster was a laser rifle that could soot nine beams at once, using only one microfusion cell.  The Perforator was a silenced assault rifle with a scope.  The real prize though was a gun I found on the body of a dead slave named Wild Bill.  He had a .32 pistol named Wild Bill’s Sidearm.  I love pistols.  This one had great specs.  And the best part is that it could be repaired and maintained by any .32 pistol, which were plentiful in the Capital Wasteland.


Kicking ass with the Man Opener

Upon completing my work I headed downtown to listen to a speech from the head of the Pitt.  His name was Ashur.  Medea informed me earlier that Ashur was a tyrant and had a cure for the disease that was plaguing the residents of the speech.  I listened to his speech not really taking any of it in.  All I could think about was how he would look with a .32 bullet in his head, and what his power armour would look like on my person.


Le Speech

Next thing I knew, I was fighting in The Hole.  Winning in the hole would award me access to Uptown.  Uptown was where the rest of the slavers would be hanging out.  Haven was also Uptown.  Haven was where Ashur lived.  I wanted to go uptown.

I won every fight in The Hole with great ease.  I also killed the mouthy bitch running it.  No one calls me a scab.

When I got Uptown I sought out the motherless fuck who jumped me when I first arrived.  Reddup went down easy.  Come to think of it, everyone went down easy.  I wasn’t in the mood to talk.  I just killed.  I killed my way to Haven.  Upon entering Haven I decided to kill first and look for the cure later.  I killed everyone, including Ashur, and his wife.  I found the cure.



It was a baby.

Yes.  A baby.  A little pink cooing baby.  Suddenly I second guess everything I did.  From holotapes I listened to, I learned this baby was born immune to the disease everyone have, and she could provide a vaccine for the disease.  I learned a few other things too.  Ashur had intended on saving the slaves and other residents with the cure.  As far as the slaves went, someone had to keep the city running.

I returned the baby to Medea, less than pleased I had been a pawn in a kidnapping scheme.

This whole situation was a prime example of having to make a hard moral decision.  Both sides had valid arguments.  Both sides weren’t all good or all bad.  It’s kinda like voting.  There is no perfect leader, only the one that best suits YOUR needs.  I didn’t like voting.  Voting to me was like picking your favourite STD.

I left The Pitt without looking back.  In the future I would be very careful about the decisions I make.  My trigger happy tendencies left me unsure if I did the right thing, and now I would have to live with it.

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Unhappiness In Slavery

Dear Amos

I call you Amos because I don’t want to call you “Diary”.  I think that is gay, and cliche.  Please understand that when I say gay, I am not being disrespectful to fags.  I have no problem with the sort.  I just like using the term gay.

So I escaped from Vault 101 today.  I know I should be looking for my dad, but dad can take care of himself.  He’ll be fine until I do what I gotta do.  There is something I have to do.

Upon my exit from the vault, I headed straight for Paradise Falls.

Paradise Falls used to be a mall before the war.  It’s now a haven for human trafficking.  At least until I get there.  Slavery is no laughing matter.  People who steal other people and force them to work are the scum of the Capital Wasteland.

I headed straight north.  The first notable place I happened upon was Hallowed Moors Cemetery.  It was creepy.  I was attacked by three Super Mutants.  Super Mutants are huge beings that were once human, but are now gigantic and yellow.  They’re muscular, mean, and often armed.


Super Mutants

Unfortunately for them, I too was armed.  And the dumb bastards were armed with boards with nails sticking out of them.  Don’t bring a nailboard to a gunfight.

I busted out my 10mm out of the holster and dispatched of them with efficiency and vigour.  Big.  Yellow.  Bad grammar.  I don’t care.  If you oppose me in the Wasteland, you will die.  I will feel no way about it.  I looted their corpses for weapons.  Inside the derelict church there was more loot, including a wastelander that was being held captive by the Super Mutants.  I freed him.  He was thankful and gave me some stuff.  Interestingly I found a transcript for some Keller family.  Apparently they were a military family who had a strained relationship.  I couldn’t help but think this transcript will hold some significance in the future.  I put it it my inventory netherworld that allows me to magically carry way more than humanly possible.





Other than some run ins with some bloatflies and radscorpions, the rest of my trip was uneventful.  I made it to Paradise Falls with the chip on my shoulder that has never failed me.


Paradise Falls

It was guarded by a couple of slavers by the name of Grouse and Richter.  I kept my gun holstered, choosing instead to beat them both to death with a police baton I looted from one of the guards back in Vault 101.  I looted their corpses and made my way toward the main compound.  As I was on my way there an unfortunate slave by the name of Carter tried to escape.  His head blew up from his slave collar.  It was at this point I realized the slaves were equipped with collars that would detonate if they tried to escape.  It only fed my rage even more.

Within seconds I came face to face with Forty.  Forty was the last bastion of security into the main compound.  I put a 10mm bullet in his head, but not before putting one in each of his kneecaps.  I really don’t like slavers.



After I did away with Forty, I met Sammy.  Sammy was a mere child slave.  Despite not being locked in a cage he was still pretty screwed as he too was wearing an explosive collar.  Sammy told me he had friends in the main compound.  Their names were Penny and Squirrel.  He had different ideas of how I could spring them loose.  It was all a bunch of technical mumbo jumbo that would require stealth on my part, and trickery.  He was positive I could sneak them out.  I had a plan of my own, however.  Kill them all.  Strut out the front entrance, slaves liberated.  I thanked Sammy for his advice and looted Forty’s body.  I found a key to the main prisoner cage.



I entered the compound.

The night was on my side.  It was very dark.  I used that to my advantage.  I headed left straight to the Lock And Load, a place where slavers could sell and trade weapons and ordinance.  I went straight through the front door.  Immediately I came across a slaver who got to know the wrong end of my police baton very well.  I didn’t want to use my gun at that point because it would only alert the other slavers.

Lock And Load was technically closed although it wasn’t locked up for the night.  I knew that Pronto, the owner and operator, would be asleep in the basement.  Within seconds I was standing over the snoring slaver/proprietor.  Killing a man in his sleep is not very heroic.  But I don’t claim to be a hero.  I am a 19 year old son of a bitch to the core with sociopathic tendencies with a lust for violence and death.  The morality of the situation didn’t enter my mind as I caved Pronto’s skull in with a baseball bat.  For one kooky moment I thought about how I always wanted to die in my sleep if I had a choice, but preferably on more passive terms.


Lock And Load

It was three in the morning.  None of the slavers knew I was close, and I was officially standing in a gold mine as far as weaponry goes.  I stole every piece of weaponry i could, right down to the brass knuckles.  Thankfully in the universe of Fallout 3 I could repair and maintain weapons within seconds.  I now had a decent arsenal on me including a Chinese assault rifle, a hunting rifle, some frag grenades, some frag mines, more pistols, etc.  With my newly procured artillery I decided I had enough of tiptoeing.


Paradise Falls Compound

I entered the main compound.  It was still dark out but I made no effort to be subtle.  I started lobbing grenades with impunity.  Within seconds body parts were flying everywhere.  I made such a mess of the slavers that I actually had a hard time looting the bodies because they were scattered everywhere in parts.  The confused slavers didn’t stand a chance.  Even, Clover, a formidable bodyguard of Eulogy Jones (the boss) couldn’t get a scratch on me.  I had the upper hand.  I went into the barracks and mopped up Carolina Red and the few other slavers trying to sleep.  Then I went into Eulogy Jones’ pad and ended him and his other bodyguard, Crimson.


Eulogy Jones

All the slavers were dead.  I looted Eulogy’s pad.  I found a speech Bobblehead, a holotape on a supposed missing android from the commonwealth, and some bottles of Nuka Cola Quantum.  I took Eulogy’s unique duds too.  I thought I would wear them whenever I wanted to kill in style.

Finally I released all the slaves, with the exception of Breadbox, a senile and demented old man who didn’t even know where he was.  The kids told me to meet them outside when I was done.  I told them I would.  And I did.  Outside of Paradise Falls the kids thanked me and told me to stop by Little Lamplight, their home.  I told them I would.


Sammy, Penny, And Squirrel



With Paradise Falls officially closed for business, I now had my sights on another slaver enterprise.

Pittsburgh here I come.

Pittsburgh is definitely a ways from DC.  That didn’t matter though.  It was full of slaves who had disease to worry about on top of their lives of forced labour.   It wasn’t right and I was going to make damn sure I righted it.  I had been getting radio frequencies on my Pipboy from an escaped slave named Wehner.  I was to meet him at a radio tower far north.  I wouldn’t waste time.  The only holdup I experience was as I was passing through the Dickerson Tabernacle Chapel.  Some asshole was taking pot shots at me with a sniper rifle.  I blew him up with a frag grenade for his troubles, and took his sniper rifle.  What a prize that was.  It was the Reservists Rifle.  It was the first of my big collection of unique weapons.  Thanks buddy.


Dickson Tabernacle Chapel

Alright Amos.  I’m now weary and will report back tomorrow.  Until then…

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Sometimes Our Fantasies Collide


There I was being born.  I decided to be a dude.  Because I am a dude after all.  My mom died giving birth to me.  My next memory was of my dad teaching me how to walk.  I was a year old.  Dad wasn’t so much as teaching me how to walk as he was beckoning me to walk toward him.  I did just that.  Then he left me alone in my playpen which I promptly escaped from, by opening the door.  Ingenious, I know.  I went to open the S.P.E.C.I.A.L Book and it happens.  My universe crashed.  Apparently the Fallout 3 Gods frown on using console commands to update your S.P.E.C.I.A.L stats before even getting to the damn book.

I had to start my whole adventure again.  I am reborn.  Mom dies again.  Is this what it’s like for people with Alzheimer’s Disease?  Or how about overwhelming Deja Vu?  Oh well.  Rest in peace mother.  Again.


There’s dad beckoning me again.  Does he see me riding a bike?  I’m not his freakin’ errand boy.  I am but a mere year old.  Should I even be walking?  I don’t know.  When did YOU start walking?  Dad leaves.  So I open the S.P.E.C.I.A.L Book again.  I pick my stats.  As soon as I am done, I console command the FUCK out of things.  I now have all my stats at 100% except for Science, Medicine, and Lockpick.  It’s not because I am opposed to those skills.  I just don’t want to upset the gods again before I take my G.O.A.T Test.

Dad gets back and we fast forward to my tenth birthday party.  I am now ten so I get my own Pipboy.  Joyous rapturous day.  I thank Amata for the party.  I chastise her dad for not helping out, for I am a good person.  Not so good though that I don’t make fun of Butch’s alcoholic mom when he tries to punk me for my sweet roll.  My comments enrage Butch and he attacks me.  I evade his punches with great ease.  I don’t fight back because I am not given the option to.  But I don’t forget this crime, and I will have my revenge.


Dad has a surprise for me.  He tells me to meet him in the basement.  As eerie as that sounds, I decide my dad’s legit and I’m not going to wake up somewhere dark, rectum on fire.

Dr. Jonas is an egghead who works with my dad.  He’s in the basement waiting for me.  Dad shows up and gives me a BB gun.  I practice my aim and  kill a radroach.  Dr. Jonas takes a picture of dad and I, and all of the sudden I am 16 years old.  Weird.

Dad is giving me a physical exam.  Oh I never mentioned he was a doctor, so get your minds out of the gutter.  He tells me I’m good enough to take the G.O.A.T test.  So I head off to class.  Egad!  There are the Tunnel Snakes.  The Tunnel Snakes are a gang of Vault 101.  Did I mention all this was going down in a vault and it’s about 200 years after World War 3?  Well now you know.


So there are the Tunnel Snakes,   The Tunnel Snakes are Wally Mack, Paul Hannon Jr, and my nemesis, Butch DeLoria. The Tunnel Snakes are harassing my love interest, Amata.  It’s payback time.

Without a word to any of them I take my hands out of the hand netherworld and proceed to pound the sugar bombs out of the three of them, rendering all of them unconscious.  Tunnel Snakes, my arse.

I saunter into class and convince Mr. Brotch that I don’t need to take the test and can choose my own stats.  He obliges.

All of the sudden I am 19 and being woken up to the sound of an alarm and Amata.  She hysterically informs me that my father has escaped the vault and her father, The Overseer, is on a rampage.  Jonas has been killed for some inexplicable reason by vault security.  But maybe there was a reason and I just missed it.  I am sure it was dad-related.  Amata tells me I’m marked for death and I have to escape.  She gives me a pistol.  I thank her politely and don’t make any dirty or rude comments.  She is my friend.


I take my gun.  I take whatever else I can find kicking around my room.  Then I get a little fucking crazy.

No sooner do I take my leave, along Butch comes begging me for help.  His mother is under attack by radroaches.  Butch is a bad motherfucker but he has a phobia of radroaches.  Rather than make fun of him, I decide to help him, for I know my reward.  I save Butch’s mom and get the best article of clothing in the game.  I’ll be kicking butt from here on wearing a Tunnel Snakes jacket.  Hell, I’ll even be a Tunnel Snake.  It’s not about the cause.  It’s about looking cool.


I escape from the vault taking as many casualties as possible.  I don’t hurt any of the good guards, only the bad ones.  I even manage to gun down security officers O’Brian and Richards before they can attack Mary and Tom Holden.  Despite having killed Dr. Jonas, I spare The Overseer out of respect for Amata.  I don’t show the same quarter to any of his goons, however.  They must die.

I got the vault door open and am free.  Washington D.C. has been completely decimated by nuclear weapons.  The site is as beautiful as it is terrifying.  Click on this video to experience the magic.



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A Lesson In Teenage Revolution


Top 10 Songs From The Vapids

  1.  God Bless The Internet
  2. Got Me On A Leash
  3. Beach Blvd And Fourth
  4. Loner In Myself
  5. In For The Kill
  6. Mahoney Park
  7. Mantle Piece
  8. Let’s Make Way
  9. Cynical Solution
  10. She Won’t Go Away


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Why Does The Sun Go On Shining?


Sorry for the lack of updates.  I’ve been in Toronto for the last two weeks.  It’s been something.

Going from a tiny hamlet to a big metropolis is quite an adjustment.  I think I prefer the metropolis.  There are more options, it seems.

Recording with Jimmy Vapid went off without a hitch.  That’s probably an understatement.  He showed up with his technology.  We plugged in and off we went.  We were done in about two hours.

I owe my musical career to Jimmy Vapid.  When I was 24 I was floundering in life.  Jimmy invited me to join the Vapids.  I was leery.  I wasn’t very good at this point.  I started playing bass when I was 21.  I had three years of playing Ramones covers under my belt.  I had been in various bands but had never been on a proper stage.  Jimmy gave me a shot.  I learned everything about how to and how to not be in a band.

So I’m ready to rock again.  I think my acoustic career has run its course, for now at least.  I have a couple shows coming up.  I’ll start a page to announce shows.

It always comes back to punk rock.  I was never really happy in a band unless I was playing punk rock.

I’m going to sing and play the bass.  Thankfully my time with the guitar has come to an end too.  I’m just not a guitar player.  I don’t know how I pulled it off in Hanging Girl.

The bass is a great instrument.  Bass players are a rare sort.  There are a lot of bass players out there who are doing it begrudgingly.  The guy playing bass in a band wanted to be a guitar player but the other guitar player was better.  So they got stuck on bass.  Funnily enough I ended up on the guitar in Hanging Girl because Geoff Thompson was a better bass player than me.

The new band is going to be punk, but with keyboards too.  I love the sound of keys.  I just do.  I was listening to my favourite punk songs the other day and they all have keyboard tracks in them.  They’re not forefront, but they are in there adding depth and ambiance.

I hope my brothers Scotty, and Stoneman will join me on this journey.  I love playing with them.

I’m not done with acoustic personally.  I just really need a break.  I just need to rock out sometimes.  I’ll even play sporadically parallel to all this.  But my focus is on the band.

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