Silath's Journal: Day 4 - October 22, 2281

Continued to follow the strip wall around to the east today, until I ran into the H&H tools building. I wasn't in a huge hurry to get to the strip, so I decided to explore inside a bit. I remembered seeing that H&H Logo on Victor.
Inside were a few hostile robots, Mr. Handies and Robobrains, and a few turrets. Not a single one of them got a shot off one me. What was more trouble were the mines and booby traps; there was a pack of 6 mines at the landing of one of the stairways to the factory floor catwalk. The damn things blew before I got out of range and crippled my left arm and leg.
I had picked up some Hydra from that doctor back at the radio station, though, so that and a stimpack fixed me up. Hydra is great stuff.
At the top of the catwalk was some sort of managers office, inside was a terminal I couldn't manage to hack and a Lucky 38 VIP access card. Not sure what that's for, maybe the terminal could have told me.  Now that I think about it, I want to head back there in the morning and try to hack it again.

After that I left H&H and found a manhole cover, headed inside to explore (What can I say, I'm curious) and it lead to a very extensive sewer system. Oddly though it was inhabited, and not by hostiles; just ordinary folk. A little further down though, deeper in the sewers, were plenty of rats and ghouls waiting for me. I swear there's not a damn place in the wasteland someone or something isn't waiting to kill you if you look hard enough.
My N99 with the 10mm hollow points did a fantastic job on them though, glad I could finally give my service rifle a break. I found another terminal with a locked chest beside it, but I wasn't able to pick the lock. Was able to hack the terminal though: it gave me an option to access the sewer controls. When I did, all I got was a message about "Override order blah blah House Directive'.
Interesting thing is, I'd heard that House name mentioned back in some of the H&H unsecured terminals. On a few of them, someone had left some (poorly) concealed files, the journal of some paranoid man named House. He mentioned a brother, though: H&H is two brothers House?

One of the ways outta the sewer was guarded by some NCR troopers; these guys weren't as friendly as the ones at the water cistern, and they didn't want me going through the manhole they were guarding. I wasn't going to push my luck.
Little ways past that I ran into some more hostile gang members; had to pull out the service rifle and AP ammo again, but I put them down easy enough. I hate to say it, but I might be starting to enjoy taking out those freaks. I'm a little worried.

Anyway, past the gangers, I found a locked room holding a shitload of ghouls. Once I had killed them off (Hollow points to the head do wonders at stopping them) I found a dead salvager hidden in a back room. He had some small amounts of various ammo on him, and more interestingly... reinforced combat armor, accompanied by a helmet.
I used my old combat armor to patch this reinforced suit up a bit and put it on. Granted it's a little heavier than my old armored jacket, so I can't be quiet as sneaky, but it's worth the trade off for the protection. Especially since I seem to have a bad habit of getting my limbs crippled by explosives.

Anyway, I got out of the sewers around 10:30 PM, I had no idea I had spent so much time wandering around in there. Worth it, though. Plan for tomorrow: head back to H&H to try and hack that terminal again, then try to get into the strip... hopefully without getting distracted by another 10 hour jaunt in a sewer system!

Silath's Journal: Day 3 - October 21, 2281

Came across some wierd talismans on the road north this morning. They were made of twigs and branches in the shape of men, with what looked like wings made of sticks. It was a strange site.
A little further on was a town; my pipboy identified it as 'Bonne Springs', I guess it has locations pre-programmed in, but for some reason can't identify them until I get close enough. Who knows with pre-war technology though. In any case the town was swarming with hostile gang members, a dozen or so.
Of course I didn't know this until they started shooting at me, so I dove behind some rocks and started sniping at one of them. As soon as I took him out though, another bastard launched a grenade at me, ripped up my arm and leg pretty good. Thankfully I put enough bullets in him to send him to hell before I got another grenade launched at me.
That left several more of the fuckers, but thankfull they were all in the same direction, so I just hid behind the rock and popped out to take them down one at a time. The town itself was all collapsed and gutted buildings, nothing useful there. But one of the gang members had some combat armor, in decent condition, which I liberated. Also found two plasma grenades, among other random junk I took for trading later.

After that, and enough med-x to let me set up camp, I went through a decent amount of medical supplies fixing myself up. Stimpacks don't cut it for those more sever injuries. I slept for a few hours and then kept moving north; on the way out I noticed more of the wooden talismans; perhaps they're some sort of territorial marker for that gang?
The crazy thing is, I took out a shitload of them. Granted if I had been a little slower that grenadier might've blown me to smithereens, but still. Whats even crazier is that I engaged them instead of just running like I should have. Why did I kill them? I couldn't say. They were there, they were trying to kill me as soon as they saw me... and it pissed me off.
I was scared, yeah, but I was mad. Not just mad, but enraged... at the same time, I felt a sort of calmness when I was aiming down the sights of that rifle and pulled the trigger. I can't explain it.
I do know I don't feel any remorse about it. That might be hard to understand, but if you had seen them... they were more like rabid beasts than human beings. These weren't people. They were the enemy. And every one of them I kill is one less that they can butcher, flay open and pin to a wall with spikes... there's nothing human about those motherfuckers.

I came across more of these gang members a short while later. Dunno if they were part of the same group or not, but they were just as nasty. Put them down to. Maybe they're sick, the wasteland changed them somehow and thats why they are like they are? I dunno...
Anyway, I used a similar tactic on them. As soon as they started shooting I booked it to a boulder, peeked around and started picking them off. For as fierce as they are they're pretty damn stupid.
Nearby though I found something interesting, a radio broadcast building. My pipboy identified it as 'Freetech Broadcasting Station'. Inside were some very well equiped soldiers; friendly, thankfully. Apparently the building lays on top of some place called 'The Underground', a massive series of fallout shelters.
Inside I was able to do some trading with a guy named Hayward and a Dr. Vanderend, picked up some more ammo and medical supplies. Unfortunately they didn't have any water to give me, and by this point it was getting dark outside.
I only had a little water left, so rather than set up camp and wait out the night I decided to use the nightvision module Dr... I already forgot his name. Shit... Doctor Mitchell? I think. Guy saved my life and I can't even remember his name, how sad is that?
Well... anyway, as I left the radio station I ran into even MORE fuckbags, they were trying to assault the building I guess. But they were easy pickings with the soldiers from the station helping me out. This whole area seems infested with them, I'll have to be extra cautious. A little ways up the road a few more of them were gathered around a campfire; once again I just sniped them off.
One of them had another service rifle in decent condition though, and I was able to use some of the parts to repair my own modified rifle. It's really served me well so far.
Down the road were some suburbs, on the outskirts of a massive junk wall that seems to surround the vegas strip. It's wierd, because I can remember that it IS the vegas strip, but I couldn't tell you any details about it... aside from the fact it's a relative safe haven. I think I'll try to get inside tomorrow. Could use a decent nights rest.
Just outside the wall though, was a place my pipboy told me was a cistern. Water! Inside were two NCR soldiers, friendly enough. They let me drink my fill of water and fill up my bottles, and even let me sleep inside.
I'm not a big fan of big governments like the NCR (Again with the selective memories, what the fuck brain?) but all things considered there's worse organizations out there. At least these guys don't shoot me on sight.
I chatted with the NCR soldiers for a little bit before I fell asleep, but they mentioned a war against Ceasers Legion. Ceasers Legion sounded vaguely familiar, but I had no idea there was a war going on. For some reason, whenever I think about it I get the feeling I've forgotten something really important... keeps nagging at me...

Silath's Journal: Day 2 - October 20, 2281

Woke up early today, 4 AM. Drank some water from the well and then headed over to the Saloon, which was dead empty, at breakfast at the bar and cleaned my weapons to pass the time till daylight. Around 6 I headed over to the gas station to talk to Ringo about the powder ganger situation; bastard greeted me with a gun.
I let him know I wasn't there to put a round in his head and he calmed down and apologized. Seemed like a nice enough guy. I wanted to convince him to leave town, it wasn't right to bring his troubles down on the peoplke of Goodsprings.
Believe it or not though, he convinced me to help him in return for payment from the Crimson Caravan company. I told him I'd take the job, but if he reneged on the contract I'd take the payment out of his hide.
He suggested I talk to Sunny Smiles for help defending the town, a suggestion I followed. Sunny was easy enough to convince, she seemed to believe that the powder ganger situation was best resolved as soon as possible. Sunny said I ought to talk to a few people about getting a hand in defending Ringo, and consequently the town.
Apparently Easy Pete had a stash of dynamite somewhere, but I wasn't able to convince the bastard to use some of it in our defense; he thought the explosives would end up doing more good than harm. If I'd been able to convince him otherwise things might've gone better at the battle, but it was his dynamite and his choice, I wasn't going to force him to help.
Thankfully Trudy was easier to convice; I laid out a plan to set up an ambush for the gangers and she agreed. Doc Mitchell gave me a few stimpacks, but that was all. At least I was able to convince Chet to hand out some leather armor and ammunition; he realized that if the ganger's took over the town, his business was as good as dead. Caps talk.

The batttle... could have gone better. We killed four of the powder gangers, including Joe Cobb. Sadly Ringo died in the process, which means whatever payment I would have had coming from the Crimson Caravan went right out the window. It also means I failed my contract with him... not something I'm proud of. Cheyenne, Sunny's dog, got her head blown off. Feel bad about that, that dog meant a lot to Sunny. I'm not so stupid as to think it was my fault; Sunny chose to go into battle and her dog went with her. Still sucks, though.
We also lost one of the townies, I didn't know him or his name. One of the men Trudy convinced to help defend the town. We stripped the powder gangers of gear and burned their bodies. Trudy and Sunny buried the body of the townie up at the graveyard, I helped dig the grave. The idea of burial seems odd to me, rotting in the ground till you're nothing but rotten bones, but Trudy seemed to think it was more civilized than burning. Personally I'd rather my body be reduced to ashes and charcoal, but I guess if I'm dead it doesn't really matter. Still and all...
Anyway, the town didn't seem too shook up by the battle. I guess their accustomed enough to death. After the battle I realized that my lever action is less than stellar against armored oppenents, headed over to Chet's and traded it in. One of the gangers had a decent Varmint rifle, with an extended magazine to hold 7 rounds instead of 5. I bought some 5.56 rounds off of Chet and headed over to the reloading bench to make some armor piercing rounds. Made some 10mm hollow points for the N99 too, figured I could use the varmint rifle on armored enemies and the N99 for everything else.
Aside from the varmint rifle, I also found a decent cowboy hat on one of the powder gangers, took it for myself. The Mojave sun will burn the skin right off your face if you let it, so it was nice to get some protection.

I'm not sure I wanna talk about this, but I guess I should at least mention it... it's important after all. Today was the first day, as far as I know, that I killed a man. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that. We all made the decision to join in that battle, we all knew the risks involved. I feel bad about Ringo and the townie that died, but I feel even worse about Sunny's dog Cheyenne. Dunno why that is.
Really, I feel ambivalant about the whole thing. I mean, I killed people today. One could even argue that I got people killed. It feels... well, I don't want to say it feels 'right', but thats as close as I can get to it. We wanted different things, we fought over it, and this time I won. I guess it's just the way things are out here... Sure we could have tried to talk about it, come to some sort of compromise. But I'm smart enough to know that never lasts. In the end, it always comes down to blows.

Anyway, enough about feelings. After that I decided to head north on the road out of town. Goodsprings is a nice place and all, but there's something out there in the Mojave calling to me. I don't know what, or why... maybe it's some subconscious thing, some leftover part of my old memories calling me towards... something.
Along the road I came across the Goodsprings sewer system, though, and I decided to check it out. Lotta mole rats inside, trying to bite my fucking face off, but a 10mm hollow point to the head stops em real quick.
Found an odd thing inside though. Hidden in a locked back room was a ghoul, wearing NCR armor. Three hollow points to the head put him down though; he was feral, no doubt. Ain't hard to tell a feral ghoul from one of the nice ones.
Odd... there's this amnesia again. I can remember what the NCR is, and all about ghouls... makes me feel wierd when I think about it, the fact I can remember all this crap and still nothing about myself.
Anyway, the ghoul had a note on him and some dog tags. Guess his name was Baxter. The note said something about him being fed up with killing people, and yet apparently he poisoned a corporal. Hypocrit. So he decided to hide down here in the sewers.
On the plus side, our dear ghoul Baxter had some radaway, ammo, and a nice modified Service Rifle on him. Feels a little creepy taking the man's rifle away and using it for myself, then again I am wearing a dead powder gangers hat. I'm not going to just let useful equipment lay to rot... not like the dead have any need of it. Still feels a little wierd though, I'll just have to get used to it.
After that I trotted back to town, did a little trading with the stuff I salvaged from the sewers. Swapped out the varmint rifle for Baxter's service rifle. I do like that N99 though. It's big and bulky, but that helps absorb the considerable kick of the 10mm rounds. Loaded with hollow points it's a hell of a pistol... at least for anything not wearing armor.
I headed back north on the road, and a little ways past the sewers there were some cazadores. I did remember them, and I remember them being a real bitch to kill. As I turned around to backtrack a bit and go around him, that damned robot Victor came up and started chatting to me.
He said something about how I should be careful out here (No shit, Sherlock!) and how he 'felt responsible' for me. The entire conversation was a little odd and a lot creepy. That robot, man... something about it is off.
Anyway, despite my efforts to go around the cazadores one of the damned things spotted me and headed straight for me. Fucker stung me before I could kill him, let me tell you: if you've never gotten stung by a cazadore, it HURTS. Thankfully I had some antivenom, which I promptly downed, and then followed up with a couple of stimpacks. If it hadn't been for the antivenom I probably would have died, something to keep in mind future me.
After the cazadore encounter I continued on my way, only to be promptly assualted by several radscorpions. This time I was prepared though: the armor piercing rounds from the service rifle took care of them nicely. Glad I decided to take the time at the reloading bench. I think from now on I'll always take a good rifle loaded with some AP rounds wherever I go.
By that point it was getting dark, so I decided to set up camp and wait out the night. Besides, after all the adrenaline I'd pumped through today I was dog tired.
That's it for now... gonna eat dinner and catch some sleep. Tomorrow I'll continue heading north.

Silath's Journal: Day 1 - October 19. 2281

     Doc Mitchell advised that I keep this journal. He said that it might help me recover my memories... I have my doubts, but it's worth a try. If nothing else I have the hope that it will allow me to have some sense of security, having amnesia is unsettling at best. The odd thing is that I remember tons of information, just nothing about my personal life... I can remember how a gun works, or how to pick a lock; but I couldn't even remember my name. In the meantime I've decided to call myself Silath, I have no idea why, but it appeals to me.
      Doc Mitchell himself seemed a kind man, he even gave me a pip-boy and a night vision/combat module, invaluable pieces of technology. That alone is quite a gift, but he also saved my life. Him and some robot named Victor, who apparently brought me in. It seems I had been shot in the head, and somehow managed to survive... but with the consequence of amnesia.
      I talked with Victor, and despite it's friendly demeanor, there's something strange about him. It... whatever. Apparently he just rolls around town, silent as a cat all day. Very strange.
      I had a note on me when I was shot; a Mojave Express delivery order. Frankly though I'm not sure it's a great idea to pursue the people who did this to me. Revenge is fantastic and all, but for all I know I deserved to be shot. Besides... they might recognize me and try to finish the job.
      Thankfully whoever it was that shot me left me with several useful pieces of gear, that I presume I had been carrying with me, in addition to the pistol and ammunition Doc Mitchell provided me with. I have a field jacket, modified with some light armoring and a web belt. There's also a .357 lever action, and a 10mm pistol, with some ammo for both. A few stimpacks and caps, so I'm not completely broke. Aside from that there's a backpack, with a small tarp, sleeping pad, and light sleeping bag. There's also a few miscenalleneous pieces of weapons repair equipment and survival supplies. Plenty of rope, duct tape, a field knife, hatchet, those kinds of things. Unfortunately not a lot to go on as far as getting any idea of who I was.    
     For now I think I'll take the Doctor's recommendation and follow Sunny Smiles, who's dog greeted me as soon as I stepped into the saloon. She's offered to teach me a few things, but first I wanted to take a break and record all of this... just in case I forget again.
 -------------------------------------------
      Back again. Sure as shit got dark fast, and the day went by even faster. I figured I'd record what happened today while I sat down and ate dinner. I spent most of the day with Sunny, we hunted down some gheckos wandering around the water supply. After that she showed me an interesting trick involving brock flower and xander root to make healing powder.
      Anyway, she told me to go gather the plants by the school and graveyard, and after inquiring as to their locations I went off the get the ingredients. What Sunny neglected to tell me is that the school was overrun with mantis' with a taste for human flesh. Thankfully between my armored jacket and N99 pistol, the mantis' were made short work of.
      There was a terminal beside a wall safe in the school, and curiosity wouldn't let me leave it unopened. I was able to hack the terminal with the help of my pipboy and a programmers magazine (How the terminal still had power is beyond me). Inside the safe were a few goodies, most notable among them a stealth-boy. Damned if I know how, but I still remember how to use the thing and what it does. This amnesia is just... bizzare.
      Speaking of bizzare, everyone in this town has been too bloody nice and it's making me nervous. I haven't seen any reason to be suspicious, but still it's just... odd. On my way back to Sunny after collecting the brock flower- the graveyard was full of mutated flies, by the way. Thankfully the doctor had shown me how to use the VATS on the pipboy, and that helped me deal with 'em.
     Like I was saying though, on the way back from the graveyard, a damned giant radscorpion started chasing me. Those things are bloody TOUGH: even the .357 mag rounds from my lever action couldn't kill it. Thankfully one of the townies sitting outside the saloon noticed and helped me kill the beast.
      The venom gland helped me buy dinner, some iguana bits. Wierd because I have yet to see an iguana, or any non-hostile creature, now that I think about it... aside from Sunny's dog, at least. While I was at the Saloon, after Sunny sent me back to talk to Trudy, the "Town's mother" in her words, Trudy was in an argument with some guy wearing some sort of police armored vest. Apparently he was looking for somebody, and was a "Powder Ganger", escaped convicts... I'm not sure it'd be wise to get involved, but I'll think about it more tomorrow.
      On the plus side I was able to fix Trudy's radio, and she gave me 50 caps for it. For now I've set up camp next to one of the wells that supplies the town with water, and after I finish eating I'll grab some sleep for the night. I've gotta admit, hunting those gheckos, killing the bloatflies and radscorpion... it was scary, but damned exciting too. I felt so alive, but it leaves you exhausted. I'll get back to you tomorrow, hopefully these journals will help me remember... something anyway.

Daydreaming

I like to imagine I'm laying on a simple, low sitting black couch, perfectly rectangular. In front of it is a black glass coffee table on simple brushed chrome legs, a bottle of rum and a glass on it. On the wall is a huge holograph TV turned to some trade channel, muted. Outside the massive glass panels making up one wall, snow falls on a park twenty stories below. People stroll around under the street lamps, bundled up in coats, hustling from one place to another or just holding hands and strolling. Music flows softly from speakers hidden about the room, barely audible, soft and melancholy. The lights of the TV reflect off a black marble floor. I think about the next haul I should make; amassing wealth for the sake of wealth. Sliding my legs off the couch, I stand, ice clinking in the glass I hold as I make my way to one of the panes of glass and breath against it, condensation forming a small cloud as I watch people leave tracks in the snow. Everything is quiet, clean, just the way it should be. There are no worries about money or health, what lies in the future or where my life will lead those I care about. There is just simple enjoyment in the way things are, and my power to change them or to leave them be, but there is no need for change. Everything is as it should be, but not stagnant and boring.

The fear of evil.

Why do people fear evil? Within all of us is the capacity for evil. Sometimes there is even a desire to do evil. Whether we we curb that desire as a result of some divine presence or biological evolution is irrelevant. For every individual there is an individual definition of what exactly evil is, but regardless, we all have a darkness inside that forces the choice; give in or resist. Many people fear that darkness. They may even fear the choice; perhaps they are afraid that they will make the 'wrong' choice. Certainly we fear evil in others above all else, though. That's what I'm speaking of here; the fear of evil in others. I don't understand that fear, not anymore. Perhaps I once did. Regardless, I don't see the point to it, and it's certainly a very common fear. A fear that envelops our society, our history, our culture. Why? We should fight evil, or what we perceive as evil. We should strive to conquer it in others and in ourselves (Although we can no more eliminate evil than we can eliminate our thoughts and emotions). But fear? What place does fear have in this fight? It's not fear of failure, for it's not really a fight that can be won or lost. The tides can be turned, yes, but ultimate victory can never be achieved for either side. Is it fear of pain, then? No... it's deeper even than that primal instinct. Fear of evil is fear of the night, the unknown shadows that catch the corner of our eyes and cause us to huddle closer around the fire. The only way to conquer that fear is to accept the evil inside yourself, to recognize it's presence and either willfully choose to deny it or to embrace it. I do not think that embracing evil will lead anyone to happiness, but I do think that accepting it and saying "No" allows us to conquer it; for evil's greatest tool is fear. When we learn there is no cause for fear, evil ceases to be anything more than an arbitrary adversary.

Thoughts on Faith.

Religion is often cited as a selfless thing, giving yourself over to god, helping the less fortunate, being an instrument of god (whichever you choose to believe in).

I believe the truth is quite the opposite. I believe that at it's core, religious belief is a very selfish thing. I also believe that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Selfishness has become this evil thing, taboo. Like so many other sociological fallacies, the very idea of selflessness goes against our very nature. I would even go so far as to say it's impossible for a human being to be selfless.

Why do people believe? It provides us with guidance outside of ourselves. Faith allows us to let something else take the reigns of our fate. It allows us to have the cards fall as they may; this can be a source of great relief. It can also be a very dangerous thing.
The problem is that if one puts too much of their life in the hands of 'fate', it can lead to powerlessness. Prayer has it's place, but it never has, and never will, be as effective as action.
An unfortunate side effect of the idea that 'everything is gods will' is that it completely removes the power of the individual.

But I think that this powerlessness, this succumbing to fate, is not an inherent flaw in religion. More likely, it seems to me, that it is the rhetoric of priests and clergy who desire to consolidate power, who want to take the choices away from their flock... the preachers force their faithful to look to them for guidance, and not to themselves, or to their personal relationship with a higher being.

And really, organized religion is the problem. Turning a persons relationship with their god into a social thing, taking something that is individually tailored and turning it into a one-size-fits-all event. Personal belief is a beautiful thing, but organized religion is often merely a tool for the manipulation of others.

Faith is an extremely personal and individualized thing, with each person having a person relationship with their god or gods. To take that unique and special individual relationship and turn it into a social-wide phenomena is a very sad thing.

One of the problems with monotheism is that it can be detrimental to the idea of an individual, tailored faith. In polytheism, the gods are very like humans. They have stories, backgrounds, character flaws. They have families and feuds. For all intents and purposes they are very easy to relate to, to reach.
It's easy to pick one (Or more) god to identify with, to choose to invest your faith in. Monotheism is quite difference; it often features a grand, greater-than-human figure who looks upon us with a mixture of indifference and disdain from on-high. Polytheistic gods walk among us, clad in disguises and testing us, teasing us, learning from us as we learn from them.

The one true god, however, is beyond all of this. He is very difficult to identify with because he is aggrandized. Unapproachable. He is perfect and he will not hesitate to smite you down, into an eternal hellfire, for the littlest of slights. It's very grand and impersonal, frightening even. What it is not, is identifiable.

In the end, however, I encourage everyone to find their own system of faith. Or none at all, if that suits you. I believe that faith should empower you; not the opposite. I believe that faith is best looked at as a business arrangement; in return for your belief, your god offers you guidance and strength. Last and most importantly, I believe your relationship with your god should be a deeply personal and individual thing.
Anyone who presumes to intervene in that personal relationship is trying nothing less than to take the place of your god. To ensure that you come to them for answers, rather than seeking the answers yourself.