The good life?

Ahhh, the sweet joy of living it up large! Or as large as you can in Novac. Which is basically sitting in my room and drinking. So I’m less living it up, and more just an alcoholic shut-in.
Joe is a few cats away from being a crazy cat guy.

With no saloon or social areas around here there isn’t really anything to blow my money on. A few people play Caravan – but the storekeeper stopped playing after I beat him a few times and that only leaves No-Bark. Frankly becoming No-Bark’s daily associate would hardly make Joe seem any saner.

Even if I don’t need to go looking for food, I should do a little prospecting – just to stop Joe looking mental. Besides – now my primary source of endless water is the tap in my room. Each slip slightly radiates me. I need to find something cleaner.
So after more then a week of slacking off sleeping, eating and drinking Joe decides it’s time to have a bit of an explore.

So off I set. It’s good to be back in armour – the whole wasteland at my beck and call.

Wasteland, behold my glory!

Wasteland, behold my glory!

I try following the main road to the south-west, but I’m not too far from Novac when I notice an old trailer across the road way off in the distance. A closer investigation through Joe’s rife scope revels a few small shacks just off the road, a perfect hiding place for raiders. Walking any further in that direction would be asking for an ambush. And while Joe needs to get out more I’m not sure that wandering into a bloody death trap is what’s called for.

You're not fooling me.

You're not fooling me.

Since bloody combat isn’t something I’m keen on, particularly if I’m the one who’ll be bloody, ol’Joe diverts to the west.
Joe’s luck isn’t a whole lot better further in that direction. There is an old chemical plant of some kind, but the place is bathed in radiation and frankly that scenario is infinitely unappealing.

Hmmmm. Looks like a series of tubes.

Hmmmm. Looks like a series of tubes.

Joe was looking for a few hot nights, but this not what I had in mind.
Further to the North West there is a pass that cuts through towards the NCR camps, but I’m staying the hell away from any armies. Don’t want to risk being conscripted into doing their dirty work.

You are standing at a crossroads.

You are standing at a crossroads.

Further north and… well, that’s less than ideal.

Lock, Stock and Sixteen Smoking Barrels

Lock, Stock and Sixteen Smoking Barrels

I make it back to my room by nightfall, but my outing was basically a complete failure. At least I have sweet booze to comfort me.

Next day I decide to introduce myself to a few more of the neighbours.

Honestly, most of the folk around Novac keep mostly to themselves. There are a few ex-NCR vets who look after the town and a bunch of retirees, but no one seems like they could be Joe’s new bestie.
In fact, far from making me feel more at home, the talk is quite worrying. Turns out that the wife of one of the NCR troopers was snatched by slavers right out of the town. And frankly, if she’s not safe then what chance does anyone have?

Apparently was quite a pilot in her day. Although her day was decades ago.

Apparently was quite a pilot in her day. Although her day was decades ago.

On the run from New Reno...

On the run from New Reno...

Next morning I figure I should take a short peek to the east, since everything northward looks to be hazardous to my health.
Up the hill and under a small bridge, is a small guard hut. It contains energy weapon ammunition – but I get the distinct impression that the inhabitants were relatively recent, rather than old world soldiers.

Who watches the watchman that should have been watching the watchhouse?

Who watches the watchman
that should have been watching the watchhouse?

Joe keeps walking until he can see the rep-con test centre up ahead… and then the screaming started.

A rattling groan alerted me to a bunch of ghouls running straight at the road – one of them glowing like an over-charged glow-worm. The moment Joe sees them I open up with a service rife. It’s a nifty weapon I picked up a while back, and while it doesn’t have the range of my modified varmint rifle, it’s packing a lot more rounds.
Just as I think that I’ve almost beaten down one of the normal ghouls, the glowing ghoul explodes with radiation and heals it right back up again.

I fall back a little and then start to focus fire on the glowing one – as long as his bony ass is running about the others will keep healing.


GGGAH! Panic! PANIC!!!

Annnnnnd we're done.

Annnnnnd we're done.

It takes a little while, but copious amounts of circle strafing manages to wear them down. Joe is able to limp back home with his life, if not his dignity, intact.

Sad and alone.

Ronery, I'm so ronery. I'm so ronery and sadry arone

Guess its back to drinking alone in my underwear.


2 Responses to “The good life?”

  1. Awesome as usual, wish you would let me proof read though 😀

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