After looking out of the window for God knows how long, my boredom took me to my wallet. I don't know who I was talking to, but the topic of my parents was available to anyone listening.
I must have been going insane with boredom and needed some air. Sadly, if there is a God, he has a taste for the ironic. Air was exactly what I was getting, as the plane broke apart and travelled slightly more vertically than I anticipated. Down we went, and then under we went, as the plane hit the water. Struggling to breathe, I made it to the surface.
Around me, charred corpses and a ring of fire. Wait, a lighthouse? Convenient. As I made my way to the only dry land I expect to see for a while, I see remnants of the plane exploding and sinking. Serves them right for the crappy meals they served. And where the hell was that drinks cart? I sit back and watch the tail go under for a while, wondering how I'd go about getting my money back for the ticket.
After shouting out for any survivors, I walk inside the building. Behind me, doors shut. After figuring I just fell for Rule #1 of B-movie horror flicks, the lights come on to reveal the most poorly designed lighthouse ever. Who the hell changed the light at the top, and how the hell do they get there? All I see is a large man, staring at me from the wall. Well, I may as well look for a phone or something.
As I carry on, lights keep turning on to guide my path. Either someone's watching me, or this is some sweet motion sensor. I finally get to some sort of lift. Only it doesn't go up. I don't know if it was because I hadn't seen enough water yet, or because there was nothing else to do, but I got in. That was my first mistake.
As the sub lowered, I was treated to a film. Great, even in-flight movies in submarines have ads. After paying attention to a guy talk about politics or something (I was trying to find the remote) the window opened to show something I've never seen before.
A city! Underwater! Who built this? And why? They hired contractors to built this under all this pressure? Why wasn't this on the news?! The whale over there could just bump into a building and kill hundreds!
I heard an Irish man talking about my plance crash over some sort of intercom. Thank God, people. Maybe they can get me out of this deathtrap and back to land. I felt an unnatural hatred for water already.
As I rise to meet my 'rescuers', I see 'Johnny' back away from some woman. Hoping for a good punch up, I keep watching. What I wasn't counting on was the woman to stick a scythe into his gut. I quickly scan the area for weapons, finding nothing. Well...I always wanted to die inside a lift in an underwater city. I guess. Suddenly, the woman runs off, leaving me with the familiar voice coming from an intercom. "Would you kindly pick up that shortwave radio" Would you kindly get me out of here?! I just saw a guy get killed and you want a chat?
Luggage and picket signs were strewn everywhere in this room. It looks like I missed some party. After following the disembodied voices and noises (I'd be terrible in a horror film) my radio buddy tells me to find a crowbar to fend off the so called 'splicers'. How a crowbar is superior to a scythe I don't know, but it's not like there's much here. I find a wrench, hoping it fares high on the guy's 'List of tools to be used as weapons'. Moving on, a 'splicer' throws a flaming couch at me.
I guess this city has never heard of guns.
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
Saturday, 6 March 2010
I'm never touching Tequila again.
All I remember was a disembodied Russian voice talking to me about children...or something. I've never been one for remembering dreams though I remember a few words. Vault. Pandora. Guardian. I'm sure these won't be important. All, of a sudden...BAM! I jolted up to find myself on some sort of bus. There were only 3 other people and a driver, all of whom looked familiar? Were they at Dave's party last night? They probably stuck me on this bus to get me home, after the fifth tequila in a row. All it took was a quick look outside to tell me how wrong I was. Where the hell am I?! I've never seen this place before, and I think I'd know if I lived in a desert. Dave and his friends must have stuck me on a random bus as a prank. No big deal, I'll just get to the final stop, find out where I am, and go back home.
I turned to see what we'd hit, and saw some sort of dog lying in the road. I could have sworn it's mouth was messed up, or it had scales or something, but I put this down to travelling at fast speeds and the booze still playing tricks on me. I hope I never see what I thought I saw, because that was just terrifying. “Wake up!” I heard from the front of the bus. That voice sounded too familiar. I started to ask if he'd been talking while I was asleep, but he just started asking whose stop it was. I went to try to get back to sleep, when all of a sudden I had a woman speak to me. I thought it was the lady behind me, but she just seemed to be meditating. What happened next I still can't explain. It was like a hologram appeared in front of me and started talking to me. Either no-one noticed or it was normal business around here. Before I could discuss the implications of appearing like this, she told me to get off the bus. Did she not realise I was lost and had a plan? Or did she just want me to give up any hope of going home. Does this count as kidnapping, actually? Before I knew it, I was stood up, and walking towards the front of the bus. I went to ask the driver whether he was telling me stories while I slept, because that's just creepy, and realised I could ask him about this woman. Before I could decide which to ask, he tells me to get off his bus. Forgetting' his tip, I leave.
Recalling the 'conversation' I just had, the woman told me to meet a small, funny robot who'll guide me to my goal. There was nothing. Well, there was an annoying robot, who was pretty small I guess, but there was no way I was following him. “This way please!” he shouted. I turned away to admire the scenery. I saw a gun on the floor, which was probably rusted to hell. Firing a shot off at the robot, I found it fully worked. Excellent. Walking over to admire the damage, I found that the shot had done no damage to the robot, when I had a thought which terrified me. Maybe this was the robot I was meant to follow. Which meant my 'advisor', for want of a better name, had a terrible sense of humor. Sighing, I followed the robot's instructions. He was saying something about a station which stored my DNA. I must have missed the law passed to build these, as that just sounds like it'd be ripe with misuse. I don't even see the relevance for me. From the way the robot's talking, it'd only be useful if I was planning to be harmed during this trip. Nonetheless, I reluctantly touched the device, which seems like that's all I needed to do. The robot seemed happy. Wait, what was that he said about 'horrific death insurance'? I won't need that, right. Right?!
He didn't answer, and walked off, when all of a sudden I heard a rumbling, and a convoy of cars flew overhead, firing bullets in random directions. Damn, I'm not going to enjoy this trip, am I?
Monday, 26 October 2009
Stop telling me so much about your personailty!
As anyone who knows me will realise, I'm on Facebook quite a lot. In fact, during the times I'm not, it's not uncommon to get a text asking where I am and if I'm ok. Sadly, most of my Facebook time is taken up by people 'fanning' pointless pages. Now I'm all for allowing your profile to show you more about who you are, since Facebook would become rather redundant if it didn't. But do you really need to let people know you're a fan of breathing? You're really a fan of basic bodily functions? What does that even entail? I really hope no-one comes across your page wondering if you like to breath, and find out you have so much in common when they find that you, too, share the same ability as the entirety of our lifeform. The day this happens is the day I voluntarily submit myself for a Darwin Award.
So many pages are set up just to get a high user base. It's like the creators of each page feel the length (Or depth. I don't want to be sexist.) of their genetalia increases with each member they've fooled into thinking "I should become a fan of Shiny Stuff!"
While I'm on the subject, many groups are created in the same vein. The only difference I can see involves a group having a discussion board, allowing you to tell people "Yes, I also enjoy this random thing you thought of one day and had to clog the internet with." There may be more to it, but since I'm not going to join any of these pages to find out, you can find it out for yourself if you dare.
This wasn't as much of a problem in the past, as Facebook never updated you with who was following what. At the time of Facebook's first layout, fanning and groups weren't much of an annoyance as nobody had come up with the idea yet, and half of it wasn't implemented. (I miss those days.) A short update later, and the highlight reel was made public. This had the advantage of hiding on the side of the screen, so that any fannings were sandwiched between drunken pictures of your friends to gawk over. This latest update is the bane of my existence, however.
It's not that I don't like the layout, because I do. I think I'm in a minority of people who either like the layout, or couldn't give a crap how it looks as long as I can talk to people and make plans. It's because of updates like "[Person] and [too many friends] have become a fan of [crap I don't care about]." It's because I can't see what's going on in my friend's lives because I'm too busy filtering though updates about groups which shouldn't see the light of the internet and their respective clones. It's because Facebook can't give me the option to hide these updates. I have to hide all feeds from the person. This wouldn't be a problem if I didn't care about what half my friends say. Sure, they've made a few mistakes, what with becoming a fan of "Mcdonalds Should Do Deliveries", but that doesn't mean I should miss out on what flavour soup people are eating each day.
What's so wrong with only becoming a fan of applications you want to keep up to date with? It's a useful service if done well. I'm all for becoming a fan of Firefox so you can stay in the know when they update to a new version. But I urge you, stop telling me you're a fan of laughing when people fall over. Its a pretty redundant statement, since if you don't laugh when people hit the deck, you're probably not human.
So many pages are set up just to get a high user base. It's like the creators of each page feel the length (Or depth. I don't want to be sexist.) of their genetalia increases with each member they've fooled into thinking "I should become a fan of Shiny Stuff!"
While I'm on the subject, many groups are created in the same vein. The only difference I can see involves a group having a discussion board, allowing you to tell people "Yes, I also enjoy this random thing you thought of one day and had to clog the internet with." There may be more to it, but since I'm not going to join any of these pages to find out, you can find it out for yourself if you dare.
This wasn't as much of a problem in the past, as Facebook never updated you with who was following what. At the time of Facebook's first layout, fanning and groups weren't much of an annoyance as nobody had come up with the idea yet, and half of it wasn't implemented. (I miss those days.) A short update later, and the highlight reel was made public. This had the advantage of hiding on the side of the screen, so that any fannings were sandwiched between drunken pictures of your friends to gawk over. This latest update is the bane of my existence, however.
It's not that I don't like the layout, because I do. I think I'm in a minority of people who either like the layout, or couldn't give a crap how it looks as long as I can talk to people and make plans. It's because of updates like "[Person] and [too many friends] have become a fan of [crap I don't care about]." It's because I can't see what's going on in my friend's lives because I'm too busy filtering though updates about groups which shouldn't see the light of the internet and their respective clones. It's because Facebook can't give me the option to hide these updates. I have to hide all feeds from the person. This wouldn't be a problem if I didn't care about what half my friends say. Sure, they've made a few mistakes, what with becoming a fan of "Mcdonalds Should Do Deliveries", but that doesn't mean I should miss out on what flavour soup people are eating each day.
What's so wrong with only becoming a fan of applications you want to keep up to date with? It's a useful service if done well. I'm all for becoming a fan of Firefox so you can stay in the know when they update to a new version. But I urge you, stop telling me you're a fan of laughing when people fall over. Its a pretty redundant statement, since if you don't laugh when people hit the deck, you're probably not human.
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Damned memory.
If there's one thing I hate, it's creepy little girls in horror movies. If there's two things I hate, it's that and forgetting the controls of a game. The latter is our topic of choice for this evening.
So I fired up Infinite Undiscovery for the first time since the day I bought it at the beginning of summer. I probably would have had a better time if I hadn't just been pressing A to attack everything which looked at me funny. I knew there were other attacks, and I knew I could connect to characters.....somehow. What i didn't know was the effects of each attack, how to equip it, how to connect to someone and how to use their skills. I took one look at the menus to relearn, but I only learnt what a few moves did. I have no idea what a trait or title does or how to unlock more. Buying items was a hassle, as I had to select the amount of each item I wanted BEFORE I said I wanted to buy it.
This is in no way the fault of the game. All the information is there, and has been told to me before. It's in every way my fault. I tend to do this a lot with games.
"This seems like a good game. That's the tutorial over with, and I've all the information I need! Bring on the first enemy! Wait, it's 2am already? Lectures in the morning I'd better go get some sleep."
*2 months pass*
"Wow, I can't remember the game being this hard. Wait, I'm supposed to Press A here? How do I heal again? This move is too slow, I'm sure I had another attack. How do I revive characters? Why am I the only one lef-...oh I'm dead."
No matter what game it is or how addicted I am to it, I'm going to forget how to play it. Something shinier or an assignment I'm being graded heavily on will makes it's way towards me and the obsession I've been wasting away on will start collecting dust on the shelf. It's happened multiple times over the years. The Sims, Tropico, Halo, GTAIII, Guild Wars, FEAR, and Banjo Kazooie to name a few.
Hopefully I'm not the only one. Until I can upload game mechanics to my brain, I'm going to keep forgetting them.
So I fired up Infinite Undiscovery for the first time since the day I bought it at the beginning of summer. I probably would have had a better time if I hadn't just been pressing A to attack everything which looked at me funny. I knew there were other attacks, and I knew I could connect to characters.....somehow. What i didn't know was the effects of each attack, how to equip it, how to connect to someone and how to use their skills. I took one look at the menus to relearn, but I only learnt what a few moves did. I have no idea what a trait or title does or how to unlock more. Buying items was a hassle, as I had to select the amount of each item I wanted BEFORE I said I wanted to buy it.
This is in no way the fault of the game. All the information is there, and has been told to me before. It's in every way my fault. I tend to do this a lot with games.
"This seems like a good game. That's the tutorial over with, and I've all the information I need! Bring on the first enemy! Wait, it's 2am already? Lectures in the morning I'd better go get some sleep."
*2 months pass*
"Wow, I can't remember the game being this hard. Wait, I'm supposed to Press A here? How do I heal again? This move is too slow, I'm sure I had another attack. How do I revive characters? Why am I the only one lef-...oh I'm dead."
No matter what game it is or how addicted I am to it, I'm going to forget how to play it. Something shinier or an assignment I'm being graded heavily on will makes it's way towards me and the obsession I've been wasting away on will start collecting dust on the shelf. It's happened multiple times over the years. The Sims, Tropico, Halo, GTAIII, Guild Wars, FEAR, and Banjo Kazooie to name a few.
Hopefully I'm not the only one. Until I can upload game mechanics to my brain, I'm going to keep forgetting them.
Thursday, 24 September 2009
Losses
Today has been a day of losses. Thankfully, all voluntarily, but losses nonetheless. First off, there was the loss of £1050 from my account. Ok, it means I get a place to keep my pants, but it also means I have less to spend on the games I don't need, or even want.
Secondly, I allowed a complete stranger to ask me personal questions and stab me twice with needles. Yes, I have joined the elitest group of people who give away their bodily fluids for free. Sort of like a prostitute, but with less business sense. I'm writing this thing while waiting for the light-headedness to kick in, meaning any gibberish can easily be explained away and you won't know any different. Success! I'm sure the whole reward of giving blood is just being able to act weird and have no-one think anything negative towards you. I can work with this.
The not-updating excuse this time is: *drumroll* UNI!
I somehow managed to pass second year, move house, move to a different place when getting back to Preston, and socialise with people. Also managed to get a hold of Batman: Arkham Asylum, one of the best games I've had the pleasure of beating for a while. Not only did it keep me hooked for well over a week, but it also got me digging out Batman comics from all over the internet.
I'd just like to say, the first Batman story (Detective Comics #27 I think) is terrible. The first few stories are so laughably bad I have no idea how they gained their popularity. So glad they did though.
Also, fgkjepoudfshvoifdvghs*collapse*
Secondly, I allowed a complete stranger to ask me personal questions and stab me twice with needles. Yes, I have joined the elitest group of people who give away their bodily fluids for free. Sort of like a prostitute, but with less business sense. I'm writing this thing while waiting for the light-headedness to kick in, meaning any gibberish can easily be explained away and you won't know any different. Success! I'm sure the whole reward of giving blood is just being able to act weird and have no-one think anything negative towards you. I can work with this.
The not-updating excuse this time is: *drumroll* UNI!
I somehow managed to pass second year, move house, move to a different place when getting back to Preston, and socialise with people. Also managed to get a hold of Batman: Arkham Asylum, one of the best games I've had the pleasure of beating for a while. Not only did it keep me hooked for well over a week, but it also got me digging out Batman comics from all over the internet.
I'd just like to say, the first Batman story (Detective Comics #27 I think) is terrible. The first few stories are so laughably bad I have no idea how they gained their popularity. So glad they did though.
Also, fgkjepoudfshvoifdvghs*collapse*
Sunday, 23 August 2009
The facts of life.
- If you’re going to be away from your PC for a weekend with only your laptop, remember to back up your music collection.
- The adverts on the free version of Spotify are VERY annoying.
- Re-learning a year long module is anything but fun.
- I should have revised more the first time around.
- If I fail tomorrow's resit I'm going to cry.
- In no way, will I blame blogging instead of revising.
- The adverts on the free version of Spotify are VERY annoying.
- Re-learning a year long module is anything but fun.
- I should have revised more the first time around.
- If I fail tomorrow's resit I'm going to cry.
- In no way, will I blame blogging instead of revising.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
The Chronicles of Banana Hammock
And here I thought helping out with this book would be easy. Instead of writing, I’m some sort of research assistant. What I thought was going to be a quiet existence has turned into a load of collection and exploration quests. Getting irradiated, crippling myself, and testing a (very bad) Molerat repellent is how I spend my days now. And for what? All to help out that damned trader. Moira started off with standard requests, such as going to the supermarket and picking up some food, but now that we’ve nearly finished the Survival Guide she’s writing, the requests are getting more and more ridiculous. For instance, I’m on my way to Rivet City to find out how the place got started. To put it another way, I’m spending my afternoon walking around a ship, asking people how they turned this place into a town. I wish I said no to the guide. I wish I could settle down somewhere in this hell-hole and wait for my time to die. Dukov has the right idea. He has girls, and he has lots of booze. If I didn’t find him so repulsive, I might actually offer to stay and ‘help out’. At least then I wouldn’t be walking through this wasteland all day every day, performing menial jobs for everyone I walk past.
I’ve disarmed a 200 year old bomb. I’ve fixed a leaky water plant. I’ve saved a kid from giant fire-breathing ants and found him a new place to live. And what do I have to show for it? A couple hundred bottle caps and some bobble heads in my house, if you can call it that. Every now and then, I hear a news-story about myself through the static on Galaxy News Radio, but they’re still having trouble with the reception. I’ll follow in my dad’s footsteps soon enough to see what the problem is if this place doesn’t liven up a bit. Though that does mean walking through the city, not that the odd Super Mutant wouldn’t be a problem. They go down pretty easily, but from what I’ve heard, they’re everywhere, and I don’t think my sniper rifle is up to the task just yet. I miss the old days, when the biggest risk to the vault was a Radroach infestation. There’s all sort of weird creatures out here, which people are willing to let me go face for them. For instance, today I’ve came across Radroaches, Molerats, a Super Mutant, and a Deathclaw, all to help research for a book.
All this wandering, and yet I’ve still not answered the important questions. How is there still electricity? How have these cardboard boxes lasted 200 years of weathering? Why does it never rain?
I’ve disarmed a 200 year old bomb. I’ve fixed a leaky water plant. I’ve saved a kid from giant fire-breathing ants and found him a new place to live. And what do I have to show for it? A couple hundred bottle caps and some bobble heads in my house, if you can call it that. Every now and then, I hear a news-story about myself through the static on Galaxy News Radio, but they’re still having trouble with the reception. I’ll follow in my dad’s footsteps soon enough to see what the problem is if this place doesn’t liven up a bit. Though that does mean walking through the city, not that the odd Super Mutant wouldn’t be a problem. They go down pretty easily, but from what I’ve heard, they’re everywhere, and I don’t think my sniper rifle is up to the task just yet. I miss the old days, when the biggest risk to the vault was a Radroach infestation. There’s all sort of weird creatures out here, which people are willing to let me go face for them. For instance, today I’ve came across Radroaches, Molerats, a Super Mutant, and a Deathclaw, all to help research for a book.
All this wandering, and yet I’ve still not answered the important questions. How is there still electricity? How have these cardboard boxes lasted 200 years of weathering? Why does it never rain?
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
To whom it may concern.
Dear spider,
I know you've been there a while. I looked up randomly to see you quite happily sitting (hanging?) on my ceiling, content with your recent catch of two miscellaneous insects. It is with this reasoning that I know you didn't come in through the window and position yourself next to the toilet, as my original thought would have been. Instead I know you made the whole wall and a half journey to sit next to the toilet bowl. Now, I don't have a problem with you being here. I'm quite willing to share out my ceiling/wall space during these cold nights and would hate to be blamed for you going cold.
My main gripe is this: Were they really big eyes coming out of your front, or just really small legs?
If it's the former, my mind switches to the realisation that you climbed down and positioned yourself in the optimal position for watching me pee. This may not be the case, as I'm sure you'll probably be pretty embarrased by having to watch me pee as well, but one does wonder. My privacy is important to me, but I wouldn't want to sabotage our living arrangements just because of a misunderstanding. Maybe there was a juicy fly I was missing out on. Or you just fancied a change of scenery and all this is a horrible coincidence.
Either way, I hope we can resolve this soon, and go back to before.
Yours,
Ryan.
I know you've been there a while. I looked up randomly to see you quite happily sitting (hanging?) on my ceiling, content with your recent catch of two miscellaneous insects. It is with this reasoning that I know you didn't come in through the window and position yourself next to the toilet, as my original thought would have been. Instead I know you made the whole wall and a half journey to sit next to the toilet bowl. Now, I don't have a problem with you being here. I'm quite willing to share out my ceiling/wall space during these cold nights and would hate to be blamed for you going cold.
My main gripe is this: Were they really big eyes coming out of your front, or just really small legs?
If it's the former, my mind switches to the realisation that you climbed down and positioned yourself in the optimal position for watching me pee. This may not be the case, as I'm sure you'll probably be pretty embarrased by having to watch me pee as well, but one does wonder. My privacy is important to me, but I wouldn't want to sabotage our living arrangements just because of a misunderstanding. Maybe there was a juicy fly I was missing out on. Or you just fancied a change of scenery and all this is a horrible coincidence.
Either way, I hope we can resolve this soon, and go back to before.
Yours,
Ryan.
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
An apocolyptic childhood.
My childhood wasn’t an easy one. As soon as I was out of the womb, my dad insisted on giving me questions, asking me to name myself and asking what sex I was. Honestly, doesn’t the crotch give it away? I told them I was a girl, which seemed to get a positive response. I was hoping if I was wrong, one of the talented doctors would point this out to everyone. Since I got to choose my own name, I chose Banana Hammock. I was in a playful mood and thought the parents would laugh it off and called me Agatha or something. No such luck. This name seems to fit me perfectly. I don’t think they like me much.
Next on the agenda, seeing what the baby will look like when all grown up. Note to self: When I do grow up, remind hospitals that shoving monitors into baby’s faces and making them choose their future appearance really doesn’t help. Though I did find out one thing; my dad’s a little on the insane side. My future self will be a Caucasian female, sporting a green Mohican, and I apparently look ‘just like my daddy’. What did mum see in him?! Speaking of whom, after all the festivities, something happened to her and I was wheeled off into the back. I guess I must have fallen off the crash-cart or something, since I just saw a white light and voices around me, only recognising my dimwit of a father’s.
When I came to, it was a year later and I was in what I presume to be my room with the father. He was in my playpen telling me to walk to him. I saw a toy box so got a little distracted. After jumping up onto the chair, leaping into the box, picking up my favourite teddy and going to show it to the dad, he was only impressed with the walking. The jumping didn’t do anything for you then did it daddy dearest? What about my attempt to read? Ok, all I managed to do was gurgle a bit, but that’s more you can do, standing there with your constant, mindless clapping. After I had a little play, I managed to circle strafe to daddy (another talent going un-noticed) and got told I walk like a pro. Seriously? People have contests for this stuff? Sign me up!
Thankfully, dad left, giving me some peace and quiet. I had a strange urge to have another go at reading that book. Soon after, dad came back. I tried telling him I’d read the book, looking for a little recognition for my reading at the age of one. He was only interested in how I got out of the pen. You didn’t even lock it! It wasn’t that hard! Apparently, I made a friend while I was unconscious, because dad wanted to make me go play. Trying to get rid of me already, eh? I followed, but only because the toys here had lost their appeal, though I did take my ball with me. I must have tripped over or something, since the second I turned the corner, I blacked out again, and heard the same voices as before, as well as a few children’s voices.
This time, it was 9 years later, and it was apparently my birthday. Someone told some Stanley guy that my unconsciousness was due to the bright lights. Hey, that’s the same excuse my dad used 9 years ago! I smell a conspiracy! Though I saw cake, so all was well. Getting to the cake was a bit of a hassle. People kept trying to talk to me. I did get given a ‘pop-boy’ or something, which I’ll have a play with later. The Overseer walked away before I could ask him how I could get Pong on this thing, and it was my dad’s turn to tell me how proud he was. I wonder if he’ll tell me I’m a pro at walking again.
Amata was asking if I’d been surprised. I wanted to tell her ‘Of course I was! I’ve been in a coma for 9 years! Who are you people!?’ but I couldn’t find the right words. After she’d left, I started playing with the Jukebox, but couldn’t get any Slayer on. What a crappy party! Everyone was standing around, and I’d almost forgotten about the cake until the robot shouted. I ran over, plate at the ready for the first morsel of food I’d ever eaten. I’d expected a party in my mouth, but a much better one than in this crummy place. Sadly, I never got a chance to sample the delicious cake as the damned robot destroyed it in an attempt to cut it. Note to self: Install Vista onto him later.
Some old lady gave me a sweet roll as a present. Now, I’m not one to challenge the elderly, but a sweet roll? I could pick this up at the vault shop for a single cap! Some present. I humoured her, and smiled it off, with a hatred towards everyone here, when I was stopped by another kid. The robot had bothered him as well it seems. Before I could set up an alliance against the robot, he demanded my sweet roll off me. I’d had my cake taken from me, I wasn’t about to let this food go to waste as well. I hadn’t eaten in the 10 years I’d been alive! I said something or other about his mother, and he went nuts! I’d ran away for a good while and no-one thought to stop him before he actually hit me. Twice. I hope this place gets infected by bugs or something. Amata made some God-awful pun about Butch’s name and walked off. I should kill her. Or her dad actually, since he’s really putting a downer on this party.
My dad apparently had a surprise for me, so after stealing all the plate, glasses and hats to sell on later, I followed him. I don’t like my father, but I’d rather be with him than at that ‘party’. On my way out, some strange woman stopped to give me a poem as a present. I think I like Old Lady Palmer more now. At least she got me an actual present instead of a note of paper. That’s all I got from her as well. ‘One poem per birthday. What would Butch say if I gave you two?’ I wanted to tell her I think he’d laugh at me for getting two, but she walked off before I could retort. I ran off hurriedly to meet Jonas downstairs, who told me to wait for my father. Why? It’s not his birthday. I stood in the corner wondering what the surprise could be. I hope it’s cake. Stupid robot.
It’s a BB Gun! I asked who I could kill, since I really had my eye set on that robot. Apparently it’s not a toy and could do some harm. I showed him how responsible I could be by shooting him in his dumb face. See? Not even blinded! Reluctantly, I followed him to the target range. After all, my party with all the other ‘victims’ was the other way. After some mediocre target practice, a giant bug walked in! Apparently this is routine, so I shot it in the face. 1. 2. 3. 4 shots to kill it? What a crappy gun. I’m never going to kill the overseer at this rate. ‘That’s one less Radroach to deal with’ was my dad’s response. Does he not know how much bugs reproduce? What a dumbarse. Dad wanted a picture to capture the moment with. They never asked me for my opinion. Maybe I don’t want to be seen with this oaf, but I joined in. I knew I shouldn’t have, since the flash knocked me unconscious again.
Six years older and I was with my dad again. He’s a doctor?! That explains the lab coat. But how did someone so stupid get this job? We’re all doomed. He was telling me I have to take some test, and apparently I was faking an illness. Does he not know what a coma is? Some doctor.
On my way to the text, I saw Amata being ganged up on by Butch and his gang. Now, I don’t like Amata (I still remember that crappy party) but it seemed a good excuse to use my BB Gun. I got into a fight with Butch again, but then realised that someone had taken my gun off me. Bastards!
Though it did only take a few punches to knock him down. Not that the teacher inside the classroom opposite seemed to mind me beating the snot out of Butch. I like this guy. Looking like we’d bonded, I asked if he could take my test for me, using my 16 year old body to appeal to him. Success! I hope I get this guy to teach all my classes. College should be a breeze. I ran out the class, telling everyone else to ‘Go suck it!’ Karma hates me, as the second I contemplated finding out where that stupid robot hangs out, I fainted again. Damn good thing I’d already done the test.
This time, the coma only lasted for three years, and I awoke to find Amata next to my bed. I tried to remember if I’d been to a party last night. After all, college is a time for experimentation.
Seems she’d come in and woke me up to tell me my dad had ran off. I wanted to tell her I didn’t care, but she still wanted me to go and find him outside the vault. I didn’t know such a thing was possible, otherwise I would have ran out while I was still a kid. Jonas was killed as well apparently. After asking who did it, I got told it didn’t matter right now. On the contrary, finding who killed the guy who gave me my first weapon was pretty high on my list of things to do. After telling Amata what she wanted to hear, I left.
Apparently, leaving this place is frowned upon, as guards were searching for me everywhere. Even those bugs managed to get in. If my dad was still here, I could have said “Ha, told you so”, but I just took a mental note to rub it in his face later. Speaking of Radroaches, Butch’s mum was being attacked by some. I said I’d help, but really wanted an excuse to ‘miss.’ Sadly, that’s all I did as every shot hit a roach. I need to work on my aiming.
Upstairs, I saw the robot and a guard who’d been at my party fighting off some roaches. Apparently the robot had a flamethrower. Thank God I never actually went to harm him. More running and I found the overseer. Amata ran off before I could ask her how to take the safety off the gun she gave me. I really didn’t like the overseer. As I caught up with her, she thanked me for not killing her father. It would be a bit weird if I told her I was about to, but needed help in doing it, so I left it and instead concentrated on getting the door to the office open. The key was apparently ‘hidden’ in the overseer’s room in some drawers. Do these people not know about security?
After opening the office, I had to hack the computer to open some door. Having never used a computer in my life, I looked through The Overseer’s stuff for things to steal. In a cupboard was the password for the terminal. To answer my previous question, no. Upon entering the code, I made it to the door below and opened the door to outside. After saying my goodbye’s to Amata, I walked outside the vault.
And that’s where my story ends. I write this in a hotel in a town called Megaton. The escape happened yesterday, and I’m told my father went to Galaxy News Radio, which for some reason is having transmission difficulties recently. I have a bad feeling about this, so I’m going to stay here and help a shopkeeper on that book of hers.
Next on the agenda, seeing what the baby will look like when all grown up. Note to self: When I do grow up, remind hospitals that shoving monitors into baby’s faces and making them choose their future appearance really doesn’t help. Though I did find out one thing; my dad’s a little on the insane side. My future self will be a Caucasian female, sporting a green Mohican, and I apparently look ‘just like my daddy’. What did mum see in him?! Speaking of whom, after all the festivities, something happened to her and I was wheeled off into the back. I guess I must have fallen off the crash-cart or something, since I just saw a white light and voices around me, only recognising my dimwit of a father’s.
When I came to, it was a year later and I was in what I presume to be my room with the father. He was in my playpen telling me to walk to him. I saw a toy box so got a little distracted. After jumping up onto the chair, leaping into the box, picking up my favourite teddy and going to show it to the dad, he was only impressed with the walking. The jumping didn’t do anything for you then did it daddy dearest? What about my attempt to read? Ok, all I managed to do was gurgle a bit, but that’s more you can do, standing there with your constant, mindless clapping. After I had a little play, I managed to circle strafe to daddy (another talent going un-noticed) and got told I walk like a pro. Seriously? People have contests for this stuff? Sign me up!
Thankfully, dad left, giving me some peace and quiet. I had a strange urge to have another go at reading that book. Soon after, dad came back. I tried telling him I’d read the book, looking for a little recognition for my reading at the age of one. He was only interested in how I got out of the pen. You didn’t even lock it! It wasn’t that hard! Apparently, I made a friend while I was unconscious, because dad wanted to make me go play. Trying to get rid of me already, eh? I followed, but only because the toys here had lost their appeal, though I did take my ball with me. I must have tripped over or something, since the second I turned the corner, I blacked out again, and heard the same voices as before, as well as a few children’s voices.
This time, it was 9 years later, and it was apparently my birthday. Someone told some Stanley guy that my unconsciousness was due to the bright lights. Hey, that’s the same excuse my dad used 9 years ago! I smell a conspiracy! Though I saw cake, so all was well. Getting to the cake was a bit of a hassle. People kept trying to talk to me. I did get given a ‘pop-boy’ or something, which I’ll have a play with later. The Overseer walked away before I could ask him how I could get Pong on this thing, and it was my dad’s turn to tell me how proud he was. I wonder if he’ll tell me I’m a pro at walking again.
Amata was asking if I’d been surprised. I wanted to tell her ‘Of course I was! I’ve been in a coma for 9 years! Who are you people!?’ but I couldn’t find the right words. After she’d left, I started playing with the Jukebox, but couldn’t get any Slayer on. What a crappy party! Everyone was standing around, and I’d almost forgotten about the cake until the robot shouted. I ran over, plate at the ready for the first morsel of food I’d ever eaten. I’d expected a party in my mouth, but a much better one than in this crummy place. Sadly, I never got a chance to sample the delicious cake as the damned robot destroyed it in an attempt to cut it. Note to self: Install Vista onto him later.
Some old lady gave me a sweet roll as a present. Now, I’m not one to challenge the elderly, but a sweet roll? I could pick this up at the vault shop for a single cap! Some present. I humoured her, and smiled it off, with a hatred towards everyone here, when I was stopped by another kid. The robot had bothered him as well it seems. Before I could set up an alliance against the robot, he demanded my sweet roll off me. I’d had my cake taken from me, I wasn’t about to let this food go to waste as well. I hadn’t eaten in the 10 years I’d been alive! I said something or other about his mother, and he went nuts! I’d ran away for a good while and no-one thought to stop him before he actually hit me. Twice. I hope this place gets infected by bugs or something. Amata made some God-awful pun about Butch’s name and walked off. I should kill her. Or her dad actually, since he’s really putting a downer on this party.
My dad apparently had a surprise for me, so after stealing all the plate, glasses and hats to sell on later, I followed him. I don’t like my father, but I’d rather be with him than at that ‘party’. On my way out, some strange woman stopped to give me a poem as a present. I think I like Old Lady Palmer more now. At least she got me an actual present instead of a note of paper. That’s all I got from her as well. ‘One poem per birthday. What would Butch say if I gave you two?’ I wanted to tell her I think he’d laugh at me for getting two, but she walked off before I could retort. I ran off hurriedly to meet Jonas downstairs, who told me to wait for my father. Why? It’s not his birthday. I stood in the corner wondering what the surprise could be. I hope it’s cake. Stupid robot.
It’s a BB Gun! I asked who I could kill, since I really had my eye set on that robot. Apparently it’s not a toy and could do some harm. I showed him how responsible I could be by shooting him in his dumb face. See? Not even blinded! Reluctantly, I followed him to the target range. After all, my party with all the other ‘victims’ was the other way. After some mediocre target practice, a giant bug walked in! Apparently this is routine, so I shot it in the face. 1. 2. 3. 4 shots to kill it? What a crappy gun. I’m never going to kill the overseer at this rate. ‘That’s one less Radroach to deal with’ was my dad’s response. Does he not know how much bugs reproduce? What a dumbarse. Dad wanted a picture to capture the moment with. They never asked me for my opinion. Maybe I don’t want to be seen with this oaf, but I joined in. I knew I shouldn’t have, since the flash knocked me unconscious again.
Six years older and I was with my dad again. He’s a doctor?! That explains the lab coat. But how did someone so stupid get this job? We’re all doomed. He was telling me I have to take some test, and apparently I was faking an illness. Does he not know what a coma is? Some doctor.
On my way to the text, I saw Amata being ganged up on by Butch and his gang. Now, I don’t like Amata (I still remember that crappy party) but it seemed a good excuse to use my BB Gun. I got into a fight with Butch again, but then realised that someone had taken my gun off me. Bastards!
Though it did only take a few punches to knock him down. Not that the teacher inside the classroom opposite seemed to mind me beating the snot out of Butch. I like this guy. Looking like we’d bonded, I asked if he could take my test for me, using my 16 year old body to appeal to him. Success! I hope I get this guy to teach all my classes. College should be a breeze. I ran out the class, telling everyone else to ‘Go suck it!’ Karma hates me, as the second I contemplated finding out where that stupid robot hangs out, I fainted again. Damn good thing I’d already done the test.
This time, the coma only lasted for three years, and I awoke to find Amata next to my bed. I tried to remember if I’d been to a party last night. After all, college is a time for experimentation.
Seems she’d come in and woke me up to tell me my dad had ran off. I wanted to tell her I didn’t care, but she still wanted me to go and find him outside the vault. I didn’t know such a thing was possible, otherwise I would have ran out while I was still a kid. Jonas was killed as well apparently. After asking who did it, I got told it didn’t matter right now. On the contrary, finding who killed the guy who gave me my first weapon was pretty high on my list of things to do. After telling Amata what she wanted to hear, I left.
Apparently, leaving this place is frowned upon, as guards were searching for me everywhere. Even those bugs managed to get in. If my dad was still here, I could have said “Ha, told you so”, but I just took a mental note to rub it in his face later. Speaking of Radroaches, Butch’s mum was being attacked by some. I said I’d help, but really wanted an excuse to ‘miss.’ Sadly, that’s all I did as every shot hit a roach. I need to work on my aiming.
Upstairs, I saw the robot and a guard who’d been at my party fighting off some roaches. Apparently the robot had a flamethrower. Thank God I never actually went to harm him. More running and I found the overseer. Amata ran off before I could ask her how to take the safety off the gun she gave me. I really didn’t like the overseer. As I caught up with her, she thanked me for not killing her father. It would be a bit weird if I told her I was about to, but needed help in doing it, so I left it and instead concentrated on getting the door to the office open. The key was apparently ‘hidden’ in the overseer’s room in some drawers. Do these people not know about security?
After opening the office, I had to hack the computer to open some door. Having never used a computer in my life, I looked through The Overseer’s stuff for things to steal. In a cupboard was the password for the terminal. To answer my previous question, no. Upon entering the code, I made it to the door below and opened the door to outside. After saying my goodbye’s to Amata, I walked outside the vault.
And that’s where my story ends. I write this in a hotel in a town called Megaton. The escape happened yesterday, and I’m told my father went to Galaxy News Radio, which for some reason is having transmission difficulties recently. I have a bad feeling about this, so I’m going to stay here and help a shopkeeper on that book of hers.
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Maybe some points of interest. Maybe not.
I'm more awake at night. I'm also more talkative at night. So why does the internet feel the need to shut down at this moment? My wit is spewing out in all directions like a teenager's first puking session after a steady course of alcohol, and there's no-one to listen to my pearls. It's like my sociablilty smells or something. (If it's anything like my physical state of recent, I'm not far off.)
So as I'm sitting in a state of wanting to talk to people who aren't there (A well documented phenomena actually) it hits me. I should play Fallout!
5 minutes in and it crashes.
"Fair enough, it's not known for being the most stable game" I think, as I boot up another session, remembering to save regularly.
10 minutes later, it crashes.
On next boot up, it does the same when I get to the same area. (Canterbury Commons.)
And so ends the story of how I ended up closing the game, remembering not to blame the Vault Dweller (Dizturbd ^_^), and typing the first thoughts into my head on here. You're welcome.
Also on tonight's agenda, chatrooms. Lately, it's been Gamernook, and Lycos, in an attempt to kill some time and talk to strangers about crap, since doing it on the street gets you weird looks. Especially if you're pantless like I am during the majority of my PC time.
Why is it that when I was younger, and more socially retarded, I found it easier to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger? Nowadays, I can barely talk to the other lines of text.
While we're on the topic of younger, why are summers so bad now?
I remember when they were great, and there was never a moment of boredom. Now I'm lucky to find something to entertain myself with.
And this was before I started playing games all day long.
What the crap did I do all day?!
On a side note (i.e. bugger all to do with anything in the history of everything) I now have a purple mop! Read: hair. Though I do now want a purple mop.
So as I'm sitting in a state of wanting to talk to people who aren't there (A well documented phenomena actually) it hits me. I should play Fallout!
5 minutes in and it crashes.
"Fair enough, it's not known for being the most stable game" I think, as I boot up another session, remembering to save regularly.
10 minutes later, it crashes.
On next boot up, it does the same when I get to the same area. (Canterbury Commons.)
And so ends the story of how I ended up closing the game, remembering not to blame the Vault Dweller (Dizturbd ^_^), and typing the first thoughts into my head on here. You're welcome.
Also on tonight's agenda, chatrooms. Lately, it's been Gamernook, and Lycos, in an attempt to kill some time and talk to strangers about crap, since doing it on the street gets you weird looks. Especially if you're pantless like I am during the majority of my PC time.
Why is it that when I was younger, and more socially retarded, I found it easier to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger? Nowadays, I can barely talk to the other lines of text.
While we're on the topic of younger, why are summers so bad now?
I remember when they were great, and there was never a moment of boredom. Now I'm lucky to find something to entertain myself with.
And this was before I started playing games all day long.
What the crap did I do all day?!
On a side note (i.e. bugger all to do with anything in the history of everything) I now have a purple mop! Read: hair. Though I do now want a purple mop.
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