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Cora: New Vegas – Episode I

August 24, 2012 Leave a comment

Note: this is the first in what will probably become a series. I recently picked up Fallout: New Vegas and found myself thoroughly enjoying the post-nuclear Western vibe. Acting upon the overwhelming impulse, I created a character resembling my vision of Cora Oglesby in such a world. What follows is a chronicle of her adventures through New Vegas. Yes, I am writing my own crossover fan fiction.

I ain’t got no clear memory of what happened. Best I can figure, some feller gave me a right smart smack when I wasn’t looking. Woke up feeling fit to split like a melon that’s been left in the sun too long. Pudding-headed though I was, I thought I heard voices coming from somewhere close, so I looked around a bit. Sure enough, some city feller and a pair of roughnecks was looking me over like I was a second place hog at the county fair. Before I could so much as open my mouth, the feller in the suit made his business clear.

Them city boys can get to the point when they want.

Way I see it, that should’ve been my ticket to the hereafter, but it wasn’t. Somehow, I held on long enough for some other folk to pull me right back out of my grave. Came to for the second time with a different feller looking at me. This one said he was the doctor who’d patched me up. Even gave me some sort of fancy mirror to make sure everything was where it should be. Never been much of a looker, mind you, but the doc patched me up so’s a body couldn’t even tell I’d taken a bullet between my teeth.

Doc asked me a few questions to make sure my brains wasn’t scrambled or nothing. Turns out my thinker wasn’t no worse for the trip to the boneyard, so he gave me back my gun and a funny-looking outfit besides. Ain’t never been much for looking fancy, but can’t say I was fit for a ball in that getup, neither.

Ben would’ve laughed himself sick.

Having done what he could, Doc sent me on my way. Said he didn’t have no idea who that fancy feller was who shot me, but told me to ask around town. Maybe some of the other locals had a notion, he said. Didn’t have no idea where Ben was, neither. Guess I was alone when they found me. Still, he had a point, so I made for the nearest saloon. Happened to be the only saloon in town, meaning it was where all the locals wet their whistles. I had me a powerful thirst of my own that needed tending to. Seems dying does that to a body.

I wasn’t inside more than two ticks when this big old bear of a dog jumped up and started making himself known. My hand was already on my gun before some young sprout grabbed the mutt by the scruff and yelled at it to simmer down. Introduced herself as Sunny Smiles. Right funny name if you ask me. Still, she had herself a fine-looking rifle across her back and seemed to know her way around that dog of hers, so I reckoned she couldn’t have been all bad. Sure enough, I introduced myself and we got along just fine. Turns out little miss Sunny needed some help with local critters, salamanders or some such. I told her I was a fair shot with a rifle, so off we went into the desert for a spot of game hunting.

Bagged me my fair share of them things, too.

We shot up enough lizards to make the rest tuck tail and get. Sunny Smiles got this big old smile on her face then, saying that the town’s water supply was safe again. We both helped ourselves to a few sips before heading back into town. Sunny didn’t say much on the way, which left me to wondering where that damn fool husband of mine had got himself to. Nowhere good was my guess. Couldn’t rightly make up my mind on what I ought to do first, find his sorry behind or get on the trail of them as tried to kill me.

Before I could puzzle it out, we was back at the saloon. A drop or two of rotgut would set my thinking straight, I reckoned. Could almost taste that fire in the back of my throat. Problem was, when I made my way over to the bar, the lady bartender had herself a whole other mess of trouble that had nothing to do with a thirsty customer.

Lucky for her, I had me some experience with her sort of trouble.

 

To be continued…

 

Categories: Games, Short Fiction, Writing

A Strange Craving

August 3, 2012 Leave a comment

Lately, I’ve found myself at the behest of some rather odd desires.

Google image search for “odd desire”: this and a chess set made of dicks.

Disappointingly, these desires have very little to do with any sort of experimentation. No additional fruit will be purchased at the store this weekend. These desires would seem much more ordinary were I a 14-year-old girl, I think. Since I am not, I am forced to conceal them from colleagues and passersby alike (the desires, not the 14-year-old girls). Were I to voice them, I would surely become the victim of sidelong glances, queries into my well-being, and swirlies. Thus, the only avenue of expression left to me is the one place nobody ever sees anything: the Internet.

I really want to play Harvest Moon.

“lol fag”

Okay, so maybe not Harvest Moon specifically, but I’ve really wanted to play some sort of production-themed game. I’ve had my eye on the new(ish) Rune Factory title for awhile, but I’ve become almost exclusively a PC gamer these days. As such, I was thinking about picking up Sim City 4. User reviews insist that the game has a steep learning curve, though, and financial frustration isn’t exactly the escapism venue I’m hoping for. Even if I were able to triumph over the economic hardships of the Simverse, I’m not sure SC4 would scratch this particular itch. I’ve even toyed with the idea of becoming a manufacturer in EVE, but my lack of supporting skills, a private station, nine years of training, and twelve hours of free time per day put me at a disadvantage in that particular market.

What is perhaps even more perplexing is where this desire originated: fuck if I know. I’m usually content with my RPG/MMO/TBS/Steam sale cocktail, so I have no idea why I suddenly have a craving for a particular type of game. Hell, even having a game craving is rather rare for me. The urge to play a specific game will occasionally hit (almost exclusively when I don’t own said game), but I usually pick the evening’s entertainment on the fly. Why, then, do I have a powerful urge to grow crap on a pretend farm? Perhaps my electronic conscience is demanding nonviolent entertainment for once. Perhaps I am looking for even more non-stressful ways to relax. Perhaps I am feeling the need to create something again and am desperately hoping to stave it off with pointless games before it becomes another book.

This counts as literature, right?

Oh well, time to go play more Civ. If anyone has any recommendations for Harvest Moon-esque games for PC, I’m open to suggestions.

Categories: Games
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