Fallout Journal: Entry # 3

19 Dec, 2151: Despite taking three days, the time just flew by. At the time of our arrival at vault 15, I had no regrets about taking Ian with me. Despite being only a tad slow in the head, he was fantastic company. I learned a lot about the current state of the world. Not that there's much news from far away, as everyone is pretty much fending for themselves.

At any rate, I would soon come to find out just how bad my luck actually is, and that I keep making stupid decisions on a very consistent basis.

I led Ian to the elevator shaft, and we proceeded to tie down one end of the rope to the computer terminal nearby. We made our way down to the second floor.

Before I continue: Why are there so many rats in the world?

More importantly, how did they all find their way down a broken elevator shaft, and find enough food to survive for god knows how long, and then grow about 10 times their normal size?

I digress. So, we both made it to the second floor only to be ambushed by horrible mutant rats. They still gave me hardly any trouble at all. No, the real danger was actually Ian. I rushed out to the hallway, guns blazing. I had killed about 4 of the gigantic beasts when a bullet tore through my shoulder. I turn around in a hurry to see Ian shrug me an apology, and continue firing his gun. He clearly had no wasteland experience, and had lied about his training. He didn't know how to use that thing, and as a result managed to shoot me. Son of a bitch.

Why me? Why is it that fate has called upon me for such a noble quest, yet hands me such bad cards?

I yelled at Ian to put down the weapon and climb back up the rope and wait for me. I injected a stimpack directly into the wound. Stimpacks are an amazing substance, let me tell you. It worked so fast that I didn't even feel the needle going in. It was instant bliss.

I kept firing bullets into rats until there were no more moving targets. I then climbed up the rope and told Ian to get the hell out of my sight. After firing Ian, I proceeded to investigate the second floor of the vault. I checked bedrooms, bathroom, closest, everywhere. No water chip. Instead, I found another elevator shaft. A wave of dread and disgust hit me once again. I needed more rope.


25 Dec, 2151: I will not write about my re-return to Shady Sands and back. I refuse. It didn't happen, as far as I'm concerned.

Merry Christmas, me. I have obtained more rope, and am about to descend to the third floor of the vault. I guess you could also call it the first floor, considering it's the lowest floor, but that's unimportant.

25, Dec, 2151: There's no waterchip here. Why would there be? I apparently haven't suffered enough for there this to be the end of my quest. All that awaited me on this third floor was broken computers, caved in sections, and rats.

1 Jan, 2152: I returned today to vault 13 to report everything that had happened up to this point to the Overseer. He was very unhappy to learn I had found nothing despite taking so long.

Worse for me is that I now have no clues as to the whereabouts for the chip. The best I can hope for is to wander the wastes and hope I randomly find towns or facilities that might have it.

I have prepared best I can for the journey. I snuck into the storerooms and stole all the supplies I could get my hands on. Stimpacks, bottled water, ammunition. I deserved it, right, being the saviour of the people and all?

In retrospect, it might not have been a good idea to steal the water.. Well, if I fail, they're going to die anyway, right? It's just going to be a little sooner rather than later, now.

I don't feel too bad about it all of a sudden.