"Go On and Pull That Trigger!"

Just a little brain-zephyr's worth of writing for you while I think of a better update:

The bloody mess was spread over a space of at least ten feet, broken bones and flesh scattered like patches of macabre plant life amongst the dry scrub of the plain. What hadn’t been taken by scavengers was playing host to a massive swarm of damned flies, their tiny black bodies part of a hungering army which scurried eagerly amid the gore.

A cloud of them filled the air around what was left of the corpse. Their strange, shrill buzzing was intensely loud despite the open terrain. To anyone listening closely enough, the noise could be heard as hundreds of high, thin screams that could drive a man insane if he listened for too long.The hunter swept his gaze across the thickest patch of the stuff, where rib bones stuck out of caked blood and rotting meat. He’d seen three more killings like this one recently, but this, absurdly, was the tidiest of the bunch. He checked the grip of his pistols and looked at the surroundings.

Parched, gritty plains extended in every direction, dotted here and there with spindly, skeletal trees and unremarkable rocks of all shapes and sizes. The scrub was a no-man's land constantly baked by the glaring, oppressive suns, with little cover for a predator, let alone a man-eater, and the few creatures that called it home could provide no real sustenance. Aside from the damned flies, whose screaming would become maddeningly loud whenever they were attacked, a few small lizards and scorpions could be found scurrying about the baked ground. These might have kept a lone eagle or reaperwing from starving, but a man-eater would die after a day in this environment.

‘Miles from anywhere, no sign of tracks, nowhere near in range of any man-eaters and besides, they wouldn’t have left anything, let alone this much mess.’

‘What a bloody shambles.’

‘What do you reckon?’ asked the taller man, switching his gaze to his partner.

The hunters were nearly identical in their clothing; broad, shady hats protected their eyes from the yellow and orange suns glaring down on the plain. They wore battered brown dusters over their clothes (unremarkable denim jeans and plain, simple shirts) and their hands covered by finely worked black leather gloves. The only real difference lay in their choice of armaments.

The shorter, slimmer man, with cold blue eyes and a scraggly black beard, wore a modified rifle which had a long body and a thick, oppressive muzzle. There were also two very serious-looking knives at his belt, which he toyed with idly.

Ka, the taller of the pair, was a heavyset man with two massive pistols holstered at his waist and a red bandanna tied around the bicep of his coat. A scratched, well-used axe peeked from the harness on his back. His brown eyes flicked nervously from the corpse to his partner.

‘Oll? I said, what do you reckon?’

His companion squatted down by the remains, sweeping his broad-brimmed hat from side to side in an effort to clear the damned flies from his sight. He reached out with a gloved hand and dipped a finger into the mess, stirring it around before gingerly pulling a broken rib from the muck. He inspected it thoughtfully, then tossed it over his shoulder, a handful of damned flies screaming helplessly after their meal.

‘Oll? You goin’ deaf, mate?’

The shorter man stood up, replacing his hat and placing his hands on his hips.

‘I reckon…’

‘Yeah?’

‘I reckon we need a fuckin’ drink.’

"Vault Secure!"

So Fallout 3 then.

I've been playing this every now and then. I ain't impressed. It isn't nearly as much fun as a good game of WAR - there's no-one around to fight!



It's a fucking wasteland! There's nothing out there but ruined buildings, tumbleweeds, radiation and the occasional rabid dog or robot! Where's my damned horse?! WHY CAN'T I SPRINT!?

WHY IS STEALTH IMPOSSIBLE!?

Only joking. I got my copy for free, so I'm not really angry about anything.

But I would like a horse..

It's a pretty game, isn't it? But as usual, my first reaction to the well-detailed environments and rolling tumbleweeds, perfectly-drawn hairs on the character's face and expressive feautres, was, 'Shiny. Like a high-tech Oblivion.', and let's be honest, that's what it is. It FEELS like Oblivion. When you move, when you fight, when you talk to characters, when you ride your horse OH WAIT YOU CAN'T DO THAT I FORGOT.

Not that I'm bitter about it or anything.

The problem with such massive, immersive games like Fallout 3 (or as I've taken to calling it, the F3 Virus), is that there's so. Much. TALKING. And so many f-ers to talk to! Oh sure, 'not if you avoid the main quests', you might say. But that's why I'm here! I play games because they have STORIES behind them. I wanna know who's gonna blow up the world, who's gonna kill everything, who's gonna save them and above all, how many guns am I allowed? I don't WANT to spend twenty hours just wandering around and occasionally killing things because there's nothing else to do. I want interaction, drama, fast-paced action and a flowing storyline! Not Travel-Dungeon-Kill-Loot-Sell-Repeat! If I wanted THAT shit I could just go and play Warcraft.

Being an incredibly indecisive person given to sudden, irrational mood swings, I don't get on with it because I never fall into any of the accepted types. Fallout comes with a nice array of playstyles, just like Oblivion, but like every game I've ever played, what it comes down to is that if you don't have the opportunity to pick a dedicated class (ie rogue, fighter, wizard etc, blah blah blah yakkety shmakkety), it can be extremely difficult to try and stick with one.

For example, by nature I prefer to keep in the shadows, wait for my moment and stab people repeatedly in the neck. If I work out that I can't do this, like in Fallout 3 where EVERY LITTLE NOISE attracts the attention of every fucker from Thunderdome and beyond, or the fact that every single enemy has TELESCOPIC SUPER VISION like Superman and shit, thus rendering sniper rifles pointless, then my other playstyle is to play tactically. Adjust my approach to suit the situation.

But because one is forced to semi-specialise, this isn't a viable option. In an ideal world I would either take the stealthy approach, which consists of, as mentioned, repeated stabbing, and silenced pistols, sniper rifles and the occasional grenade ("Fraggle out!"), or the pyromaniac approach, which consists of burning everything to a cinder until there's nothing left but a pile of ashes and me with a happy smile and singed eyebrows. Fallout relies on your persistence, patience and ability to pick up useless crap everywhere you go.

That's right. Useless crap. The problem here is, what's useful and what isn't? I saw packs of cigarettes lying around and my first thought was 'Prisoners trade for cigarettes, why shouldn't post-nuke nutjobs?' so I grabbed a few packs. I grabbed cans of food, big knives, anything that could be used as a weapon, scavenged every single piece of armour I could find, and passed over the pressure cooker ("Wtf? What is this shit, 'Cooking Mama'? Where are the GUNS!") and railspikes, completely unaware that these very components can lead to some of the nicer weapons later on.



I SHOULD love this game. It's beautiful, graphics-wise. It's smooth, the gameplay can be immersive and gripping (except when you're zerged by six raiders because OOPS you trod on a tin can!), the voices are (mostly) well-done, the scripting is just fine and the dialogue is spot-on as far as I'm concerned. The VATS system is epic win.

But I just can't get into it. I've decided to give up on it for now. I much prefer the epic battles of WAR and the camaraderie of my allies. Plus, I'm MORE than happy to be labelled a squishy ranged DPS and not be able to stealth or anything else, because I have meatshie- allies to do that for me. I get to focus on mass destruction and saying cool stuff. AND I HAVE A FUCKING HORSE.

WAR CALLS!

Od.