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Willy A. Jeep

Alex

I'm a writer, and a reader, and a gamer. You can call me Willy.

My avatar is Inuyama Kuroe, an original character belonging to mangaka Yoshida Hideyuki.

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Nerves

"Augh-" I spluttered without trying, squeezed out of me between the door and frame of my sunbleached beater. Boobs crushed into the weatherstripping, back gouged by whatever all those things protruding from the doorjamb are, and my hair caught once again in the seatbelt pulley or retainer or whatever. It sucked.

This giant off-black crewcab in the next spot over took up the entire space, my econobox didn't even make the beltline on it, and I had just enough room to extrude myself and most of my clothes through the crack between vehicles. Yeah, I did park too close to him, but on the other side was a minivan with windows covered in rainbow stickers and little crayon nightmares, and door panels don't fall from trees.

Whatever. I fixed my shirt and bra, looking at how the bumpstrip on my car was almost level with the running boards of that truck-wagon, then checked my pockets as-if I needed to be reminded of the keyring stabbing my thigh. Had to make sure, or old habits, or something.

Glanced a guy across the lane, squinting at me through the parking lot sun from the passenger side of what I guess was his SUV. Not, like, creepy or anything, just looking at me, probably how I'd looked at strangers in parking lots several thousand times before. I tried a flat smile, y'know, acknowledging him and me and the situation, and tried to not think about anything else.

I made for the door. It's one of those soul-flattening office complexes that seems to be perpetually disused but also clearly has tenants from all the cars outside, but nobody's entirely sure what all goes on within. I was there for a doctor's office on the third floor, and sometimes I saw others there, too, but, yeah, there were lots of hallways and rooms I'm certain people walked into and not out of.

That said, I liked the elevator. Nice old thing, like, 70s. Cool orange floor counter, some kind of cold gas emission display or something, and a real bell somewhere behind all the stainless steel. Old stainless steel, too, when it was futuristic and not in every housewife's McMansion kitchen. So I lost track of time, staring at the display, thinking this stuff like an idiot, and didn't notice the guy standing next to me.

"Ah-" I jolted, blinking up at him, hating that I was both shorter and heavier than he was, then tried that flat smile again. Just my go-to for deterring engagement without using my voice, because ugh. He mirrored me that time, but his eyes went up-and-down my body, and I felt myself tense up. His phone came out of his pocket and he went to work on it, doing... whatever people do with their phones. I couldn't see his eyes through the bill of his ballcap, but he was using them, I guess.

I liked the ding. Not that I hate synth tones, but sometimes they get pretty crunchy, and a real bell ding never seems like sand poured in your ears. We stepped into the elevator and I took position by the panel, keeping my back turned away from the dude, trying not to think about it. "Uh- Which floor?" My voice managed to come out not totally broken and trembling, just husky and harsh, like I wasn't afraid.

"Oh, uh, three. Thanks." He smiled for a second, again lingering on me with his eyes before going back to his phone. My legs tingled for no good reason. He was polite and thankful, so shut up, legs.

I didn't have a cell phone. I wondered if the little phone box built-in to the elevator's panel was connected to anything. It was probably wired into a PBX when it was new, but that would've been fifty freaking years ago, and nobody seems to think wired phones are useful now. What're the rest of us supposed to do, huh? Use our landline as a melee weapon, carry it around to bash dudes' heads in?

My breath was heavy enough to catch my own attention and I fiddled with my shirt and bra again. I was choking and really didn't need to look sweaty right then and there. The freaking Panaplex or whatever display was trying to get me to turn my back to the guy, being so cool, but I stayed strong. I have some neat old VFD clocks at home to stare at, after all, can get my fix there.

The ding came again and the trite line about seconds feeling like hours danced down the aisle of my train of thought. He darted out of the cabin and into the door opposite my doctor's office, which I happen to know was also a doctor's office, and I went into mine, not at all twisted up in a ball of nerves. The little noise machines they had in there that made compressed ocean sound effects didn't help, to nobody's surprise.

An hour later, or really probably more like forty-five minutes because that's all fifteen dollars gets anybody every two weeks, I stepped back out into the hallway where nobody's ever died and went for the elevator, exhaling in a way that was more therapeutic than anything I'd said recently. And then there he was again, coming right back out of the door he'd disappeared into, probably the only person ever to do that.

He blinked at me, eyes again going over my body, then spluttered, "Oh, uh, hey." He smiled weakly, looking at my shoes.

"Ah-" I managed, then felt myself smile, clasping my hands in front of me, "Going down?" I figured it out pretty quick, I think, even if I'm patting myself on the back. Which isn't comfortable, y'know.

The guy laughed, nodding, "Yeah."

I shrugged, still smiling.

We stepped into the elevator and he hit the big old chunky plastic LL button as he came in behind me, already back on his phone. He glanced at me again as we got off, over his shoulder, and waved.

My entire body slacked and I shook my head, looking after the guy for a beat, then laughed quietly to myself. I had to climb back into my car again, and that giant stupid pickup was still there. But that was the only evil thing I had to deal with that day, so I'll take it as a win, y'know?

- - -

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Fallout New Vegas: Honest Hearts

Zion National Park, Utah, Four States Commonwealth. An idyllic canyon hewn from the Navajo Sandstone by the Virgin River. First inhabited by native tribals thousands of years before the war, the Old World forerunners of the New Canaanites gave the canyon its name and called it their home for a time. With fresh water, lush foliage, and ripe game, Zion formed an immense oasis in the desert, a place of plenty and of peace, untouched by modern civilization and the troubles of man.

By the late twenty-first century, the government of pre-war America had reclaimed Zion under the guise of a National Park. Its natural beauty lured civilization-weary naturalists and tourists, an escape from the misery of rationing during the Resource Wars and the ever-looming threat of global thermonuclear war, only to trap them in allotted campgrounds and force upon them trinkets and souvenirs. Congested highways cut through the Colorado Plateau to feed crowded parking lots where bighorn sheep once grazed, sacred caves in the canyon walls brimmed with campers' litter and government machinery in place of the bones of ancients which had previously laid there, and discarded appliances, car parts, furniture, et cetera clogged and polluted the thousand-year-filtered waters of Zion.

But man's greatest accomplishment saw an end to the ruse. The Great War destroyed modern civilization, cities of tens of millions obliterated in minutes, and its only survivors did so in great underground Vaults, or on the fringes of the developed world. For beyond the reaches of Salt Lake City, Utah was mostly spared, and Zion was virtually untouched. With time, the remaining vestiges of the Old World which persisted in the canyon were claimed by its natural forces, withering into dust or becoming one with the weathered stones and flowering datura. Mankind, more wont to survive than our creations, followed the Virgin back to Zion in the years after the war, tracing their forerunners' steps from centuries past. Tribes formed in the reflection of their ancestors, learning from the land and those who plied it before, and Zion again became a place of peace and plenty, an oasis hidden from the shadow of a world which had rejected nature that laid beyond.

But another thing man is wont to do is make war. Even without power armour, strategic bombers, and the intercontinental ballistic missile, where man makes his home, another man will find a way to tear it down. The New Canaanites of northern Utah have been chased from their home by a tribe under the control of Caesar's Legion, missionaries finding shelter with the natives of the southern canyons, and now that tribe descends upon Zion. Their objective is to kill the Burned Man, the former second-in-command of the Legion, who has returned to his roots among the New Canaanites and whose presence now endangers all that walk the banks of the Virgin. Unbeknownst to the caravan companies of the New California Republic, who now march for Zion in search of New Canaan, they will soon fall into the middle of a conflict at the heart of the war for the Mojave, and one in the making for over four hundred years.

Walking into Zion, you're walking into history. But, like the Burned Man before you, will you be able to crawl out of that canyon and finally find your way back home?

- - -

"Honest Hearts produce honest actions." - Brigham Young

Honest Hearts is the second major DLC for Fallout: New Vegas, and potentially the weakest of the four. However, it is my personal favorite, but I'll attempt to remain as objective as necessary. Taking up a job offer with the Happy Trails Caravan Company on an expeditionary trip to find a route to New Canaan, Utah, you, the Courier, are dropped into a tribal war when your caravan is ambushed at the southern edge of Zion National Park. Introduced to the New Canaan missionaries acting as representatives of the native tribes, Joshua Graham and Daniel, you learn you must scour the largely pristine canyon for supplies to quash the growing conflict and prepare for your trip back to the Mojave, proving yourself to the tribes and uncovering the secret history of Zion and its inhabitants along the way.

Unchanged largely from base New Vegas, the gameplay of Honest Hearts is only different in its mostly exploratory rather than combative or conversational loop. Zion is ripe with supplies and food items, so even after the player is limited to under 75 (or 100, depending on skills and perks) carry weight to travel to the canyon, there's little challenge in surviving for Hardcore players or the less prepared. Combat is uncommon and, despite some hard-hitting weapons carried by most hostile human characters, there's not much challenge to it. It's downright leisurely compared to Dead Money and Lonesome Road.

Zion, the worldspace itself, is by far my favorite of all the DLC. It's not immense, but it's a beautiful (for New Vegas' graphics, anyway) reprieve from the muddy brown of the Mojave, oppressive red of the Sierra Madre, sickly blue-purple of the Big Empty, and hostile orange of the Divide. A minuscule facsimile of the real-world Zion National Park, the worldspace of Honest Hearts is scenic, open, and mostly natural. Most interiors are caves, while the exterior space is only spottily marked by ruined pre-war structures. Exploration of Zion is left to player agency, and it rewards the player in turn. It doesn't take more than a few hours to scour the entire canyon, though, so it won't take even the most lazy player long.

In contrast to Dead Money, which is challenging and not so very rewarding with gear, Honest Hearts is a breeze with some of the best mid-to-late-game gear hidden throughout. The .45 Auto weapons pack a punch well into the late-game, Compliance Regulator laser pistol gives an interesting option for pacifist players, and the Survivalist's Rifle is a powerful carbine on par with some of New Vegas' best. Honest Hearts also boasts some of the best armour in the game, if you know where to look.

Stop reading now if you don't want mild spoilers! The story of Honest Hearts is, I think, its weakest point. Not to say it's bad, it's just largely bereft of dialogue and depth when compared to the other DLC. There are only a handful of major conversations, and while those are pretty good, the plot itself is lackluster. Mostly place-to-place errands that don't feel very substantial, even to a mid-game character. Particularly, this is where Honest Hearts' weakness and strength intersects, in that the most intriguing story is only revealed through thorough exploration and note-reading. Not a problem if you're patient, but if you just follow quest markers you'll be out of Zion in under five hours.

The themes of Honest Hearts seems to be redemption, of change, and of a respect for nature. It's laid out rather bare for the player to see, through dialogue and notes left by former inhabitants, in the world design of Zion National Park, and in the actions of its characters. Men making up for their past mistakes, changing of hearts among conflicted people, and the decaying elements of excess consumerism among the natural beauty of a lush river basin. There's also a heavy presence of religion, particularly Mormonism and Paganism, and the effects of these different beliefs interacting as well as guiding their believers, but I wouldn't call this the defining theme of Honest Hearts.

It's an old aphorism, one made by a questionable man, but maybe that makes it all the more worthy of consideration. Honest hearts produce honest actions. You make choices based on what you believe, good or bad, lie or truth, and it says more about you than anything you could ever say.

TL;DR Honest Hearts is my favorite DLC for New Vegas, but it's not for everybody who only causally likes New Vegas. If you're like me and enjoy getting lost in a dreamy vision of a historic National Park, then play it! And don't let the survivor's guilt get to you like it did Randall.