Moments after awakening from what can only be described as a bullet induced slumber, I was immediately greeted by Doctor Mitchell. As it turned out, Mitchell was the owner of the bed on which I lay. He, too, to a certain degree, owned my life – he miraculously saved me from a bullet to head. Or, as he called it, “noggin“.

Now sat face-to-face, Mitchell seemingly thought it was vital for me to check that “everything was in the right place” before proceeding. Minutes later, my face was formed, stats selected and perks picked. The doctor kindly returned my arms and apparel – the trademark blue vault-dweller suit, a razor blade, and a laser pistol – and I scuttled towards the exit of the shack and the entrance of Goodsprings. Its population? About seven, perhaps – and that’s not including the rampant Gecko population, and Victor, the Securitron MKII robot.

In a misguided effort to retrieve the ingredients required to complete a quest – and receive a nifty healing powder in the process – I stumbled onto a small hill covered by grave stones and several mounds of raised dirt; this is a place where fresh corpses appeared to have been laid. And, as I was about to soon discover, I would be joining them. Luckily, though, I had the option to re-load. They, unfortunately, did not.

Still under the illusion that I was on the correct path, I slid down the hillside to be greeted by a pack of giant rad scorpions. These pincer-tailed monstrosities are relentless, cold-blooded murders – the kind of creatures that might kill you, needlessly dismember you, dispose of your bruised and beaten body, and stop at the local pub for a pint and a pie afterward. They’re scum, pure evil – the embodiment of malevolence.

After unleashing a few lines of lead into its face (a face for radio, I might add), it hit me: my verimont rifle, as effective as it was against the relatively mundane Gecko, was useless against this new sturdy, steel-skinned foe. Naturally, I retreated to the comfort of Goodsprings.

Now trapped atop a car, I watched as scorp-zilla slaughtered almost everything in insight. Village-folk – of the mortal and mechanical varieties alike – and Brahmin succumbed to power of the oversized beastie.

Out of desperation, I fled to the prospector saloon (the scorpion was apparently claustrophobic and wasn’t inclined to follow me indoors). It was here that I met my saviours: Easy Pete, a dynamite enthusiast and ex-prospector; and Sunny Smiles, the woman responsible for tasking me with the collection of the two ingredients, and the woman ultimately responsible for my fateful, and incredibly painful, encounter.

After returning outside, I discovered something miraculous – Pete and Sunny had engaged my foe. Here, the enemy of my enemy truly was my friend. With the scorpion now disposed of, I could finally continue on my journey of discovery: who killed me? And why did they want the Platinum poker chip I was transporting?

Fallout Blog is a feature by Adam Meadows where he creates logs of his experiences in Bethesda Softworks’ Fallout: New Vegas. Each log can be read through the Fallout Blog tag.