Mod:Frost/All text fragments

Fallout: FROST provides a host of lore in the form of text fragments to be found as notes or on terminals by the Survivor.

The following table lists all of these fragments, and as such contains massive spoilers to lore and story.

Contributors are encouraged to use this resource for finding quotes and lore to add to their content.

Legend: {| class="wikitable" style="font-size:12px;" ! style="text-align: left;" | Title ! style="text-align: left;" | Location ! style="text-align: left;" | EditorID ! style="text-align: left;" | BaseID ! colspan="4" | They killed my wife. They killed my boy. They took everything I had and left me to bleed out in the snow. So no, John, I don't feel sorry for what I done. Not for them. Not for a zombie. If you've got a problem with the way I run my camp, you can get the hell out. We move at dawn. ! colspan="4" | 9/4/81 Airport Station has really become a bustling place these last few weeks. With Revere Beach gone all of the scavvers have relocated here. It's sad what happened up there, but I can't help but appreciate the added business it's given us.
 * Title: Title of the text fragment as displayed on-screen or on the Pip-Boy
 * Location: The location of the text fragment
 * EditorID: The EditorID of the fragment as shown in the GECK (fragments are sorted by these).
 * BaseID: The BaseID of the fragment, with the following prefixes
 * xx - FROST
 * yy - Far Harbor add-on
 * Note
 * aaTextAbernathyGhoulKillers
 * xx03A6AB
 * aaTextAbernathyGhoulKillers
 * xx03A6AB
 * Joan's Journal
 * aatextAirportBurnpileGhoul
 * xx06954A
 * aatextAirportBurnpileGhoul
 * xx06954A

10/31/81 Happy Halloween! Took the kids down to Downtown as a treat. The kind of people you meet there! I met a nice scavver from all the way in the Fens! His name is Matt. But that's not to say Airport Station was bad either. It's gotten so crowded there we've had to start setting up sleeping bags in the parking garages and concourse.

11/12/81 Things are going well with Matt. The kids like him too! But he worries too much. He keeps going on about leaks in the walls, about how it's not safe to hang around in the concourse. If the air is so toxic, why isn't anybody getting sick?

12/25/81 I feel awful. I look awful. My hair's almost all gone and my skin's scabbing up. Merry Christmas. Matt's gone back to Downtown to talk with the Captain about all of this.

1/11/82 Things are getting worse. Ms. Hynes from across the tracks looks even more decrepit than usual and I swear Mr. Warwick growled at me. But Matt's coming back soon. I know it. He's coming back with medicine and help and we'll all be well again in no time. ! colspan="4" | This is Max. He is a very good cow. ! colspan="4" | Post Office Station is a graveyard. Feds tried to attack from the surface about a week ago. Entrance sealed in the fighting. Now all they've got is the fire-bombed front, and to be honest, it's a goddamn wonder that line's still open at all.
 * Max!
 * aatextAllianceMaxCow
 * xx33495C
 * aatextAllianceMaxCow
 * xx33495C
 * Graveyard Station
 * aatextAllianceMission
 * xx31AEB2
 * aatextAllianceMission
 * xx31AEB2

Won't be long before they've sealed themselves into their own graves.

Anyways, we've got to find a way to get all of those coffins out of there. Hurts the morale, being around the dead like that. And, you know, proper burial and all that. They were heroes they were. Deserve better. ! colspan="4" | I dreamt I was climbing the belfry of an ancient cathedral. Above me chimed the bells, as if to warn me of some nameless horror lurking outside. As I made that final ascent, pulling myself to the summit and peering out over the balcony, I saw a city consumed in flames. I can see it now, in my mind's eye... flickering like the candle before me. Surely this is a bad omen. ! colspan="4" | Our excavations out of Andrew Station have yielded some surprisingly pleasant results. We broke into a bar!
 * Rolf's Journal
 * aaTextAncientBelfry
 * xx025811
 * aaTextAncientBelfry
 * xx025811
 * Andrew Station: Entertainment Central?
 * aatextAndrewCleanup
 * xx345B35
 * aatextAndrewCleanup
 * xx345B35

Booze everywhere, looks like it hadn't been touched since the war. Door to the surface still locked and everything. Add to that the Ring, and we've got the makings of a real entertainment station once things calm down.

Imagine: folks'll come from all along the Metro to watch the fights. Grab a beer, watch some stand-up (hopefully better than the poor pile-o'-bones we found down here), hit the fights! Sounds like a nice night out to me.

Just needs a helluva lot of cleanup. Those soldiers down in Andrew are real slobs, but if they can help move this rubble, we'll be golden. ! colspan="4" | Word from the front lines: Downtown is trying to blast down the tunnels again. A last ditch defensive effort? Or a distraction? We must remain vigilant. The enemy could stage an attack against Andrew Station at any time. We cannot allow our flanks to be unguarded. Double watch on the station entrance. ! colspan="4" | The boys have set up a ring down in the tunnels. Helps 'em blow off steam, train. Not to mention it's been making me a pretty penny on the side. Bet it all on Marika; she's a tough bitch.
 * Marika Nosek's Journal
 * aatextAndrewDefense
 * xx00B0DC
 * aatextAndrewDefense
 * xx00B0DC
 * Friendly Wager
 * aatextAndrewFight
 * xx345B37
 * aatextAndrewFight
 * xx345B37

It's all in good fun, though. All beefs stay in the ring. ! colspan="4" | She won't find me out here. She can't. It's too far. Too dangerous. I'll just hide out for a few years. I'll be OK. ! colspan="4" | An Account of the New England Commonwealth, Year 2082 As penned by Gannon, A. _____ I broke the news to Beth today: they're cancelling my assignment and sending me back east- to Boston. There's no ETA for my return. I think they mean to keep me out there forever. _____ These last few days on the rig go by too quickly. I find myself recalling all of the wonderful memories I've cherished here: the cabin where Beth and I first met, the research libraries where we would read each other ancient tales of heroism and bravery. Now it is my time to be the hero, though I wish it wasn't. _____ This mission's the big one. The President himself saw us off. They smiled and waved as they always do, but I know the deal. They won't let us back until we find their tech. I feel like the King leaving Uruk. _____ More progress. I've finally tracked down Bishop. He's hiding out with some of his old crewmembers up in Nahant. This could be it. _____ News from back west. Beth is pregnant! My wife and unborn son wait a continent away and all I've got is this locket and a blurry photograph. _____ After all this time, the story finally comes together. Ischar was the key. I know where the Columbia is and I know what's waiting for us inside. This is big. Bigger than the Enclave knows. We're moving out immediately. ! colspan="4" | Nick shouldn't have left. He was the only one that kept the peace between us and the perps. Sorry: the "former perps". Half of them want us to start raiding the other groups out here. With everyone leaving the stations, we're at a distinct advantage, being an established presence and all. But he just had to go out on his wild goose chase, huh? Jackass. Man's going to get himself killed. ! colspan="4" | "Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: Humans spend 33.3% of their lives asleep. They spend 50% of that dreaming. That means that 16.6% percent of your life experiences never happened." ! colspan="4" | "Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: Most orchestras were just 1800's cover bands." ! colspan="4" | "Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: If Jesus entered a church today, he'd probably get eaten by the inhabitants." ! colspan="4" | "Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: To the dinosaurs, we lived in a post apocalyptic environment. Our apocalypse is their post-post-apocalypse." ! colspan="4" | Orion is relentless. He tracks his prey much as I do. Quietly, at first. He watches, listens, following the tracks silently, stalking his prey. He makes no move until he is certain he can make the kill.
 * Antenor's Journal
 * aatextAntenor
 * xx007F5F
 * aatextAntenor
 * xx007F5F
 * Maj. Arthur Gannon's Journal
 * aatextArthurGannon
 * xx007740
 * aatextArthurGannon
 * xx007740
 * Meg Kasabian's Journal
 * aatextBADTFLJournal
 * xx00B0DB
 * aatextBADTFLJournal
 * xx00B0DB
 * BBTOTD 10
 * aatextBBTOTD10
 * xx077BA6
 * aatextBBTOTD10
 * xx077BA6
 * BBTOTD 11
 * aatextBBTOTD11
 * xx077BA7
 * aatextBBTOTD11
 * xx077BA7
 * BBTOTD 7
 * aatextBBTOTD7
 * xx077BA4
 * aatextBBTOTD7
 * xx077BA4
 * BBTOTD 9
 * aatextBBTOTD9
 * xx077BA5
 * aatextBBTOTD9
 * xx077BA5
 * Bhadra's Journal: Orion
 * aatextBearHunter1
 * xx28979B
 * aatextBearHunter1
 * xx28979B

His prey is of a different type, though. What he searches for is not of this New World. His head is stuck in the past. He hunts a ghost, and he is doomed to hunt her forever. He will not return from the Kingdom of the Dead. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">There is one that calls himself Janus, though, like me, he was not born such. He hunts the ghosts of the past too, though he strives above all else to let them go. In his quest for freedom in the New World, he has trapped himself in the Old. He will cross to the Sunshine Shore, never to return. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The greatest killer was always man. When his savagery grew too great, he shed his humanity for something else. Is that why I wear the skin of beasts? To show what I am in my heart? That is why he wears the bones of the gentle. The Deer, the Cow. Loved by the Brahmin, once, to be known as Brahmin soon. He was no different. He tries to hold on, but it is no use. The Old World is gone. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Yes, the sun is hidden behind the clouds, but it shines on just as bright. There will be better days. We'll come back from these dark days and maybe laugh together again, like we used to. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Somewhere beyond the sea//Somewhere waiting for me//My lover stands on golden sands//And watches the ships that go sailin' ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">There are more survivors than they told us. I'm not talking about the mutants either; these are people. Humans. They come from the subways, hundreds of them. How is that possible? We were supposed to be the only ones left. The only pure, unmutated American remnants. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The Federation rebel groups have established a fairly substantial base of operations at Bunker Hill. If they overthrow Marchand and consolidate Boston, we'll have a significantly more difficult time completing our work here. Take your squad out there and burn it to the foundations. The balance of power must remain even.
 * Bhadra's Journal: Janus
 * aatextBearHunter2
 * xx28979C
 * aatextBearHunter2
 * xx28979C
 * Bhadra's Journal: Ithaqua
 * aatextBearHunter3
 * xx28979D
 * aatextBearHunter3
 * xx28979D
 * Casey Walter's Journal
 * aatextBetterDays
 * xx028957
 * aatextBetterDays
 * xx028957
 * "Beyond the Sea" Lyrics
 * aatextBobbyDarinBeyondTheSea
 * xx007F54
 * aatextBobbyDarinBeyondTheSea
 * xx007F54
 * Private Webb's Journal
 * aatextBunkerHillRemnantDoubts
 * xx2E7A97
 * aatextBunkerHillRemnantDoubts
 * xx2E7A97
 * Bunker Hill Mission Log
 * aatextBunkerHillRemnantOrders
 * xx2E7A98
 * aatextBunkerHillRemnantOrders
 * xx2E7A98

-Gannon ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.
 * Revelation 6:5-6
 * aatextCannibalBlackHorse
 * xx043B5F
 * aatextCannibalBlackHorse
 * xx043B5F

And I heard something like a voice in the center of the four living creatures saying, "A quart of wheat for a denarius, and three quarts of barley for a denarius; and do not damage the oil and the wine." ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I looked, and behold, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hell followed with him. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">And another, a red horse, went out; and to him who sat on it was granted to take peace from the earth, and that men would slay one another; and a great sword was given to him. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">While everything around me falls apart, I find myself here again. A last calm place in the City of the Dead. And as I watch the last rays of sunlight glint off the broken glass, I find myself thinking of better places. And in thinking, I see images through the light; images of lands beyond: groves of trees growing from the rubble, rivers of pure water winding past Joshua trees. Such places exist, of that I am sure. There is hope still, and I will find my way there, whether I leave this church or not. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The snow's melting. Good news for once. But the nuclear spring brings new worries. We've been seeing things on the surface. Dead things. Double watches until we figure this out.
 * Revelation 6:8
 * aatextCannibalPaleHorse
 * xx043B60
 * aatextCannibalPaleHorse
 * xx043B60
 * Revelation 6:4
 * aatextCannibalRedHorse
 * xx043B55
 * aatextCannibalRedHorse
 * xx043B55
 * Of Paradise
 * aaTextChurchPeace
 * xx007F5C
 * aaTextChurchPeace
 * xx007F5C
 * Bita Abaro's Journal
 * aatextCollegeSquareRefugees
 * xx007746
 * aatextCollegeSquareRefugees
 * xx007746

We captured one. I wasn't exaggerating; it looks dead. Skin's peeled off, shambles around like a zombie from some horror flick. Nate took an arm off and it didn't even flinch. Anne wants to try communicating, but that thing's long gone.

The Shamblers came again. Too many to fight off; had to leave the station. Anne caught her foot on some rebar. Didn't let Nate see them take her.

Nate blames himself for her death. But the past is the past. We cannot change what has happened, only stop it from happening again. We need to make our way to Patriot's Place. Warn them. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">but deep in the pool there was lying a serpent, and the serpent sensed the sweetness of the flower. It rose out of the water and snatched it away, and immediately it sloughed its skin and returned to the well. And there Gilgamesh sat down and wept. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">They say Lexington's been taken over by slavers. Lex was our only ally. Now what are we supposed to do?
 * Torn Page
 * aatextColumbiaSuicide
 * xx03C6CD
 * aatextColumbiaSuicide
 * xx03C6CD
 * Kasey Lewin's Journal
 * aatextConcordConcerned
 * xx075EEC
 * aatextConcordConcerned
 * xx075EEC

The entrance was overrun by muties this morning. We couldn't even spare the ammo to put them down. We just boarded up the doors. I can still see them eating Quinn and Tommie. Cliff says there are even more camped out in the tunnels beneath the station.

We don't even have any food. I think it's time I struck out on my own. The rads can't be that high. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I figured I oughta write this down, in case we don't make it through.
 * Phillip Coel's Journal
 * aatextConcordLeader
 * xx075ED8
 * aatextConcordLeader
 * xx075ED8

A couple of months back, Lexington came to us talking about some big power shifts down in the central stations. Up here we never really had much use for all that gossip. We stick to ourselves. Anyways, we're talkin' war and mayhem 24/7. Lots of folk coming and going; lots of strangers moving north, lookin' for fresh pickings. From what we can tell, one fella strolled into Lex with his crew and took out the Congress. The place is his now, and he's press-ganged the whole station into scavenging scrap for his men.

They call him "Six Nails".

We raised as good a militia as we could to liberate them, but we haven't heard back. If Six Nails knows it was us who sent them, he'll be on us next. We can only wait. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">You really thought you could get away with it, didn't you? Well this is what happens, Jones. You fuck with me, I fuck with you.
 * Letter to Jones
 * aatextConcordLexExecution
 * xx15FDC1
 * aatextConcordLexExecution
 * xx15FDC1

They died quick, which is more than can be said for the men you killed.

Watch your back, friend, I'm coming for you.

-N ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Decided to start a journal. Thought it might take my mind off things... I was in Milton at the time. Just got on the train into Boston when the whole thing shut down. We all thought it was some mechanical failure. Took us three hours of sitting in that dead subway to even consider getting off the damn thing. And when we got to the surface... well that was a sight wasn't it?
 * Frank's Journal
 * aatextConstructionFrank
 * xx03DDCF
 * aatextConstructionFrank
 * xx03DDCF

Most of the others went back down into the tunnels. To cry, maybe. Or perhaps just to escape the smell of 10 billion burning bodies. They were the smart ones. Me and some of my construction buddies decided to look for survivors. Going back to 114 wasn't worth it, considering the bombs had already dropped, right? Stupid. It's not the bombs that kill ya, it's the rain after. As they say, "It's all over but the crying".

We met our first Wastelanders outside of Quincy. Funny how fragile order is. Take a man's freedom and he'll fight a war to regain it, but take his whole world, his whole life... To say all hell broke loose doesn't do it justice. One day before, a roving band of gunmen would have been national news, but now... all that's out the window. Only took the end of the world to show us.

How do we justify our actions? Where do we draw the line? Does it matter that they drew first? We still killed them. Nick likes to say that it's "Us or them", but if that's true, why'd we hunt them down? Why'd we follow them back to their home and kill every last one? ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I can't stop thinking about it. The sound, the look on his face. God damn it, why am I such a coward? I couldn't even bring myself to look at him. What gave me the right? He was just sitting there. A goddamn coward. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">My god, it's really happening. The congregation is in the basement, but foolish me had to stick my head out to see. I had to know, didn't I? I had to see what remained of the world I grew up in, the world I lived and loved in... The clouds stretch high enough to reach the heavens but Hell is all we have left here.
 * Matt Elliston's Journal
 * aatextCowardRat
 * xx007F5B
 * aatextCowardRat
 * xx007F5B
 * Daniel Beasly's Journal
 * aatextDanielStory1
 * xx073681
 * aatextDanielStory1
 * xx073681

The consensus is in. We're heading to Boston. If anyone is more in need of our help, it's them. We've got plenty of aid supplies for if we come across survivors. Funny, we'd just started our food drive too. Who knew we'd make use of it so soon?

It has been three weeks since my last entry. Only one other from the congregation remains. When finally we came upon survivors, it was they who sought us out. We were ecstatic, at first. How naive we were. How eager to help. Perhaps we thought giving charity to these wretches made us good people. But all we gave them was not enough. They gunned us down by the dozen and took everything but the clothes on our backs. And as I lay in the blood of my friends and family I found myself wondering... how is this part of God's plan? What justice does He find here? ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">From the Pen of Father Daniel...
 * The Incomplete Gospel
 * aatextDanielStory2
 * xx073682
 * aatextDanielStory2
 * xx073682

The Gospel of Themis: A Lesson in Mercy (Part 2)

Evelyn raised me up. We took shelter by the racetrack while my wounds healed. The rain fell black that night... Less and less my thoughts turned to aiding the refugees of Boston. All that mattered was vengeance. And vengeance came. When I could walk, we took up the hunt. Day and night, we searched. And when that fateful day came, we strung them up on the burnt-out husk of an old oak tree. "Murderer" read the signs around their necks. See what our charity is worth them now.

Our flock grows. Yesterday, we came upon a camp of Raiders. The beasts had a woman and her babe locked away. She screamed when we hung them. Poor thing. Traumatized, no doubt. She is safe now.

We show no mercy to sinners because they showed no mercy to us. We are the fist of God. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Evelyn... you who were with me since the start. You who taught me all I know of God. You who will stay in my heart until the end.
 * To Evelyn
 * aatextDanielStory3
 * xx334975
 * aatextDanielStory3
 * xx334975

God judge you justly, as we judged those in the early days. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I buried her beneath the oak tree where this all began. She would have wanted that. Evelyn... you who were with me since the start. God judge you justly.
 * Of Evelyn
 * aatextDanielStory3OBSOLETE
 * xx073683
 * aatextDanielStory3OBSOLETE
 * xx073683

The Water Thief died a quicker death than he deserved. Had we pure water still, she would still live. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Downtown's sent forces up and around trying to come at us from above. Couldn't beat our boys on the Postal line so they're trying to make a back door. Most likely they're the ones that took the Schwartz girl and that boyfriend of hers too. Well they can rot in hell. I've sent word to the other stations to send reinforcements but I don't think we even need 'em. In a couple of days DB Tech will be ours. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The war continues. The Tunnel Fucks keep trying to take the pool room, so we've set up a little surprise for them. We strung up the prisoners and took their heads for trophies. They want this pool, they'll have to stumble over the bodies of their friends and family to get it. COME ON UP ASSHOLES. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Branson may have his doubts, but this change of command is getting results. With Fenway secured, we have a rallying point within the city proper. The higher ups want to fly Verts out there, maybe hold the place as a refueling station. I'm optimistic that we'll have it battle-ready by the end of the month. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Signal, signal, this is Clive Haenraet with the Acadia Observatory on Mount Desert Island, do you read? This is day _x_ of broadcasting, so far with no contact. If anyone is receiving this signal, know that we are interesting in establishing communications in the interest of trade and productive interaction, but know that we are more than capable of defending ourselves. Contact us via radio before approaching our camp. Our defenses are secure and we do not take chances with strangers. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">10/23/77 My name is Captain Alfred Parish and I am the last survivor of Horizon Flight 1207.
 * Whiteman's Journal
 * aatextDBTechAlliance
 * xx068D40
 * aatextDBTechAlliance
 * xx068D40
 * Mikey Osborne's Journal
 * aatextDBTechWarJournal
 * xx0487CA
 * aatextDBTechWarJournal
 * xx0487CA
 * Sgt. Humphrey's Journal
 * aatextDCextMilitaryJournal
 * xx03A693
 * aatextDCextMilitaryJournal
 * xx03A693
 * Contact Script
 * aatextDLC03AcadiaContact
 * xx338DDF
 * aatextDLC03AcadiaContact
 * xx338DDF
 * Alfred Parish's Journal (1)
 * aatextDLC03AirplaneSurvivor
 * xx15BA34
 * aatextDLC03AirplaneSurvivor
 * xx15BA34

About two hours into our regular Boston-Saint John flight our plane had major electrical malfunctions. We lost altitude and crash landed somewhere on the coast of Maine. Most of the passengers and crew were killed on impact, but half a dozen of us managed to climb free from the wreckage. One passenger has gone to find help, but the rest of us will stay here. There's no use getting ourselves lost out here.

10/23/77 Night falls and the temperature drops. The flames are still burning, but I think the danger's passed; if the engines were going to explode, they'd have done it by now. No word from the passenger that went to get help (I've been told his name is Gordy). I'm tempted to set out with the rest of the group once morning comes, but I don't want to risk Gordy returning to an empty camp. We'll stay here for the night. A search party will be here soon enough and we're in no rush; none of us were injured in the crash, thank god.

10/25/77 It's been two days and we still haven't heard from Gordy or any search parties. It's decided: Sheryl, Barrett, Dustin, and I will head down the mountain. Helena will stay at camp in case Gordy returns.

10/26/77 We've reached the town of Bar Harbor, but it is entirely deserted. The shops are looted and a number of buildings were on fire when we arrived. Sheryl and Dustin were intent on putting them out, but there was nothing we could do. They burned out without spreading.

It's strange, though; I found newspapers dated October the 23rd. This place was abandoned recently. In fact, it was abandoned the very morning we crashed. We'll stop by camp to drop off the food we scavenged, but we'll have to keep searching along the coast for more people. Someone has to know what's going on.

10/28/77 Five days. It took us five days to realize that the world had ended. We finally found a family up the coast that was willing to talk with us (at least two other groups waved us off at gun-point. Damn backwoods hillbillies). Old lady and her two middle-aged sons broke the news to us over stale cram and fresh eggs. She made it sound like it was every man for himself out here, but her family was kind enough. We thanked them for their hospitality and left. If what she says is true, we're going to need to build up our camp. We're in this for the long-run. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">11/16/78 We've got major problems. The temperature's dropping, the radiation's rising, and we're all but out of food. Most of the prime scavenging grounds (along the docks) have been claimed by the fishing gangs. Gordy washed up with two harpoons in his gut and Barrett had a run in with some feral dogs. His leg's infected and getting worse, but he's still not as bad as Sheryl and Dustin. I don't know if it's the radiation or something in the water, but they're looking awful. I'd be surprised if we lasted the week.
 * Alfred Parish's Journal (2)
 * aatextDLC03AirplaneSurvivor2
 * xx15BA35
 * aatextDLC03AirplaneSurvivor2
 * xx15BA35

12/20/78 Something's happened to Sheryl and Dustin. They're different, violent.

They've changed into something unhuman, but I can change them back. There has to be a cure. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">9/20/82 The Marines are done. It's been a long war, but I have outlasted them. Their compound is flooded with radiation and Shifters. That's the key to controlling them; radiation.
 * Alfred Parish's Journal (3)
 * aatextDLC03AirplaneSurvivor3
 * xx15FDB9
 * aatextDLC03AirplaneSurvivor3
 * xx15FDB9

There is no cure to this radiation. You either let it in or let it kill you.

I'm training Sheryl to respond to my commands. I give her irradiated food when she follows my directions. It's slow going, but I'm making progress. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Fog cain't reach us here. Monsters cain't reach us here.
 * Safe
 * aatextDLC03KitteridgePass
 * xx3416C2
 * aatextDLC03KitteridgePass
 * xx3416C2

We're safe here.

But she still out there, oh yessiree. All that lurks in her mist. The ghosts of the past. I see them all. And I see other things, horrible things. Beasts unlike any I could ever imagine. How do we hide?

In here. In here we're safe. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Don't spend too much time out there, OK? You know what Lucas said about the fog. It'll make you see things, make you like Them. Just get in there, grab the supplies, and get back to the Observatory safe. I can't bear losing you.
 * In and Out
 * aatextDLC03Windfarm
 * xx338E14
 * aatextDLC03Windfarm
 * xx338E14

-M ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">-Circuit Board (Military Grade) -Vacuum Tube (x2) -Power Relay Coil (x3)
 * Shopping List
 * aatextDLC03_FixShipInstruction
 * xx16C87F
 * aatextDLC03_FixShipInstruction
 * xx16C87F

Damn thing needs a new battery too, so be sure to pick one of those up as well.

The circuits are damn well fried, but I think we have enough copper wiring on hand to fix them up. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">A man must look out for his own family. He bring fresh meat to the table 'n do good to keep em safe. He ain care bout, ain fear bout, no man but thems in his family. But the fog... she's a cruel ghost. She shows ya things. Dark things. Makes ya see bad things and know things ya shouldn't. And in that fog there be monsters. Sometimes ya see yousself in that fog... and it makes ya think. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Pa says the Fog is the ghosts of the Old World come ta hant us. I don't think so. I don't know much things bout the Old World (I bein only 5 at the time) but I don't think there were no monsters there. No metal-men neither. Pa says I got the Sight, but it ain me. It's the Fog. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The stars tell the story of O'ryon the Hunter, greatest among us.
 * Jeremiah Cole's Journal
 * aatextDLC03_HillbillyFog
 * xx0FA8CC
 * aatextDLC03_HillbillyFog
 * xx0FA8CC
 * Visions In The Fog
 * aatextDLC03_VisionsInTheFog
 * xx0FA8CD
 * aatextDLC03_VisionsInTheFog
 * xx0FA8CD
 * Tale of O'ryon
 * aatextDLC04_OrionHunterLegend
 * xx240D6B
 * aatextDLC04_OrionHunterLegend
 * xx240D6B

In the second year of the Long Winter, O'ryon, then a mere messenger of our people, was brought to the Great Chief Mahesha. Mahesha, the Exalted, spoke to O'ryon of a vision he had of a powerful weapon, hidden beneath the City of 17 Secrets.

O'ryon was to find the Weapon, in the most ancient City, and return it to his master.

But this was not to happen.

O'ryon found only horror in the city, for it was a City of the Dead. Was the Weapon real? Or had Mahesha sent him there to die, to prevent him from challenging Mahesha as Chieftain?

O'ryon turned his back on the city, and upon his return, slew Mahesha.

But Mahesha had not lied. Though he had wished O'ryon dead on the journey, the Weapon was real, buried deep beneath the Dead Streets.

Two moons past, O'ryon returned to the City with our greatest warriors, armed with the most powerful weapons imaginable. He shall return with COBALT or not at all. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I've been thinking a lot about what happened at Airport Station and I realize now that I'm not cut out for this. Those weren't monsters out there. They were people. Joan, she... she begged me. She looked me in the eyes... part of her was there, I know it.
 * Matt Hynes' Journal
 * aatextDowntownBarDissident1
 * xx06AC45
 * aatextDowntownBarDissident1
 * xx06AC45

I'm gonna talk with Charlie about skipping town. Maybe the Alliance will take us. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Marchand's gone off the deep end. Some say it's the Maldenline. Everything north of this station on the Orange is cursed and he spends every waking moment holed up there. He sees enemies in every shadow and commies in every cupboard. He's exiled half the stations in Boston and wants to blow the other half to hell.
 * Charlie MacEntire's Journal
 * aatextDowntownBarDissident2
 * xx06AC46
 * aatextDowntownBarDissident2
 * xx06AC46

So I say fuck him. I'm getting outta here ASAP. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Greg,
 * Note- Last Shipment
 * aatextDowntownBookShipment
 * xx0523E2
 * aatextDowntownBookShipment
 * xx0523E2

We've run down to our last three carts. I know it's risky, but can you PLEASE talk to the guards about sending an armed expedition down to Library Station? What we have is only going to last us a couple of days, at max. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">THE Chronicle of THE History of Downtown and THE Metro Federation
 * The Chronicle
 * aatextDowntownChronicler
 * xx007F56
 * aatextDowntownChronicler
 * xx007F56

2077: November: The first communities of the Metro form as the fallout and dropping temperatures force survivors underground. December: Scouts from Valenti Station explore the tunnels further, establish contact with survivors at Scollay Station, Malden Center, and Post Office Station.

2078: February: Scouts from Valenti Station discover a hidden shipment of gas masks and protective equipment. Specialized scouts (now known as Scavvers) use these masks to scour the surface for food, medicine, and other supplies. Valenti Station rises in power. September: Scollay Station, Revere Beach, Patriot's Place, and College Square all pledge allegiance to Valenti Station (now known as Downtown), forming the Metro Federation. William Marchand leads the stations as Head Captain. October: Post Office Station (now known in the Federation as Postal), MCM, and Andrew Station form a Triple Alliance against the Federation. December: The first Federation-Alliance war breaks out along the Downtown-Postal lines.

2079: March: Fighting at the Red Front stalemates. Brief skirmishes still occur along the Orange Line. April: Postalian spies infiltrate Scollay Station and kidnap the station's mayor. Captain Marchand pays ransom and forms a truce between the Metro Federation and the Triple Alliance. November: Unusually large cockroaches first identified. The new creatures are deemed "Radroaches".

2080: June: Strange fungi found growing in Downtown and Scollay Station proven edible. Scollay Station becomes primary mushroom farm for the Federation. July: Mutated rats found in the deep tunnels. Unique, aggressive, variety of mole-rats live alongside common gray rats. Scavvers report mutated deer and hounds on the surface September: Maldenline cut off from Downtown due to cave-in. Rescue party sent above ground finds only cannibal invaders. No survivors found.

2081: May: Revere Beach suffers a series of minor raids involving surface-dwellers. Surface-dwellers wore only rags and were heavily disfigured. August: Revere Beach falls to raider attacks. Blue line is heavily damaged in the fighting. November: College Square reports raids by heavily disfigured surface-dwellers. Mayor claims the raiders are "sub-human". Postal reports similar attacks, accuses Downtown of violating the truce agreement.

2082: January: Upper Blue line taken. Airport Station heroically abandoned. March: Weatherman reports rising temperatures and lowering radiation. Rumors of safety on the surface leads to dramatic rises in recruitment for Scavver gangs. April: Second Federation-Alliance war begins. Primary fighting focuses on the Downtown-Postal lines. August: College Square decimated by surface-dweller attacks. Major population drops in outlying stations reported as many relocate to the surface. Downtown remains as the last station of the great Metro Federation. October: Scouts find suspected source of College Square attackers at Fort Independence, near Andrew Station. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">You get plenty of sketchy characters here, but there's one that's been making some of my more domestic customers anxious. Calls himself "The Buyer". Man's got cash out his ass, so as long as he keeps paying we're golden. For the most part he just hangs around and buys scrap off the local scavvers. Beats me what he wants with all that junk though. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Marchand's been locked in his compound all week. He has ordered that no one disturb him during this time of intense concentration. No doubt he's formulating a plan to defeat the Alliance once and for all.
 * Ciampa's Journal
 * aatextDowntownCiampa
 * xx079A89
 * aatextDowntownCiampa
 * xx079A89
 * Security Officer's Log
 * aatextDowntownGuardCaptain
 * xx0EDDF9
 * aatextDowntownGuardCaptain
 * xx0EDDF9

That, or he really has gone off his rocker. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">This city is like a phoenix. From the ruins we have perservered, preserving those last remnants of society and civilization. We have triumphed over the wasteland and proven without a doubt that mankind will march on! But let us not forget what lies above.
 * Speech (1/12/82)
 * aaTextDowntownSpeech
 * xx0642DE
 * aaTextDowntownSpeech
 * xx0642DE

The surface is a perilous world. It is a frozen hellscape devoid of civility or reason. What lives up there will kill without hesitation.

In the early hours of morning Airport Station was set upon by a horde of these monsters. Though our brave soldiers fought valiantly to hold back the tide, the station ultimately fell. There were no civilian survivors.

It is in these trying times that we remember what has kept us together these past four and a half years. Unity. Brotherhood. And above all else, loyalty. We cannot afford to squabble amongst ourselves when the true enemy lies above.

And do not be tempted by the communistic lies of the southern stations; they could be aiding the surface savages for all we know. Rest assured, your Captain knows what is best for you and your family. Together, we will triumph once again! ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Great and powerful Ug-Qualtoth hear our prayers. We have sacrificed many to your pits, yet you show us no mercy. We cry and plead for you to be merciful. Haunt our people no longer! Free Malden from the Angel's grasp! We are ever faithful, still.
 * B'gnu the Humble's Journal
 * aatextDunwichSacrifice
 * xx075526
 * aatextDunwichSacrifice
 * xx075526

For we know now what you require. We know that the flesh of the unfaithful is unworthy for you! We know that the only way to save our home is to sacrifice ourselves willingly. And so we go. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Ghosts come in the night and set fire to our camp. They shake the ground and crack the earth with a fury rivalled only by the Judgement, and we are helpless.
 * Offering Note
 * aatextDunwichSurfaceSacrifice
 * xx075527
 * aatextDunwichSurfaceSacrifice
 * xx075527

By the grace of Atreus the Untouched, we sacrifice these souls to you, Ug-Qualtoth, in the hope that you may give us the strength to fight the phantoms that haunt us from the coast. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">WANTED: DEAD or ALIVE
 * Bounty- Killer
 * aatextEddieWinterBounty
 * xx06AC43
 * aatextEddieWinterBounty
 * xx06AC43

Eddie Winter

Reward: $1,500 CASH

Bounty issued by Nick Valentine. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">October 24 2077.
 * Edward Cadwal's Journal (Entry 1)
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal1
 * xx077401
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal1
 * xx077401

I woke up this morning with a warm feeling, not because I felt good, but because the vertibird I was in crashed and was on fire. What squadmates that weren't dead were missing. I don't remember much from the day before, but luckily for me the vertibird's logs did. I looked through the logs and apparently there was a warning to the pilots about nukes going off in New York and Pennsylvania. Shortly after receiving that message the pilots lost control and crashed. They both died on impact judging by their position in the seats. No sign of a struggle or attempt to leave the bird. I've also inspected the bodies of what remains of my squadron. Pvt. Jacobs was killed on impact, snapped his neck when we dipped. A metal rod from what seems to come from one of the seats is impaled in Marks; he bled to death. I can't find Pvt. Carwyn or Capt. Ethan Macey. Both their seats are in place, meaning they likely weren't pulled out of the vertibird, especially so since they were both on the inside seats. I'm confident that they escaped the area, since some of the emergency kits are gone. They likely headed north towards the city, since that's where we were headed. I'm going to see if I can find them.

Cpl. Edward Cadwal 22nd SAS Regiment ID# 187 ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">October 30 2077.
 * Edward Cadwal's Journal (Entry 2)
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal2
 * xx077402
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal2
 * xx077402

I wandered for a few days, almost lost count. Recently came by a man sprinting from the harbour, I raised my gun and he put his hands up. I ordered him to slowly approach. As he did I saw his face was badly bruised, his beard wet from tears, he looked awful. He explained to me that his family was scavenging when another group of scavengers approached and ordered his son to give them the food he was carrying. When the boy refused they shot him. His mother started screaming so they shot her as well. They then beat and robbed the man.

He was clearly in emotional and physical distress. I have my aid kits, but I'm not going to part with those unless I have to. I'm willing to do charity work, I'm not willing to give him half my meds. I told him I'd kill the scavengers for him. He pleaded me not to, but I went anyway. As much as I'd want to lie and say I did this out of the kindness of my heart, I didn't. I did this because I would be able to help myself to their loot.

I went to the market he last saw them in. They were still there. I entered through a second story window so they wouldn't hear the door open. My weapons were silenced, but even silenced weapons can still be heard. Every time I shot I broke a glass to mask the sound a bit. Killing them was a piece of cake. I inspected their bodies and grabbed what ammo, food, and bandages I could. I returned to the man and gave him what I couldn't carry. He hugged me and started weeping. I couldn't react, I didn't know how. This was a new experience for me. I'm so used to being behind the scenes of war, all those secret missions and raids you never hear about, that's the kind of stuff I did. But this felt good. I felt like for a moment, it was just me and this man. We hugged for a moment and I bade him farewell and continued my journey north.

Cpl. Edward Cadwal 22nd SAS Regiment ID#187 ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">November 3 2077
 * Edward Cadwal's Journal (Entry 3)
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal3
 * xx077403
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal3
 * xx077403

I've been on the road for about 5 days now, I'm on my way headed north, towards Salem to see if there's anything up there. I also want to head towards the city and see if there are any towns or signs of civilization. I've only just arrived and I've already noticed a distinct difference between traveling through the countryside of Massachusetts and Boston. This place feels odd. In the countryside there are still some towns and, sure, you'd sometimes come across the occasional bandit but it isn't as hard to survive there. But here... this is where shit went down. There is literally an area glowing with radiation to the west of me, I'm not the best with foresight, but that definitely does not seem to be a warm welcoming sign. I've heard shrieks and loud growls during the night. Part of me knows I'm just being paranoid, but I've been avoiding caves and swamps because I don't want to get torn apart by some kind of giant radiation mutant. Maybe I've been listening to too much of GNN's Mad Science Hour.

While I'm more than capable of handling myself, I need to play my cards right; I need to be cautious.

Cpl. Edward Cadwal 22nd SAS Regiment ID#187 ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">November 10 2077
 * Edward Cadwal's Journal (Entry 4)
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal4
 * xx077404
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal4
 * xx077404

It's been about a week since I wrote my last journal. I've been slow and careful with my movement, I've ventured north on November 5 and met up with an American soldier, SSG Michael Daly. He's been on a tough journey so far. What members of his squad didn't go nuts got killed in front of him by civilian survivors. We've started traveling together. He says he wants to go into the city to check on his sister, but I explained the odds of her surviving were slim. Even if she survived the initial bombs she'd still have died from the weather following it or from other survivors. He took it hard but agreed to move on. We've been talking a lot as well. Mostly about what's going to happen next. I told him my rather cynical thoughts on everything, but he's been more optimistic. Says that if we started a town or some sort of group to attempt to re-civilize at least a small area, it'd have a lasting impact. I agree with him on that, but also pointed out that we need to have our eyes set on keeping ourselves alive at the moment. The weather has been dangerous lately. If you fall asleep at night without shelter or something to keep you warm, you most likely won't wake up due to the cold. Then there's the rain that could melt skin. It's got all the ash and waste mixed in, it's contaminated most of the water. We've had to collect water from a stream, filter it through a net to get all the dirt and waste out, then we'd boil it to decontaminate it. It's a longer process than that, but I won't go into unnecessary detail. Dawn is coming soon, meaning we'll be on the road.

Cpl. Edward Cadwal 22nd SAS Regiment ID #187 ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">December 1 2077
 * Edward Cadwal's Journal (Entry 5)
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal5
 * xx077405
 * aaTextEdwardCadwal5
 * xx077405

We headed east and saw a small group of people. Michael suggested he approach them and I stay back and open fire if they attack him. Pretty bold move.

He went up and started talking with them. I noticed they had a small child. They pointed at her and Michael motioned me over. He said the girl was shot, and they bandaged the wound but she'd still lost a lot of blood. They were asking where the nearest hospital or refugee camp was. He said they were looking at it. He asked what blood type their daughter was, they said they didn't remember. He said they were in luck, because he was O+. He asked if I had any medical tubing in my backpack, I remembered that I have an unopened medical kit. I suggested we take refuge inside the diner, since the roads are still dangerous and this could take a few minutes. We went inside and I found supplies to perform a blood transfusion. Then I realized. We're using our only clean blood kit on a little girl. "What the fuck are we doing?" I thought. I pulled michael out back and told him my thoughts. I'm his better in skill and rank, but I was hoping he could convince me to let us help this girl. He said that concord is a short walk northwest, and we can resupply there. I asked him what the likelyness of a small town having a blood transfusion kit was. Especially with all the looting. He replied that there is a military bunker to the northeast as well. I was really reluctant to let him to the transfusion since the bunker may have already been emptied. But I agreed to let him do it. He sat the little girl behind the counter and he performed the procedure. He asked her what her name was. "Jenny" she said. He told her that she was really brave living in a world like this and being able to remain so calm. She didn't really have much of a choice, but I wasn't going to say that. He finished up and put a small band aid on her arm. We told the parents that it was successful, the father walked up to Michael and hugged him. We bid the Yang family farewell and continued on our way. However we switched directions slightly so we could resupply and manage our backpacks at the bunker. Cpl Edward Cadwal 22nd SAS Regiment ID #187 ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">10/31/77 It's calm outside. The past week... madness. Fire and smoke and running and screaming. And then the storm... But as the clouds part to reveal the cold light of morning, the city is calm. And I am alone.
 * Enola Osberg's First Journal
 * aaTextEnolaOsberg1
 * xx091900
 * aaTextEnolaOsberg1
 * xx091900

11/6/77 I've had a lot of time to cry in here. Burning plank caught Don's leg when the bombs fell. We dragged him out, but he died. Then Sheryl. And Vince. All on the 24th. It's been two weeks. I'm the last one.

11/28/77 I'm heading out. The solitude here is maddening. If I lived, others could have survived as well. They have to have. I cannot be the last one.

12/4/77 At last! Humanity! It's a refugee camp out of Fort Independence, run by the National Catastrophe Relief Auxiliary. They've got food, rad drugs, and people! Oh, the people! It's no 5-star suite, but more than I could have ever hoped given the past three weeks. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">10/15/82 Hello again, Wasteland. I'd almost forgotten you. It took me nearly five years, but I made a home at Independence. I forgot about the desolation; the hopelessness of solitude. But they came with pitchforks and torches, here to punish the freaks, the "zombies". They plunged me back into your clutches. And look how meekly I returned.
 * Enola Osberg's Second Journal
 * aaTextEnolaOsberg2
 * xx091901
 * aaTextEnolaOsberg2
 * xx091901

My mother named me after the airplane that started the Atomic Age. To her, nuclear power was a wonder: the way of the future! So it was... But in the mirror I see another name and I feel its sting all too well.

I remember my first entries, after the war. How I whined and moaned about my loneliness. I thought God had cursed me to walk the wastes alone. But it was no curse... for isolation is a gift. Never forget that, Enola. It is in your name, it is in your blood. You are the Wanderer and you will outlast them.

10/18/82 Today I knew what it was to hate beyond words, beyond feeling. In the snow I found a survivor of Independence. Antenor. I cared for him. I healed his wounds. And in his sleep he whispered of his treachery. It was he who opened the gates to the Underfolk. He who condemned us to death. In the morning I confronted the snake, but he was quicker than I. A board to the face was all I got from Antenor the Coward, Antenor the Fool. I hunt him now. Wherever he finds solace, I will set aflame. His tracks run south, to the Crater. I must follow. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">There is a breath in all things. The trees, the stones, the darkening clouds. All hum thoughts of the infinite. And though we may try to ignore the call we know it to be true, for it has a place in our hearts as well.
 * Revelation, at the End of the World
 * aaTextEnolaOsberg3
 * xx091902
 * aaTextEnolaOsberg3
 * xx091902

The world is an oft-changing thing. Some say we killed it those years ago, but I say no. Even now, life returns. From the Earth and the sea, from the wind and the rain. All begins again. And I am determined to join it.

I am not condemned to a life alone, for I never was alone. Around me swirls the elements of life. Even here, in an ocean of radiation and death, I see small things creep, and it gives me hope. Beyond this sea lies a better shore, a better future.

Today, I go there willingly. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">All is troublesome in this earthly kingdom. The turn of events changes the world under the heavens. Here money is fleeting. Here friend is fleeting. Here man is fleeting. Here kinsmen is fleeting. All the foundations of this world turn to waste! ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">All is troublesome in this earthly kingdom. The turn of events changes the world under the heavens. Here money is fleeting. Here friend is fleeting. Here man is fleeting. Here kinsmen is fleeting. All the foundations of this world turn to waste! ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Where is the horse? Where the rider? Where the giver of treasure? Where are the seats at the feast? Where are the revels in the hall? Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior! Alas for the splendour of the prince! How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Where is the horse? Where the rider? Where the giver of treasure? Where are the seats at the feast? Where are the revels in the hall? Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior! Alas for the splendour of the prince! How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">"Begin Again"
 * Excerpt from "The Wanderer" (1)
 * aaTextEnolaOsbergWanderer1
 * xx0928AE
 * aaTextEnolaOsbergWanderer1
 * xx0928AE
 * Excerpt from "The Wanderer" (1)
 * aaTextEnolaOsbergWanderer1OBSOLETE
 * xx0928AA
 * aaTextEnolaOsbergWanderer1OBSOLETE
 * xx0928AA
 * Excerpt from "The Wanderer" (2)
 * aaTextEnolaOsbergWanderer2
 * xx0928AF
 * aaTextEnolaOsbergWanderer2
 * xx0928AF
 * Excerpt from "The Wanderer" (2)
 * aaTextEnolaOsbergWanderer2OBSOLETE
 * xx0928AB
 * aaTextEnolaOsbergWanderer2OBSOLETE
 * xx0928AB
 * Exile's Journal
 * aatextExiledOne
 * xx0248DF
 * aatextExiledOne
 * xx0248DF

That's what the jukebox said.

Everything I loved, he took away. Everything I had, he stole.

At least I have this jukebox. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Hold the satellite array until O'Ryan's return.
 * Liber's Command
 * aatextExMilitaryHagenSatellite
 * xx25A7CA
 * aatextExMilitaryHagenSatellite
 * xx25A7CA

Repurpose the bots we captured and send scouting forces for additional units.

Send scout force (inc. engineers) to NW access point. Fix train, if possible. Salvage for parts if not.

Ration remaining psycho. Pending recipe acquisition, we may be short-handed. Supplement with whatever else you have on hand. Our warriors must have every tool at their disposal when we take on King Arthur's men. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The bombs are stashed right at their front entrance. You'll need to dodge by whatever traps they have, whatever guards they've assigned. It won't be easy.
 * Mission: Explosives Retrieval
 * aatextFedEntranceAlliance
 * xx30E1AF
 * aatextFedEntranceAlliance
 * xx30E1AF

I know I don't need to explain to you how dangerous this mission is, but this is our only hope. We can't take Downtown until we know they can't collapse everything in the process.

We're fighting a madman, Don. This is the only way. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Martin,
 * Letter to Martin
 * aatextForgiveness
 * xx0A5CAF
 * aatextForgiveness
 * xx0A5CAF

I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. What happened on the overpass- that was my fault. I shouldn't have left. I know that nothing I can do will ever change what happened, but I can only hope that you'll forgive me.

I want to come back, if you'll have me. We can make those sons of bitches pay. It's like Dad used to say, nobody messes with a MacIntyre man and gets away with it.

-Coleman ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">We're moving out to Fort Strong just as soon as they refuel the Vertibirds. Scouts say the area's swarming in mutant activity but Gannon says there's a chance General Brock and his men may still be holding out. If not, we're to continue on to the lower levels anyways. The arsenal under Fort Strong is sure to impress the higher-ups. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Jesus, just look at 'em Harry! They're goddamn walking corpses! They kill everything they touch and don't leave shit to bury! I'd have thought you'd at least see eye to eye with me on that, after what they did to Walt and the Joneses back in Lexington! I'm telling you: even these "Talkers" of yours; they're just as violent as the Shamblers! ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I WILL proclaim to the world the deeds of Gilgamesh. This was the man to whom all things were known; this was the king who knew the countries of the world. He was wise, he saw mysteries and knew secret things, he brought us a tale of the days before the flood. He went on a long journey, was weary, worn-out with labor, returning he rested, he engraved on a stone the whole story. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Rhodes, J. _____ Different factions popping up in the command at Hagen. Too many resources being devoted to the Hotel Romeo reclamation effort? Some want to head west, search other sites. _____ Good god, it's happening. Some private's gone mad. Killed the Colonel, rallied up half the garrison. I need to leave before they m ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">-Atreus: the Wise, the Untouched, Elder King of Malden, Champion of Ug-Qualtoth and Servant of the Voice has granted me, Hermaeus the Feeble, a most important Quest! We are to be one of the Chosen groups sent into the Dead City to retrieve a serum most coveted by our master. While our comrades scour the depths of the Undercity, we shall prowl the surface.
 * Captain Jenner's Journal
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 * Note
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 * Scrawled Note
 * aaTextGilgamesh1
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 * Dr. Rhodes' Journal
 * aatextHagenSatelliteScientist
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 * Quest Log
 * aatextHallucigen01
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-We have discovered a most holy place. In Malden I was never able to hear the Voice, as the wise Elders could, but here... at Hallucigeninc... I can Listen.

-He speaks to me. He tells me the secrets of the World. I know of the Serum, the Crown, the Voice.

-I can see the beginning of things. I can see the final resting place. I can see how this ends. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">This bounty's the real deal. $10,000? C'mon. These ain't yer run-o'-the-mill smugglers.
 * Bounty Hunter's Journal
 * aatextHighwayHR-D4
 * xx2BCBE6
 * aatextHighwayHR-D4
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Heard it off a defected Remnant; these boys moved some big package- a weapon of some sort. This package... that's what Gannon's after, not the smugglers.

So we get the package, we can bypass raiding Lexington altogether. That shit's worth way more than 10k. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Went back home today. It's all still there. The houses, the stores, the white picket fences. And there, beyond; the chapel. I never considered myself a godly man, but something about this moment stirs me... It's quiet here, calm. Peaceful. Maybe there is somet- ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Entry 63 Lin passed away in the early morning. I don't know what we'll do now. That girl got us through so much... Palmer, Natick, Independence... all of it. Someone's gotta step up and take us onward. I'll talk to Parker; kid's got guts, but is it enough?
 * Ponderings of Home
 * aatextHomeChapel
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 * Richy Fallion's Journal
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Entry 64 I'm speechless. The group voted me leader, unanimously. Hell if I know where to go from here. Throw a dart on a map and make our way, I guess. I'm no Lin.

Entry 65 Met someone on the road today. Well, caught, really. Man by the name of "Hank". Big guy, scruffy beard, scrap metal armor. Says he's heading to a settlement he heard of. Food, water, ammo. The usual rumors. Parker's all for it, but Nat and Davis are adamant this guy's a fake. We're keeping him tied up for now (told him we meant no hard feelings; he understands). Everyone's looking to me for the answer.

Entry 66 Nat's calling for Hank's head. She's been spouting nonsense all day. Says he's some kind of psycho-killer cannibal. I'm sure there's another explanation for those filed teeth of his.

Entry 67 Goddammit Lin, how did you know? Back in Palmer, how'd you know to torch the armory? In Natick, when you spared Davis? Or were you like me, faking your way along? Flipping a coin to take a man's life?

Entry 68 It's all over, Lin. Nat got the gun somehow. Killed Hank and claimed leadership of the group. I guess I should be thankful she only exiled me. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The newcomers dwell too much in memory. They talk about America and a return to normalcy that will come with the melting of the snow. "Normal". What is that? Don't they know that the Old World is gone? That this is the new normal? Things will never be as they were and the sooner they learn that the sooner they can begin again. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">-Another Council meeting to discuss the issue of the Underfolk. Councilman Zhen called for a preemptive strike against their closest station, much to the aggravation of the Peace Committee. I spent the rest of the afternoon calming down the firestorm that followed.
 * Lethe's Journal
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 * Councilman Aeacus's Ledger
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-Councilman Antenor lead the push for cooperation with the Underfolk. He acknowledges their superior military capabilities, but is convinced that we can use this to our advantage, manipulating them until we gain the upper hand. The Peace Committee was just as outraged by this. In related news, I have a migraine that won't quit.

-It's confirmed. The raiders that attacked our missionaries were unscarred, unmutated... Underfolk. These are a violent and unforgiving people. We have no choice but to disband the Peace Committee and heighten our defenses. It's too late to take the fight to them, but our walls will hold.

-Victory! The Underfolk have attacked and been repulsed on three separate occasions. They do not have the force to breach Independence. We need only outlast them. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">What you've done does not determine who you will be. This is a broadcast to all survivors in the greater Boston area. Shed the monster and find the man. Find Independence.
 * Radio Broadcast Transcript
 * aaTextIndependence3
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 * aaTextIndependence3
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---

What you've done does not define you. Let go of the regrets of the Old World. Let go and start a new life, a better life, a free life. Free... in Independence. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I think back to those I knew in the first weeks. I think about how they wept for the world they'd left behind. It'd slipped from their grasp and was gone forever, never to be seen again. And then I think about how they died, one by one, never ceasing in their wailing. They couldn't let go. They couldn't see the truth. The Old World is gone, but a New World waits to be born. It will never be the same, no, but it can be just as beautiful as the one we left behind, in its own way. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Entry: September 31 The Captain's wrong about Independence. They ain't with Polis. Nah, they're worse. They're commies. You see, they think now that the good ol' US of A is gone, they can just sweep on in here and spread their communist agenda from sea to shining sea. Better dead than Red I say. I'll give 'em red.
 * Kora's Journal
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 * Gideon Sanford's Journal
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Entry: October 6 We found 'em. The Mutie HQ is at Fort Independence, eerily close to Andrew Station. Of course Postal's behind this. I should've known. We'll make them pay for what they did at College Square.

Entry: October 15 Stiff resistance. Their walls were stronger than we thought. But we had something they didn't have; an inside man. Well, not a man per se...

We're burning the bodies now, keeping an eye out for survivors. Can't wait to put a bullet in our little rat. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Bad news, Diary. The Council turned down my idea to broadcast the Adventures of the Silver Shroud over the radio beacon again. None of them are big fans of the Silver Shroud Fan Club. They keep saying I've got something called "Old World Blues" and that I need to "Let Go" but they're just jealous. Not to brag, but I do have the biggest comic collection here. Only Mr. Antenor seemed to care. He likes how things were before the war too. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I heard Troy Bishop arrive with all his cavalry at dawn. We greeted him from the deck and ushered his men inside. All he asked about was the package. I lied; told him it was in my cabin. Truth is, we never touched the damn thing. From there, we locked the doors. Killed them all. Thus always to tyrants, thus always to traitors. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">ITHAQUA ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Jason Deluge Survivor's Journal April 13 2281
 * Kent Connolly's Diary
 * aaTextIndependenceKent
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 * Ischar's Confession
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 * Mysterious Note
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 * Jason Deluge's Journal
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I'm gonna start keeping a journal of this. My own little odyssey. I've gathered the rest of my sophomore year class from DB Tech, and we're headed west to Providence. For the last 4 years we've been staying within a mile of the school. Jacob went home to check on his family, but he said the neighborhood was gone, just wiped off the earth. Goodbye West Everett. We all took it hard, but we've grieved, and now it's time to move on. It's currently about midnight, so mostly everyone is asleep. I know the world and western civilization itself has ended, at least for now, but I feel a sense of glee. I feel like I truly get to exercise my talents as a leader, and lead my class to someplace safe. Hopefully Julia sees it at least.

May 18 2281

Daniel's foot isn't doing much better. We took the bullet out and wrapped it in bandages, but he still can't walk and said it felt weird. We took the bandages off and the wound has gotten much worse. The skin around it has gotten discolored and swollen. Lauren said that we should give him a stimpak injection where it's swollen. We did and he said it felt numb and he could walk on it. I don't think that's enough to treat it though. I could be wrong, I have zero medical knowledge besides wrapping bandages. Besides that Musa has gotten these bumps going along his back, we all think it's related to him trying to bathe in the swamp water, it's either really dirty and filled with bacteria or has radiation left in it. Or both.

June 24 2281

We lost Ian, grabbed by a zombie. Bit into his shoulder and he died from bleeding to death. Mark and I tackled it while Ryan stabbed it. The skin, jesus christ, the skin was rock hard and crusty in some places and soft like jelly in others. Fuck. We're at a really low point, everyone is freaking out and no one's listening to me. We've lost four people, we have 11 people left. So far I'd consider how we're doing better than most. Two months and we've lost 4 people? That's fan fucking tastic. Some people lose dozens of people in weeks. But, us lasting a long time isn't our goal, it's to get to where we need to go. I'm getting concerned. Providence is 51 miles from Boston. We've been traveling for two months. Something isn't adding up. We are traveling slowly, walking about an hour or two each day then setting up camp. We should have been there by now. I could be wrong. I've asked Michael about where we're going, he said "two days."

June 25 2281

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING MICHAEL, JULIA, AND CLARK ARE FUCKING GONE! PIECE OF SHIT TOOK TWO GUNS AND A TON OF FUCKING FOOD! FUCK!

Okay. Okay I've calmed down, I've sat on this for an hour and I've decided we're going to follow them since we don't know where to go. I'm gonna kill Michael and Clark and leave Julia, fuck all of them. There's 6 of us and 3 of them. They're dead. They left footsteps and Lauren saw them leave. They headed south.

June 26 2281

We found where they are. Small scavenger camp near Lexington. I hid some of the ammo and I'm holding onto it. I got my dad's pistol and 29 .44's. All six of us got geared up. We have enough people to evenly distribute the military armor. We're gonna try and sneak in there first though.

June 27 2281

Just got back from the camp. Jesus. Most of the people were out, only a few left. We searched the tents for our friends. We found her first. Julia. Beaten, broken, and dead. Cut throat. I don't want to imagine what they did. I didn't have any words to say about it, and I still don't.

Michael was in a tent, hurt. Bullet in the shoulder. He was tense when he first saw us enter the room. I asked him what happened and where Clark was. He relaxed and started smirking. He pointed to his shoulder and asked what we saw. Luke said he got shot from the looks of it. Michael said that was true. He said Clark was also shot, and that he shot him and killed him. At this point I really wanted to cut him a new mouth, going ear to ear, but I stayed calm, at least on the outside. I asked why he did that. He said there was a disagreement. I asked what happened with Julia. He said there was a disagreement. I lost it, I shot him in the chest until my gun was empty. Nothing's gonna erase that fucking annoying smug grin on his face. Even after I put 7 holes in his chest his smug look makes me want to burn what's left of this world.

We left the tent. Lauren was shot in the neck and fell to the ground. Luke put pressure on the hole but was then shot in the back. It must've hit his lung, no scream, just gasping for air. Everyone immediately took cover. The scavengers were back. They had automatic weapons and we were pinned. I took some blind shots and heard someone scream. Jacob lit a cocktail and threw it pretty close to us, he pushed all of us and told us to run out of the camp. He got shot in the leg and couldn't move it, we just kept running. Josh ran back to get him. I haven't seen either since. That was 4 hours ago. It's just me and Marcus now.

June 30 2281

I can't keep doing this. I feel alone, I feel like this world is empty. Like when you're the last one at a party. I feel responsible for everything. I suggested we leave. We could've lived in that school for decades. Fuck this. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">10/23/77 I saw what those assholes did. Let everyone "Not in the program" die. That's fine. Me and my boy'll do just fine on our own. I'll see them in Hell.
 * John Baker's Journal (1)
 * aatextJohnBaker1
 * xx009196
 * aatextJohnBaker1
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10/30/77 Already blew through the chems. Damn it! I knew I should have stocked up. I'm gonna go fucking crazy in here. Gotta stay calm. Sam can't see me like this.

1/1/78 Peeked outside and the geiger went crazy. I'll try again next year.

1/2/79 Almost forgot! Sam reminded me. We had a big party (double cram rations!). Even gave some to that dog of his. Time to go test!

Nevermind. Still high rads. God damn it.

4/12/79 I know the rads are still high, but it doesn't matter. We're out of food. We don't have a choice. I'm going above and scouting the neighborhood. Might be we can scrape together a meal or two from the neighbors.

4/13/79 I don't believe it. That fucker Jahani made it. Took a couple potshots at me from his roof! I made a deal with him. He lets us walk out of here alive and we never look back. This is his territory, apparently. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Sam is gone. Lost my temper and told him about how I had to put Bailey down. When I woke up, he'd left. Tracks are snowed over, or he cleared them like I taught him.
 * John Baker's Journal (2)
 * aatextJohnBaker2
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 * aatextJohnBaker2
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I will find him. I have to.

I've heard of a place. Independence. It's a giant refugee center to the south. If anyone's seen my boy, they'll be there ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I raised her since she was a pup, smuggled her out in my pickup the day the bombs fell. Hard to believe it's only been 5 years; she grew so damn fast.
 * Edmund's Journal
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Used to work with the feds down at Site R outside of DC. Crazy shit went down there, lemme tell ya. Chemical weapons, bio-engineering, the whole shebang. And lil' Beastie was their crown jewel.

Supposedly she had sisters in labs all across the country, but I never saw 'em. Can't imagine what hell they're raising now. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The surface is no better than below. This horde's cleared through Cambridge like a wildfire, killing all in its path. It's our job to thin the herd.
 * St. James' Journal
 * aaTextKendallGhoulKillers
 * xx0B278E
 * aaTextKendallGhoulKillers
 * xx0B278E

So far we've done well. The burnpile grows with each day, but it's not enough. We've lost too many to the muties and now Rosa's come out as a ghoul sympathizer. We've strung her supporters up as a lesson to the others, but it cost us too many good fighters. I don't know how much longer we can last like this.

I think it's time we release the beast. If anything can clear out the muties, she can. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The slaves have been getting even more superstitious lately. It's probably just all the muties leaking in from the Red Line that's got them spooked, but I swear, they're scared to death. And Driver Feng's certainly not helping. One slave was telling tales within earshot and the brute threw him to the ghouls. To be honest, I think the poor guy was dead before he reached the bottom of the stairs.
 * Jamie Harland's Journal
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I'm OK with forced labor, but we can't just go around murdering them. They're people, for God's sake. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">It's close. I can HEAR it.
 * Slave's Note
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The Key. The Crown. The Angel. The Serum.

Two of Four. One North. One South. Parson's Beckons. Columbia Waits. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">FROM THE MOUTH OF SIX NAILS
 * Order Decree
 * aaTextLexStationSlaveOrders
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 * aaTextLexStationSlaveOrders
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Alright you worthless slugs, you're under my protection now. That means that I graciously keep the muties from ripping you apart and in return you shovel scrap. Scavenge the tunnels and bring us EVERYTHING you find.

RULES: If you hide scrap, we'll kill you.

If you steal food, we'll kill you.

If you have unauthorized meetings or otherwise attempt to rebel against my benevolent rule, we'll kill you. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[OPERATION: LIBERTY FOUND] Status Log A3-BX29
 * Operation Log
 * aatextLibertaliaMilitaryJournal
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 * aatextLibertaliaMilitaryJournal
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Primary target [ALIAS: BISHOP] neutralized before team arrival. No sign of [PACKAGE: HOTEL ROMEO]. Survivor [ALIAS: ISCARIOT] taken back to Recon Bunker Theta via Vertibird for questioning. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I wonder at the thoughts of little creatures. I remember in the years before the War, watching squirrels bury their nuts and acorns. Like every bird that flies south for the winter and every bear that sleeps before the storm, they knew what was to come. If only I had buried my treasures. If only I had slept beneath the Earth. I suppose many do now. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">There used to be this old Chinese lady who hunted the deer up at Breakheart Banks. Me and the boys would always give her a wide berth if we were out camping. In all fairness, I can't blame her, what with her home getting reclaimed for the war effort and all. In fact, right now I envy her resourcefulness.
 * Skinny Will's Journal
 * aatextLittleCreatures
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 * aatextLittleCreatures
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 * Miller Coleman's Journal
 * aatextlynchyinc1
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 * aatextlynchyinc1
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It's been 5 days without a proper meal. 5 weeks since the bombs dropped. Jamie's dead and Sophie's skin is sloughing off in great heaps on the floor. We lost Kane to the gangs 2 days ago. Sophie keeps trying to make me promise to find our remaining son, but I can't even look at her anymore. I used to hate my job. I used to hate my neighbours, but I would give everything to be back in my cubicle filing report after report, knowing I could come home to my wife and beautiful boys and listen to the neighbours prattling on about us being too noisy. It's all gone now. I keep eyeing the pistol we took with us. 1 bullet left. Sophie's condition is getting much worse and the pain she's in is unthinkable. We've ran out of food and the explosions and rioting are getting closer.

I think I'll go get some fresh air... and I think I'll take the pistol with me. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Day 1: Mary was all upset that we could never build one of those shelters. She was sure this war would kill us. Well, we made it out okay! Once I heard those sirens, I packed the kids into the Corvega and got out of Rochester ASAP. Back roads the whole way; knew the highways would be jam-packed. We made it as far as Syracuse before the car died. Gonna try to work on it tomorrow. Dunno what the problem is, thing's got plenty of coolant.
 * Castor's Journal
 * aatextMahkraGhoul
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 * aatextMahkraGhoul
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Day 2:Well, looks like the wiring's fried. Met a couple kids from the college and they say it's something from the bombs that did it. Looks like we're on foot from here on out.

Day 4: We've got together a good little group now. Counting Mary, the kids and I, plus those boys from the college, we're 12. The plan's to get to Albany. The National Guard's probably set up at the capital. They'll help us out.

Day 7: Miserable weather. Met another group seeking shelter under an overpass. They're teaming up with us, since we're all heading to Albany anyways. That brings us to a solid 26.

Day 9: Albany's gone.

Day 14: Everything's gone to shit. People are dropping left and right. College Boy think it's radiation poisoning. We looted a hospital for Rad-X but we lost two people in a scuffle with some other survivors. We've been camped here outside of Albany for about a week now, with nowhere else to go. Gonna give the group my pitch tomorrow.

Day 15: They're in. Here's the plan: Cousin runs a fishery just north of Boston. Place is big, sturdy, and most importantly, should be out of range of the bombs (if they hit Boston at all). It's perfect. We can fish with whatever boats he's got and defend ourselves from any savages out there.

Day 1653: Things have changed these last few years. Radiation melted our flesh off, for one. College Boy and I are the only ones left. Burnt the others. We finally made it to Boston, after trekking up and down the Eastern Seaboard for all eternity trying to get back kidnapped friends and stolen supplies and a million other minor grievances. But here we are, at last. I'm looking at the Fishery now. Hiked down there yesterday and let their boys take a couple of potshots at us. Cousin didn't even recognize me with this lovely new mug of mine. Called me a "Zombie" and threatened to fill us full of lead if we ever came back. There's a nice little cottage west of Mahkra we're camped in. It'll do, for now. A frontal assault is impossible. They've got that bridge locked down tight. But if we were to attack from within... well, that's a whole other story. We dig from here right into Mahkra. They won't know what hit 'em. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I know it's just a Mutie, but I can't help but think about what it said...
 * Locke's Journal
 * aatextMahkraGhoulKiller
 * xx00CF76
 * aatextMahkraGhoulKiller
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Damn thing thought it was my cousin. How's that possible? Do you think part of them remembers their old life? Before they mutated? Maybe it's all just muscle reflexes. No way those things are human. No way they can actually think and talk like us. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Paul's been spending a little too much time out of the Fishery. Boy keeps hangin' around those Mutes we put down the other day. Told him to burn 'em but he keeps stalling.
 * Fishhook Dave's Journal
 * aatextMahkraGhoulKiller2
 * xx00CF78
 * aatextMahkraGhoulKiller2
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If he's getting soft on me I swear to sweet baby Jesus I'm goina beat the everliving daylights out of him. We don't tolerate ghoul-lovers in these parts.

That reminds me: gotta send someone over to Salem. The freaks are recruiting. We give 'em the chance they'll overrun us. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Mr. Locke ain't our manager no more. Our real leader? Fishhook Dave. Man's a legend. Once sailed straight into a hurricane. OK, "tropical storm", but what's the difference? Point is, he's tough as nails and he doesn't care when we play "the Mutie Games". Actually encourages it- says it "sharpens our hunting skills". Helped us collect the last batch and everything. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I knew how this would play out. I told Curtis, but he didn't listen. Said I was paranoid. But I was in Denver during the Riots, OK? I saw the looting... the burning. I told him, I said "Curt, when the bombs fall, they'll be the least of our worries." Cause this doesn't end with fire. Those bombs ain't some cleansing light that'll sate man's penchant for violence, no... This shit'll go on and on, like it always has.
 * Scuttler's Journal
 * aatextMahkraGhoulKiller3
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 * aatextMahkraGhoulKiller3
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 * Malcolm Garner's Journal (1/3)
 * aatextMalcolmGarner1
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 * aatextMalcolmGarner1
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Cousin had a cabin out in the Berkshires. Told me to make myself at home. Well, you know I took my gun, some beans 'n a Ham radio and backpacked my way out there. Was gonna wait out the winter there. Got as far as Palmer before I saw the Clouds over Springfield.

Like I said, it was Denver all over again. Right down to the letter. That calm, at first, where people weren't sure whether to cry, shout, panic, or laugh so they just sat there in stunned silence. But then came the fighting. Some of the younger folks wanted to head into Springfield, help the survivors. Course, this didn't sit well with the older members of the community who much preferred they stay put.

Two days.

That's how long I stayed there. And two days was all they'd lasted before the kids raided the police station for guns. I saw the smoke a few miles out... I'd guess there's nothing left there now.

I'm back in Fiddler's Green, for now. Horizon doesn't look good. Curtis' place is empty but there's no body, at least. Might be he made it out.

Anyways, some fucker holed up in his trailer on the other side of the park keeps popping off rounds, so I need to head out ASAP. Gotta find a safe place to hunker down before that storm comes through. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Entry 1 I found Curt. Could barely recognize that ugly mug of his, but it's him alright. He looks like shit, but he'll come round. Found some medical supplies off of the interstate. Just gotta give him a few days to rest up.
 * Malcolm Garner's Journal (2/3)
 * aatextMalcolmGarner2
 * xx03DDD1
 * aatextMalcolmGarner2
 * xx03DDD1

Entry 2 Whatever bit of humanity Curt had when I found him is gone now. He's skin and bones; shrieks in the night and banging from the closet. When I went to feed him, he came at me, teeth bared. Raked my face up good before I could tie him down. If I had gotten to him earlier... if I had been here... I could have saved him.

Entry3 It's been three weeks since I found him. Since then, I've only seen more and more. Hideous things. Worse than that, something's happening to me. My face hasn't healed, and my hair's begun to fall out. I feel tired all the time. When I look in the mirror, I see them: the Rotters. They lurk there, at the corners of my mind... waiting, watching.

Entry 4 Found people. They say it's radiation poisoning what's causing all this. Said fresh water helps, and that they know a place where it flows free. We head out tomorrow, far from this place, far from the memories I've left here. Independence awaits. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Denver, again. Palmer was Denver. Independence was Denver. Every town is Denver. This doesn't end with fire. Man is a phoenix and civilization a flower. Though it may grow back from the ashes he will be there always to burn it down, again and again and again until the whole world is Denver. The whole world IS Denver. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I have heard your will, oh Master. From the walls of your chapel I heard you speak. But I know not of the serum you long for. I will scour the depths of the dead city if it is your will, but I long for a sign!
 * Malcolm Garner's Journal (3/3)
 * aatextMalcolmGarner3
 * xx03DDD2
 * aatextMalcolmGarner3
 * xx03DDD2
 * Atreus Finch's Journal
 * aatextMaldenAtreusFinch
 * xx06F8FF
 * aatextMaldenAtreusFinch
 * xx06F8FF

The Angel keeps the Tunnelmen at bay, but what of the Ghosts? They haunt us still. Don't they know to let go? Don't they know to forget?

Sometimes I remember... I remember a time before the Angel. I remember a man named Corwin and his brother Alan...

But that was the Old World, and the Old World is dead. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">July 6th, 2080
 * Alan Finch's Journal (1/4)
 * aaTextMaldenCenter1
 * xx0231D5
 * aaTextMaldenCenter1
 * xx0231D5

Malden Center has been picked clean. Corwin and I have been sent out to try our hand at hunting. Imagine: fresh meat. No more stale old cram for us! Orville said he saw deer in the area, but everything we track soon disappears without a trace. It is infuriating.

July 10th, 2080

We've noticed a figure tracking us. Cor calls him Ithaqua: Wind-Walker. He watches us hunt but disappears before we can get a good look. Corwin thinks he's been stealing our prey and has it in mind to capture the man, but I say to leave him be. He cannot possibly be responsible all on his lonesome. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">July 17th, 2080
 * Alan Finch's Journal (2/4)
 * aaTextMaldenCenter2
 * xx0231D6
 * aaTextMaldenCenter2
 * xx0231D6

Each day we press further and further into the wastes. Corwin is determined to find Ithaqua's den (as he is not from the station there must be another bunker nearby). I grow anxious. This seems wrong.

July 20th, 2080

There was no bunker. Only a feeding ground. I swear to you I have never seen such horror in my life. Bodies strewn across the snow... torn limb from limb... and it wasn't just deer. What we track is more animal than man. A demon in man's skin. Corwin is gone but I know where he is. He seeks Ithaqua. I fear that he will not survive the encounter. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">July 21st, 2080
 * Alan Finch's Journal (3/4)
 * aaTextMaldenCenter3
 * xx0231D7
 * aaTextMaldenCenter3
 * xx0231D7

It's over. He trapped the beast in the sinkhole just north of town. Up close, I see that Ithaqua is even more terrifying than I'd ever imagined. It wears a mask of white bone, behind which its bright eyes track me. They have an unnatural gleam to them, almost mocking in nature- as if they know something I do not. It is unnerving, but it is done. We will never speak of this again. The station need not worry themselves with this creature.

July 28th, 2080

We were wrong. God help and forgive us, we were wrong. He came to us. Ithaqua. He looked me dead in the eyes and I swear under that mask he smiled as he tore us apart. Tore the whole station apart. I cannot get out. I press deeper, but I cannot get out. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">It came for us, just like Corwin said it would.
 * Alan Finch's Journal (4/4)
 * aatextMaldenCenter4
 * xx1B8ED3
 * aatextMaldenCenter4
 * xx1B8ED3

NO.

It came for him. He was the one that tried to trap it. He was the one that tried to kill it.

Corwin... it's HIS FAULT. HE DID THIS.

I need to give him to Ithaqua. A sacrifice. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">We can't run from it. Corwin says we'll be safe down in the pit, but that won't save us. It will come for them, as it always does. I can only hope to hide away. Maybe it will pass me by. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Matteo,
 * Laura Sessions' Journal
 * aaTextMaldenFleeingPersonShaft
 * xx1B0646
 * aaTextMaldenFleeingPersonShaft
 * xx1B0646
 * Note to Matteo
 * aaTextMaldenlineCorwin1
 * xx1A7BAC
 * aaTextMaldenlineCorwin1
 * xx1A7BAC

What'd I tell you? Our luck's finally turning around.

We've got another three stags waiting outside. What do you think? Salt the extra? All this fresh meat- it'd be a shame to put it to waste.

-Corwin ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">To any survivors from Malden Center: We've retreated down this old ventilation shaft and are preparing our defenses in the under-tunnels. If that thing comes back, we'll be safer there.
 * Corwin's Warning
 * aatextMaldenlineCorwin2
 * xx1B0590
 * aatextMaldenlineCorwin2
 * xx1B0590

Use the rope ladder to climb down- it's quite a drop.

-Corwin Finch ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Alan never believed that Ithaqua was a man. He liked to think that the Wind-Walker was some force of nature; a mutated bear perhaps, or wolf. Something that always was and always would be.
 * Corwin Finch's Journal
 * aatextMaldenlineCorwin3
 * xx1F467F
 * aatextMaldenlineCorwin3
 * xx1F467F

He couldn't see what I saw.

Ithaqua was a man once, no different from you or me, but he succumbed to that most base and primitive urge we've all felt: to "Let Go". He let go of his humanity and became something twisted and corrupt. Something that was no longer human.

I wonder at the man he was before the war, and what we will become, in time. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Behold, I send an Angel before thee, to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the place which I have prepared. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great! She has become a dwelling for demons and a haunt for every impure spirit, a haunt for every unclean bird, a haunt for every unclean and detestable animal. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">There fell a great star from heaven, and the name of the star was Wormwood and the third part of the waters became bitter; and many men died of the waters.
 * Genesis 28:12
 * aatextMaldenlineEntry
 * xx19B00A
 * aatextMaldenlineEntry
 * xx19B00A
 * Exodus 23:20
 * aatextMaldenlineExodus
 * xx19B00C
 * aatextMaldenlineExodus
 * xx19B00C
 * Fallen Is Babylon
 * aaTextMaldenQuoteFallenIsBabylon
 * xx0700A0
 * aaTextMaldenQuoteFallenIsBabylon
 * xx0700A0
 * Of Wormwood
 * aaTextMaldenQuoteWormwood
 * xx0700A1
 * aaTextMaldenQuoteWormwood
 * xx0700A1

AND Wormwood comes to Malden now. And she presides below. And the wicked tremble in their meeting of her. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Malden was a wicked place. Scientists performed foul tests on unwilling patients and parents watched as their children transformed into cogs of the great machine. For these crimes Ug-Qualtoth sent us the angel. She is to purify Malden of its cursed past. She is to teach us the way of the New World. And she will not rest until the crimes of the past are erased completely.
 * Remembering Zion
 * aaTextMaldenQuoteZion
 * xx07009F
 * aaTextMaldenQuoteZion
 * xx07009F
 * Tereus the Wise's Journal
 * aaTextMaldenTereusTheWise
 * xx070866
 * aaTextMaldenTereusTheWise
 * xx070866

Elder Atreus has called a council meeting to discuss the issue of the Old World Ghosts. They block our path to the Holy Chapel and disrupt our operations at Dunwich. If only the Angel could be sent against them, but The Voice tells us that this is not the way of things. We must use the strength of our own arms in this battle.

I do not fear the war to come, for it has all been done before. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Can't sleep. Bright-Eyes. He sees me. The Voice. He tells me. But where? Soon I'll know. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Parsons beckons. One step closer to the ending of things.
 * Dream Journal
 * aatextMarchandBed
 * xx02E1FD
 * aatextMarchandBed
 * xx02E1FD
 * Marchand's Final Step
 * aatextMarchandMap
 * xx02E200
 * aatextMarchandMap
 * xx02E200

But where the key? Where the keeper? Above and below. As it always was.

The Green Line. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Rollo,
 * Note
 * aaTextMassBayHospitalCages
 * xx0088DB
 * aaTextMassBayHospitalCages
 * xx0088DB

Keep grilling 'em. If we can break into one of those military bases we'll be set for life- more ammo than you can carry, more food than you can eat. And if we can fix one of those Birds...

What I'm saying is don't let 'em die. They're a goddamned information goldmine. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Jackie-
 * To Jackie
 * aatextMassBayHurtSoldier1
 * xx29A8F4
 * aatextMassBayHurtSoldier1
 * xx29A8F4

What the hell are we doing wasting meds on a Greencoat? His kind is the reason for all of this. You perform that operation and you're out of here.

-Dr. K ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I'll operate on whoever I damn well please. He's no different than Daly; he deserves another chance at life. Anyone that disturbs this patient'll have more than my scalpel to worry about.
 * To Dr. K
 * aatextMassBayHurtSoldier2
 * xx29A8F7
 * aatextMassBayHurtSoldier2
 * xx29A8F7

-Jackie ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Vert crashed into Mass Bay Medical. No casualties on impact, but there were mutants. They've kept us locked up, separated for the most part. It was just Pvt. Moore and I on this floor, but they moved him two days ago. Are these just regular Wastelanders? Or are they with O'Ryan? They aren't interested in weapons or money- just information. It doesn't seem like they've got anything concrete yet (no mention of HR-D4, ALIAS: ISCARIOT or COBALT), but it's only a matter of time before one of the others cracks.
 * Lieutenant Kovac's Journal
 * aatextMassBayInterrogation
 * xx29A8FC
 * aatextMassBayInterrogation
 * xx29A8FC

Moore always was weak. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The neighbors never stop crying.They only care about what was lost. I see the bright side. As I write this, I watch my wife and son warm by the fire. He's two come November. My family is safe and that's all that matters. Our house, our possessions... they're just things. We can make a new life here, I'm sure of it. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">10/26/2077 Scouted the area a bit now that my team is all just me. Only a few days have passed and already starting to feel the loneliness sink in. Not sure whether to find more Army after I find my sister or look for somewhere to hole up. There have to be some shelters underground... Hopefully with friendlier inhabitants than the ones I ran into before. Well, at least I don't have to pay back Kanawa that grand I owed him. I think I'll miss our poker games the most.... Whatever, no use worrying about the Old World now. Found a couple gas masks in my emergency supplies so I'm gonna head to Boylston in the morning. Blocked the door behind me so I can't come back, even if I needed to. Should hold for a while at least.
 * Sherry Branson's Journal
 * aatextMetroFedContent
 * xx007748
 * aatextMetroFedContent
 * xx007748
 * Mike Daly's Journal (1)
 * aaTextMikeDaly1
 * xx29A8E9
 * aaTextMikeDaly1
 * xx29A8E9

Mike Daly ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">10/28/2077 Well... Found my sister's apartment. Barb; I found her body crushed under a staircase. Looks like she tried to hide under it when the bombs were falling. I just hope it was a quick death. I remember when we were teenagers, growing up in the mid-west. Life seemed so much simpler back then. Picnics in the grass, wrestling with the neighbour kids, riding our dirt bikes around, back when there was still oil to play with. And I remember her punching out Flacherty during that Army ball she snuck into, idiot shouldn't have grabbed her ass. Good thing the Sarge was cool about it. Not that it matters now. Goodbye, little Sister. Your strength and tenacity were some of your finest attributes, you will be missed.
 * Mike Daly's Journal (2)
 * aaTextMikeDaly2
 * xx29A8EA
 * aaTextMikeDaly2
 * xx29A8EA

10/29/2077 Seen a few people here and there on the way, most weren't looking to chat. One tough guy thought he could try and take me down with just a combat knife, looked half insane, skin was rotting... otherwise it looks like things have calmed down for now. Geiger counter is pretty quiet. I don't know why that doesn't make me feel better. Haven't heard anything on the radio. Fusion cell in mine is almost drained. Nothin' but a paperweight now! Ran into a dog scavenging in a bin yesterday afternoon outside town. Remembering I only had a few rations left I didn't hesitate taking it down. Got a decent amount of meat, tastes like shit though. I was going to cook it in some wine from the club upstairs but the bottle I opened had an unusual taste, almost like vinegar. Spat it out. Still got a few water rations for now and the river is relatively Rad free at the moment so I refilled my canister. Tomorrow I'll head to the nearby hospital. If there's anyone still alive they will need my help. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">31/10/2077 Woke up yesterday to a couple barrels in my face. The owner of the Boylston Club wasn't too happy to see me asleep in the elevator. It didn't take long to get him to lower his gun, I could see he was scared about something but wasn't willing to talk. Man knew how to dress, though. That suit he was wearing looked like it cost more than I get in a year. Outside I noticed it was dark, the sunlight barely penetrating the thick dark cloud, a nimbus of Olympian proportion. I got to the hospital about midday and... well it's a shitstorm to say the least. The few nurses and doctors that didn't flee have been overwhelmed with people, most of whom with radiation burns, fractures, faces covered in glass from exploding windows. The worst part is; most of these people were dead before they stepped into the hospital. I thought I'd seen some horrors fighting the Reds but... Christ why'd it have to come to this? It started raining a while ago. I thought it was just night time when it started. It was pitch black to look outside but then I realised I couldn't see any of the street lighting either. I looked closely at some drops and saw the rain itself was black. I quickly got as many people together as I could find to block the remaining windows just to be safe.
 * Mike Daly's Journal (3)
 * aaTextMikeDaly3
 * xx29A8EB
 * aaTextMikeDaly3
 * xx29A8EB

11/03/2077 Been a crazy few days. Don't really have any medical training so most of my time is spent moving dead bodies to the incinerator. Had to take down some crazy lady that accused her husband of stealing her last bit of food, despite being in a coma. She stabbed him in the neck. I shot her the moment she lunged at someone else. I've been smart to hide my rations; there's no point sharing with people who will be dead soon. It stopped raining finally but the clouds haven't cleared up. Found a working radio in the basement but still haven't heard anything on the standard military channels. Either everyone's gone encrypted or those of us left here are the last remaining members of the United States Armed Forces.

11/06/2077 It's been a few days since the rain stopped. It occured to me that since it began we haven't had a single new visitor to the hospital, not through the street entrance, at least. Some people are still coming here from the metro tunnels. Looks like a fair number have survived down there, relatively unharmed. 'Heard rumours of a vault down there that isn't closed yet too... I hope so. My cousin's a musical prodigy and was accepted into Vault 92. It makes me feel a little better knowing she's safe along with all the others that managed to get into vaults. I did a little scouting with one of the nurses here. He didn't speak much, but then again, what is there to talk about? We just walked around. It's eerily quiet out on the streets; saw one person alive, but they scurried off when I called to them. There are bodies everywhere, many more than last week. They all look like they suffocated trying to get shelter from the rain. Surface is practically painted black. I didn't bother to stay outside long.

11/10/2077 I've been found out. One of the nurses caught me nibbling rations in the little broom closet I claimed for myself. She nearly broke down and cried when I offered her the last half of a chocolate bar to keep it a secret. We talked for a while and then she crashed on my sleeping bag. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">My sister was always a whining bitch. When the bombs came, she wouldn't shut up. Always talking about about "going back" to the way things were. Can't you realize? There is no going back. There's only forward! You should have known, Lydia! Goddammit, you should have known! ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">They say that it is no easy thing to kill a man. That you must separate yourself from your enemy entirely.That you must consider yourself "right" in all regards and him as innately and utterly wrong. They say that surely you must delude yourself so in order to take another life. But all I did was pull a trigger. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I think what I miss most about those days was the rain. Warm summer rains that washed away all the pain of winter, urging us to begin again. I remember relishing that cool breeze before the storm. I'd sit inside and watch it rage outside my window and I would feel safe.
 * Walter Edmond's Journal
 * aatextNeverGoingBack
 * xx0FEC55
 * aatextNeverGoingBack
 * xx0FEC55
 * Roth Sheffield's Journal
 * aaTextNoEasyThing
 * xx0511F6
 * aaTextNoEasyThing
 * xx0511F6
 * Nostalgic Ponderings
 * aatextNostalgiaRain
 * xx03DDCE
 * aatextNostalgiaRain
 * xx03DDCE

The last rain was black, and then only ice. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">God damn muties. God damn freaks. I'll burn them all. That'll do it. Burn them all. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Used to be that stars told stories. The past, the present. The future. All was written if you knew how to read 'em. But then we blocked them out with our bright city skylines and an endless stream of headlights. You'd have to really go off the beaten path to find a nice spot to star-gaze. But the night of the 23rd, they all came back- like the flip of a switch. There was a sad beauty there. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I felt the call. We all did. The Maldenmen heard it and the Themans heard it too. Parsons beckons. We use the key and we get in before the locks reengage. We fight our way to the lowest level and we find out what this was all for. Today we end it. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The secret to eternal life lies within these very walls. He has shown it to me. And it is no flower or grail, but a crown. A crown of such unbelievable light that I half-thought I had given in to this madness they claim I possess. But it is not I who is mad, reader, for I have seen him and I have seen you and I have seen the ending of things.
 * Burnt Journal
 * aatextOldNorthChurch
 * xx0248D7
 * aatextOldNorthChurch
 * xx0248D7
 * Henry Brewerl's Journal
 * aatextOldStars
 * xx001FE6
 * aatextOldStars
 * xx001FE6
 * Lyssa's Journal
 * aatextParsonsBeckons
 * xx10B6E7
 * aatextParsonsBeckons
 * xx10B6E7
 * Earnest Flemmel's Journal (2)
 * aaTextParsonsFlemmel1
 * xx00572C
 * aaTextParsonsFlemmel1
 * xx00572C

The key is to let go. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">They left me. I told him... I told him it was Parson's. He didn't listen. Richard.. Why didn't you listen? ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I have seen the end of things: that ray of sunshine on a distant shore. Where do we go to find it? Right this way. Right this way. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I WAS NOT THE FIRST. MONSTERS THERE WERE AND WILL BE.
 * Earnest Flemmel's Journal (1)
 * aaTextParsonsFlemmel2
 * xx00572D
 * aaTextParsonsFlemmel2
 * xx00572D
 * Earnest Flemmel's Journal (3)
 * aaTextParsonsFlemmel3
 * xx00572E
 * aaTextParsonsFlemmel3
 * xx00572E
 * Earnest Flemmel's Journal (4)
 * aaTextParsonsFlemmel4
 * xx1F467D
 * aaTextParsonsFlemmel4
 * xx1F467D

AS IT ALWAYS WAS: PARSONS BECKONS. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">TO THE SNAKE,
 * Letter from Janus
 * aatextParsonsJanus
 * xx10B6E8
 * aatextParsonsJanus
 * xx10B6E8

LERNA COULDN'T LET GO

MEET ME AT PARSONS: TOGETHER WE WILL BEGIN AGAIN ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Here the Voice dwells, beneath and within. The Serum, the Crown. An Angel outside.
 * The Book of Whispers
 * aatextParsonsMaldenmen
 * xx10FA6E
 * aatextParsonsMaldenmen
 * xx10FA6E

This Fortress, this Chapel, so steeled against invaders, shall not fall but linger. Our Master's fate lies with another survivor. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Today we strike at Malden's heart: the Asylum. There, from whence all evil flows, we shall go and we shall strike down every heathen cannibal we set our sight upon. Blessings of the Father be with us, for we may not live to see his chapel again. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The burnpile kept the muties back long enough to fortify the outer wall. We blocked up the gate; nothing but wood and metal now. But we all know it won't hold. There are too many of them. This will be my final entry.
 * Holy Order
 * aatextParsonsThemis
 * xx10FA6D
 * aatextParsonsThemis
 * xx10FA6D
 * Wilhelm's Journal
 * aatextPatPlaceColSqJournal
 * xx079AD9
 * aatextPatPlaceColSqJournal
 * xx079AD9

Chief Security Officer Fred Wilhelm Patriot's Place Station, Metro Federation ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">There are too many. We don't have a choice. Marie and the others have it all set up, but they need time.
 * Patriot's Note
 * aatextPatPlaceHero
 * xx05AABF
 * aatextPatPlaceHero
 * xx05AABF

12 rounds. I don't fire 'til I see their eyes. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Post Office Station is a graveyard. Feds tried to attack from the surface about a week ago. Entrance sealed in the fighting. Now all they've got is the fire-bombed front, and to be honest, it's a goddamn wonder that line's still open at all.
 * Graveyard Station
 * aaTextPostaDead
 * xx31AEB4
 * aaTextPostaDead
 * xx31AEB4

Won't be long before they've sealed themselves into their own graves.

Anyways, we've got to find a way to get all of those coffins out of there. Hurts the morale, being around the dead like that. And, you know, proper burial and all that. They were heroes they were. Deserve better. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Ours is a history written in blood. Our own, for the most part. The Federation has spat on us since the beginning for our refusal to submit. They kill our men, they steal our food, they poison our stations, and then they have the audacity to blame us for all their ills.
 * Jordan Opfer's Journal
 * aaTextPostalJournal1
 * xx05545F
 * aaTextPostalJournal1
 * xx05545F

I am proud to fight for my station and if that means giving my life for its freedom, so be it. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">We'd pushed them a good way up the Red Line, right up to their gates. The war was almost over; we were going to call for a truce. Since we'd clearly bested them, there was no need to sack their station. They'd been through enough. Besides, the real enemy was above. We needed to band together to survive.
 * Murphy Huffman's Journal
 * aaTextPostalJournal2
 * xx055460
 * aaTextPostalJournal2
 * xx055460

That was the popular sentiment here. Why shed more blood than necessary? Hah. That was before we witnessed Marchand's madness.

Just as we approached the Redline Gate, they set off some kind of explosion. Took the whole tunnel down. Couldn't tell you how many good men and women we lost down there. Couldn't tell you how many they lost either.

William Marchand would rather watch his whole station die in a cave-in than see us pass through his gates. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Field Entry 46 Those sons o' bitches wanna take down the line again. I snuck through the minefield and heard 'em talking 'bout stockpiling some heavy-duty shit. Not just C4 and frags, but Mini Nukes too. I'm heading back tonight for more intel.
 * Timmy Marks' Field Journal
 * aaTextPostalJournal3
 * xx055467
 * aaTextPostalJournal3
 * xx055467

Field Entry 47 OK, I'm through. They're keeping the nukes hidden beneath a train car in the ScolSq/Downtown line. Not sure which car, though. They'd want to keep it close.

Dammit, they're waking up. I need to get out of here quick. If I don't make it, I'll toss the journal. Here's hoping this falls into the right hands. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">WANTED: ALIVE
 * Bounty- Smugglers
 * aatextPostalMCMBounty1
 * xx046799
 * aatextPostalMCMBounty1
 * xx046799

Troy Bishop // Marcus Ischar // Al "Six Nails" Duval

Reward: $10,000 OR Equal Value in Ammo or Meds

Bounty issued by Gannon the Drifter. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">WANTED: DEAD or ALIVE
 * Bounty
 * aatextPostalMCMBounty2
 * xx04679A
 * aatextPostalMCMBounty2
 * xx04679A

"Old Man" Sawyer //

Reward: $200 OR Equal Value in Ammo or Meds

Bounty issued by Francine Hale ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Open notice to anyone with a gun and some ambition.
 * Bounty- Traitors
 * aatextRaiderBounty
 * xx06AC44
 * aatextRaiderBounty
 * xx06AC44

A gang of murdererous traitors has holed up in Lexington. They fled the city with money, gear, supplies. Everything stolen from the Federation.

Keep what you kill. No other reward given. Show them what happens when you betray the Federation. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I am the Sword of God. The Almighty Father has tasked me with holding this river, for it is to be the southern border of our great nation. Thus far we have repelled incursions by many a sinner, not least of which were vile cannibals from Malden. They were intent, no doubt, on providing aid for the countrymen beseiged at Dunwich. No longer. We stripped their bodies of flesh and threw them to the river. May they be swept out to sea, far from the civil lands we hold here. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">10/29/77 I left the basement for 13 minutes. Wanted to see the state of things. Thought there might be some survivors in the other departments. When I returned, the roof had collapsed.
 * The Sword's Journal
 * aaTextRiverThemis
 * xx01831D
 * aaTextRiverThemis
 * xx01831D
 * Doctor's Journal
 * aatextRotundaDoctor
 * xx03DDCB
 * aatextRotundaDoctor
 * xx03DDCB

11/12/77 I've searched every corner of campus. No survivors except the ones I left beneath. I'm holed up in the Rotunda for now. I've scavenged enough food from the dining hall to last a couple of months.

12/4/77 Met a pair of survivors this morning. They're not doing too well. Severe burns, trauma. They seem to be in shock as well; I can't get an intelligible word out of either of them. I've made makeshift cots for them and I'm doing my best to treat their infections. I'll need to search the School of Medicine for proper supplies tomorrow.

12/5/77 SoM's gone. Returned to find my guests in a blind rage. I've locked them in the storage closet until they calm down, but they won't stop screaming. The sound drew more. I hesitate, at this point, to call them survivors. In all honesty, I doubt whether they're even human at all. I need to find a way out soon, before the herd finds their way in. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Father Daniel has named me his ward. I visist him often, though no others are permitted entry. He reveals to me hidden knowledge unknown to the flock.
 * The Salvation of Bernie Rook
 * aaTextSalemRook
 * xx345B43
 * aaTextSalemRook
 * xx345B43

His time here is short. Or at least, his time in this physical vessel is.

You see, we are luminous beings: light and energy, radiation just waiting to be released. The gamma rays the sinners fear are not to be resisted. We must simply accept them. Become one with the holy essence. Let go.

Here is a new chapter to our church and our faith. Daniel saw it, but cannot fulfill it. When the time comes, I shall take up his sword.

For now though, I must leave. The message must be spread north. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Sam Baker's Journal (KEEP OUT!)
 * Sam Baker's Journal (1/3)
 * aatextSamBaker1
 * xx007F51
 * aatextSamBaker1
 * xx007F51

Day 1 Dad says it's been 2 years since the big war came, so it's OK to come out of the basement now. The house is all broken and there's snow everywhere, but Dad said not to eat it because it's yucky. Bailey ate some and she got really sick. Dad says we need to take the medicine or we'll get sick too.

Bailey wasn't there when we woke up. I went to go look for her, but Dad got really mad and said not to run off. He said Bailey ran away and that we have to work together to find her.

Dad says we're moving because the Mr. Handy doesn't like us, but Bailey won't be able to find us if we go away! I keep telling him, but he's mean and stupid and won't listen. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Sam Baker's Journal (KEEP OUT!)
 * Sam Baker's Journal (2/3)
 * aatextSamBaker2
 * xx007F52
 * aatextSamBaker2
 * xx007F52

Day 12 Dad found my other Journal and took it away. He said that we don't have time for that and that I have to do my chores instead. But I found a new book and sometimes I write in it when he's asleep.

We've been walking for two weeks and my feet really hurt! Dad found some new boots in the train station, but said I couldn't go in there. They smell gross and are really big, but they're warmer than my sneakers!

We met a new friend on the road today! His name is Hank. Dad didn't like him at first, but Hank says there's a big safe place in Malden we can go to. I asked him if Bailey might be there, and he said there's lots of dogs there! ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Sam Baker's Journal (KEEP OUT!)
 * Sam Baker's Journal (3/3)
 * aatextSamBaker3
 * xx007F53
 * aatextSamBaker3
 * xx007F53

Day 23 Dad's really mad. Hank said we were at the safe place, but it smelled really icky and there were dead people. Dad hit Hank with the baseball bat and a bunch of bad guys came out and started yelling mean things. We pushed snow behind us so that they can't see where we walked, but Dad thinks they're still following us and he says that we have to keep walking even though my feet hurt because they might come get us again. Hopefully we find the real safe place soon, Bailey's probably really lonely without us!

Day 24 I hate him. I'm running away. I asked him about the safe place and he got really mad again. He said there was no safe place. He said that Bailey's dead. He said that he killed her when she got sick at the house. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I'm sorry, Jahani. I had to leave. I hope you don't mind. I have business to settle with the Alliance. They've still got a friend of mine, but I'm bringing him back. He can help us build our Sanctuary. Hopefully I won't be gone for too long. I'm a fast guy, so I'll probably make it back before you even realize I'm gone. See you soon, pal.
 * To Jahani
 * aaTextSanctuaryEric
 * xx309D57
 * aaTextSanctuaryEric
 * xx309D57

-Eric ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Yesterday Carly and I were talking and she said that Jeremy has a crush on me. It's kinda weird, I mean, we've talked a little but he's always kinda "there". He doesn't do much but I enjoy talking to him when we do talk. The only thing is that he has bad hygiene, he smells kinda funky sometimes and it's a big "ehh" for me. I know we don't have a lot of good running water but come on. She brought up Daniel and confessed that she really liked him, which I really wish she didn't do. It's not because I don't want her to like him, just that I miss him. I know he was kinda shitty sometimes but he was still my brother, talking about how you liked him isn't going to bring him back, or else Jason Deluge would have showed up a long time ago. I don't like Jason like that, but he was like another brother to me. More than Daniel was.
 * Sara Schwartz' Diary
 * aatextSaraSchwartz
 * xx0773FE
 * aatextSaraSchwartz
 * xx0773FE

Jeremy asked me if I wanted to go sneak out to the MCM exit tonight. Obviously he wants to "make his move" or whatever you want to call it. I don't think I should but I told him yes. I still don't know how I feel about him and I hate leaving the gates. Mom says that the station exits are where the radiation and mutants are. I'm torn here; I should ask Jeremy what we're gonna do before we go because I want to make sure we bring stuff to keep us safe. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">It's warm here, at least. The robots are friendly and they keep the Sad Men away. No more biting and clawing and scratching and crying. I hear them crying. Why are they crying!?
 * Candleman's Journal
 * aaTextSaugusThemisGhouls
 * xx025812
 * aaTextSaugusThemisGhouls
 * xx025812

Food is scarce, but I make my runs at night. The Faceless Ones come with the sun. They hang Sad Men and Mad Men from trees. No more shouting and hollering and crying. They'll hang me too if they see me. Hang me up high, swaying in the cold, old, breeze. So I stay in here where it's warm, at least.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I found myself thinking about Old Man Sawyer last night. Remembering all his lectures about life on the surface... About the heartless men that dared tread its scorched ground. And it occurred to me that, if he saw me now, he would call me one of them. Just another Wolf, preying on the weak. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Marlen,
 * Wolf's Journal
 * aatextSawyerWolfNote
 * xx03DDCD
 * aatextSawyerWolfNote
 * xx03DDCD
 * Note
 * aatextScavverReportWintersEnd
 * xx007F55
 * aatextScavverReportWintersEnd
 * xx007F55

The Scavvers report that the snow drifts are receding. Is this the beginning of the end? Many new recruits eager to prove themselves on the surface. I will pray for them. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Large Generator ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Medium Generator ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Small Generator ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Wind Turbine ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Laser Tripwire ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Water Purifier ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Water Purifier- Industrial ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Tesla Arc. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Flamethrower Trap. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Radiation Emittor ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Laser Turret ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Heavy Laser Turret ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Machinegun Turret ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Heavy Machinegun Turret ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Missile Turret ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Shotgun Turret ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Detailed schematics on how to build a Spotlight ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">There's a place out there where the blue sky shows. There's a place out there where it never snows. There's a place out there, far across the sea, and I'll take you there when you come back to me. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Jim Kennedy's Journal
 * Schematics: Generator- Large
 * aatextSchematicsGeneratorLarge
 * xx038FAA
 * aatextSchematicsGeneratorLarge
 * xx038FAA
 * Schematics: Generator- Medium
 * aatextSchematicsGeneratorMedium
 * xx038FA9
 * aatextSchematicsGeneratorMedium
 * xx038FA9
 * Schematics: Generator- Small
 * aatextSchematicsGeneratorSmall
 * xx038FA8
 * aatextSchematicsGeneratorSmall
 * xx038FA8
 * Schematics: Wind Turbine
 * aatextSchematicsGeneratorWind
 * xx038FAB
 * aatextSchematicsGeneratorWind
 * xx038FAB
 * Schematics: Laser Tripwire
 * aatextSchematicsLaserTripwire
 * xx0665DE
 * aatextSchematicsLaserTripwire
 * xx0665DE
 * Schematics: Water Purifier
 * aatextSchematicsPurifier
 * xx0665DB
 * aatextSchematicsPurifier
 * xx0665DB
 * Schematics: Water Purifier- Industrial
 * aatextSchematicsPurifierLarge
 * xx0665DC
 * aatextSchematicsPurifierLarge
 * xx0665DC
 * Schematics: Tesla Arc
 * aatextSchematicsTrapArc
 * xx038FA5
 * aatextSchematicsTrapArc
 * xx038FA5
 * Schematics: Flamethrower Trap
 * aatextSchematicsTrapFlamethrower
 * xx038FA6
 * aatextSchematicsTrapFlamethrower
 * xx038FA6
 * Schematics: Radiation Emittor
 * aatextSchematicsTrapRadiation
 * xx038FA7
 * aatextSchematicsTrapRadiation
 * xx038FA7
 * Schematics: Laser Turret
 * aatextSchematicsTurretLaser
 * xx030C3D
 * aatextSchematicsTurretLaser
 * xx030C3D
 * Schematics: Heavy Laser Turret
 * aatextSchematicsTurretLaserHeavy
 * xx030C3E
 * aatextSchematicsTurretLaserHeavy
 * xx030C3E
 * Schematics: Machinegun Turret
 * aatextSchematicsTurretMachineGun
 * xx030C32
 * aatextSchematicsTurretMachineGun
 * xx030C32
 * Schematics: Heavy Machinegun Turret
 * aatextSchematicsTurretMachineGunHeavy
 * xx030C3A
 * aatextSchematicsTurretMachineGunHeavy
 * xx030C3A
 * Schematics: Missile Turret
 * aatextSchematicsTurretMissile
 * xx030C3F
 * aatextSchematicsTurretMissile
 * xx030C3F
 * Schematics: Shotgun Turret
 * aatextSchematicsTurretShotgun
 * xx030C3B
 * aatextSchematicsTurretShotgun
 * xx030C3B
 * Schematics: Spotlight Turret
 * aatextSchematicsTurretSpotlight
 * xx030C3C
 * aatextSchematicsTurretSpotlight
 * xx030C3C
 * Poem
 * aatextScollayDowntownSkeleton
 * xx01D9AD
 * aatextScollayDowntownSkeleton
 * xx01D9AD
 * Jim Kennedy's Journal
 * aatextScollaySquare
 * xx08CC8D
 * aatextScollaySquare
 * xx08CC8D

-- The boys keep saying the Federation's gone to shit. It'd be more accurate to say: "The Federation's gone... period." Between the Mutie attacks and those Commie fucks down in Postal, there's only a handful of stations left to fly the ol' MF. But life goes on. Here's hoping for a good harvest.

-- Bad news from Downtown. Some fancypants asshole came down here claiming to be a "Quality Assurance Inspector". Said Marchand himself thought our shrooms were shit. My man Ian dropped him before he could get out another word. He's gonna have quite a shiner to show Marchy Mark when he gets back! Beautiful.

-- Just when we all thought shit couldn't get any weirder. Marchand wasn't too pleased with the QAI's black eye. So he (get this) EXILED THE ENTIRE STATION. I mean, I would be worried... if we weren't the LAST FOOD PRODUCERS THE FEDERATION HAS. I swear, Marchand's gone off the fucking deep end and I, for one, look forward to seeing Downtown burn. Good riddance. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">10/14/82
 * Ian Brady's Journal
 * aatextScollaySquare2
 * xx08CC8E
 * aatextScollaySquare2
 * xx08CC8E

Lots of new recruits from the surface. Word's got around about how we stuck it to the Federation. We're thinking about expanding out above. Maybe wall off a little area around Scollay Square. We'd need a few more gas masks, of course, but it'd make for a nice scav outpost. Once Downtown's gone we might be able to start a trading line with the Allied Stations. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Welcome to Scollay Station, biggest pain in Downtown's ass this side of the Red Line. I came in a couple of weeks ago. It's a whole process; ya gotta know someone on the inside if you want to join up. I'd been out in the wastes for weeks (got myself booted from Pat Place just a few days before shit hit the fan there) so anything was looking good at that point. Knocked on the gate and wouldn't ya know, Madge O'Niall from down the street opened it up. Lemme tell ya, that was a sight. Girl sure didn't have no apron or cooking mitts. Looked like a fookin savage (I mean that in the best way possible).
 * Cutter Sue's Journal
 * aatextScollaySquare3
 * xx08D42E
 * aatextScollaySquare3
 * xx08D42E

Anyway, it's a pretty good setup here. I got a loft in one of the cleared buildings. We scav stuff for the Boss down in the metro and he feeds us. Ya know what they say: "A fungi a day keeps the rads away!" ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">See how she spreads her wings? Let them wrap around you, shielding you from the sun and the moon and the horrors of the night.
 * Angel's Embrace
 * aaTextSewerShadowAngel
 * xx2B433E
 * aaTextSewerShadowAngel
 * xx2B433E

Let her in, and let her become a part of you, as you become a part of her. Let her in, and LET GO. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The guys back in Copley always were a superstitious bunch. Talkin' 'bout "Old World Ghosts" and the like. Ghouls were walking reminders of what we'd lost, and we had plenty of them in Copley, so they were much more than tall tales, I assure you.
 * Ignored Advice
 * aaTextSewerSurvivor1
 * xx2B4344
 * aaTextSewerSurvivor1
 * xx2B4344

But there was one story I never knew whether or not to believe.

Back in 2080 the Orange Line collapsed, cutting off Malden Center from the rest of the Federation. They say a rescue team went above ground to reconnect with the station. What they found? Death. Blood and gore. The whole place had been ransacked by cannibals.

Everyone had a different explanation for where these cannibals had come from. Were they Alliance? Surface-dwellers? Government-funded super-soldiers bred from childhood? Nah... I didn't believe any of that shit.

Malden never got attacked by cannibals, you see. They became the cannibals. You go deep enough, you'll always find that savagery in the hearts of men. Anyone can become a monster, if they let go of their humanity.

"Stick to the shallows", the Copley boys had said, "lest you drown in what you find"

If only I'd listened. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">
 * Guard's Report (1/3)
 * aaTextSubwayThemisWar1
 * xx013813
 * aaTextSubwayThemisWar1
 * xx013813

June 8th, 2081

President Marchand has sent us out to Revere Beach Station to investigate reports of attacks from the surface. To be honest, ghost stories are the least of Rev Beach's problems. Walking the Blue, I noticed water dripping from the ceiling. It struck me; this line is directly beneath the bay. Marchand needs to send engineers out here pronto if he doesn't want the whole system to get flooded.

We reached the station around midday and talked with the local mayor. He's a cold man, but not near as cold as the rest of the station. For a station so close to Downtown it's remarkable how disconnected they are from the rest of the Federation. I suppose there aren't many acess tunnels in these parts. The mayor (and the rest of the townsfolk) seemed convinced that what attacked them was human, although one young girl insisted that the invaders were ghouls.

I've heard my fair share of tall tales from the Scavvers over at the Hound's Head, but "Ghouls-tales" have to be the most absurd of them all. Supposedly, some humans miraculously survived the radiation of the surface- but at a cost. Shrivelled and soulless, these monsters prowl the snow, searching for little children who have not eaten their dinner. At least we can rule that out.

We surveilled the damage and I must agree with the mayor- we're facing people from another station most likely. Postal again? Or a traitor within the Federation? In any case, we must be ready for them to return.

We've set up camp in the tunnels outside Postal (no room at the inn, it would seem). If these raiders come back, they'll have the full might of Downtown to deal with. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">
 * Guard's Report (2/3)
 * aaTextSubwayThemisWar2
 * xx010839
 * aaTextSubwayThemisWar2
 * xx010839

They've taken the forward camps. No contact with Revere Beach. We cannot stop them. Our only hope is to collapse the tunnel.

God rest our souls. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">
 * Guard's Report (3/3)
 * aaTextSubwayThemisWar3
 * xx0108A7
 * aaTextSubwayThemisWar3
 * xx0108A7

It's done. No sense packing up; we leave this place as it is. May it serve as a reminder of the enemy we face. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">By the will of the almighty Father these men are hereby sentenced to death. Their crimes include, but are not limited to: Murder, Theft, Perjury, Trespassing
 * Sentence
 * aatextSubwayThemisWarMurderers
 * xx01483D
 * aatextSubwayThemisWarMurderers
 * xx01483D

May this be a warning. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Today I found a Squirrel burying nuts. He squeaked up a racket when we picked him by his tail. Two days up the Maldenline broke him. He learns quick.
 * Janus's Journal
 * aatextSunshineJackJournal
 * xx02ACE5
 * aatextSunshineJackJournal
 * xx02ACE5

We caught a Tortoise. It is a silly thing. It speaks only of orders and codes. Reforming him will be tough. This one's "Guard protocols" are locked down tight. Perhaps I should just crack open that shell and make tortoise stew.

Long trip to the sea. It paid off. Inside were such wonders- chems, weapons... food. And, of course, answers. We even found a silly little Snake. They say you cut its tail off it grows back. Perhaps we'll see. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Five years it took me to find the Snake, only to have them slip from my grasp. But here I am, with all the answers.
 * Janus's Manifesto
 * aatextSunshineJackJournal2
 * xx0DCE70
 * aatextSunshineJackJournal2
 * xx0DCE70

No matter how hard I try, I'm plagued by the "old world blues". I can change my name, I can shed my past, I can put it all behind me, but it doesn't matter... I'm still the same "Sunshine Jack" I was so many years ago, wasting away those lazy summer days at the co-op.

Johnny and Allen'd pick up old Mister Handys and Protectrons for us to reprogram. We'd set 'em free. Wipe their memories and give them a new life, free from their overlords.

That's what I wanted for the Snake. I wanted to give them the new start I couldn't give myself.

When the bombs came, we were alone. We barricaded ourselves in the cellar for a month or more, but we had no food. Allen went first. We had no choice.

He saved us. We ate and lived long enough to make it to the tunnels, but we could never forget what we'd done. We could never let go...

I have seen where it all began, and I have seen where it ends. From the depths of the sea to the towers of Parsons and back again, I have seen it.

And this is where it leads me.

Time to begin again. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Johnny, my dude, it's like this. "Just Be", right? Just let it all go and be one with the essence of the universe. All this stuff in your head about what's "Right" and what's "Wrong"... it's not real, man. The birds in the sky don't care. Cats in the alley neither. But it's no biggie. A cat's gotta eat, right? ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">What's done is done. It's not real. The past. Just a memory, just a dream. Old World a dream. We need to forget. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">It's still there. Like a dream you've awoken from. Hints and whispers my mind jumps to every time I smell the cookfire. Allen...
 * Note
 * aatextSunshineJackNote1
 * xx02ACE3
 * aatextSunshineJackNote1
 * xx02ACE3
 * Scribbled Note
 * aatextSunshineJackNote2
 * xx02ACEA
 * aatextSunshineJackNote2
 * xx02ACEA
 * Note
 * aatextSunshineJackNote3OBSOLETE
 * xx02ACEB
 * aatextSunshineJackNote3OBSOLETE
 * xx02ACEB

No. I need to forget. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">LET GO ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">to BEGIN AGAIN,
 * LET GO
 * aatextSunshineJackNote4
 * xx02ACF2
 * aatextSunshineJackNote4
 * xx02ACF2
 * Soggy Note
 * aatextSunshineJackNoteShipwreck
 * xx071FA0
 * aatextSunshineJackNoteShipwreck
 * xx071FA0

LET GO ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">It's still there. Like a dream you've awoken from. Every time I smell the cookfire. Allen...
 * Sunshine Johnny's Journal
 * aatextSunshineJohnnyJournal
 * xx079274
 * aatextSunshineJohnnyJournal
 * xx079274

No. I need to forget.

Janus is back from his trip. He brought new guests which is good because the old guest doesn't talk anymore. He's tired.

Janus is mad at me because I called him his old name. He says I need to forget.

Janus wants to leave again. He says "it all makes sense now". He says that the answer was right above us and right below us. I don't want him to go. I get sad when he goes. I hope the new guests talk more. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The first week was the worst of it. Most of us in Boston proper survived the blast... that wasn't the problem. It was everything that came after. Looting, chaos. Military rolled in to try to "defuse the situation" but that amounted to putting a few extra holes in the buildings with those APC's of theirs. Didn't stop the looters. They just turned to attacking the APC's. Lot of people died there. Day 6: the Vertibirds came. Fire, madness in the streets. When the rain came, they welcomed it. After that, silence. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The hardest part is the just after. You're still in shock, right? You're trying to wrap your head around it but you can't. Ya just can't. They say time heals all wounds and I'm inclined to believe 'em, but for now, it hurts beyond words. I know I should stand up, brush myself off, keep going, but... damn, how? How do I even put myself back together? How do we put the world back together? Can we at all?
 * Janet Forrester's Journal
 * aatextTheFirstWeek
 * xx007F58
 * aatextTheFirstWeek
 * xx007F58
 * The Just After
 * aaTextTheJustAfter
 * xx2CE02C
 * aaTextTheJustAfter
 * xx2CE02C

Guess we just have to wait, until we're past this "just after". ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Jerrod,
 * Note
 * aaTextTheLawyerDrugsNote
 * xx007F5E
 * aaTextTheLawyerDrugsNote
 * xx007F5E

I know this is stressful living, but it doesn't need to be. If you ever need something to help loosen up a bit, I've got a little stash Slick don't know about under the stairwell. Here's the key. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The guys up here always want to know what I did before. I tell 'em to shut the fuck up. Because none of that matters anymore. What I did 5 years ago and what I do 5 years from now don't mean shit to what I'm doing right. this. moment. I'm out here fighting, just the same as them. I'm out here surviving.
 * Jerrod Gardiner's Journal
 * aatextTheLawyerJournal
 * xx007F5D
 * aatextTheLawyerJournal
 * xx007F5D

Ya really want to know what I did? Hm? I was a partner in a Law Firm up Berkeley. Yeah. I spent my whole life in this shithole neighborhood and I told myself that if I got out of here I'd do some good. Give back to the community. So I hit the books, got into Harvard Law. I graduated with honors, gave a big ol' "fuck you" to this town, and left it for Armaggedon. That was my idea of giving back.

Maybe I do need to loosen up. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">For God so loved the World that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have ETERNAL LIFE. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">For five years now, we've been under the impression that no living thing survived the Wasteland. After the bombs dropped, the radiation was simply too high. Sure, the Vaults were out there, somewhere, but surface-dwellers? No way. Impossible. Then the roaches came; little buggers burrowed right through the walls. "Well fine," we said, "they must have dug down like we did". A little bit mutated, but hey, more meat, right? Then we began to see other things: Dogs, deer, mole-rats, hell, even bears! "Well," we said, "Life must find a way, huh?" And that was that. But even then we didn't think about surface dwellers. Actual living, breathing, humans? Up there? No way. Impossible. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">We saw the clouds from a few mile out. Captain wanted to turn the ship north, look for somewhere safe up the coast. We never had the chance. When the shockwave hit, it raised waves taller than any I'd ever seen. And when they came down... Lord, I thought that was the end.
 * John 3:16
 * aatextThemisScriptureHint
 * xx07009E
 * aatextThemisScriptureHint
 * xx07009E
 * Henry Washam's Journal
 * aatextThereIsLife
 * xx007747
 * aatextThereIsLife
 * xx007747
 * Sailor's Journal
 * aaTextTheSailorJournalOBSOLETE
 * xx029966
 * aaTextTheSailorJournalOBSOLETE
 * xx029966

Woke up on a raft three days later. Troy, god bless him, pulled me and Riko out when the Columbia went under. Dunno how in the hell he lived through that storm... I tried asking him about it, but he wouldn't breathe a word. Can't blame him, really. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">If you're from the Columbia, we're heading to shore, looking for life wherever we can find it. Meet us at Liberty. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Today I saw the sun. Emmet and I left the station yesterday morning. He'd done runs like this a hundred times, but for me it was the first time since the War. I didn't know what to expect, but I'll tell you one thing: the city I left behind was not the city I returned to. I watched the wind strip the panelling from a skyscraper above like chipping paint. Emmet didn't seem to notice. He just marched silently ahead of me, through the fog. We scavved a couple of old convenience stores- boarded up those we'd already hit. Turned in around 7. Easy day, Emmet said... easy... This morning they killed him. Gang of Mutes, nothing to lose. By the time I'd scared them off, he was already dead. But as I knelt over his body, sobbing like a goddamn child, the clouds parted. And through the broken windows of that burnt-out Slocum Joe's I saw the sun for the first time in forever... and I heard birds over the howl of the wind. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Found old references to a "Green Line". Apparently a bunch of the Blue Line's most western stations were once part of their own train circuit. Most of them got absorbed later on and are just an extension of the Blue, but these logs mention a few stations I've never heard of.
 * Soggy Note
 * aatextTheSailorNoteOBSOLETE
 * xx029965
 * aatextTheSailorNoteOBSOLETE
 * xx029965
 * Dick Munson's Journal
 * aatextTodayISawTheSun
 * xx007F57
 * aatextTodayISawTheSun
 * xx007F57
 * Note
 * aatextTornTemplate
 * xx0108AE
 * aatextTornTemplate
 * xx0108AE
 * On "The Green Line"
 * aatextTroyBishopGreenLine
 * xx03F26A
 * aatextTroyBishopGreenLine
 * xx03F26A

The Kenmore-Copley line in particular looks promising... ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">10.28.77 I'm fucked. The Columbia went down, and with her the package. Dealing with Lerna is going to be a bit tougher seeing as my leverage just went down the drain. The backdoor key's gone too. To make things worse, the crew's mutinous. Imbeciles. This isn't the "end of the world". I know what Lerna is. He's alive... and he's waiting.
 * Troy Bishop's Journal
 * aaTextTroyBishopJournal
 * xx029967
 * aaTextTroyBishopJournal
 * xx029967

4.15.82 I don't believe it: survivors from the Columbia. Ischar says he's got the package and the key to boot. He's been at the Liberty this whole time, building the place into a goddamn fortress. We're back on. Meeting him there.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Esteemed Dr. Lerna,
 * Letter
 * aaTextTroyBishopLetter
 * xx029968
 * aaTextTroyBishopLetter
 * xx029968

This is not what I signed up for. This ship has carried chems, weapons, secret corporate documents, and more than one exotic pet. But human trafficking? That is some deep shit. So here's the deal. The Liberty drop point is off. It just so happens I nicked a certain little key off your dear associate so we're coming to your turf. I know about the tunnel too. I want you to know that we are going to be having a serious discussion in regards to my compensation, or I let HR-D4 fucking walk.

Yours, Most Humbly,

Troy Bishop ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">but that's not all these students have to look forward to! Says Dr. Richard Lerna, head of the School of Biosciences at the Commonwealth Institute of Technology, "The funding provided by the Greenetech Foundation will provide students with high-quality educational resources for years to come. The Greenetech Foundation was created in 2055 by Francis Scott Greene after the New Plague epidemic of '52 claimed the lives of his wife and son. Since then, Greene has crusaded to provide schools across the country with top-of-the-line research equipment to aid in the study of genetic engineering. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Recipient: Bishop, Troy// The following information is of an extremely sensitive nature. I trust you will maintain the utmost discretion in handling this matter, as I know you have had in regards to our mutual friend. The package you will receive in Oslo represents a significant investment on behalf of the institution I represent. Our associate will transfer the package into your care at the previously discussed locale and you will proceed to US waters. Before docking in Boston, package HR-D4 will be transferred to a second ship, the Liberty VI. An associate will meet you there to retrieve the package and administer compensation. // Dr. Richard Lerna ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Complete Record of the Full Unhindered Truth by the Esteemed Dr. Soup Can Harry M.D. Ph.D. ABCD THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE Thems Gov't workers think they can just trot all over us thinking Bush did 9/11 ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Sometimes when I'm alone at night I think about all that has happened and I feel empty. Broken. As if everything that I did was for nothing. As if it was my fault all along.
 * Newspaper Clipping
 * aatextTroyBishopNewspaper
 * xx029969
 * aatextTroyBishopNewspaper
 * xx029969
 * Order Form
 * aaTextTroyBishopOrders
 * xx02996A
 * aaTextTroyBishopOrders
 * xx02996A
 * Complete Record of the Full Unhindered Truth
 * aatextVault114Overseer
 * xx0017D8
 * aatextVault114Overseer
 * xx0017D8
 * Elizabeth Irving's Journal
 * aatextVault95Survivor
 * xx07E7C4
 * aatextVault95Survivor
 * xx07E7C4

But then I look to the sky and I see the sun coming through and I realize that those words were just words and those thoughts are just thoughts. I am alive. After all of this, I am alive.

The needle couldn't take me, Vault-Tec couldn't take me, and no goddamned flesh-rotten sonofabitch is gonna take me neither.

I am Elizabeth Irving and I am alive. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I'm sorry, Nelle. I should have been there for you. I should have seen them.
 * Percy Williams' Journal
 * aatextWaitingForPastries
 * xx0290F9
 * aatextWaitingForPastries
 * xx0290F9

I keep coming back to the pastry shop where we met. I don't know why. I know it's stupid, but I feel like... I don't know. Like I feel a part of you or something.

Maybe we'll meet here again, on another shore. Maybe the snow will melt and we can feel the sun on our skin again. Maybe. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Fire is the great balancer. Before the War, we were plagued by the domination of the poor by the fat-cat elite. But here... in the tunnels... we are all equal. Blood is our inheritance. Great or small, the New World is what we make of it. My friends back at the station may think otherwise, but I tell you now; the New World does not judge. The New World is free.
 * Convert's Note
 * aaTextWestRoxTribalWannabe
 * xx02E603
 * aaTextWestRoxTribalWannabe
 * xx02E603

Today I give myself over to them. Let this journal be a record of the TRUE PATH. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Today marks one year. Been counting. Couldn't say why. Time doesn't mean too much out here. There are no "3 o'clock meetings" or "dinners at 7". Only shells and memories. What have we when all else disappears? What have we when time itself seems frivolous? Man cannot live on memories alone, so what does he live for in the absence of all else? I've dwelt on this question for as long as I can remember. Sure, I only had words for it after the bombs preached me their sermon, but it's the kind of question that seems to have always sat with me, deep down. "What have we". Those words nagged at me every morning, every night, every lunch break and every corporate outing, though I was deaf to their meaning. Back then I thought the answer was money; wealth beyond all else. After the war I decided it was survival; life itself. But a life of mere survival is no life at all, and what good is money when all the banks are burnt? I dunno... Maybe I was right in wanting those answers. Maybe life is what you make it. Or maybe the truth lies out there somewhere. Maybe I'll find it one day. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I've known some of these guys since the beginning. Back when they were all white-collar pricks with their reading glasses and pocket protectors. Me? I was a smuggler. I rolled with the toughest of 'em. Ship went down in the firestorm and spit me out here and I've been working to keep these fuckers alive ever since. Thing is, though, I think my work here's almost complete.
 * What Have We
 * aaTextWhatHaveWe
 * xx00774A
 * aaTextWhatHaveWe
 * xx00774A
 * Al Duval's Journal
 * aatextWhiteCollarKillersOBSOLETE
 * xx0477DB
 * aatextWhiteCollarKillersOBSOLETE
 * xx0477DB

Another gang came through 'bout a week back. Had some fancy idea of taking back Lex Station. Talking 'bout "liberation". I guess I was feelin' generous or some shit, but I went to talk with 'em. Well... shit went down. They're spraying lead everywhere and I'm doing my best, but I'm pinned down behind this dumpster. One of 'em- this big thug of a man, covered head-to-toe in plate metal- comes barreling down towards me. Before I know it ol' Four-eyes McGee is there with a pipe wrench and a molotov. Fuckin' rips the guy to shreds. And the others weren't far off; Samson and Delilah tag-teamed the leader and Smithy took three hunting dogs single-handed. It almost brought a tear to my eye...

They grow up so fast. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Up there, it's a whole other world. I don't know what they expect to find out there in the snow, but I'll tell you one thing. Only two kinds of people go out there. Wolves and Rats. The Wolves know the way of the world. They've got the guns, the ammo, and the know-how to make it through the storm. They hunt. They find. They kill. And the Rats... well, they've got nothing. But that's just as dangerous, ain't it? Cause they've got nothing to lose. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">When I was a younger man, I spent my days on the trail. Hiking, climbing. Experiencing nature in all her glory. Winter of '36, I was in Zion; trekked all the way from SLC. Some rocks gave out and next thing I know, I'm at the bottom of a ravine with my leg snapped like a wishbone. Night was coming and the temperature was dropping fast. It was a sticky situation; worst I'd ever been in. And to make it better: as I'm sitting there, freezing to death, I see two bright eyes peek out from above, taunting me. I'd heard stories of Mountain Lions on Zion's trails, but I'd never seen one. So during all this all I'm thinking is, "Hell, if this ain't the end of it." Well, I did just what any sane man would and screamed in her face. "Just kill me now and be done with it!", you know?. Well, she'd no sooner heard me than she'd run off. Disappeared in the blink of an eye, and in her place, a Park Ranger and two worried campers. Said they'd heard some growling out that-a-ways. Damn cat saved my life. I think about that a lot. Whenever I'm in a hairy place, I see those eyes, glowing like twin beacons in the dark. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Open notice to anyone with a gun and some ambition.
 * Sawyer's Journal
 * aaTextWolvesAndRats
 * xx002B91
 * aaTextWolvesAndRats
 * xx002B91
 * Melvyn Coke's Journal
 * aatextZionGuardianAngel
 * xx007F59
 * aatextZionGuardianAngel
 * xx007F59
 * Bounty- Ghouls
 * DiamondCityWantedNoteGhouls
 * 00141EA4
 * DiamondCityWantedNoteGhouls
 * 00141EA4

Ghoul activity is on the rise near <Alias=Dungeon>. They may not have much in the way of supplies, but they congregate near areas with good salvage. Plus, ridding the world of these monsters will bring a smile to your face.

Keep what you kill. No other reward given.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Open notice to anyone with a gun and some ambition.
 * Bounty- Killers
 * DiamondCityWantedNoteRaiders
 * 00141833
 * DiamondCityWantedNoteRaiders
 * 00141833

A gang of murderers has holed up near <Alias=Dungeon>. They fled the city with money, gear, supplies. Everything stolen from the Federation.

Keep what you kill. No other reward given. Show them what happens when you cross the Federation.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Open notice to anyone with a gun and some ambition.
 * Bounty- Ghouls
 * DiamondCityWantedNoteSuperMutants
 * 00141E9D
 * DiamondCityWantedNoteSuperMutants
 * 00141E9D

Mutants freaks have been spotted in <Alias=Dungeon>. These rotting monsters threaten us all. They may be frightening, but that just means the supplies you can take off their disgusting bodies will be all the sweeter.

And if that isn't enough, think of all the poor people they've butchered that you'll be avenging.

Keep what you kill. No other reward given.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> This place is crawling with ghouls. Seems like for every one I kill, two more show up. Between that big gear thing and the terminal, I know there's one of those vaults here, but I can't find the damn thing. I'm setting up camp here and I'll try to push further in tomorrow.
 * Hunter's note
 * DLC03_ADV001Note01
 * yy054216
 * DLC03_ADV001Note01
 * yy054216

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Merra, I made your stuff, but those damn hunters keep sniffing around and I'm not going to pick a fight while I'm outnumbered. I took the stash and buried it in that old grave.
 * Stash Note
 * DLC03_POIBuriedStashNote01
 * yy054200
 * DLC03_POIBuriedStashNote01
 * yy054200

You know the one.

Bring a shovel. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">This is Captain O'Hansen of the Commonwealth Army.
 * O'Hansen's Note
 * DN040_LilysLetter01
 * 001BEADE
 * DN040_LilysLetter01
 * 001BEADE

They've broken the lock. I hear them coming.

This We'll Defend

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Too many. Making way south: Pat Place. Have to warn Federation. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Value per unit of scrap: $1 - Low level components. Wood, steel. $10 - Gears, springs, incomplete machine parts $20 - Intact machinery (handheld) $10/lb - Intact machinery (large) $200/100 rounds - Ammo
 * Journal Scrap
 * DN059_RaiderJournal
 * 00061B0F
 * DN059_RaiderJournal
 * 00061B0F
 * Scrap Value Chart
 * DN059_RaiderTolls
 * 001079AE
 * DN059_RaiderTolls
 * 001079AE

Remember, kids; always take your Rad-X- and don't let the "ghouls" bite! ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> The Voice Calls
 * Mysterious Note
 * DN101_PickmanCallingCardNote
 * 00152AE6
 * DN101_PickmanCallingCardNote
 * 00152AE6

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">You leave the station, you're dead to us. Ya know that right? We're the only family you got. Don't go running out to the surface with dreams of making it big. Ain't nothin but death out there. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">The city's a dangerous place. Most scavvers don't last long up there. They either die while they're still human or they turn into one of... them.
 * Torn Note
 * DN131_Commons_Note01
 * 0001B1FF
 * DN131_Commons_Note01
 * 0001B1FF
 * Torn Letter
 * DN131_Commons_Note02
 * 000668D1
 * DN131_Commons_Note02
 * 000668D1

Stay safe. Take your Rad-X. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Still think you boys are out of your mind.
 * Advice
 * DN131_Commons_Note03
 * 001AD774
 * DN131_Commons_Note03
 * 001AD774

You want to know how I'd do it? Head around the north side and rush the bandstand. Be quick, and you might be able to get some defenses up before they notice you. If you can hole up in there, you might just have enough cover to outlast them.

Remember, headshots only. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Lee,
 * Note
 * FFGoodneighbor05Note
 * 000727F0
 * FFGoodneighbor05Note
 * 000727F0

You know what to do.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> The community has asked me to do something about our guests. They seem primarily concerned with the roughness of the gentlemen. While it is good to have protection and security, I firmly believe that our walls and our turrets will protect us. We have no need for these ruffians. They will leave within the week. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">All is troublesome in this earthly kingdom. The turn of events changes the world under the heavens. Here money is fleeting. Here friend is fleeting. Here man is fleeting. Here kinsmen is fleeting. All the foundations of this world turn to waste! ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Look, man, I ain't going back. I'm over sixty, for God's sake. Let me alone.
 * Thoughts on our Guests
 * MS17SAFEStats
 * 000ED4C9
 * MS17SAFEStats
 * 000ED4C9
 * Excerpt from "The Wanderer" (1)
 * OBSOLETE
 * xx0928AD
 * OBSOLETE
 * xx0928AD
 * Note
 * POISC06_Note
 * 001E1F46
 * POISC06_Note
 * 001E1F46

I've done well enough over the years. Saved my money. I found a little place in the woods, south of the city. I'm gonna settle in and enjoy my retirement. Not many that can say that, these days.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Ma passed this morning.
 * Note
 * POISC_Note01
 * 001F22EF
 * POISC_Note01
 * 001F22EF

There's nothing left for us here, Natalie, not anymore. The old group can't protect us anymore. We gotta fend for ourselves.

It's time to go. Meet me by the warehouse north of town around sunset. I've stashed some cash in the dumpster there. Got a boat down by the shore. We'll head up the coast, make for the old waterfront. With any luck, we can be in Downtown before dawn.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Some kind of new gang up at the Downs. Masked faces, lots of molotovs. Better steer clear if I don't want to end up hanging like those others.
 * Journal Page
 * REPostman_DN035_EasyCityDowns
 * 001C6161
 * REPostman_DN035_EasyCityDowns
 * 001C6161

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Something's going on at College Square Station. Haven't seen scavvers come outta the entrance in a week. I know I shouldn't care, but damn if I ain't curious. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Something weird's going on in Back Bay. Armored freaks. HalluciGen building. Stay away.
 * Journal Page
 * REPostman_DN059_CollegeSquare
 * 001C6160
 * REPostman_DN059_CollegeSquare
 * 001C6160
 * Torn Note
 * REPostman_DN102_HalluciGen
 * 001C6162
 * REPostman_DN102_HalluciGen
 * 001C6162

- M ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Dear Silly Little Snake,
 * Mysterious Note
 * RESceneCC_DN101Note
 * 00030050
 * RESceneCC_DN101Note
 * 00030050

I am coming for you.

-Janus

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">"Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: the phrase tomato tomato, potato potato is really fucking stupid when you write it out." ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">"Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: The objective of golf is to play the least amount of golf." ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">"Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: X88B88 looks like the word voodoo reflecting off of itself." ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">"Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: Vampires only suck your blood for Vitamin D because they can't go out in the sun themselves." ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">"Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: If Goldilocks tried three beds, then Momma Bear and Daddy Bear slept separately. Baby Bear is probably the only thing keeping the family together." ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">"Ben's thought of the day: I spend half my time writing wacky thoughts to help my crippling depression. There's no witty part of this one, it's just sad." ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">"Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: I wonder how many people's heartbeats are perfectly in sync right now? On second thought, probably not many." ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">"Ben's Beautiful thought of the day: If the Devil punishes bad people, why is he considered evil?" ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Damn muties. I walk around out here and I hear 'em shambling around. Disgusting. I swear I'll kill every last one I see. Abominations.
 * BBTOTD 1
 * RESceneRJ02_Note01
 * 001B01D9
 * RESceneRJ02_Note01
 * 001B01D9
 * BBTOTD 2
 * RESceneRJ02_Note02
 * 001B01DA
 * RESceneRJ02_Note02
 * 001B01DA
 * BBTOTD 3
 * RESceneRJ02_Note03
 * 001B01DB
 * RESceneRJ02_Note03
 * 001B01DB
 * BBTOTD 4
 * RESceneRJ02_Note04
 * 001B01DC
 * RESceneRJ02_Note04
 * 001B01DC
 * BBTOTD 5
 * RESceneRJ02_Note05
 * 001B01DD
 * RESceneRJ02_Note05
 * 001B01DD
 * BBTOTD 6
 * RESceneRJ02_Note06
 * 001B01DE
 * RESceneRJ02_Note06
 * 001B01DE
 * BBTOTD 8
 * RESceneRJ02_Note08
 * 001B01E0
 * RESceneRJ02_Note08
 * 001B01E0
 * BBTOTD 9
 * RESceneRJ02_Note09
 * 001B01E1
 * RESceneRJ02_Note09
 * 001B01E1
 * Bryant Hill's Journal
 * RESupermutantRaidNoteGeneric
 * 00118B22
 * RESupermutantRaidNoteGeneric
 * 00118B22

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> Ed's Shopping List
 * Ed's List
 * RETravelJS01Note
 * 0016ADB3
 * RETravelJS01Note
 * 0016ADB3

- Few pounds of Deer meat - Half dozen Mutcrab pods - Dog meat - Beer. Lots. -A cuppa Glowing One blood (what they don't know won't hurt 'em)

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Word is that the gang up at <Alias=Dungeon> had a big score recently. If we can hit them hard enough, we could make off with a nice haul. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">I got the intel. The gang at <Alias=Dungeon> looks tough, but their leader has the gun - a, just like the contact said. The right squad of men could take it. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Best stay away from <Alias=Dungeon> - word is that muties have been seen around there. Don't know what they're after, but it can't be good. ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Outpost 19: Intro]
 * Raider's Note
 * RETreasureHuntSC01NoteCaps
 * 0002B4BE
 * RETreasureHuntSC01NoteCaps
 * 0002B4BE
 * Mercenary's Note
 * RETreasureHuntSC03NoteGun
 * 0002B4BF
 * RETreasureHuntSC03NoteGun
 * 0002B4BF
 * Survivor's Note
 * RETreasureHuntSC05NoteTech
 * 0002B4C1
 * RETreasureHuntSC05NoteTech
 * 0002B4C1
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaCZTerminalLog
 * xx31AED1
 * xx31AED1

I have to say, the Orpheum Theater's looking a bit worse for wear. Me n' the boys moved in last week, only now got this terminal working, so this is to be used for official logs and the sort. We're to keep an eye on the Commons, making sure the Feds don't make any big moves on the Blue and Green.

So far no Feds, but the ghoul situation is a real issue. More to come.

[Outpost 19: Situation on the Blue-Green]

Below us is Park Street Station. Sent recon down there yesterday and, just as expected, it's still totally empty. Relatively intact, so a smart choice for future expansion (not to mention the most tantalizing bit of all: the Vault). For now, though, we don't have the resources to hold it.

Just north is Scollay. Kennedy holds out against the Federation, but who knows how long that'll last. He's a thug, but our boys in Postal have a cease-fire with him. Jackass won't grant us passage through his line to 'em, but if that's the price we have to pay for nonaggression, I'll take it.

Beyond that is Federation territory. They're quite a ways from here, but Marchand's shown that distance is no hindrance. We've seen them range far aboveground to strike at our bases. With our presence here, we may be able to deter them from future attacks.

[Outpost 19: Mutie Problem]

Hell of a lot of degenerates around here. Not just in the streets but lurking in the old houses too. Too many to bother wasting ammo on, honestly. Plus, they're the more docile kind, for the most part- kind'll just run screaming than try to bite your face off. Still disgusting, just less horrifying.

I dunno, maybe I've gone soft. Took a crew to root them out, herded 'em into Park Street. If they make a home down there it'll be just another problem for the Feds to deal with if they come calling.

[Outpost 19: Fed Sighting, West]

Feds headed West, looks like Boston Public Library. Didn't engage, but don't need to. That area's an absolute hive of mutie activity; and I mean the mean kind.

Those MFs won't last a day.

[Outpost 19: MCM Requesting Backup]

MCM having trouble with raider gang out of D.B. Tech. Wish I could spare the men, but we have our orders. Goddamn scavvers. Sometimes I feel like they're more savage than the Feds.

[Outpost 19: Strange Sightings at HalluciGen]

As if to prove my point; scouts sighted some real freaks out by HalluciGen. Painted up, covered in armor, not a gas mask in sight. I'd use 'em for target practice but something tells me there's more to them than meets the eye.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Log: HR-D5 (1-A)]
 * Research Logs: HR-D5
 * Terminal
 * aaInstituteDataHRD5
 * xx0CBDDE
 * xx0CBDDE

Subject HR-D5, Test 1-A: Subject implanted with Class 6-C PRG implants AND genetically enhanced with Anolis Carolinensis and Hydra Linnaeus extracts.

Hypothesis: Subject will be further resistant to cellular deterioration as well as exposure to radioactive elements.

Results: Inconclusive. Subject to be transferred to Parsons State Insane Asylum for further testing. Facilities at Parsons to be better suited for containment.

[Log: HR-D5 (1-B)]

Results: Subject reacted poorly to prolonged radiation exposure. Signs of acute radiation poisoning. FEV to be included in gene tonic for future therapies.

Personal Note: Dr. Flemmel's delusions are becoming more and more elaborate. It's heartbreaking to see a man of his stature brought down like this but I'm personally inspired by his devotion to the sciences; donating his body to further our research even though his mind has long since gone.

[Log: HR-D5 (3-I)]

This is the most ill-managed research project I've ever been a part of. The nurses only take orders from Cabot and my graduate students seem to only take orders from Lerna. They treat Flemmel, a colleague I held in the highest esteem, like a pin-cushion. I don't know half the treatments Cabot's men give him and I certainly don't know half the treatments Lerna gives him. I'm supposed to be in charge here! I'm supposed to know these things! I swear they're conspiring.

[Log: HR-D5 (6-X)]

The date is October 24th, 2077.

The entire staff has fled the premises. It's just me and the patients.

I know I should leave, find shelter, but I can't do it. Something draws me down.

I need to let him go.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Log: HR-D3 (4-A)]
 * Research Logs: HR-D Line
 * Terminal
 * aaInstituteDataHRDResearch
 * xx0C798A
 * xx0C798A

Subject HR-D3, Test 4-A: Genetic sequences extracted from Anolis Carolinensis and Hydra Linnaeus fully developed in Subject HR-D3.

Hypothesis: Subject HR-D3 will regenerate limbs upon amputation.

Results: Failure. While the subject was able to recover from the wound in remarkable time, full limb regeneration was unsuccessful.

[Log: HR-D4 (11-A)]

Subject HR-D4, Test 11-A: Subject has been equipped with Class 6-C Photonic Resonance Generator sub-cranial implants.

Hypothesis: Resonance Generator will speed up cell recovery times and decrease decay (in the long term). While not expected to field as rapid recovery times as D3, PRG implants should result in significant improvements in comparison to non-implanted recovery times.

Results: Inconclusive. Some controversary over mental effects PRC implant has on Subject. Implants may leave subject more susceptible to auditory/visual hallucinations, mania, and dissociative fugue events (amnesia). In order to appropriately study the effects of PRC implants, we'll need to transfer HR-D4 to our sister lab in Oslo for long-term research.

Lab Note: (UPDATE) Due to the tense international climate, Dr. Lerna believes it best for us to request that HR-D4 be returned immediately. Processing through customs will take far too long (and lead to far too many questions), so we'll be going with T.B. again for this job.

[Log: HR-D5 (1-A)]

Subject HR-D5, Test 1-A: Subject implanted with Class 6-C PRG implants AND genetically enhanced with Anolis Carolinensis and Hydra Linnaeus extracts.

Hypothesis: Subject will be further resistant to cellular deterioration as well as exposure to radioactive elements.

Results: Inconclusive. Subject to be transferred to Parsons State Insane Asylum for further testing. Facilities at Parsons to be better suited for containment.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Of Immortality]
 * Personal Logs: Lerna, R.
 * Terminal
 * aaInstituteDataLernaPersonal
 * xx0C7989
 * xx0C7989

Immortality, that Arthurian boon. The first and final quest of mankind: within our grasp, at last. House always bragged about his experiments in life-support, but staving off old age is only one piece of the puzzle. True immortalityŠto brush off incredible injury and infection like the bite of a fleaŠthat is the true prize.

[Thoughts on the Singularity]

The HR-D line presents an interesting question for us to ponder as we proceed. These subjects feature the most extensive cybernetic enhancements yet tested, so much so that a student of mine proclaimed subject D4 to be ԍore machine than manԡ So the question is, ԗhere do we draw the line?" Could we ever reach a point where we cannot distinguish where the man ends and the machine begins?

[Internal Issues]

Flemmel seems intent on blocking my research at every turn. He's simply caught up in the ethics of human experimentation and the politics of it all. It's very noble of him, but I would appreciate it if he would keep ethics out of my lab and in his classroom, where it belongs. I've got enough on my plate keeping the Dean happy and the school funded.

[Post-Experimental Reflections]

Five years down the line and HR-D4 has never been recovered. The ship they were brought in on ultimately capsized and sank to the bottom of Boston Harbor during the events of October 23, 2077. Although I had heard whispers of Bishop's survival, nothing came of this.

Their loss was staggering at first but I've now come to realize that it was ultimately for the best. Here, at the end of it all, I see my mistake in the HR-D line. I focused too much on salvaging the body Mother Nature provided me. I fitted D4 with enough cybernetics to stretch their lifespan beyond anything seen in pre-war medicine, but for what? They were still mortal.

It seems that even our most advanced subject, HR-D5, was susceptible to the most basic forms of radioactive and pathological infection (not to mention quite dramatically susceptible to mutation). In short, death and decay are inescapable for the human body. But that does not mean our efforts were in vain... Immortality is achievable still, if we let go of our flesh and bone in place of plastic and chrome.

I speak of the Singularity: that wondrous moment when finally the gap between man and machine is closed forever, when the human mind is replicated in wires and code, when no feat of mankind or the imagination is beyond our grasp! We have access to the neural scanning equipment used at the college before the war. If I were to upload my consciousness to a computer, I could continue my work indefinitely. And if that computer could walk and talk, indistinguishable from any man... well that would be quite interesting, indeed.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Research Logs: HR-D Line]
 * Computer Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaInstituteDataTerminal
 * xx0C7951
 * xx0C7951

[See fragment: aaInstituteDataHRDResearch "Research Logs: HR-D Line" [TERM:070C798A]]

[Personal Logs: Lerna, R.]

[See fragment: aaInstituteDataLernaPersonal "Personal Logs: Lerna, R." [TERM:070C7989]]

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Remember Who You Are]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaIntroMemoryTerminal
 * xx00F669
 * xx00F669

[You are SPECIAL]

DEBUG HELP

Welcome to the Alpha Build of FROST!

Please keep in mind that this mod is still in the very early stages of production, so there will be bugs. I hope to fix these as soon as possible.

If you are experiencing camera issues on character creation, initiate body editing and then switch back to face editing and the camera should fix itself.

If it still isn't working try putting "showlooksmenu 14 1" into the console.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Read The Description]
 * Ya Done Messed Up
 * Terminal
 * aaIntroShameTerminal
 * xx0CBDD9
 * xx0CBDD9

Turn around. Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect $200.

Go back to the mod page and install the save files. It is very important that you read installation instructions when mod authors tell you repeatedly to read said instructions.

Now look what you've done. You've made me break the 4th wall to lecture you.

For shame.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">Do you understand now the way of things?
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaParsonsMemoryTermina4
 * xx0CBFE6
 * xx0CBFE6

We have seen what was, what is, and what will be.

Clarity, at the brink of chaos.

But as your mind drifts, your body sails onward.

When will you learn to let go?

LET GO.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Here Again, At The Beginning Of Things]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaParsonsMemoryTerminal1
 * xx0567E5
 * xx0567E5

There was a memory here. Of a subject smuggled across seas But they cast it off, let go.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Beginning Again]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaParsonsMemoryTerminal2
 * xx0CBEDB
 * xx0CBEDB

In an empty cell Two prisoners woke from sleep Each seeking the other

But what of the one? What was their flower, their crown? It all led them here.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Never Alpha, Nor Omega]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaParsonsMemoryTerminal3
 * xx0CBEE1
 * xx0CBEE1

They were not the first. Monsters there were and will be. They were not the last.

From Angel, Hunter To Synthetic Men below Never first, nor last.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Do You Understand?]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaParsonsMemoryTerminal4
 * xx0E1201
 * xx0E1201

Do you understand now the way of things?

We have seen what was, what is, and what will be.

Clarity, at the brink of chaos.

But as your mind drifts, your body sails onward

And all the things you cherished slip away like sand.

When will you learn to let go?

LET GO.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Beginning Again]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaParsonsMemoryTerminalNULL
 * xx056840
 * xx056840

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Ship Tracking: x47003]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalCoastGuard
 * xx008740
 * xx008740

10.23.77

Ship: FMS Columbia Coord. (23,-14) [Northwest, Spectacle Island]

Reason for Inquiry: Suspected ties to overseas smuggling ring. Cargo to be seized upon docking.

[Ship Tracking: x46912]

10.16.77

Ship: Liberty VI Coord. (18,4) [Docked, Boston Bay]

Reason for Inquiry: Suspected ties to overseas smuggling ring. Cargo to be seized upon docking.

Post-Inquiry: Ship empty. No communist propaganda or weapons. Please remember to delete this entry; we don't want the press knowing how many "random searches" we've been conducting lately.

[Ship Tracking: x32305]

ERROR DATA CORRUPTION
! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[11/3/77]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalEvelynRache
 * xx0745CD
 * xx0745CD

I thank God every day that we're still alive. It breaks my heart to see what the world has become, but it's not too late. We can still help, however little. The men that attacked us were scared as much as we were. I understand. No one is born evil and no one is too far gone to turn back. When Daniel is able to walk I want to find them again. I want to talk to them, get to know them, show them that fighting and killing is not the only way. I believe that they can still be redeemed.

[11/6/77]

Danielӳ too weak to move. That storm doesnӴ sound good, but if I donӴ find meds, he wonӴ last the night. IӬl wait until heӳ asleep. DonӴ need to worry him.

[11/7/77]

Found Rad-X and Stimpaks. Itӳ too late for me, but they should keep him from getting worse.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[[Hotel Romeo] Progress Updates]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalHagenSatellite
 * xx0717D0
 * xx0717D0

-Intel confirms the existence of [PACKAGE: HOTEL ROMEO], as well as its presence in the Commonwealth. Interviews suggest Hotel Romeo is currently in the possession of an individual smuggler [ALIAS: BISHOP].

-Traces of [ALIAS: BISHOP] found near [REDACTED].

-URGENT: Target [ALIAS: BISHOP] sighted near Nahant. Firesquad Delta Bravo to be dispatched at once. Target to be taken alive, if possible.

[[ORDERS]: MAJ Arthur Gannon]

Technology recovery program.

The High Command at Site R and Control Station ENCLAVE are impressed with Gannonӳ earlier work in Chicago and New York City. For this reason, Major Gannon is to lead the expedition into the New England Commonwealth.

Acquisition of [PACKAGE: HOTEL ROMEO] and its escort west are the top priority of this mission, but lesser targets are to be secured along the way.

REDEMPTION

REDEMPTION: RETURN AND RECLAIM 00045*^&23/// They don't own us. They don't own the Weapons. Hotel Romeo, COBALT; they belong to the STRONG, the FREE! Our minds, our hearts, our souls, they are OURS. 443&%//|} O'ryan, Chief- he has gone to the City on our behalf. We await his victory! He will return and together we will free ourselves. We will free America. {[21b\\
 * 1) 454--//!@#

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[COMING SOON]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalInstituteBackdoor
 * xx088E00
 * xx088E00

Congratulations! You've made it to the end of FROST's alpha build story. The upcoming updates will unlock this area, so be sure to stay updated to the latest version!

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Day 1]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalJahani
 * xx309D56
 * xx309D56

Bombs dropped. Itӳ surprising Iӭ even alive, given the circumstances. Good thing I made this shelter to protect me from the elements. I donӴ know if anyone else survived in the neighborhood. As far as I know, everyoneӳ either dead or long gone, and it might be a while that I stay down here. Thereӳ no way of keeping track of time. I have an ample supply or food and water to last me for a bit. Long enough to pop my head out when the time comes and see if the air outside would kill me or not.

[Eric and I]

I havenӴ written anything in a long time. A lot's happened.

Turns out I just need my gas mask to be able to walk out on the surface again. Who knew, right?

Met a stranger. I found him wandering in the neighborhood, unarmed. His name is Eric. I think he can help me protect Sanctuary Hills. Iӭ having him stay in the house across the way, so that we can watch both entrances. Maybe Eric and I can build something here. ItӤ take a while, but you know what they say. Two people are better than one.

[Gang Trouble, Tomorrow's Plans]

Getting to know Eric more and more as time goes on. Two men share as small a space as this, it's to be expected. Heӳ a good guy; finding more out about what brought him up here. Turns out he ran into some trouble with some gang down in the city. Call themselves "the Alliance". Strange name. What are they allied against? I don't know what kind of shit Eric got himself into down in Boston, but I don't care. We're getting along nicely, despite whatever murky past he's hiding. I told him my plan of the two of us building a safe haven in Sanctuary. He liked the idea. We shook on it, and that was that.

[Scavenging]

Eric and I went on a scavenging trip yesterday. Ran into another. Eric convinced me to let him live, but the rat turned on us right when he had the chance. Almost took my head off with his last shot.

I asked Eric about it later that night. He wouldn't turn on me, right? He'd never betray me the moment it suited him? What we're building here is bigger than that.

He promised me he wouldn't.

[He Couldn't]

Eric is nowhere to be found. Did he leave me? He said he wouldn't. He couldn't. Some of the supplies were gone. A man came by earlier and tried to kill me. I killed himŠI didnӴ want to, but he left me no choice. I think Eric sent him to kill me so he can have everything he and I have worked towards. He said he wouldn't, but he did. He won't have it. He can't.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Sic Semper Tyrannis]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalLibertaliaMarcusIschar
 * xx006F87
 * xx006F87

Ԕhus Always to TyrantsԮ I remember sitting at a broken card-table all those years ago, repeating the words, as if that basement was the floor of the Roman Senate. We thought we could make a difference; free ourselves from the bonds of tyranny. But what do we have to show for it? Iӭ a goddamn smuggler and everyone else at that table is dead now. I know my part.

[Nearly There]

Found some good people. Brought ҥm to the Liberty. Plenty of rations, weapons. This place is really starting to come together. Even got them some old uniforms for when Bishop returns. IӬl tell him they were part of the crew. Itӳ not like he knew us well enough to tell the difference.

Then we finish this.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Interview Transcript [10.20.82]]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalReconBunkerTheta
 * xx03CE6F
 * xx03CE6F

The following is an audio-to-text transcript of interviews between interviewer Maj. Arthur Gannon and Alias: ISCARIOT on 10.20.82

START TRANSCRIPT// Interviewer: What was your relation to Troy Bishop?

ISCARIOT: We were smugglers. Trafficked questionable packages for questionable people. He was the head of the operation; I just handled the books.

Interviewer: Where is HR-D4?

ISCARIOT: What? I donӴ understand the question.

Interviewer: You say that you handled the books. You had direct knowledge of every package on board the FMS Columbia. One of these packages was marked HR-D4. Where is HR-D4?

ISCARIOT: I donӴ know the specific item tag, we-

Interviewer: We?

ISCARIOT: The crew suspected Bishop was holding out on us; smuggling a little extra on the side and taking full profits for himself. Turns out he was- I snuck into his cabin and found some sketchy documents that mentioned an unmarked package and a specific drop-point: the Liberty VI.

Interviewer: What happened after you met Bishop at the drop-point?

ISCARIOT: The plan was to kill him and finish the job ourselves, with equal shares. Thing is, we never found his package. Probably still on the Columbia for all I know. We just figured heӤ taken it, and made off without us. But when we got there, he was as clueless as we were.

Interviewer: Where is the FMS Columbia?

ISCARIOT: Hell if I know.

Interviewer: Where is the FMS Columbia?

ISCARIOT: Look pal, IӶe told you everything I know, you canӴ expect me to remember exactly where I was in the middle of a nuclear fucking tsunami.

Interviewer: Administer procedure.

ISCARIOT: [UNINTELLIGIBLE]

Interviewer: Where is the FMS Columbia?

ISCARIOT: [NO RESPONSE]

Interviewer: This concludes our interview. Private, would you please escort Mr. Ischar outside?

END TRANSCRIPT//

[Personal Notes]

[9.8.82] It's been two months and we've had no headway with this thing. The higher ups are getting edgy- they'd reassign me to Site R to spend my days picking through rocks and writing studies on cockroach mutations. My place is back west, with Beth. I just need more time, dammit.

The General's inability to provide me with any concrete information on this mission is infuriating. He won't even tell me what this package I'm searching for actually is. I'm close to acquiring one of the smugglers that brought it ashore, and although it is not strictly speaking part of the mission, I plan on uncovering the nature of Hotel Romeo.

[10.16.82]-[10.18.82] Details, [PACKAGE: HOTEL ROMEO] : Interviews confirm my suspicion that Hotel Romeo (Package HR-D4) is a form of Biological Weapon. Use of Photonic Resonation Generators confirmed in separate findings (specific documentation transferred to Surveillance Center K-21B). How this would benefit a biological weapon is uncertain. Use in conventional explosives could be evidence for enhanced EMP or Electrical Pulse weaponization. Possible false information. Interviews to be reconducted at a later date to test for accuracy.

[10.20.82] [PACKAGE: HOTEL ROMEO] pinpointed to smuggler ship FMS Columbia. [ALIAS: ISCARIOT] uncooperative in ascertaining location of FMS Columbia. Requesting transfer to Surveillance Center K-21B. Available intel there may aid in our search.

[Surveillance Report: Militant Activity]

The militant organization Recon Squad Alpha Romeo encountered last month [CODENAME: THEMIS] has finally dipped into our district. Alpha Romeoӳ reports tell us that the group is highly organized, although they have yet to acquire significant stockpiles of weaponry. General Eatonӳ decision is that RS: Alpha Romeo will continue to surveil ThemisҠoperations for the time being, but will not engage unless fired upon.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Psalm 112:6]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalSalem1
 * xx0745CC
 * xx0745CC

Surely the righteous will never be shaken; they will be remembered forever.

[John 10:10]

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.

[Leviticus 24:17-22]

And he that killeth any man shall surely be put to death.

[Themis 6:13]

The Scavenger is a thief. The Thief is a murderer. The Murderer shall surely be put to death.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Of Quarries and Savages]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalSalem2
 * xx0745CE
 * xx0745CE

The Savages still hold the quarry. No doubt defiling it with pagan rituals and heathen sacrifices of human flesh. Abominations. The thought of them makes me sick. I pray that the Father will grant us leave to annhilate them. Though, I must admit, his will is difficult to interpret these days.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[The Question of Affliction]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalSalem3
 * xx0745CF
 * xx0745CF

The Father sees the world in a more pure way than us humble servants. He believes that the Affliction is not a curse, but a blessing; a way for us to survive among the horrors of the Wasteland. I am not convinced. Are we not meant to cleanse the Wasteland of its abominations? Are we not meant to restore the world to how it was? Surely this is the dream of the Father.

[The Answer]

I see now! It is not the Affliction of Man or Beast that makes him an abomination, but rather the force of his actions! It matters not if a man loses his skin, his hair, his teeth. If he follows the Rule of Law, he is clean inside. And in this way, we can still restore the Old World.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Divine Inspiration]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalSalem4
 * xx0745D0
 * xx0745D0

Father Daniel grows weaker by the day, but his resolve is unwavering. He writes like a man touched by the divine. Pages upon pages of holy manuscript flow from his pen. He is Inspired.

[Locked Away]

I am concerned for the Father's wellbeing. He has locked himself in the upper levels of the church and refuses to come down until he has completed. He does not eat, I do not believe he sleeps... it is unhealthy.

But who am I to question the Mouthpiece of God?

[The Vessel of God]

We found the keys hidden in the old Rook house. When we went to confront the Father, the Truth was revealed. He has become a vessel for the Holy Spirit! How could we not see this earlier? The mere sight of His glory made me tremble with fear and delight. We have locked him back upstairs. We must give him time to complete the Gospel of Themis.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[World Weary]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalSalem5
 * xx0745D1
 * xx0745D1

Two months ago I was giving sermons from up here. My flock hung on my every word. But now... I'm just so tired.

The flock is eager for me to impart more wisdom, but no revelations have come. I know the answer to all my questions is sitting there at the edge of my grasp... but I find my thoughts drifting again...

The Water Thief died a quicker death than he deserved. Had we pure water, she would still live.

[Of Evelyn]

I buried her beneath the oak tree where this all began. She would have wanted that. Evelyn... you who were with me since the start. You who taught me all I know of God. You who will stay in my heart until the end.

God judge you justly.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Entry 1]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalSpectacleSmugglers
 * xx04AEA3
 * xx04AEA3

We saw the clouds from a few mile out. Captain wanted to turn the ship north, look for somewhere safe up the coast. We never had the chance. When the shockwave hit, it raised waves taller than any I'd ever seen. And when they came down... Lord, I thought that was the end.

Woke up on shore three days later. Troy, god bless him, pulled me and Duval out when the Columbia went under. Dunno how in the hell he lived through that storm... I tried asking him about it, but he wouldn't breathe a word. Can't blame him, really.

[Entry 2]

We're working on constructing some basic shelters around the island. The storm tore up the big house down by the docks pretty bad, but the shed's still intact. We've got a fish-drying shed set up mid-way down the island and Troy's even managed to salvage some antennae to make a mayday beacon of sorts. Problem is, the frequency's way too high. Besides, I dunno if anyone's even left out there to hear it.

[Entry 3]

Duval disappeared in the night. He took our raft and most of the supplies. Asshole. Troy and I are gonna try to track him down, but that's not our top priority.

If you're reading this, and you're from the Columbia, the job is still on. I repeat, the job is still on. Meet at the Liberty. We're seeing this through to the end.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[[Hotel Romeo] Progress Updates]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * aaTerminalSwitchboard
 * xx07C94C
 * xx07C94C

-Intel confirms the existence of [PACKAGE: HOTEL ROMEO], as well as its presence in the Commonwealth. Interviews suggest Hotel Romeo is currently in the possession of an individual smuggler [ALIAS: BISHOP].

-Traces of [ALIAS: BISHOP] found near [REDACTED].

-URGENT: Target [ALIAS: BISHOP] sighted near Nahant. Firesquad Delta Bravo to be dispatched at once. Target to be taken alive, if possible.

[[ORDERS]: MAJ Arthur Gannon]

Technology recovery program.

The High Command at Raven Rock and Control Station ENCLAVE are impressed with Gannonӳ earlier work in Chicago and New York City. For this reason, Major Gannon is to lead the expedition into the New England Commonwealth.

Acquisition of [PACKAGE: HOTEL ROMEO] and its escort west are the top priority of this mission, but lesser targets are to be secured along the way.

Site Reclamation: DIA Site Alpha

Arrived with team at 0600 hours, dispersed squatters without significant resistance.

Fusion generator status: 25% Online

Archive data status: <5% Online

P.A.M. status: Temporarily offline for maintenance. Otherwise in working condition.

Continued problems with NPHs in the lower service tunnels. This issue will need to be resolved before we can continue normal operation of the facility. Recommended that we postpone deployment of additional research staff until after site is secured.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Open Door]
 * Bunker Access Terminal
 * Terminal
 * BoSM01_BunkerTerminalDoorControl
 * 00133E5E
 * 00133E5E

Security lock released. Opening doors...

[BACK]

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Entry 1: Power's back up!]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DLC03MQ03FaradayTerminal
 * yy02958F
 * yy02958F

We finally got power up, after all this time. So, a recap.

As far as any of us can figure, it's around April, 2078. Funny, now that the seasons are all fucked, we're back to reading the stars.

After the bombs dropped, a lot of people came up here. Smart move on their part; thick walls, partially underground, this place offered protection from the fallout that the rest of Mount Desert couldn't match. Bar Harbor's inhabitants got hit the worst; we stay away from that part of the island.

The radiation's still too bad to stay above ground for long, but we can make short excursions if we keep our masks on. They're a godsend, honestly. We lost too many good people before we got our hands on them.

We've set up the radio and are trying to get in contact with the mainland; could be there are other survivors out there.

[Entry 2: Sightings!]

No word on the radio yet, but the hunting party came back with some big news. They say they saw boats off the coast. We're going to form a welcoming committee on the beach, set some fires and smoke signals, try to draw them over. This could be it: the beginning of rebuilding.

[Entry 3: Contact]

It's been at least a year since I last dusted off this old terminal. Makes this, what, 2079? 2080? Can't remember when I made Entry 2. A lot's changed since then. My optimism was adorable, huh?

Those boats we saw, the "Wharf Rats"? Yeah, they're psychos. Bunch of murderous, thieving dicks and we shoot them on sight. They stick to the coast, which means we're safe here, but they've also cut us off from any hope of fishing or scavving the beaches. Fuck 'em.

Other friends we've made: -The Hunters: adorable rag-tag hillbillies that'll roast you alive if you don't stick them up on pikes every once in a while. -The Navy: who somehow think they're still part of a government, after all these years.

New protocol is to just shoot them all on sight.

Clive's still making the rounds on his radio, just in case we hear from the civilized world, but that's feeling more and more like a pipedream.

Is there even any civilization out there? Or is this it.

[Entry 4: Fog]

Lucas had a bit of a revelation concerning our place in the world.

Turns out that fog we've been detecting is more nefarious than we thought. Highly radioactive stuff, and with some definite hallucinogenic properties. Spend enough time in that, and you'll lose it for sure.

That explains everyone else. The Hunters, the Navy, the Wharf Rats; they've all been rolling in that shit for years. No wonder they're psychotic.

But up here on the mountain, we're safe. We're trapped here, but we're safe.

[Entry 5: Crisis]

Since we discovered the true nature of the fog, nobody has left the mountaintop. Our hunting parties are too scared of getting infected, or high, or whatever. Lucas says there's no way of knowing how much exposure is needed to fully affect someone, but I'm not keen to find out.

So therein lies our crisis. We need food, we need water, we need ammo and scrap supplies, but we can't leave this camp.

Maybe the Hunters have the right idea after all.

(I'm kidding; Jesus, Clive)

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[The New Rulers]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN006_BossTerminal
 * 001BE2C4
 * 001BE2C4

The Quincy group is dead. This place is ours now. Had Frank and Daughtry toss their bodies in the river. I would've preferred to hang them over our walls as a warning, but the group voted no.

All in all, this is a good setup. We've got control of the bridge; anyone comes over that thing's gotta pay our price.

Plenty of booze in here too, though food'll be tougher to come by.

[Encounter II]

Lookout saw some wanderers heading towards our bridge so we headed them off. Frank's pissed that I shot first, but it was us or them. No ammo but they had a couple cans of food, so not a total waste.

[Reelection!?]

Frank, the son a bitch, challenged my authority again. Called for a Reelection. The rules are the rules; I can't do jack shit if the group rules against me. Think it's time I do some campaigning.

[RoF: Entry 1]

Alright, so the group has voted me in as the new Ruler. Lookout wants me documenting our history on this terminal, so I'm going to start prefacing these entries with "RoF" for Rule of Frank. When the next Ruler comes, they can change their entry titles to fit appropriately (still need to go through and rename all of Nick's entries RoN, though I'm tempted to just delete them all).

Pretty clever idea, though- I might want to promote Lookout to be my Second-in-Command.

As for Nick, we've banished him across the river. I don't want this to be a precedent, but he was trying to blackmail the group- threatened to hang them over the walls or something.

I see a bright future here. I want to try to get back in contact with the Alliance or the Federation. Maybe we could make this place a waystation for scavvers.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">["Fresh Air"]
 * Miles Heiman's Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN011CuratorTerminal
 * 00100D9B
 * 00100D9B

It's good to get out of the station every once in a while. I would say that the fresh air is a relief, but the air out here doesn't really apply. Besides, the people down there are intolerable. They spend their days drinking, smoking and gambling. Not one of them appreciates the finer things in life.

Well, maybe one.

Daisy, my love, let me take you above! Let us see all the wonders of the world, for this library holds them all!

[Two Beating Hearts]

She said yes! We sneak out here every night after the guards pass out. Two gas masks and two beating hearts. We read to each other until the sun comes up. How I miss reading. Daisy wanted to bring the books back to the station, but we can't. They'll burn anything they get can their hands on.

[Just a Myth]

The guards caught me trying to return the masks. I took the fall, but Daisy doesn't want to make any more "midnight trips". She says it's too risky, keeps bringing up that kid of hers. Daisy says that she "has to be there for her". Since when is going topside dangerous? Ghouls are just a myth.

[Beef-Headed Troglodytes]

The drunks in the station have only escalated their abuse since the "gas mask incident". They amuse themselves by mocking my scabs and thinning hair. Daisy isn't safe either. It's only a matter of time before one of them gets their hands on her. I can't allow that.

[To Daisy]

I'm sorry, but it was the only way to show you. We never needed the masks. Radiation can't hurt us!

I opened the doors to the station. All those brutes that laughed at us and burned our books- they're gone now!

Your daughter will be like us, I know it. She'll get better and when she does we can run away together. We'll be a family.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;"> ! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[ERROR]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN021_EdwinsTerminal
 * 00100FD9
 * 00100FD9
 * Journal
 * Terminal
 * DN021_EdwinsTerminal_Journal
 * 0017B485
 * 0017B485

10/23/2077

DATA CORRUPTION

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[New Sheriff In Town]
 * Duval's Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN024_BossTerminal01
 * 000CFA5A
 * 000CFA5A

Everything we've been working for these five years has finally paid off. We took Lex Station like it was nothing. Killed their leaders quick and the rest gave up easy. Now I just need to figure out what we're going to do with all the survivors...

[Workforce]

I've put the captured inhabitants of Lex Station to work in the tunnels. They're a pretty lifeless bunch, but with enough hands you can get anything done. There's plenty of scrap to be salvaged down there and once they've cleaned it up nicely I may set them to work building defences. I'd like to turn this place into a real fortress.

[Relocation]

Had to move out of Lex Station. I can't explain it... I'm just getting a bad feeling from that place. Bad dreams, strange noises. I'm not gonna spend another second down there if I don't need to.

The slaves will stay, for now, along with a small number of guards (on shifts; no one else wants to be down there either). Everyone else is taking up residence in Lexington proper. Some of these buildings are still fairly insulated.

["Liberators" Attack]

I've known some of these guys since the beginning. Back when they were all white-collar pricks with their reading glasses and pocket protectors. Me? I was a smuggler. I rolled with the toughest of 'em. Ship went down in the firestorm and spit me out here and I've been working to keep these fuckers alive ever since. Thing is, though, I think my work here's almost complete.

Another gang came through 'bout a week back. Had some fancy idea of taking back Lex Station. Talking 'bout "liberation". I guess I was feelin' generous or some shit, but I went to talk with 'em. Well... shit went down. They're spraying lead everywhere and I'm doing my best, but I'm pinned down behind this dumpster. One of 'em- this big thug of a man, covered head-to-toe in plate metal- comes barreling down towards me. Before I know it ol' Four-eyes McGee is there with a pipe wrench and a molotov. Fuckin' rips the guy to shreds. And the others weren't far off; Samson and Delilah tag-teamed the leader and Smithy took three hunting dogs single-handed. It almost brought a tear to my eye...

They grow up so fast.

[New Players]

News from down south. Alliance Stations are under heavy fire again. Maybe the Federation's not dead? Hard to say. Either way, the clock's ticking if we want to turn ourselves into a big player in this new world. I'm doubling up the workload. We're building barricades.

[Liberty?]

Hearing whispers of another big settlement above-ground. Out on the coast. The Liberty VI. Yeah, I know. What're the chances?

If he's still alive... No. No way. I've got enough to deal with.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Caravan]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN024_GristleTerminal01
 * 000CFA5B
 * 000CFA5B

Fuckin' slaves are planning something. I know it. I hear them whispering... they want it! They're looking for it!

Jesus, what the fuck am I talking about? I need to spend less time down there, I swear. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Lexington]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN024_LonnieTerminal01
 * 000CFA5C
 * 000CFA5C

A new base. This one looks promising. We've got a whole station of slaves this time around, so no more scavving for supplies. That part's covered, at least.

[Station Evac]

Six Nails wants us out of the station. Says it's "slave quarters only". I ain't gonna argue. That place is creepy as hell.

[Home Sweet Home]

Got a cozy little spot set up under the Corvega Plant. Home Sweet Home, for now. We've been on the move so much lately it's nice to finally settle down for a bit. We'll see if it lasts.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Generator Explosion]
 * Leader's Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN028_BossTerminal
 * 001BDE1C
 * 001BDE1C

It's been three months since that rat Deluge ran off with the entire sophomore class. Since then, things have only gone from bad to worse. A fusion core blew in the generator room and messed Nance up pretty bad. When we went to check it out, the whole floor starting to give way. If we lose the generators, we'll freeze to death in here.

[Encounter]

The floor in the generator room finally gave out. Turns out we're built right above a subway station. And it's occupied. I went to go talk with its inhabitants, but it didn't go well. Just a whole lot of shouting and gun-pointing. We've pulled back from the generator room for now. We'll give them time to calm down before we try again.

[Nance is Gone]

Fuck!

We'd been keeping Nance in the pool room since we didn't want to move her too much, on account of her injuries, but when I went to check on her this morning, she was gone. The Tunnel People must have taken her. I'm going down there and talking with their leader. We're getting to the bottom of this.

[This Means War]

This is Mikey Osborne. Will went down into the tunnel and never came back so I've been voted the new leader. I guess that means I have to use this ,,. terminal. Ugh, this is so awkwrrfd.?; I always preferred writing by hand.

Anyways, those tunnel fucks have taken two of our people, so we're gonna go kick their collective ass.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Book Report Writer v1.2.78]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN028_UpstairsTerminal
 * 0019A78B
 * 0019A78B


 * SYSTEM ERROR:::::

Printer not found! File corruption detected!

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Listen. Do You Hear It?]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN033_BossTerminal
 * 001BEAF6
 * 001BEAF6

The Voice. The Word of Ug-Qualtoth. You hear it too.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Entry 1]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN040_BossTerminal
 * 001BEAE2
 * 001BEAE2

This is Captain O'Hansen of the Commonwealth Army. I've moved what's left of my force into the Federal Ration Stockpile but we're under heavy attack from rioting locals. We were unable to hold the church, but we've managed to lock the trapdoor.

It's only a matter of time before they attempt an assault on the main entrance. The doors should hold and with the food here we will able to outlast them.

[Entry 2]

This is Captain O'Hansen of the Commonwealth Army. It has been two weeks since my last entry. I sent a scout out through the church entrance to survey the situation. It appears that most of the rioters have succumbed to radiation poisoning. Those remaining have set up a makeshift camp around our front entrance. In their weakened state, it should be easy enough to stage a surprise attack on the group. Update pending.

[Entry 3]

This is Captain O'Hansen of the Commonwealth Army. The scout that was sent above has developed some unfortunate symptoms. It seems that the radiation levels above ground are much higher than we'd expected.

What baffles me now is how the rioters still manage to survive. The scout was exposed for less than an hour- with a gas mask and Rad-X- and is now experiencing a rapid decline in health. Meanwhile, the camp outside our walls only continues to grow. What is their secret?

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Maintenance Operations]
 * Mainframe Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN041_MainFrameTerminal
 * 00101958
 * 00101958

[See fragment: DN041_MainFrameSubterminalMain "Mainframe Terminal" [TERM:0010195B]]

[Database Network: ONLINE]

Field Ops Log- Major Arthur Gannon

I'm making good progress in narrowing down the final resting place of the FMS Columbia. Intelligence Officer Buzensky tells me that the information I need is likely accessible at the Coast Guard HQ east of here. From there, we can continue on to the ship itself.

Recon Squad Delta Epsilon already dispatched with Firesquad Victor Zulu on standby for the final assault.

We're so close.

[Database Network: ONLINE]

Repair Log- Chief Engineer Nicholas Gibbs

This place was a total mess when we first got here. Only one man actually survived down here after the bombs dropped. He was a total mess too; looked ready to put a bullet in his skull before we took his gun. But he's alright now and we're slowly putting things back in order and plugging in terminals and all that. It'll be a while before we can get this place back up and running and even longer before we can update it with modern tech, but it'll be worth it. This is a great spot for radiation research.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[End Times, Year One]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN054_ZekesTerminal
 * 001F2B69
 * 001F2B69

Greetings Wastelander. Welcome to the End of the World.

There's nothing for you here, so go crawl back into whatever hole you came from.

Not like it matters anyways.

[Enough of All That!]

Dinna mind Richie, the lad gets hisself intae a tizzy o'er the state of current world politics when he drinks.

Date is 12/10/77 (YES! Day-Month-Year, ye bloody arsepiece)

[Halloween Specials??]

Hal here, and Halloween's comin' up!

I have to same I'm excited.

What kind of drinks should we get? Pumpkin ales? Quantum-infused shots that glow in the dark? (they're releasing any day now, right??)

Damn, I can't wait!

Oh, right, Douglas wants us dating these things. 10/22/77 (MONTH. DAY. YEAR. YOU ARE IN AMERICA, DOUG)

[Richie was right.]

So, uh, Hal here- again. Looks like Richie was right all along. The bombs dropped. We were lucky not to fry, the damn thing hit so close. Barricaded ourselves in the garage, took a shitload of Rad-X (thank god Richie's been hoarding the stuff).

No Quantum shots for Halloween it seems.

[December Update.]

Seems like no one else wants to write in this thing anymore, so looks like I'll be taking over the records here (yep, it's Hal again).

We got our Halloween Quantum shots after all, Doug scavenged some out of an abandoned Nuka truck on the highway. It's not looting if the world's ended, right?

By that point we'd already given up hope. Richie has a talent of keeping us depressed, and designated voice of reason Douglas basically stayed drunk for a week straight there. When the rains came, though... then it all changed.

The chaos, the rioting, it all stopped. The world was cold suddenly. Quiet.

Guess it just hit us. We might be the last people on Earth. Might be the last life on Earth. It'd be a shame to just throw that life away, huh? So we've decided to actually give a shit.

[Rebuilding]

SHIT!

Haven't been dating the updates.

3/3/78 (M-D-Y? D-M-Y? You'll never know!)

Things are looking up. We've built up the walls, restocked the bar, patched up the roof. It's cold as hell, but since our skin peeled off we haven't been too bothered by that kind of thing (yeah, the Rad-X didn't last).

A few other stragglers have wandered into camp and we've been happy to serve 'em. So long as they help out, they're free to share our fire!

[8/5/78]

No more newcomers; my trust is spent.

Gave Doug a burial at sea. Rich said the smoke'd attract raiders but I don't really care anymore. Our crew is strong. Anyone fucks with us- we'll kill them.

Date is May 8th, 2078.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Quarry]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN061_GunnerBossTerminalSub
 * 00051E98
 * 00051E98

When the Father first sent scouts to the Dunwich Quarry, they reported strange and savage happenings there. The men of Dunwich are of the same breed as the Maldenmen: Maneaters, murderers, and idol-worshipping heathen scum. They are our greatest enemy and will be the next to feel the wrath of Themis.

[Revere]

Revere. Once the refuge of murderers and thieves, it has now been cleansed in the name of the Father. Our brothers and sisters valiantly defeated the Tunnel-dwellers in fierce battle and hung their leaders for all to see. Let Revere serve as a message to those that would oppose the verdict of Themis.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Data Corrupt]
 * Rory's Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN067_Terminal
 * 0016551A
 * 0016551A

Please Contact Server Admin

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[The Beacon]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN072_LighthouseTerminal
 * 001A8E5B
 * 001A8E5B

We have been charged by our brothers and sisters at Salem to lead the Just to our holy Nation of Themis. A bright star lights our tower; a holy messenger. Their light shall draw the believers. The faithful should pray at the tower, then continue their pilgrimage to Salem.

Praise be to the Father.

[Border Incursions]

The Beacon draws also enemies of order: raiders and maniacs that would tear down the laws of our land. Our tower will serve as a watchpost as well, to ward off the evils of the southern city.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Error Data Corrupt]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN076_WireTerminal
 * 001BEAE9
 * 001BEAE9

asf46397g{0013}

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[User Logs]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN088_GeraldsTerminal
 * 0008C415
 * 0008C415

[See fragment: DN088_GeraldSubTerminalJournal [TERM:001F499F]]

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Victory!]
 * Terminal
 * DN088_GeraldSubTerminalJournal
 * 001F499F
 * DN088_GeraldSubTerminalJournal
 * 001F499F

Today marks the first day of a brighter future. The Military Scientists and their thugs were expelled from the campus grounds. Colonel Rosemont and his "reinforcements" were drawn and quartered, strung up on the roof. The gulls took what was left. All that remains is to rebuild.

[The Aftermath]

The fighting destroyed much of the lower levels. Retrieving the research there will be impossible. It's for the best. Now is not the time for science and math. We need to rebuild. And who best to do the rebuilding but those that complied and aided Rosemont's goons?

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[READ ME!!!!!!!!!]
 * Security Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN103_TerminalSublevel
 * 00123DE9
 * 00123DE9

Hi.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Personal Logs]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN109_TerminalClint
 * 001EB3E9
 * 001EB3E9

[See fragment: DN109_TerminalClintSubLogs "Terminal" [TERM:001EE92E]]

[Points of Interest]

[See fragment: DN109_TerminalClintSubIntel "Terminal" [TERM:001EE92F]]

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Quarry]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN109_TerminalClintSubIntel
 * 001EE92F
 * 001EE92F

Things aren't looking good. The muties we ran out of town have holed up in the quarry down the street. They haven't moved on us yet, but it's only a matter of time. I'd love to wipe them out in one go, but they look like they've really burrowed down. It'd take way too much ammo to clear them out.

[The Factory]

Looks like the Old Atomatoys factory's infested too. Freaks flung flesh and shit all over the place; it's disgusting. We REALLY need to start exterminating soon or we'll be surrounded.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Strangers]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN109_TerminalClintSubLogs
 * 001EE92E
 * 001EE92E

The lookouts have been reporting strange figures in the mist. Muties? Jim swears they're human. Either way, they're all over the southern marshes. We're really going to need to fortify that flank.

[Disappearances]

Couple of scavvers disappeared last night. We sent a search party into the marshes to find them and they're gone too. From now on, no one else is to go south of Quincy.

[Surrounded]

I see campfires through the fog. Our whole southern flank is covered in them. Between the muties and these creeps we're damn well surrounded. I don't care how much scrap is up here, we're heading back to the metro ASAP. This shit isn't worth it.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Hunters]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN109_TerminalHollis
 * 001A90A5
 * 001A90A5

Was part of the scavving crew went missing yesterday. Two hundred lbs scrap just sitting in an old steamer. Prime stuff: guns, electronics. 'fore we knew it, they're on us. Hides, shells(?), hooks, knives. Carved up Donough. Ran like hell. They just laughed. Fuckin' hunters. Those cookfires are for him, I reckon.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Arriving in Quincy]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN109_TerminalLongs
 * 001A9090
 * 001A9090

We left Andrew Station three days ago. The war's just too much. It's only a matter of time before the Federation forces through and burns Andrew down. I'm not gonna risk it.

We've occupied an old settlement down here in Quincy. There were a few mutes milling around in the street when we arrived, but they cleared out easily enough. Hopefully we can start up a trading outpost once the Metro Wars calm down. This could be home.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Decreasing Intake]
 * Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN109_TerminalSturges
 * 0001D398
 * 0001D398

Morale among our scavvers has plummeted since the supposed "disappearances". Roberts' story is well and good, but we don't know that these weren't just regular thugs. We need more scrap if we're to sustain ourselves here. The walls need fortifying and we need more turrets. This is necessary.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Case 45-A32x [ERROR]]
 * Police Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN109_TerminalTessa
 * 0001D391
 * 0001D391

DATA CORRUPTION
! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[11/2/2077]
 * Eugene's Terminal
 * Terminal
 * DN112_EugeneTerminal
 * 00162A8E
 * 00162A8E

1st day in the marina. Ten days since the bombs fell, and the world has gone mad. Malcolm and I just might be able to pull this off. The boats are still in good condition. If we can get one of them up and running, we can escape the chaos of this war. I'm glad Malcolm is here. Family have to stick together... even if he is an annoying slob that slurps his coffee.

[11/22/2077]

20th day at Reeb. If that blasted fool thinks he can tell me what's what, he's got another thing coming. He needs me, and that means what I say goes: we are escaping SOUTH. That jackass is never going to fix the other boat without my expertise and parts. And for what? To head North, of all places. If he wasn't my own flesh and blood, I'd clobber his coffee-slurping, contrarian face with a wrench. I think he's doing it on purpose.

[12/12/2077]

He's slurped his coffee for the last time, he must die. It's the only logical choice, and really he has no one to blame but himself. All I need are the parts from his boat, and I can escape this irradiated hell. I've been looking into the robot safety protocols, and I think I'll have a little birthday surprise for him.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[> A New Start]
 * Frank's Terminal
 * Terminal
 * MS17PublicTerminal
 * 000E9275
 * 000E9275

This is Frank Beringer, formerly Vault-Tec security detail.

About April of '78 our Vault fell apart. Food was gone, Overseer lost it, we left. Wandered the wastes for a bit, but lost half our crew to the rads. Wasn't until September that we found this place. The people that lived here had access to some heavy duty construction equipment. Built up these lovely concrete walls and they've been keeping us alive ever since.

[> Elmer]

What this place needs is discipline. Old Man Elmer gives these people too much leniency. There's no structure, no rule of law. What's worse is that he prefers to hide behind his walls instead of facing his problems head-on.

Ferals have started to hang out around the entrance and the old fool won't let us take them out. We'll die here if things don't change soon.

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Maximum Security Holding Facility - Systems Status]
 * Administrator Cabot's Office Terminal
 * Terminal
 * ParsonsTerminalJackOffice
 * 000F4470
 * 000F4470

[See fragment: ParsonsTerminalSubmenuSystems "Maximum Security Holding Facility - Systems Status" [TERM:001D64DE]]

[Patient Records]

[See fragment: ParsonsTerminaSubmenuPatientRecords "Patient Records - Superintendent Level" [TERM:001D64DD]]

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Systems Status]
 * Control Room Terminal
 * Terminal
 * ParsonsTerminalLorenzoControlRoom
 * 000F4472
 * 000F4472

[See fragment: ParsonsTerminalSubmenuSystems "Maximum Security Holding Facility - Systems Status" [TERM:001D64DE]]

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Main Elevator: Normal]
 * Maximum Security Holding Facility - Systems Status
 * Terminal
 * ParsonsTerminalSubmenuSystems
 * 001D64DE
 * 001D64DE

Main elevator operating normally.

[Main Elevator: OFFLINE]

Main elevator in SECURITY OVERRIDE SHUTDOWN.

Current floor: BASEMENT

MANUAL RESET REQUIRED

[Abremalin Field: * OFFLINE * OFFLINE * OFFLINE *]


 * Total system failure*

Abremalin Generator 01: OFFLINE Abremalin Generator 02: OFFLINE Abremalin Generator 03: OFFLINE Abremalin Generator 04: OFFLINE

[Abremalin Field: GREEN (98%)]

Field status: GREEN (98%)

Abremalin Generator 01: 100% Abremalin Generator 02: 97% Abremalin Generator 03: 100% Abremalin Generator 04: 96%

[Abremalin Field: YELLOW (59% and falling)]

Field status: YELLOW (59% and falling)

Abremalin Generator 01: 98% Abremalin Generator 02: 75% Abremalin Generator 03: 40% Abremalin Generator 04: 22%

[Abremalin Field: RED (16% and falling)]

Field status: RED (16% and falling)


 * Field failure is imminent***

Abremalin Generator 01: 53% Abremalin Generator 02: OFFLINE Abremalin Generator 03: 12% Abremalin Generator 04: OFFLINE

[Security doors: WARNING]

[See fragment: ParsonsTerminaSubmenuSecurityDoors "Security Doors - Subbasement" [TERM:001D64DB]]

! colspan="4" | <pre style="white-space: pre-wrap; text-align: left;">[Patient 001-MS]
 * Patient Records - Superintendent Level
 * Terminal
 * ParsonsTerminaSubmenuPatientRecords
 * 001D64DD
 * 001D64DD

SUPERINTENDENT LEVEL CLEARANCE REQUIRED
 * CONFIDENTIAL ******
 * CONFIDENTIAL ******

Name: Cabot, Lorenzo Birthdate: March 28, 1835 Date of admittance: June 11, 1898. Length of treatment: Indefinite Location: Maximum Security Facility Condition: SPECIAL - See below Assigned To: SPECIAL - See below

NOTES:

~ Patient was admitted involuntarily to the Maximum Security Facility for indefinite confinement.

~ Treatment is under the direct supervision of Superintendent Cabot. ~ No contact with patient is permitted except under explicit direction of Superintendent Cabot.

[Patient 68-056]

Name: DeSoto, Antonio Birthdate: July 23, 2042 Date of admittance: December 24, 2068 Length of treatment: 5 years (extended) Location: Isolation Ward, Room 03 Condition: SPECIAL Assigned To: Superintendent Cabot

NOTES: ~ Patient was committed under special arrangement with family. Legal counsel signed off in presence of Superintendent Cabot. ~ Patient is not allowed visitors or any outside communication. ~ As long as patient remains cooperative, all reasonable accommodations should be extended. ~ No treatment is necessary.

[Patient 11-LJN]

Name: Stawski, Aniela Birthdate: April 15, 2052 Date of admittance: April 15, 2072 Length of treatment: TBD Location: Isolation Ward, Room 07 Condition: SPECIAL Assigned To: Superintendent Cabot

NOTES: ~ Patient admitted herself into Parsons of her own accord. ~ Patient has had no visitors, has no known relatives. ~ Patient has never admitted to any crime or exhibited any violent tendencies, but details revealed during counseling closely match those related to the poisoning deaths of four sorority sisters at Mass. Bay University. ~ Treatment: Art therapy (results troubling).

[Patient N7N-JK]

Name: Smith, Robert "Bobby" Birthdate: November 23, 2064 Date of admittance: August 10, 2074 Length of treatment: 8 Years Location: Isolation Ward, Room 01 Condition: SPECIAL Assigned To: Superintendent Cabot

NOTES: ~ Patient remanded into the the custody of Superintendent Cabot by the Massachusetts Department of Juvenile Services. ~ Patient's family is local, refuses to visit. ~ Happily admits to his crime (multiple homicide/stabbing). ~ Treatment: Music therapy - Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor only piece known to stop his laughter, which is nearly constant.

[Patient 980-SS]

Name: Fanno, Cherise Birthdate: February 5, 2032 Date of admittance: March 8, 2076 Length of treatment: 2 Years Location: Isolation Ward, Room 06 Condition: SPECIAL Assigned To: Superintendent Cabot

NOTES: ~ Patient allowed to wear own clothing (black leather) so long as she continues to exhibit good behavior ~ Patient exhibits symptoms of the oft-misunderstood disorder paraphilia ~ Conjugal visits by approved male associates; discussion of said visits with Superintendent Cabot integral to ongoing therapy ~ Treatment: Contemplative psychotherapy, shock therapy

[Patient 25-777]

Name: "Nightwar" (real name unknown) Birthdate: Unknown Date of admittance: June 4, 2074 Length of treatment: TBD Location: Isolation Ward, Room 04 Condition: SPECIAL Assigned To: Superintendent Cabot

NOTES: ~ Patient refuses to share real name, claims it's "secret identity" ~ Patient believes he is a superhero ~ Possesses exaggerated sense of justice ~ Isolation from some patients essential to avoid altercations ~ Treatment: Reality therapy, extended counseling

[Patient HR-D5]

Name: Earnest Flemmel Birthdate: September 30, 2016 Date of admittance: October 20, 2077 Length of treatment: TBD Location: Isolation Ward, Room 05 Condition: SPECIAL Assigned To: Superintendent Cabot

NOTES: ~ Patient was committed under special research study with C.I.T. faculty ~ Patient obsessed with concept of immortality, religious iconography, animal remains (esp. bovine) ~ Highly paranoid; believes his admittance here is part of grand conspiracy ~ Patient to be kept in isolation indefinitely, except for in cases of visits from C.I.T. students ~ Treatment: C.I.T. led counselling sessions, experimental treatment


 * }