Dad Can Wait

Jan 24, 2009

The whole point of Fallout 3 is to find your dad.  See what he’s up to.  Discover why he left you behind.  Unravel a mystery that only begins with your father taking off without you and leaving no answers to exactly why.  I’m missing the point.

What to do next?It’s not that I’m not interested.  At some point I’ll find the time and energy to pick up his trail through the vast and desolate post apocalyptic world that make up my not so welcome home.  The mutants and nasty moles between him and I aren’t to blame.  I find them everywhere.  Another 1 or 20 don’t serve as much of a deterrent.

It’s just that my dad isn’t the sole story worth exploring.  I need to help a woman write a book, nearly sacrificing myself in the process.  I have to help a lady send a message to her family, discovering things she’d rather not.  Hell, a little boy just asked my help to find his father.  How can I refuse?

And each of these stories don’t end simple or even easily.  Many can be considered adventures all by themselves, both in scope and in the hours lost while following their twists and turns.  A simple bit of playing messenger ends in a murder mystery and the discovery of a cult whose methods and message are very mixed.  An attempt to bring light to a traitor ends badly for those I wanted to help.

These stories frame the world.  They make Fallout what it is, something beyond the rubble and depression, something very eager to tell you its story.

Rather that story really involves my dad, I can’t tell, at least not yet.  I assume it must.  I won’t know for a while. First, I want to explore that abandoned school over there.  And see what I can do about that nuclear bomb.  And see about delivering this bit of naughty nightwear. And…

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Jan 21, 2009


A six year old worked on this.  He never considered his use of color.

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Short Stuff

Jan 11, 2009

“I’m 4 years old and ready to get hair under my arms,” Chase stated proudly to his mom while putting on his pajamas this evening.

Mom hesitated.  “Who has hair under their arms?”

“Daddy.”  He paused. “And you.”

More than a few chuckles came from the computer room, quite possibly indicating some type of knowledge regarding the current miscommunication.

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