Natural Born Killer

Which is probably why Paradise Falls is my weirdest destination yet. Only a few kills in, and Ymir, a Super Sledge-wielding vintage slaver, calls out to me, "This is the last mistake you'll ever make, little bartender." What? Another sledger complains I'm being too virtuous, while Cutter, the Paradise Falls surgeon, continues admonishing me for stealing her Stimpaks even after I've kicked her head several feet - a measurement that takes on a whole new meaning when the floor is carpeted with corpses - away from her body. The slaves seem pretty chuffed when I open their cage for them, and continue sporting sunny dispositions as I pick them off, one by one. I don't think Bethesda prepared its characters for this level of madness.

The combat, however, is more engaging and responsive than ever. Fighting got a bit samey in my first playthrough; by level 20, I was more than capable of rending most enemies to ash with my plasma rifle. This time, though, due to the lack of precious quest experience, I'm constantly facing inescapable peril - not even fast-travel will save me, because those bastard Regulators are now appearing whenever I decide I need to get somewhere in a hurry. During my battle with Eulogy Jones, the whore-mongering de facto leader of the Falls, I'm ducking behind stone columns, barely evading his .45 ammo as it whizzes past my mutton chops. I'm using weapons I never bothered with before - grenades, for instance, and carefully-placed mines - and by the end of each proper fight, I'm usually completely depleted - of ammo, of health, and of mental energy. Curiously, it's Clover, one of Jones' half-naked slave girls, who poses the biggest threat to the continuance of this bloody journey: in avenging his death, the little strumpet manages to stick me with her Chinese Officer's Sword an uncomfortable amount of times, and survives an astounding six shots from my (admittedly rusty) sniper rifle, before finally collapsing. Curse you, Stockholm Syndrome!

Now that slavertown's census puts its population on par with Pompeii's, I trudge further north, my vision regularly interrupted by the blinding white flashes that accompany a crippled head. I'm hoping to reach Canterbury Commons and call it a day before trying my luck in DC - the most lethal district in the game - but I wind up at the bottom of the mountain track that leads straight up to Oasis, the mythical, near-inaccessible Wasteland locale where trees grow and Harold, my most beloved character in the Fallout series, makes his home. Harold, if you're unaware, is one of the victims of the Forced Evolutionary Virus (FEV) that created the Super Mutants. But instead of turning him into an asexual, green-skinned goliath, he became distinctly ghoul-like and sprouted a little twig out of the side of his head, whom he dubbed "Bob". By Fallout 2, Bob had grown into a leafy shrub, and now, it's grown into a tree so large that Harold is unwillingly rooted to the ground. He's a lovable character. And I'm here to burn him.

Oasis' hippie contingent - who worship Harold as the saviour of the Wastes - are understandably eager to protect him from such a fate, but I'm able to butcher them all in under 60 seconds. I push through the wooden gate that leads to his grove, and attempt to speak to Harold.

He refuses to converse with me, wheezing, "Those people you killed were some of the most peaceful people in the Wasteland! How could you do that to them?" I try speaking with him again - we're beyond free hugs, or tree hugs, at this juncture - but he simply weeps that if he weren't fused to a tree, he'd show me a thing or two. It's the most tragic experience I've had in the game thus far, and the first reminder since leaving Tenpenny Tower that this experiment really is quite awful. Anyway, it eventuates that I can't torch Harold. If I raise my lockpicking skill to 100, I could venture into the cave beneath his roots and destroy his heart - this will indeed put his misery to rest, but given how slowly sociopaths level up in this game, that won't be for a while. So I leave Harold to his loneliness, indignation, and despair.

I exit Oasis, and hobble in an easterly direction. I'm low on health after the skirmish with the nature children, and as I have no Stimpaks, I pop a Buffout and keep moving. (Don't look at me like that, Betty Ford.) I can practically feel Canterbury Commons coming up ahead, so when I start seeing dilapidated buildings, I take a dose of Jet and sprint for them. Unfortunately, the derelict structures don't give way to inhabited ones, and I find myself at the center of the Deathclaw nest. As luck would have it, my escape plan works: the bottlecap mine detonates right as the Deathclaw steps on it, and he's killed instantly. I'm free. I bolt out of Old Olney, and don't stop running until the only creature in my vicinity is a pesky bloatfly. I'm sick, dying, and possibly losing my mind, but I'm going to make it Downtown, I know it. I will succeed. It's alright, Ma: I'm only bleeding.