I don’t know much about writing, to be honest. But Fawkes said I needed someplace to vent, so… here I am, I guess. Writing. Feels weird to be putting everything down to the keyboard like this, but it also feels kind of liberating. Almost reminds me of dad’s old holotapes. Felt like he told everything he was thinking to the recorder. Hell of a lot more than he ever told me.
My name is Jason Cole. It’s… funny. I can count the number of people I’ve met in this wasteland who’ve actually asked me my name on one hand. I can’t even remember when they started using the name ‘Wanderer’. I figure that’s all Three-Dog’s doing. Kind of stupid, really, now I think about it. ‘The Lone Wanderer’ is a legend, loved and feared by the Capital Wasteland, some faceless wind that blows through towns and leaves a changed world in its wake. They look at the Lone Wanderer, and they just see the armor. A Chinese Crimson Dragon Stealth Suit under a Regulator Duster. That’s the way people want to see him. Faceless. Nameless. It makes it easier to ask for help when he’s clearly exhausted, easier to get mad when he asks for it in return. The Wasteland needs help, but to be perfectly honest… I’m tired. I need a break. DC can survive without me for a little while. So, I took an offer from a stranger named
Kayle, someone like me. Another figure in the Wasteland, somewhere out west, where they called her Courier. She offered me a vacation, the chance to have an escape, adventure in worlds I’d never seen. I said yes.
So, here I am. She says this place is called ‘The Hollow’, and I figure that while it’s not home, I might enjoy being away for a while.
No radiation, no FEV, no slavers, no raiders, no Enclave. I might just like it here.
----
Jason is a caucasian male human, aged 23. He stands at five feet eleven inches, with skin a dark tan from years spent under the sun. He’s usually smiling, a cheerful face showing bright blue eyes with a generous smile, and shaggy brown hair that’s usually tied back with a red bandana. He wears an old leather duster, faded with age, with a curious mechanical device strapped to his left forearm, with a display showing various bits of information. His demeanor, most of the time, is gentle, and he seems to genuinely enjoy helping people, often freely giving out food and water or, if needed, medical assistance, without bothering to ask for help. Jason Cole is, by most accounts, a sweet and idealistic boy who turned into a sweet and idealistic man.
But even the kindest man has a breaking point. Those who were closest to him at the time swear that he changed one day, after his father died. According to witness at the time, he wandered off into the Wasteland shortly after the Jefferson Memorial was taken by Enclave forces, and the man who returned was almost an entirely different person. He’d vanished, and come back wearing a strange suit of faceless armor under his duster, a pair of rifles slung across his back with a ripper belted to his waist. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about what had happened during that time, but numerous reports had sprung up across the Capital Wasteland about entire settlements of raiders, slavers, and mercenaries going silent. Fort Bannister, Paradise Falls, Andale, Evergreen Mills… All had seemingly been wiped off the map, and Raven Rock to the north had been left a smoking crater. The Lone Wanderer had become cold-blooded, attacking and removing anything and everything he perceived as a threat to the Capital Wasteland with the precision and demeanor of a surgeon removing a tumor. And by the end of it all, the Enclave had been systematically excised, the Potomac River was running clear and radiation-free again, and for some reason slavers had stopped coming out of the Pitt. And, with that task finished… he simply retired, claiming that he’d had quite enough excitement to last him the rest of his days.
~~~
Oh boy look who it is, another
Loxagn alt.
Yes, this character is, in essence, the culmination of my experiences as a gamer playing through Fallout 3.