>LOADING HOLOTAPE FILES
>OVERSEER’S HOLOTAPE
>WARNING: CONFIDENTIAL
>OVERSEER EYES ONLY
[Registered Residents of Vault 16]
[Human Residents]
Brisby family: Stanley
Castillo family: Nathan, Olivia, daughter Laura
Duncan family: Finn, Kayla, son Michael
Kowalski family: Brian, Matthias
Lawrence family: Kenneth, Julia
Robertson family: Ellis, Helen, son Thomas
Sidney family: Edward, Veronica, son Geoffrey
Stevenson family: Theodore, Mary, son Jacob, daughter Kathy
Vicario family: Samuel, Tabitha, daughter Faith
Willoughby family: Daniel, Lillian, son Christopher, son Vincent
[Equine Residents]
Cass Ole; Stallion, Thoroughbred, black in colour
Clover; Mare, Lipizzan, white in colour.
Dandy Apple; Stallion, Tennessee Walker, palomino in colour.
Misty; Mare, American Paint Horse, brown and white in colour.
Ms. Macy; Mare, Clydesdale, roan in colour.
Snow; Mare, Andalusian, white in colour.
Stormwind; Stallion, Arabian, dapple grey in colour.
[VAULT 16 OVERSEER INSTRUCTIONS]
CONFIDENTIAL CONFIDENTIAL CONFIDENTIAL
OVERSEER EYES ONLY
Vault 16 is one of several vaults designed to test the long-term relation between humans and animals on unaware, human and equine subjects. Your staff will be assigned to different sectors of the vault and will monitor the growth and progress of both human and equine.
Under no circumstance should anyone resort to consuming the horses. This includes food supply running low and if a horse is to die of natural causes. This goes especially for the Overseer and your staff.
Because of the nature of this vault in its efforts to care for both human and horse, there should be ample area for farming under artificial sunlight. As the Overseer, it is your duty to screen and test any of the civilians living in the vault to see whether or not they can facilitate the growth of food for possible long term lock down from the outside elements.
Please note that horses are being fed a special supply of food and must only have that. You can mix it with other foods, but the food we have provided for the horses must be distributed twice daily.
If any of the subjects are to die, they are to be disposed of in the incinerator. We at Vault-Tec stress the importance of not resorting to consuming the horses under any circumstances.
Vault entry way must remain sealed under any circumstances.
[Operations Protocol Manual]
[Resident Admittance]
Upon Activation Notice from Vault-Tec, all personnel are required to report to the Entry Area and assist with the admittance of Vault Residents as well as seven horses. Residents are to be admitted after the seven horses, and in a neat, organised line.
At no time should the human residents come into contact with the horses till they are assigned their jobs within the vault.
[Stables]
The stables house seven out of a possible ten horses. Astro turf has been installed where the horses are to be stabled, and well fertilised soil takes up over 80% of where the horses are allowed to roam.
[Staff Duties]
[Science Staff]
Members of the research and medical teams must monitor the vital signs and status of the horses daily. A team of two medical units must see to the physical and general examinations of vault residents every two months that they are contained in Vault 16.
Members of the research team must also develop flora for consumption that can thrive in artificial sunlight.
[Security Personnel]
Security patrols are to be carried out on a constant six-hour rotation. Security priorities include:
-Monitoring for signs of intrusion
-Monitoring the stables for hostile intentions by residential workers
-Settling disputes among personnel
-Enforcement of regulations set forth by the Overseer
-Enforcement of regulations set forth by Vault-Tec
[Facility Services & Maintenance]
The position of cafeteria cook and distributor can be applied to by residents of Vault 16. Janitorial duties must be carried out by residents on a schedule.
The exact distribution of these roles is left to Overseer discretion.
[All Clear & Evacuation]
[All-Clear Message]
Following a nuclear event, Vault-Tec will monitor hazards such as radiation levels, enemy invasion, subsequent attacks, and other factors. Once conditions are deemed safe, this terminal will receive an all-clear notice.
Upon receiving the all-clear notice, Vault-Tec personnel may be evacuated at Overseer discretion. Disregard any notices from organizations or individuals not associated with Vault-Tec, including government and military.
>LOADING HOLOTAPE FILES
>SECURITY LOGS
>WARNING: FOR TOP-LEVEL SECURITY EYES ONLY
Welcome, Richard Monroe
[October 23, 2077]
The residents and the horses have been led into the vault. Glad I wasn’t part of the crew brining in the horses. Heard that some of the wranglers got dragged around a bit and needed help getting them in here.
Understandably, the first attack that landed must’ve scared the shit out of ‘em. They have no clue what’s going on.
Maybe it’d be nice to be an animal and have not much of a concept of the happenings of the world.
It’s almost surreal what happened just this afternoon. I want to think that this is just some public attraction and we’re all just paying guests. Maybe when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll wake up from this nightmare.
[November 25, 2077]
It’s Thanksgiving here. The crew assigned to taking care of the horses today pitched in and gave the horses something special for Thanksgiving. Sugar Bombs and Dandy Boy Apples mixed with their normal alfalfa pellets and corn. I wouldn’t have recommended the Sugar Bombs myself, but the vets said it’s fine for just this one time.
The cooks in the mess hall have been preparing some of the food wares we have. Mostly, that just means Salisbury Steaks, Pork ‘N’ Beans, Cram... probably, and Potato Crisps. Oh, maybe some Yum Yum Devilled Eggs as well.
Can’t wait.
[December 24, 2077]
Carla in my division gave me a gift. She said that I could open it before Christmas and that it was a thing that her family did when she was younger; opening one present on Christmas Eve and then saving the rest for Christmas Day.
... I don’t really even remember what it was like to do Christmas stuff. I haven’t celebrated it since... well, since leaving college.
The gift Carla gave me was a multi-coloured wax figure of a German Shepherd that was about two inches tall. The ears are maybe too big, but it’s definitely the thought that counts. Especially when we’re so limited in what we can give to one another. Carla must have made the dog figure out of the wax crayons that the more artistically inclined use.
[November 8, 2078]
Dammit it all. After months of things going somewhat smoothly after Stormwind died, one of the horses went hostile. Dandy went and bit Kayla Duncan hard enough that it broke her hand and some of her fingers. The vets are taking him back to see if there’s something up there.
Pretty sure it’s because they’re not frolicking under natural sunlight anymore, but what do I know? I’m just one of the security personnel.
[January 17, 2079]
Two of the horses fell ill after Snow had her baby. The reports from the vets is that one is developing cataracts as well as seems to be losing muscle mass. Getting old, maybe? The other one is Dandy again -- apparently he managed to puke, and there was some blood found in his urine.
I hope whatever Dandy is going through doesn’t spread to us. We’re in an air tight facility with no escape. I hope the vets quarantine him.
In my time being a ghoul, I’ve noticed some things from the first time I realised my changes up till now. My nose was the first thing to actually fall off. Imagine the horrified expressions I was making and emitting. Life as a ghoul certainly takes a toll on your mental health, that’s for damn certain.
It took a long time to really cope with it. It’s pretty hard knowing you looked one way, and now you’re... not that anymore. Eventually, I started treating it like a post-surgery operation. I got scars, and there was nothing the doctor could do about them without probably inhibiting my daily life further.
Bits of my ears started to follow in the process of my skin rotting away. Weird thing about all of it was that it... didn’t really hurt too much. The most it felt like was mild itching, but that was about it. Other than that, the one thing I noticed most were my joints hurting more than when I was fully human.
In my time travelling, I learned about taking Jet, Psycho, and a number of other drugs that were highly addictive. The hit of Jet for the first time told me all I needed to know about it, and so far, has been my go to for when I have severe joint pain.
I wouldn’t say I was addicted, per se, though? Jet definitely alleviates the pain... I just don’t feel the need of having to resort to it on my free time.
I did hear from other ghouls that were druggies that they also feel less of a compulsion to take drugs on more than one occasion in a week. So maybe ghouls just have more of a tolerance for whatever chemicals entering their body for a temporary high.
Useful, if I do say so myself.
Curtis thinks that I should ‘power through’ the pain. I have to tell him that I just don’t have it in me to ignore the pain and continue with walking. Especially since walking is the number one way to travel around here that I know of. Cars are pretty much useless.
Maybe I’ll find a usable bike one day.
Anyway... I’ll definitely write about any further developments with my exposure to things like Mentats, Jet, Buffout, Jet, and other chems that I might come across in my travels.
I don’t think I ever experienced a Valentine’s Day so depressing. Sure, we have some couples here that are attempting to make the best of it, but even I feel bad that there are no reservations or outings to special places for these people. I guess that’s also because I have to deal with some of the lovey-dovey business while I'm trying to eat breakfast in the mess hall.
Maybe I feel more sorry for myself in that regard -- sorry that I still seem to have some petty jealousy instead of learning how to cope and survive.
Glad I have stable work today and tomorrow.
[Entry: Stanley Brisby 3/24/2078]
Stormwind died today.
It’s a real shame. No one is really sure what happened with him, and our vets are going to perform an autopsy to see what the cause of death could have been.
At the very least, he was able to get frisky with Snow. Heard from one of the vets that Snow’s having his baby.
I’ll pitch the idea of having the baby named Hailstorm. At least it’d be better than what some jockeys named their horses in those races.
Who names a horse Little Mister Playboy?
[Entry: Stanley Brisby 3/31/2078]
The results of the autopsy came back for Stormwind. Apparently the lymph nodes under his jaw had swollen. A lot of the residents aren’t trained to look for those signs, and we were never told about any irregularities to look out for.
This doesn’t change the fact that I feel somewhat responsible for Stormwind’s death. I should have been more preceptive when I was adding feed to their troughs.
[Entry: Stanley Brisby 4/7/2078]
One of the Kowalski brothers got into a fight with Ellis. Apparently Ellis’ son was acting out, and Brian didn’t like that. It was hard to ignore the flurry of names and eventual fisticuffs that went down. It was during lunch in the mess hall.
Both Brian and Ellis ended up going to the medical bay to get their wounds treated. Never thought I’d see someone pull a knife on someone down here.
Last I heard, though, both of them are going to be detained for a while to make sure that no further conflicts break out.
One day after the nukes hit. I woke up today hoping that it was all just a bad dream. That the US, China, varying European countries, and Russia didn’t resort to solving everything with nuclear weaponry. I guess it was just wishful thinking on all accounts.
Today, I start my new life in Vault 16. We were handed some jumpsuits that were a little gaudy, if you asked me. But we were forced from our normal, casual clothing into these jumpsuits. Ridiculous.
The Overseer wants us to meet in the atrium once we’ve changed.
[Entry: Julia Lawrence 10/26/2077]
Everyone here has been assigned with jobs to do while here in the vault. Fair, I guess. The vault is a possibly long term solution to what is going on just outside the vault seal.
There’s a kind of farm, too. Horses are kept here. Weird that we have horses. Down here, they’re useless compared to any other farm animal. Are we meant to use them as... food? In case things go dire?
I’d rather not think about it. Horses are not creatures bred for slaughter.
[Entry: Julia Lawrence 10/31/2077]
I work three days in a week. Today is one of my off days. Some of the kids that were brought down here are doing what they can to dress up for Halloween. I feel bad for them in a way.
None of them really know why the bombs dropped. To have a proper life stripped from them and to be forced into these vaults for any chance of survival. It’s a little cruel.
I’m glad that their parents went out of their way to at least make some kind of Halloween event.
[Entry: Julia Lawrence 11/15/2077]
Haven’t written on this terminal for a while. That’s fine. There hasn’t been much to talk about.
I guess I made friends with the Robertsons. Ellis and Helen are nice, and their son, Thomas, is really well behaved. He’s a comic book enthusiast and likes drawing pictures of Grognak the Barbarian. Says he’s his favourite.
How about life on the job?
My favourite horse to work with so far is the white mare; her name is Snow. She’s really friendly and always seems really happy when people come to take care of the horses in the stables.
[Entry: Julia Lawrence 1/24/2078]
This is why I don’t keep journal entries. I’m never consistent.
Today is an important one, though. Our doctors found that Snow is pregnant and has been since before the bombs fell. It was just more obvious with how she had been acting recently.
She’s going to be a great mother. I’m kind of hoping I work with the horses the day that baby Snow is born.
[Entry: Julia Lawrence 3/26/2078]
I’m waiting for some autopsy reports from the veterinarians that were assigned to this vault. Stormwind had a swollen jawline at work a few days back and I reported it. I feel that I reported it a day too late, though. If only I noticed sooner, maybe Stormwind could have been treated sooner.
In the meantime, I’ve been attempting to keep Snow more company, even on the days that I don’t work to ‘earn my keep’, as the Overseer says.
[Entry: Julia Lawrence 3/31/2078]
Dr. Stemmins approached those of us that were working today and discussed the results of the autopsy. He stated that the swollen lymphs in Stormwind’s jawline was a result of leukaemia and that they lacked the proper equipment and chemotherapy to properly care for that.
Why weren’t these Vault-Tec people fully prepared for taking care of the animals? I can only assume it’s because we weren’t going to stay down here for long, but that’s a shitty excuse.
They should have been prepared for anything. What if one of us human residents have medical needs that need to be seen to? Are we going to get the same response? Are we going to be denied proper care, or be welcomed by the embrace of euthanasia because we don’t have the proper medicine?
A late entry, but that’s fine. I just thank God that my family and I were able to get to Vault 16 before the nukes struck most of the east coast. Helen hasn’t been too happy about what it means to live in this vault, though. Everyone is tasked with weird jobs regarding horses.
Whatever! Taking care of some horses is way better than being outside and dealing with any kind of nuclear terror that’s going on!
[Entry: Ellis Robertson 10/28/2077]
Halloween is right around the corner, and Thomas has been throwing a fit about how he won’t get to go trick-or-treating, or dress up as his favourite, Grognak the Barbarian. Maybe it’s for the best, though. Helen always seems to get mad when Tommy brings up the latest issue of Grognak.
The comic is for a bit of an older crowd, but it’s all I could afford to buy. Silver Shroud comics would have just gone over poor Tommy’s head with all the crime drama and mystery.
[Entry: Ellis Robertson 10/30/2077]
Well... I managed to take some of the old horse blankets and use them for a makeshift costume for Thomas. I got them cleaned real good, but they’re the right shade of green, and there are some limited arts and crafts materials that might just make this possible!
[Entry: Ellis Robertson 10/31/2077]
Tonight ended pretty well. Helen’s a little miffed, but that’s fine. Since the whole nuclear strike, Thomas at least deserves something fun. Taking care of the horses down here is exhausting. Sure, the kids like the horses, but feeding them, cleaning up their poop, and having to make sure the special gym tailored to their exercise is clean and sterilised is just too much sometimes.
I might be complaining too much. It’s only been eight days since we were evacuated from Baltimore. Besides, it’s not so bad.
Preserve the animals!
I wonder why only horses, though. You would think that we would have dogs and cats, too? Horses are farm animals, so how about pigs, cows, chicken, or other farm animals? I guess maybe because it would stink too much?
When I stumbled across Vault 16, a feeling of dread had overcome my senses. The Vault door had been open, and seemed to invite people into its depths. I’m sure anyone else would be excited for the prospect of shelter, food, and reliable water -- as was advertised by Vault-Tec. For some reason, however, the door being open like that just... seemed so off.
Curiosity got the best of me, though. I neared the vault. I figured that whoever was inside must have left the Vault to recolonise.
I was wrong.
When I approached the large vault door, the one thing that caught my attention were the big numbers in yellow on the front. After that, I stared into the inky blackness that was the entrance.
Feeling uneasy, I stepped forward. I unholstered my gun and held it at the ready.
Stepping onto the metal catwalk, I noticed an abandoned device that was dangling off the side of the railing next to a rotting corpse. How had I missed that? Was my sense of smell also fading? Or was my body just adapting to not notice the scent of death?
Either way, I went and took up the... armlet? It was one of those Pip-Boy things that was advertised by RobCo and Vault-Tec. These were things that were promised to some of those that signed up or were pre-selected for entry to a vault. Looked like I lucked out with finding it.
I strapped on that Pip-Boy and ventured further into the vault. Several steps inside, and lights flickered on. The entrance had no people present -- the lights must have had motion sensors.
The door further ahead had been broken down. When I approached, I swore I could have heard heavy clicking against the ground as well as what might have been a horse’s nickering. However, the sound had been distorted, and sounded more like a braying roar of a kind. It definitely made me nervous about entering any further.
But I had a gun. If worse came to worse, I would just shoot whatever was inside.
I forced the doors open and turned on the flashlight on the Pip-Boy. I walked through seemingly abandoned halls of Vault 16 and wondered to myself what had happened in here. What had happened in this vault ended up staring me in the face as I came eye to eye with a creature that stood a few feet taller than me.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. The creature that stood before me was quadrupedal, and seemed to have varying features about it. Its skin had been decayed a bit, like my own, and its eyes were of a harrowing sort -- completely white and glowed in the dark. I can’t even begin to describe what I felt when I saw this thing in the flickering of the lights. Those ever few glimpses of the creature that roamed Vault 16.
It whinnied loudly. Clearly, it had been a horse mutation of some kind, but why?
I was too scared to tear my gaze away from the creature. I shakily held up my gun in case anything were to happen.
The creature seemed to paw the ground, its hoof making a loud ‘clunk, clunk, clunk’ sound against the metal flooring.
Sidestepping my way into the vault, I attempted to just keep my eye on it while moving back. It... it didn’t seem hostile at least. It was just... frightening. When you know something for so long pre-war, something like that mutation was downright terrifying -- especially when brought face to face with it unexpectedly.
Once I was a safe distance away, I turned and started exploring the rest of the facility. I occasionally heard the hoofed beast walking about, but it didn’t seem to bother me since I got here. Was it because it was similar to me? Mutated by the radiation that settled itself thanks to the nuclear powered nations?
I found non-irradiated food -- I even found some purified water that was left behind. I questioned why perfectly good supplies were just... left here, though I was very grateful nonetheless.
I found a terminal when I ventured through more of the vault. In fact, I found several -- some even had some holotapes that saved their data. Enclosed in my terminal is the information that I was able to procure while scrounging around all terminals I could get into with relative ease.
My name is Vivian Cynthia Tackett. I’m what people in this time call a ‘ghoul’. It’s not a very flattering term, no... but I think it is an accurate name, having survived the nuclear Great War of 2077.
I suffered great depression and anxiety over the thought of being alone in the world. My fiancé and I had been celebrating our seventh anniversary just three days before the bombs fell. Once the first one struck, I was thinking how much I regretted not taking up the offer from the Vault-Tec ads that were strewn about. I regretted not signing up for the safety and security of being in one of those fancy vaults for any chance of nuclear war or world-wide epidemic.
Charles and I... we laughed it off, thinking that even though things were tense, there was no way that the world would fall into disarray that badly. There was no way that there would be a global war of nuclear strikes to and from the United States and into China, Russia, or other nuclear powerful nations.
What fools we were to brush aside the concept.
The nuclear warheads struck the east coast fast and hard from opposing nations. Some cities and towns were wiped out immediately -- irradiated ruins being all that was left behind.
Waves spread out fast, quickly irradiating the immediate area and irradiating those unfortunate souls that were caught up in all of it. That included me and my fiancé, Charles. The difference was that I lived and he didn’t. What a cruel joke.
My primary depression had stemmed from the fact that Charles died from radiation poisoning not even a day after the bombs dropped. What’s more is that in his possessions, I found that felt box in his coat pocket when I had sobered up from days of crying and depression. The felt box that contained the golden ring with a diamond with a circle of sapphires around it.
Charles was always perceptive in the things I took interest in.
I wear the ring on a chain around my neck, tucked under the shirts I choose to wear. I feel that wearing it on my fingers could lead to unwanted accidents since I took to scavenging a lot.
I digress...
After I had given Charles a proper burial and said my goodbyes, I had isolated myself in the broken down living room of mine and Charles’ apartment. The only thing on my mind had been how I wished the nuclear explosions had killed me right away. So when I wandered into the kitchen, I had eyed the cutlery, and I had considered the old Abraxo cleaning products for consumption.
In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I never could.
About three months of my attempting to fix up mine and Charles’ old apartment in Baltimore, I was about to throw out our Mister Handy that we named ‘Curtis’. I thought he had broken -- his flame emission had been dented inward, and one of his arms had been severed off by the collapsed ceiling.
When I picked Curtis up, he had weakly come back to life. His vision receptors had adjusted several times over before one of them looked to me. He spoke with faded words, and I had set to work on getting him repaired to the best of my ability -- I had never been great at the whole ‘handyman’ stuff, but in this time, there was no time to deliberate on options.
Curtis was the one thing good that happened to me in the beginning. The fact that I was no longer alone had been a relief, to say the least of the situation. We had discussions, and I took him with me as I started to scavenge around for anything that might have been okay to eat. When it came to drinking, I remembered some things my camping nut of a father suggested when looking for water and took to the bay beyond Boston Street when I could no longer find packaged water, and when I could no longer rely on the tap.
I had set up some water collection things -- placing what plastic I could salvage over containers that I managed to fill with water. With them placed in the sun to condensate, I had been drinking what I could from what was collected.
It was likely still a bad idea, but... I was -- no, I am still afraid of death. I wanted to live as long as I could.
Curtis had suggested looking for others after several months of us being alone. He presented the possibility of that if I survived, it was likely others out there had as well. I took this under advisement, gathered what I could of my old home, and walked out with my old college backpack filled with food, a journal, and several pens and pencils, and Curtis had affixed himself to my backpack when I was ready to travel.
I stopped at a shop that sold area maps and had gone off of what I could find. I wanted to head west toward Washington. Maybe, just maybe, there was some sliver of hope in that direction. Maybe there were people that helped each other and were attempting to rebuild.
Alas... I became rife with anxiety yet again. This time, it was because I noticed that my eyes were changing. I was able to see more clearly in the dark, which was a nice perk, but it brought about confusion. When I looked in a mirror, I nearly screamed.
My skin had started to wrinkle and have a particular shine to it, and my eyes had become bloodshot. It was like I had been burned. I didn’t know what was becoming, but the Vivian I saw in the mirror had started to deform... she looked like she was starting to melt away.
Why hadn’t I seen it before? I’m not sure. I never noticed it on my arms or hands. But now I had.
Outside of Baltimore, and after a couple days of travelling by foot, I found others like me. Their skin had started to wrinkle and take on a burned appearance. Of course, some of them approached me with caution, and were even a little hostile in some cases. However, I managed to clear things up and was allowed to stay with them for some time.
These people called themselves ‘ghouls’. I guess it was better than saying ‘zombie’, or ‘wrinkly folk’. Still, though... the term never really made me feel good about myself.
I spent a good several years with these guys, learning how to fend for ourselves, and soon learning that the world we lived in was rapidly evolving into something far more dangerous than what the world before the war was like. Roaches were growing fifty times their original size, and the crabs were getting bigger and bigger -- like monsters from the old Saturday cartoons that aired or could be bought on holotapes for the kids.
After some time, I decided that I had no more reason to be with these other ghouls. Their efforts were recognised by me, and I thanked them for teaching me to fend for myself. Robert, the elected leader of this ragtag group of ghouls had left me with a parting gift -- a 10mm pistol with a couple boxes of ammo in case I was to run into anything like giant roaches, or the bay crawlers (as we called them at the time).
It has not been long after in my travels that I met with a group of people that had been attempting to survive out in the wastes. By ‘not long’, I do mean that a couple months had passed in my travels to Washington.
Anyways, this group of people were being harassed by people that called themselves the Iron Thorns -- after a guy that had apparently been named Grant Thorne.
I managed to shoot some of them, scaring them off from these people attempting to make a life for themselves. In that moment, I forgot that I was a ghoul. When the blond man started to approach me, that’s when it kicked back in that I was a ghoul.
I was about to walk away before the man had asked me to stop. That he wanted to thank me for my help. I kept my back to him as long as I could and conversed with him the best I could until I eventually turned at his request. The look on his face hadn’t been that of fear or disgust, surprisingly. Instead, he simply chuckled it off and said, “well, I never thought an irradiated folk would save us, but here you are. Thanks for the help.”
Understandably, I was taken aback, It had easily been about fifteen to twenty years after the bombs fell at this point. I wasn’t sure how ghouls and humans were to exist peacefully, but I suppose that a lot of people didn’t have a lot of choice in who they got to interact with. If someone was friendly, then having that ally was better than having no ally.
Drew was the blond man’s name. He invited me to stay with him and this group of survivors that were carving a life for themselves in the wastes. They told me that they had been raised in a bunker that had been build for up to ten families. I was surprised that they didn’t mention Vault-Tec other than their disdain for it.
I left them after three months. I didn’t want to wear out my welcome with them, and I still wanted to get to Washington. Drew and the others in the small group had come together and left me with a gift to protect my identity when dealing with others I might come across.
Unbeknownst to me, however, I would come across Vault 16 and then continue my life as a Vault-Tec Vault Hunter. After some information I found, I became obsessed. Maybe for the better of anyone that would be willing to read these personal terminal entries.
In my time, I became known to many as simply the Wandering Vault Hunter. However, there were those that called me Truth Seeker.
Fair enough... I wanted the truth about Vault-Tec. I wanted the truth about why exactly these vaults... these so-called ‘safe havens’ existed. Because with the information I’ve found, ‘safe haven’ was far from the truth for many of them.