GameWorld

Some call me an urban legend, the last damn hope for humanity, that kid from Vault 101. Others call me a fuckin' commie. And I'm fine with that, as long as I don't hear them say it with their jaw attached.But it doesn't matter how lucky you are, does it? You've seen the Wasteland, this man-made Apocalypse, this sorry-ass excuse of a history lesson we all have to live with. The landscape is dead, vacant, and rusted - a painting of paradise whose colors have faded into the murk of browns, greys, and dusty hues. The wind blows through the windows of the abandoned car, creeps around the corners of the broken street, and spreads the odor of anarchy through the ruins of the Lincoln Memorial.
But you? You're just lucky. Lucky you're still alive. Lucky you can read. Lucky this book hasn't been turned into a carcass of mold like all the other books in this godforsaken hellhole. Lucky I have spare time. Lucky Moira made it worth my while to write this damn introduction for a survival guide. And especially lucky you haven't stepped into Megaton long enough to become Moira's little guinea pig. (And she’s lucky for not editing this out.)

Absolute freedom has bred absolute chaos. Raiders, slavers, mutants, mercs – they all want to rip your head off, and if they’re savvy enough, sell it to the highest bidder. Men are expendable. Women and children conceal weapons underneath their filthy garments. Soldiers weighed down by their metal power suits patrol the wastes like sulking, marauding ghosts. Human “ghouls” who have had their skin ripped off by the radiation live in fear of the smoothskin bigots. Civilization exists in tattered pockets in a world worn with war and natural, mindless cruelty.