The Raiders charge in with combat shotguns.
Those Talon Mercenaries Tenpenny hired to kill me have heavy armour and assault rifles.
Last night I encountered a pack of six dogs.
The Super Mutants have miniguns, flamethrowers, and one even fired a missile at me once.

But as long as I have my trusty hunting rifle those fuckers never have a chance.

I have taken the precaution of roving DC with a veritable arsenal including:

• A meticulously maintained 10mm pistol in case I need to tap a bad guy’s shoulder from a few metres away.
• A scoped .44 magnum I have never had the heart to fire.
• A combat shotgun that, no matter how much I repair it, tears itself apart after six shots.
• Something I built myself called a Rock-It Launcher that I have since dumped in my locker as it weighs half a ton with no pay-off. Firing tin cans at a mutated black bear is funny but ultimately painful. And not for the bear.
• A minigun. Also waiting in the locker.
• A missile launcher and 18 missiles. Only this one super mutant behemoth ever warranted receiving one of these.
• A Fatman and 8 mini-nukes. I missed my chance to fire it when a Brotherhood flunky dropped it after getting totally fucking killed by a super mutant behemoth.
• A Chinese assault rifle and more than 1100 rounds for it. I think I can finally afford to fire this thing.
• My trusty hunting rifle that I always go back to. I am an adept sneak, and this little puppy packs a hefty enough kick that nothing keeps its skull if they do not see me coming. Be it man, beast, super mutant or one of those fucked-up looking Mirelurk things.

As you can see Fallout 3 has wrapped me up in its little world more than any game I have played in recent memory. I have been so thorough after three days I still do not think I am very far into it. Although I have not had the usual altoholism these games usually instill in me. Taking Sneak, Repair and Lockpicking as well as the Daddy’s Boy, Gun Nut and Thief perks have paid off well for me.

Erik, Piet, what did you do?

This guys uses some of the smartest webcomic humour I have ever seen, and I lose it on the Jackass joke.

YES!!!!!!!!!

The sun is blinding.
I never have enough ammunition.
The water is poison.
All my food features a light radiation glazing.
The people are ugly, stupid and crazy.
If a mole rat is not trying to eat me, a raider is trying to kill me or a super mutant is trying to drag me away.
Fallout is back and refused to let me go to bed until way too late. Going on the suggestion of the Gamespot review I am just playing through straight the first first time, not aiming to get as much good or bad Karma as I can. It is such an incredibly immersive game when you regret none of your decisions, although I look forward to the second playthrough where I take Mr. Burke up on his offer.

I can not think of a word to describe the simultaneous dread, excitement and fear of having the doctor look into my mouth and exclaim, “Wow!”

Then pausing just long for me to wonder if he has seen something bad or good.

As it turns out I have already healed up faster than he has ever seen and can get the other teeth punched out late November if I am up to it. Which I certainly am if it means Endgame for this mess. He also explained the whole ordeal to me while I was sober: When he removed ly lower left third molar (wisdom tooth) it bled excessively and the root had a nasty hook that may have snagged the nerve that runs along the bottom of the jaw. He did not want to risk a similar situation on the right side and leave my whole lower jaw numb for three months or even longer, so he opted to stop and make sure everything is okay.

He missed the nerve so I am actually not numb at all, and obviously taking great care of the surgery site (which I am actually not). So, I guess I am not going to die after all.

Last Thursday at 10:30 am I was sitting in the Oral Surgeon’s waiting room telling myself over and over again that once it was over I was done with major dental work. He was a busy man that morning; I ended up repeating that little mantra for an extra hour before feeling the little pinch on my hand of the needle that would knock me out.

I woke up to a world that seemed immersed in water, the doctor nearby telling me, “We only removed two…nerve damage…bleeding…” I swear the nurse asked if I wanted to keep the tooth, and Mom said she’d put it in my scrap book. The next coherent memory is my mother next to me in the post-op room talking to the nurse, who was giving her my treatment kit with gauze and a syringe. Without warning the nurse had the gall to turn in to the doctor, sitting next to me explaining to mom why I lost only two teeth and not all four. “…two teeth… nerve damage… blood loss…”

It could not have been too bad as mom just nodded and took it all in stride. By 2:30 pm I was awake in my parents’ house, who being the wonderful, loving parents they are picked up all my prescriptions, paid for the surgery and let me recover quietly in their living room. I got antibiotics, an anti-inflammatory, Tylenol-3, and Demorol. Apparently the doc thought I was going to be in pain. The truth is I took maybe 5 anti-inflammatories (the anti-biotics are not optional) and was eating Pizza Pops by Friday at lunch time.

It all does not seem so bad except I was supposed to go in to get all 4 removed. The two lefties that he took out were the optional benign teeth to boot. The troublesome side that actually aches is still full of messed-up, crooked extra teeth. I will know tomorrow when I can get those yanked, and frankly the sooner the better.