10-06-2025, 10:10 PM
From: Sebastian Locke [Brotherhood of Steel]
To: Anyone Listening [Brotherhood of Steel]
Message:
You insert the dusty holotape into a player, the sound of its magnetic strips whirling to life fill your ears; the crackle of its pre-recorded message soon drowning out the whirling.
" —this thing on? Ah, there we go...
Personal Log #1 - Date: 10/06/2376
First day donnin' the helmet, the garb... The dog-tags. If you had met me four years ago, you'd balk at my decision to enlist. 'Sebastian, you must be insane—The Brotherhood? Of all the armies you could pick, you pick the tin-cans?!', you'd say, and hell I would have agreed with you. Even now, staring into the mirror, I question the decision myself. Then you'd ask me why, and I'd tell you to look around, 'You've seen the picture, Mary-Anne, you've seen just how beautiful Washington state was before the bombs; the autumn leaves, the holiday lights, the smiling faces and happy families'. People want more of this, more ruin. If I've the body and the mind for it, I might as well fight to protect what we have."
There's a moment's pause accompanied by the sound of shuffling.
"I don't know what caused such hell to break loose, but I do know what we've lost. I've read the magazines, I've seen the pictures, we had it good... Dammit, we had it great, then some hot-shot dead men blew it to high hell and sentenced humanity to fire and brimstone.
Caught word in Port Townsend of a new initiative down in Nevada. The Brotherhood of Steel setting foot on sand, intending to keep the means of destruction away from those who wish to use them for their own benefit. Thought I might make a difference down there even if the Washington Brotherhood scoffed at the efforts. Took a week to say my goodbyes... Promised to write, of course. I'll make my way back one day, see Mary-Anne's smile brighten my day once more, and I'll serve her a peaceful Wasteland on a silver platter when I do."
Another pause in the holotape's recording, the sound of dog-tags jingling faintly rung through the player's speakers.
"Yeah... A better tomorrow, one worth fighting for. I'll make sure of it."
The holotape's whirl came to a halt, the datadisk self-ejecting from its compartment.
To: Anyone Listening [Brotherhood of Steel]
Message:
You insert the dusty holotape into a player, the sound of its magnetic strips whirling to life fill your ears; the crackle of its pre-recorded message soon drowning out the whirling.
" —this thing on? Ah, there we go...
Personal Log #1 - Date: 10/06/2376
First day donnin' the helmet, the garb... The dog-tags. If you had met me four years ago, you'd balk at my decision to enlist. 'Sebastian, you must be insane—The Brotherhood? Of all the armies you could pick, you pick the tin-cans?!', you'd say, and hell I would have agreed with you. Even now, staring into the mirror, I question the decision myself. Then you'd ask me why, and I'd tell you to look around, 'You've seen the picture, Mary-Anne, you've seen just how beautiful Washington state was before the bombs; the autumn leaves, the holiday lights, the smiling faces and happy families'. People want more of this, more ruin. If I've the body and the mind for it, I might as well fight to protect what we have."
There's a moment's pause accompanied by the sound of shuffling.
"I don't know what caused such hell to break loose, but I do know what we've lost. I've read the magazines, I've seen the pictures, we had it good... Dammit, we had it great, then some hot-shot dead men blew it to high hell and sentenced humanity to fire and brimstone.
Caught word in Port Townsend of a new initiative down in Nevada. The Brotherhood of Steel setting foot on sand, intending to keep the means of destruction away from those who wish to use them for their own benefit. Thought I might make a difference down there even if the Washington Brotherhood scoffed at the efforts. Took a week to say my goodbyes... Promised to write, of course. I'll make my way back one day, see Mary-Anne's smile brighten my day once more, and I'll serve her a peaceful Wasteland on a silver platter when I do."
Another pause in the holotape's recording, the sound of dog-tags jingling faintly rung through the player's speakers.
"Yeah... A better tomorrow, one worth fighting for. I'll make sure of it."
The holotape's whirl came to a halt, the datadisk self-ejecting from its compartment.