After ninety-five hours, I finally finished Fallout: New Vegas. I played it the way I play every role playing game: carefully allying with as many neutral and goody-goody factions as I can. Don’t make waves; only kill the bad people. By the time I was done with this hero business, flowers would sprout up all over the wasteland.
No such luck.
The conclusion of my actions
It turns out that you can ride the line pretty easily through the bulk of the game. In the end, though, supporting one faction means doing very bad things to one or two of the others. This illustrated – perfectly to my mind – one principle of politics: our choices mostly range from bad to worse. I’m sure that there’s some way to finesse the game’s system to cue the sunshine and roses, but I didn’t find it. Frankly, it’s more realistic this way.
"Yes Man" the robot. He should know I'd be a lousy administrator.
Mr. House at least seemed to care about the locals. The NCR only cared about securing Hoover Dam, and extending their reach further east. The legion, of course, was noxious. You don’t get too many points for banning drugs and alcohol if you’re also keeping child slaves. The Great Khans seem to be the whipping boy of the Fallout universe. They’re unlucky, constantly savaged by enemies, and always moving away from more dominant powers.
Considering the state of the world, Mr. House seemed to be doing pretty well. Maybe the optimal outcome would have unfolded if I took control of New Vegas. House was self interested, to be sure, but I’m a courier-cum-bloodthirsty-sharpshooter who’s spilled more blood than the legion. I’ve disconnected more heads from bodies than a French guillotine. I’m not fit to manage the affairs of a state. I really appreciate Yes Man‘s helpful demeanor toward that end, but heroic or not: I’m a monster. Don’t give me power.
At least, that’s how I see my character: The courier is tough as nails, yes, and surely possessed of a moral center. But no matter how well-intentioned a body may be, the courier is broken. Too many hours were spent in the wasteland. So many caps were spent on weapons and a metric ton of shell casings were expended killing the vicious and desperate. Does that really constitute a happy ending?
I’ll take my bittersweet conclusion. It fits. The courier made the best of a bad lot, was thrown into an impossible situation, and had to choose from the available options. Such is life in the Mojave wasteland. You never know what’s going to happen next.
This is the right time to read this. I’m in the middle of Bethesda’s Skyrim and really, my character is tired of war and uninterested in the factions. What I want to do most is to settle down in a moderately sized town and crank out artisianally crafted armor. Leaving town only when supplies of rare crafting materials runs low.
However, that just doesn’t seem to be in the cards for the Dragonbourne.
I completely get this, Nicholas. It’s funny, but on further reflection, I’m not terribly thrilled with the conclusion of my game, and it’s not because the characters sucked or anything. It’s because I keep inventing the story inside my head. The whole time I watched that final conclusion video, I was thinking, “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant to happen.” Which only shows how vested I’d become and also the limitations of the game’s final narrative outcome.
I don’t remember how my game ended up anymore, but generally I stick with the goody-goody alignment as much as I can. I may steal some materials (mostly ammo) here or there, but I like to be a force of gory good in the Wasteland. For this reason I’m fairly certain I backed the NCR in the end, because they sought to spread water access, even if they were primarily concerned with maintaining power. Putting House in dictatorial control didn’t sit well with me simply because I wouldn’t trust him to maintain his “benevolent” vision once in power. And, as you said, the Legion were the obvious heels.
But I also remember watching the epilogue and thinking that much hadn’t worked out the way I’d intended it to.