ContentsA Brief History of the Watts TowersAnger Management for Angry ManagersBeekers Diary (test)Blood-stained journalBlood-stained journal (Donald)Farmer's diaryGarden journal (Rose's real journal)History of the Ag CenterIntelligence reportKathy's JournalKPOW playlist for Monday July 21stLab journal (Rose's fake journal)Log Book Pages

Log Book Page (1)Log Book Page (2)Log Book Page (3)

Memories of My Time in the RangersMr. Manners' Guide to Post-Apocalyptic EtiquetteNotes

A note to Jess-BelleA small note to Jess-BelleEngineer's NoteNote from AlexeyNote from MalachiRick's NoteRose's NotebookWanted Poster

Shack LetterStolls' JournalSwifty's Orderbook

The Ballad of Bobby & RexThe Flame Deluge CanticleThe Gospel According to MatthiasThe Griffith Observatory: A HistoryThe History of the Davis-Monthan Air Force BaseThe History of the Desert RangersThe Legend of the Red RyderThe Servants of TitanThe Story of John HenryThe Story of SamsonThe Ten Commandments of James KingWelcome to Hollywood!Welcome to the Los Angeles Memorial ColiseumYour Friend The Great GlowYour Golden Future

A Brief History of the Watts Towers

BackgroundA handwritten collection of notes that tell the story of Rodia.

Transcript

Part 1I wanted to do something big and I did it. Simon RodiaSabato Simon Rodia was born February 12, 1879 in Serino, Italy. He and his brother emigrated tothe United States in 1895, both settling in Pennsylvania and working in the coal mines until his brotherdied.Little is known about Simon's life during this period except that he moved to the West Coast, spendingtime in Seattle, Oakland, San Francisco, Martinez, El Paso and finally Long Beach, California. Heworked at construction sites and doing odd jobs for logging and railroad camps to make ends meet.Rodia is remembered for the most famous piece of folk art in the United States: the Watts Towers orTowers of Rodia or as he called them Nuestro Pueblo, Our Town.Simon Rodia purchased a triangular-shaped lot at 1761-1765 107th Street in Los Angeles in 1921 andslowly started to construct his masterpiece. It would not reach completion until 33 years later in1954. In this time Rodia worked alone with simple tools, with no special equipment or predetermineddesign. When he was done there stood a collection of 17 interconnected steel sculptures, the tallestreaching a height of almost 100 feet.The sculptures were constructed from steel rebar and concrete, wrapped with wire mesh, the supportsembedded with pieces of porcelain, tile and glass. Rodia decorated the towers with found objects,including bottles, figurines, mirrors and more. He would use broken pottery brought by local children,or green glass from soft drink bottles he collected. Rodia collected most materials himself, walking awide radius to pick up scrap rebar and other raw materials.When the work was done Simon Rodia moved to Martinez, California, where he died on July 17,1965.Soon after, the City of Los Angeles condemned his old bungalow and lot and was looking to demolishit, but Actor Nicholas King and film editor William Cartwright visited the site in 1959 and decided tosave them. To challenge the City's assertion that the structures were unsafe, they were stress-tested onOctober 10, 1959. Steel cables were attached to each tower with a crane exerting lateral force to tryand topple it. But the cranes were unable to topple or even move the tower.By the 1970s the City had started working with a local committee to preserve and make public thisunique piece of folk art. It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1977.Since then, the Watts Towers have been in need of care and conservation to maintain the moresensitive parts of the edifice, but the main steel structures have withstood many quakes better than thebuildings around them, and will stand for many years more - a monument to what a single man can do

with nothing but willpower.--Johannes van Graas, May 18, 2096

Anger Management for Angry Managers

BackgroundA broad, well-bound book illuminated throughout with fantastical images. The leather has a strange,warped rubbery texture and a faint green glow.

TranscriptCongratulations, reader! What you hold in your hands will not just solve your problems, but theproblems of all people around you!THAT'S RIGHT. Stop and think about it. Look to your left. Now look to your right. Who close to youhave you not hurt with your anger? Now go to a mirror and look into it. Really look. Because nomatter what, no one's been hurt by you more than YOU.But this book has your answers.DO TRY THIS AT HOME!!!How do I know I am an Angry Manager?- Shout at an employee at least once a day?- Never allow anyone an extra second in their lunch break?- Fire more people than you hire?- Have a hard time compromising?- Notice people go real quiet when you walk into the room? ***scrawled in the margin: Sick your dogs on your men???You may very well be an Angry Manager!!So what should I do?First and foremost: Pay attention to the signs of anger as they appear. Knots in stomach. Clenchinghands. Seeing red. Tensing up of the body. These are all warning signs that may come well beforeyour anger actually expresses itself. This is the time to stop yourself before your anger affects othersand yourself.So how to help yourself help others? Here are our Top Ten Tips for Anger Management:1. Think before you speak. What are you about to say? And how will it affect people around you?Give yourself a few seconds to figure this out.2. Get some exercise. A brisk walk around the block or a quick run will do wonders for yourequanimity.3. Take a timeout. It's not just for kids! Put yourself in the corner for a while.4. Focus on the physical sensations of anger. Focus on the way it's making you feel, and this willactually put your mind at east.

5. Stretch, roll or massage physical points of tension, especially after doing #4.6. Dance to the music! Put on your favorite jams and just move the anger away!7. Use humor to release tension. The right joke at the right time helps cool everybody down. ***scrawled in the margin: Avoid your momma jokes from now on.8. Punch a pillow, relieve your anger on an inanimate object in private. ***scrawled in the margin: Shooting it also works.9. Stick with I statements. Beginning with yourself before talking about others will help stop youfrom purely blaming others for problems that may well be yours.10. Count to 10.And there you go! It's really that simple! With these ten easy tips you are GUARANTEED* to neverhave issues with anger again. You will find yourself happier and more relaxed boss, and youremployees happier and more productive!Other books in this series:- How to Lead a Seminar without a Stutter- Grow a Spine: A Guide for Weak Managers- Office Romance: When Is It OK?

Note: results not actually guaranteed.

Beekers Diary (test)

This diary entry item from Wasteland 2 designer Thomas Beekers is found in the game files butdoes not appear in-game. It can be added to a characters inventory using a save-game editor.

April 28, 2014

Another beautiful day in post-apocalyptic game programming.

The first task of the day is to create these so-called "Beekers Diaries." Too bad I don't really knowwhat they're supposed to do aside from have text. Hopefully the title and text will be enough. Whenthey inevitably aren't enough, I'll just tack on more functionality. As usual. Ah, well. Them's thebreaks.

The real trick will be to figure out how to automatically paginate these entries. Apparently, thedesired functionality is discrete pages instead of the scrolling used elsewhere. That's unfortunate,

since scrolling is easy. Paging, not so easy.

On the plus side, NGUI's text system has to be figuring out most of this stuff internally anyway.Clamped labels need to know when to clamp, after all. It should be possible to use similarfunctionality to figure out where the text gets cut off, then repeat with a substring that starts at that cut-off point. Rinse, repeat until out of text.

It all sounds so simple in concept...

Blood-stained journal

BackgroundA rough-paper, leather wrapped journal, soaked in the blood of the body you picked it off of.

TranscriptMost of the writing in this journal is illegible, the pages stuck together and the words obscured bydried blood....ade it to Damonta. Always lifts my spirits to find I'm not chasing something that isn't really there.Hopefully, I'll be able get a good night's rest...restock before heading further east. If al...to my theo...[this passage is accompanied by a map of the area, charting a path from the Canyon of Titan toDamonta. It seems mostly accurate, but bloodstains obscure large portions of it]I have res...urn to Da...a. In the two weeks I've been out here, I've only found only impassablemountain terrain or ra...uds too hot for my suit. I am hopefuly that with all that pre-war tech, I'll beable to improve the suit's filter, or at least foritfy it so I can travel through the mounta...t tearing.I wish I'd taken the stronger suit, instead of letting Donald have it. No, no. He...ater need for it.This really is a spectacular little community. The whole place is powered, and even tthe smallershacks have climate control. The sheer amount of resources present in this place cou...ed to...erhap...yresear...ing again.No, no. I, I should really keep trying t...a way eas......t clicked on, and I clapped my hands, turned around, and said, There you go, Holly! If I got thatright, you should be able to pop that tape into this box here and that's when she kissed me. Iwa...ised, and told her it wasn't a big deal, getting the tape deck to work for her, that she didn't oweme anything, and then she did it again! She called me stupid, then she called me smart, then she calledme handso......een here for three years now. During the winter, the radiation is light enough that traders come fromthe east. I don't thi...ind a place that'll make me happier than this amazing little town. Holly'sbeautiful, and charming, and funny, but I still wake up at night thinking about her.Her laugh, and her mind, and h...er mouth, and maybe now, maybe.No, no...

Blood-stained journal (Donald)

BackgroundA rough-paper, leather wrapped journal, soaked in the blood of the body you picked it off of.

TranscriptMost of the writing in this journal is illegible, the pages stuck together and the words obscured bydried blood.I should take solace in the fact that my research paid off, and my supplies haven't been spoiled by theradiation, yet. Been moving from cave to cave trying to find a place to sleep and eat where the radswon't kill me as soon as I take off the hood.At least the radiation out here is strong enough to kill pretty much anything that would want to hurt me.Glad I got the good suit, otherwise I'd have to go to the fucking Rangers to come up with a better plan.Wish I'd never left in the first place. Fuck you, Juan. Fuck you.Took me over a year of walking through the wilderness, but the Southwest Corridor is real, it is just afucking inhospitable nightmare. Haven't seen any water yet. Just means I got more west to walktowards.What the fuck is this place? I walked into it two days ago, and it just keeps going, no end in fuckingsight. How many people lived here before the bombs? Fuck, how many people live here now? Allthis plant life must be able to support...Kathy, you'd love this place.Fuck you, Juan.I could see mountains over the buildings, so I went for them. Climbed as much as I could. LosAngeles sprawled out as far as I could see in every direction, except one; finally, the ocean. I saw theocean, Kathy. Water, so much water, even the behemoth that is Los Angeles shrunk in comparison.I kept going, cursing the advice from that shit Juan (as far west as you can go, it'll help), and when Iget to the shore, I find a fucking submarine.I'll open it up tomorrow. Maybe I can still keep going. Put some distance between me and the lunaticswho live in these ruins.

Farmer's diary

BackgroundA simple notebook fashioned out of reams of blank Xerox paper lashed with twine.

Transcript

Part 1This appears to be the diary of a local farmer. It spans many years. Some of it is written inillegible scrawls, and some pages are missing or so smudged as to be unreadable, but flippingthrough it you find good readable chunks.Fetched a great price for our corn today. The Rangers have been recruiting heavily, so no wonderthey needed more food supplies than usual. It took a bit of haggling with that old stickler of aquartermaster but I got a good load of scrap and even some new tools.Took a look at the new recruits. Not much to look at. Hope they can whip them into shape. I knowsome of their boring duties will include guarding our farms. Better do a good job....Tabby and I celebrated five years in our new home. Still best decision I ever made. Ground here istougher, and the beasties more dangerous, but I don't rightly think I ever appreciated what a differencepeace makes. I can wake up with no worries of raiders appearing on our doorstep. Even five years in,that's an odd feeling.This young gun assigned to us keeps insisting we refer to him by some silly-ass nickname. Wears methin, but the wife's taken a shine to him. Treats him like just another one of the boys. And fair's fair.He even gives a hand around the farm when he has time....

Part 2This appears to be the diary of a local farmer. It spans many years. Some of it is written inillegible scrawls, and some pages are missing or so smudged as to be unreadable, but flippingthrough it you find good readable chunks.Silly nickname aside, the boy's a crack shot. Some weird kinda coyote nearly took Bill's leg off withone bite, but the kid shot him right in the eyes from straight across the field.Never seen nothing quite like this coyote. It was bigger than any I've ever seen, but more than that thefur was hard to touch, almost like steel.Ranger Center sent a doc out to take care of Bill's leg. Odds are good he'll keep it, thank God....The kid was called back to the Center. Something about sweeping patrols, clearing up the wastes.

Word's trickling in things are getting pretty bad out west and north. Me and the missus pray daily thatthis war or whatever this is ends soon....Things have been quiet for a few months now. A blessing, I suppose, though it doesn't feel like one. Iwas standing at the graves of the boys today. A year since I buried the last one, next to the twoRangers that fought for us. Not a day goes by still I don't visit them, or miss them.Weird thing is, the damage those scorching machines did last year is actually helping us now. Theyburned our crops and nearly killed us all, but this year the ground seems refreshed. It's not much, butthe missus says we should count every blessing, so I guess that'll have to do....

Part 3This appears to be the diary of a local farmer. It spans many years. Some of it is written inillegible scrawls, and some pages are missing or so smudged as to be unreadable, but flippingthrough it you find good readable chunks.Sint came home with more rumors that the Rangers are leaving. Spent the evening talking it over withthe entire household but despite it all, we know we can't leave even if worse comes to worst. Hopeit's all just rumors....Travelled down to the Center today to watch the Rangers' final supply carts leave. Heard some boosfrom unhappy farmers. Felt like joining them but I don't know. What do they owe us, really? Andbesides, how bad can things get now? Sure, the Rangers are gone, but so are most threats. The farmsare unified under common goals. We'll keep an eye on the old Prison, band together against anyraiders. There's too many of us for them to kick up any real trouble. I'm feeling good about the future....The Prison still stands abandoned but for a few junkie squatters. I was talking to Farmer John'sdaughter just the other day. Fool girl didn't take kindly to me calling her dad a fool but she knows I'mright. He and all his doomsayings about the Prison being our doom, even talking about demolishing it.Demolish it?! With what?!A few raiders been harassing Hamilton's farm out east. But the young folk got a posse together andcaught every single last one of them and strung them up along the highway. That'll keep the bad newsaway for longer.a significant part of the journal is missing after this entry, torn out roughly...

Part 4This appears to be the diary of a local farmer. It spans many years. Some of it is written inillegible scrawls, and some pages are missing or so smudged as to be unreadable, but flipping

through it you find good readable chunks.Not many of us left now. Sint started keeping score as he calls it, a while ago. Makes me want tohurl looking at his map. Red markings on every farm lost to raiding parties. John's farm was burneddown just last night, though I hear he and his daughter got out. I dearly hope so. I look at my own girlsand I don't even know what to do. Would they be safer if I sent them away?...Raiders hit our farm again. We put up our guns after seeing their numbers, hid the girls, and thanks tothat they let us live, but it was a close call. Don't know what I'd do if they'd found them.They left with about half our harvest and almost all our tools. Going to melt them down for weaponsI'd guess. Ploughshares to swords or whatever. I'm just glad we're alive. Don't know how we'llsurvive the winter, though, let alone next summer....A miracle. That's what it is, a miracle. Some men showed up on our doorstep with our tools. Our owntools! The men looked like raiders to me, but they called themselves a militia. The Red Scorpions orsomething. I don't care if they call themselves the Upside-Down Frog Army, I couldn't stop thankingthem, or smiling at their abashed looks as my wife kept hugging 'em.They also gave us some foodstuffs to get over the winter, and let us know they'd kicked the old ChainGang out of the Prison. What a relief that is. They didn't like it when I called them the new Rangers,though I meant it as compliment....

Part 5This appears to be the diary of a local farmer. It spans many years. Some of it is written inillegible scrawls, and some pages are missing or so smudged as to be unreadable, but flippingthrough it you find good readable chunks.I've been here over a decade, but I finally had enough. This new world order from the Skorpions isthe biggest crock of shit I've ever had to eat. At least when raiders robbed you they'd just say yup,we're robbing you, now give us your stuff. The Scorpions make up fancy fucking excuses ofunproductive farm and reorganization for the greater good. Just an excuse to kick me off and takemy lands.Fuck this, I'm finally following the Rangers. Even if they're only half of what they used to be, as theSkorpions would have us believe, that's still a damn sight better than the bastards takin' over here.And I let this overseer character hear about it, believe me. Told him we'd be moving to theRangers' territory and he could kiss my ass. He wasn't happy about it, but what's he going to do, shootus?No more entries appear after this one.

Garden journal (Rose's real journal)

BackgroundA stained and grimy school notebook, worn and dog-eared. It looks like it belonged to a child,because the design on the front is a drawing of an old-fashioned sled and a snow-globe depicting awinter scene.

Transcript

Part 1Those fucking rangers. They actually did it! I came home from foraging, happy with the toadstools andherbs I found, only to stumble on the body of Brother Goliath in the grand hallway. I didn't thinkanyone could bring that giant down. He was never the smartest, but he wouldnt bother you if youdidnt bother him. Ill miss him.I went through into the sanctum but found nothing but the corpses of my dear Brothers and Sisters. Imashamed to say I couldnt stand it and had to run. Fuck. Those fucking Rangers. Ill get them someday.--Sister Rosebud...Well, Ive left the Citadel behind. My home for so many years, so many friends and memories there.I'm still not sure what to do. I want to go into the prison, guns blazing, and end every one of thoseRanger punks. But I think that may be aiming a little high for me. Turns out I might not be the hero ofthis story. Guess maybe I'll head to Highpool. Hear they need a teacher. Perhaps I can bring thelessons of the Guardians to a new generation. Ive heard good things....Wow. That's supposed to be one of the thriving communities of the Wasteland? You've got to bekidding me. Those Highpool kids couldn't find their ass with both hands. I can explain things to them,but I can't understand it for them.Might as well share my wisdom with a sty full of pigs for all the good it does. Those little punks payzero attention to anything I say, and when they do, it's just to make some smart-ass retort about howthey don't need to know that. Fine then, I'll just take myself elsewhere....This is much better. The Agricultural Center kind of reminds me of the Guardian Citadel with all theold technology lying around. They're not really using it, but just the fact that this place is far from theignorant youth of today is a blessing. I'm among thinking people again, and it's a breath of fresh air.Went back to where I buried it and, miracle upon miracles, managed to find my old gear again. I'vehidden it here, just in case, but I hope I won't need it....

Settling in well, but sometimes these people drive me crazy. It's not just that they ignore the valuabletechnology they have around them, but they seem not to care about anything that happened longer thana week ago.Ok fine, that's not quite true, but they know so very little of their own history, or the history ofhumanity - it's all so opposite of how the Guardians lived and thought. Though I'm beginning towonder if the Guardians had the right of it after all. Their goals were to collect and protect theknowledge of the past, but for what? I can't seem to remember if anybody ever said. All they seemedto want to do was keep it for themselves.The folks at Ag Center are the exact opposite, they are afraid of the past, and shun the advances thatcould help them do their jobs better, but at least they're looking forward and outward. They want toshare what little they know, and help feed the people of the wasteland with the food they grow here. Ifonly I could convince them to use all the tools at their disposal. I must see if I can find some oldbooks......I am honestly growing fond of these people. Kathy is like the opposite of those brats in Highpool, I'vebeen teaching her everything I can think of and she seems insatiable, always looking for more. Matt Ididn't initially take to, no way could a ranger be a good guy in my book, but he kept whittling away atthat conviction to the point where he's one of my closest friends now. I was so worried about theCenters future before he came along, but he took charge and improved, not just our defenses, but ourrepair efforts and our research methodology. Between him and that nice fellow Ace, I find myselfforgetting what the rangers did to me and mine.And Honeydew. Dear lord. I'm blushing as I write this, but I find myself getting up in the morningsearlier just so I can see his foolish smile. Him and his melons.It seems I'll be sticking around here for a long while yet.

History of the Ag Center

BackgroundA few type-written pages stuffed in a manila envelope labeled "Ag Center History." There are a lot ofXXXXs and penciled in corrections on the pages.

Transcript

Part 1I reckon now that we're getting settled in and the place is starting to run itself, this is as good a time asany to put down what I've learned about the Ag Center in my few years here. I can't say this is a fullhistory or anything, but if I don't write it down I don't know who will.The Agricultural Center didn't start as an Agricultural Center. Before the war, it was a satellite relayfacility used by the military, though heck if I know what exactly for. The place was secret enough notto be hit when the bombs fell, and the old satellite dish still stands intact.From records I found in old filing cabinets, it seems that after the end, the soldiers and researchersstationed here joined up with the nearby farmers at the agricultural station, who had also survived thewar relatively unscathed. The farmers' knowledge of planting and husbandry, combined with theresearchers organizational skills and the soldiers tactical training, soon made Ag Center one of themost thriving communities in the wastes.

Part 2But then things got a little weird. The fallout from the bombs was changing the Wasteland in manyways, and Ag Center was no exception. Kathy tells me that the early farmers could've tried counteringthe mutations that were affecting the plants with selective breeding, but instead they decided to ridethe wave of weirdness, selecting for bigger and hardier mutations to get better yields, which is howwe've come to have tomatoes the size of cantaloupes, and cantaloupes the size of beer barrels.For most of its existence, the Ag Center was led by an old farmer everybody called the Old Man,though his real name might have been Miguel. He must've been a hundred when Vargas, Thrasher,Angela and Hell Razor came a-calling, fresh-faced and eager to help.But why did the Ag Center need help? Well, mutations ain't just all roses and giant carrots. Aroundabout that time, the Center was invaded by hordes of giant rabbits who were just as happy eatingpeople as they were the crops. It was a serious problem, made worse by the attacks being seeminglycoordinated by some crazed old coot called Harry the Bunnymaster. Swear to God I'm not making thisup.

Part 3It wasn't pretty, but the Rangers took care of Harry, and drove off enough of the rabbits to allowMiguel and his men to take back control of the facility. It was the dawn of a bright now era for the AgCenter, but, sad to say, Miguel didn't get to see it. Not too long after Vargas and co. moved on, the

Old Man disappeared. Lots of wild theories out there about the how and why. Some say he was takenaway by the vegetable spirits. Others claim he was eaten by a carnivorous strawberry. I think he justwandered off with his goals accomplished. I would've liked to have met him though. Seems like hewas my kind of guy.Without him Ag Center was doing okay, but it was lacking the leadership to really put all noses in thesame direction. Brilliant though a lot of the scientists here are, they're not the most pragmatic sort. Soone day, a few years into my stint with the Desert Rangers, I found my thoughts turning to the AgCenter while recuperating from a bullet wound, and started thinking what a great blessing to thewastes the old place could be if it was run right.

Part 4I hauled myself here as soon as I recovered, and I've been here ever since. I hope I've done moregood than bad since. At least the place is more secure now than when I arrived, and we have tradingdeals in place with Highpool and the Rail Nomads, which puts us and many of the other communitiesaround us in a better position as far as food and water are concerned. Trade and communitiessupporting one another has been one of the hardest things to nail down since the war, and you can seehow much everyone benefits. We get water from Highpool, transportation from the Rail Nomads, andthey all get food from us, as do many others. Now if we can just keep it all stable, Arizona will reallystart going places.As for Ag Center, it's maybe still a bit more of a hodgepodge than I hoped. We're still more a groupof strangers working together than a true community, but with the oddball minds I have to work withhere (I swear, if Honeydew starts on me about his melons one more time...) I guess it's the best wecan do. And heck, it's pretty good!

Intelligence report

BackgroundA few paperclipped pages in an oaktag folder. The tab of the folder is labeled "Robot Report".

Transcript

Part 1Investigation into the Occurrence of Robots in the Las Vegas Sewers by Ranger Ann ElkBrief: this investigation was ordered by General Vargas on February 12th 2099, to determine thesource of the robots discovered in the sewers under Las Vegas and to calculate the likelihood of sucha threat rising there again.Background: In 2087, General Vargas (then Ranger Vargas) and his fellow rangers entered the sewersunder Las Vegas, gaining access by following Faran Brygo's instructions to go through the Temple ofthe Servants of the Mushroom Clouds, using a sonic key to open the door to the sewers.Considering how difficult it was to get into the Sewers, it was reasonable to expect to find the placeabandoned. Instead, the Rangers encountered heavy resistance from several forms of robots. Theplace was "crawling with them from wall to wall, as the General put it.But perhaps more striking than the sheer amount of synthetics was their unique, often puzzling nature.Semi-intelligent cyborgs wielding firearms were the most normal, but others were much stranger.From scouring the Sewers for remains, and interviewing the surviving rangers and eyewitnesses,we've discerned numerous distinct types (names generally as used by the Rangers themselves):- Clawman or Clawer: close combat cyborgs attacking with their bare "hands."- Centron: centaurs made of a meld of metal and flesh that were capable of galloping at high speeds.- Cyclon: cybernetic wolves, recognizable by their wolflike howls that when sustained decayed intostatic hissing.- Tronnosaurus: gigantic metallic reptile.- Boa Tronstrictor: a cybernetic giant snake. Note: as no remains of this creature could be found andthe Rangers only encountered them in the darkness, their exact nature could not be ascertained.- Tronodile: mechanical crocodiles. Query: what purpose could mechanical aquatic life forms havein the desert?- Tazel: "a nightmare of metal", vaguely scorpion-like but really not like any creature we know.Capable of shooting metal spines from its tail.- Cybertrike: cybernetic melds of manlike forms and motorcycles. Known for the "roar" of theirengine.- Hexborg: squat, six-armed cyborgs. Could use multiple weapons at the same time. Surprisinglyintelligent and adaptative. Query: if recovered and restored, could turn out to be quite... handy?

Part 2Investigation into the Occurrence of Robots in the Las Vegas Sewers by Ranger Ann Elk, cont.Another mystery of the Vegas Sewers why these cyborgs all seemed to be unique to that location.They clearly, unmistakably, originated in Base Cochise, but most differed from the more heavy-dutycyborgs that were found other places, such as the Slicerdicer, the Scorpitron, the Threshing Crawler,Steel Reaver or Silver Strangler. In general, the characteristics of the Sewer Cyborgs were thus:- They were less capable in combat and/or less functional overall.- They utilized organic materials in their construction.- They emulated extant lifeforms such as humans, crocodiles and boa constrictors, even though manyof those lifeforms are not native to the desert region and have not been seen since the War.For this investigation we interviewed numerous Vegas citizens, including some vagrants who hadmoved into the now-abandoned sewers which were more easily accessible than previouslyassumed. An open manhole cover in an abandoned part of Vegas led directly to the Sewers.General Vargas's instructions were to "include any theory, no matter how wild," so from combiningour personal findings and observations in the sewers and eye-witness reports from bystanders andrangers, we can offer the following possibilities.- Invasion Force: The most logical theory is that these robots were an invasion force prepping to takeover Vegas. But if so, the Sewers make an odd staging area, and they had taken no aggressive actionstowards Vegas before the Rangers' arrival - other than dismantling Max.- Martian Invasion Force: As told to our researchers by "Johnny Flatboots," one of the Sewer's morecolorful inhabitants, the cyborgs were a preliminary invasion force, and were not really cyborgs.Instead, they were actually Martian "serpioids" disguised as cyborgs. Researching the remains ofcyborgs casts doubts on this theory.- Dumping Grounds: The strange and largely inferior nature of the Sewers cyborgs could point tothem being early prototypes developed by the Base Cochise AI, with the Sewers being used as adumping ground for unsatisfactory experiments.- A Buffer Force: It is entirely feasible based on the robot force's location they were meant as anemergency buffer against threats from the East, such as the Desert Rangers or perhaps the mutantsbeing spawned by Irwin Finster.- Programming Error (I): A partial decryption of the robot's programming revealed a command to"Clean out all the shit in Vegas." The ambiguous wording of this command was possiblymisinterpreted.- Programming Error (II): All the robots entered through a single open manhole, but none exitedthrough it. It is therefore possible that all the robots in the Sewer can be traced back to faultypathfinding and one missing manhole cover.Because of the limited sources of information available to us we cannot discount any of these theoriesas a possibility (except perhaps the Martian Invasion one). Our conclusions therefore are that seesInvasion Force, Dumping Grounds and Buffer Force theories all have a roughly equal likelihood of

being accurate, but we cannot discount the possibility of programming errors in the relativelyprimitive cyborgs leading to theories five and six. This leaves the final conclusion of thisinvestigation regrettably inconclusive.

Kathy's Journal

A small notebook filled with equations and diagrams related to botany and biology. One notesticks out: "I think I'm close to a cure. I can feel it. The scary part is that I know I'm the only one whocan crack this. Rose is brilliant, but I have all the right specialties. If something happens to me,anyone who gets infected is royally fucked."

KPOW playlist for Monday July 21st

BackgroundAn old piece of dot-matrix printer paper with a list of song scrawled in erratic, heavy handwriting.

Transcript

Part 1Compiled by W.W.Styx Mr. RobotoBangles Mechanical MondayPrince and the Revolution Raspberry RobotKraftwerk The RobotsSimple Minds Don't You (Forget About Synths)Robin Gibb RobotXTC Meccanic DancingThomas Dolby She Blinded me with ScienceTina Turner We Don't Need Another Robot-And if we run out of these, just play Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music for a few hours...

Lab journal (Rose's fake journal)

BackgroundA square bound book, burnt and scarred around the edges by caustic chemicals, and much overlaidwith coffee cup circles. The word "Journal" is printed in big gold letters on the front cover.

TranscriptDear Not-Rose,Why are you poking around in an old woman's memories? I guess good manners were among themany things to die in the great war. Oh well, since you're here anyway, might as well sit down andread on.I was born in an odd time in the Wasteland. Nominally a time of peace, there were still few placesone could consider safe. My home was a small community, near enough to Quartz to benefit from itsprotection such as it was but far enough away to be left alone by its more... anarchic elements.Out there we couldn't rely on the Rangers or Needles or heck even the Guardians, when troublehit. We had to fend for ourselves. I can still remember looking out the window to see my father or mybrothers standing guard as the sun set. I think it says something that those are my fondest memories.Not that it was a hard life, relatively. But as a child I thought it was. And life only got harder as Igrew up. I suppose one of my main worries back then was being a burden on my family. I taughtmyself how to shoot a gun, but my brothers would never let me stand guard with them, so my fathertaught me what little he knew of working the earth. It wasn't enough. Turns out I loved farming, andwanted to learn more than the stubborn old men of my community could teach me. So I left my home insearch of knowledge.You learn hard lessons fast out on the road. I followed the river up to Needles, and thought I'd found abetter place to live until learning the town was completely populated by crazies. I hear little haschanged since. Vegas was no better, and if not for my trusty M1911 I dont know if I would've made itthrough.Next, in a blatant show of naivety, I headed north into the desert. There isnt much out there, but withthe kind of luck no one really deserves, I discovered an old abandoned Gizmonic Institute researchstation. I camped inside the security post, only to be awoken in the middle of the night in a brusquemanner. Turns out this research station wasn't as abandoned as it looked.They did not take to me much initially, but it was obvious I was not the spy for the Guardians theythought I was. Being discovered by the Guardians was a great fear for the research station, which wassitting on a wealth of prewar tech and knowhow. Once they grew to like me, they were quite willingto share some of it with me.I should write more about these kind people, considering I spent decades with them, but lets behonest here, Im writing this as much for it to be found after I die as I am for myself, and they valuetheir privacy too much for that. Even with the Guardians gone, and the fact that it is decades since Iwas there, better safe than sorry!

Years later, with a mind full of new knowledge and ideas, I finally felt ready to go back home, thewastes have no interest in closure or happy endings. Arriving at my old home, I found nothing butblack cinders and the bones of old memories. I left as soon as I could and have never been back.I headed east then, and found the kind of places I'd been looking for all along in the AgriculturalCenter and Highpool, thriving communities in need of my help. This was a time of change in theWasteland. I would never call the rangers bad guys, but their story is not the one of endless heroismthey often present. In my younger years they were mostly known as useless if well-meaning fuck-ups,with the occasional bad apple climbing too high up the ranks. But things changed when Vargas and histeam went on patrol, making things better pretty much everywhere they went, and ending so many ofthe Wastelands problems, including the Guardians, if only by the skin of their teeth. I still dont quiteknow how they did it, but they did.Sadly our paths never crossed, or I wouldve offered them my help and my gun.Despite the delightful young population of Highpool keeping me occupied for a while, I found my truehome at the Agricultural Center. It was a time of rebuilding for them after the Old Man passed on, himhaving lead the community for most of its existence. My farming experience and scientific knowhowwere welcomed with open arms, and we started many aggressive research programs to produce evenhigher yields than the giant plants the agricultural center were already producing.Since then, Highpool has thrived with us, and the Rangers seem to be doing better of late, so the futurelooks bright.

Log Book Pages

Log Book Page (1)

The page is smeared with oil and dirt, but some of it is still legible: "August 11th -- Getting thatfeeling of being followed again. Can't see [BLURRED], but the way my [SMUDGED] is tingling, Ican't [INDECIPHERABLE]. Gonna pop a few [BLURRED] and watch all night. See what comes outof the dark."

Log Book Page (2)

The page is smeared with oil and dirt, but some of it is still legible: "August 10th -- Fell in with asnake squeezins seller from Rail Nomad. Wanted ranger protection on his way to [BLURRED]. Niceof him to share his water, but I wish the boring son of a [INDECIPHERABLE] would shut up."

Log Book Page (3)

This page is almost entirely covered with dried blood, making even the date illegible, but one linecan still be made out: "Who is Matthias!?!"

Memories of My Time in the Rangers

BackgroundA ring binder containing a few sheets of three hole paper. It looks and smells like the text was printedusing a Ditto machine.

Transcript

Part 1By General S. VargasIntroductionRanger Simak has asked me to write down my memories of how I joined the rangers and what it waslike fighting our battle against the robots of Base Cochise. Can't say I see the point. He's already gotall the details written down in his official history. Why do I need to rehash a story I've already told ahundred times before?I have to admit, though, there are some things history books don't tell you. The little things in betweenthe big things. That's where real life happens. Not in a damn history book.All right, Simak. You talked me into it. Here goes.Chapter One - Home Town HeroThis may surprise some folks, I suppose, but not all us rangers are the descendants of the originalrangers. In fact, there's less and less hereditary rangers every year.For instance, I grew up in a little town not too far south of the old Ranger Center. It was a mostlyHispanic community, all farmers and sheep herders, and so isolated from the rest of the wastes that Ididn't hear English spoken until I was ten.I was a golden boy back home. Not for the gun-skills I've since grown famous for - I didn't have thoseyet - but for my talents as a medic, which I learned at my mother's knee, she being the only doctor intown. I learned a heck of a lot more about patching up bullet wounds once I joined the rangers, buteven back then I knew enough meatball surgery that I was always picked to come along on scavengingand hunting trips in case of accident or attack.For a long time, our little town was a pretty peaceful little place, but then one day, a band of raidersfound us and decided that what was ours should be theirs. They surrounded us and demanded we givethem every last bit of our salvage and our livestock - and our children. When we refused, they camein, guns blazing. Our people were cut down like tall grass, and I was planning to go die bravely withall the rest. My mother, however, had other plans, and chewed me out royally, saying that staying anddying was selfish heroism, when we could save lives by rescuing others and leaving.So we gathered as many kids as we could find and escaped with them and a few other adults. It feltstrange to be running, like cowardice, but if we'd stayed and fought, we would have died and thosekids would have become slaves, so I did my best not to feel guilty.

But the guilt hit hard once we got those kids to the next town and my mother died. Turned out she'dbeen hiding a gunshot wound the whole time. I think I must have gone crazy with rage after that. Theproblem was, I didn't know who I was mad at: my mother, for hiding the wound, myself, for notseeing that she was hurt, the kids we'd rescued, for slowing us down, or the raiders who'd shot us inthe first place. In the end I decided the raiders would be the easiest to take revenge on, so I set outwith some of the other survivors to hunt them down.It was while me and old Joe-Thomas, Pops, and Suzy were tracking those raiders that I acquired myold nickname, Snake. I could tell you how. But I won't. A man's gotta have some secrets, particularlywhen the story isn't as interesting as the name.Anyway, we didn't stay together very long after we'd found the raiders and blown them all to kingdomcome. There just hadn't been much of anything keeping us together except our fixation on revenge, andwhen that went away, we each went our separate ways. Me, I drifted for a while, thinking I'd do onething, then thinking I'd do another, but it gnawed at me that my revenge on those rangers hadn't givenme satisfaction. My town was still gone, my mother was still dead, and I was still lost, and I decided- in my youthful naivet - that maybe what I needed to do was kill more raiders. And the best way Iknew to do that was to become a Desert Ranger.

Part 2By General S. VargasChapter Two - From Stranger to RangerI walked up to Ranger Center not knowing what to expect. It wasn't exactly an inviting looking place,which figures, what with it being a prison and all. But the rangers were friendly enough and I soonlearned it wasn't too hard to become a Desert Ranger. If you could shoot, understand orders, andfollow them, that was good enough, and if you could patch up wounds or drive a jeep or work aradio, even better. You got your circle-star badge and your hat right there on the spot - no questionsasked. And if you later turned out to be an untrustworthy son-of-a-bitch who was using the star and theDesert Ranger name for his own personal gain, why they just shot you and that was that. Pretty muchthe same system we have today, now that I come to think of it.Anyway, like I said, they welcomed me with open arms, partly because I was a good medic and agood shot, and partly because they were pretty short-handed at the time. Ha. That hasn't changed mucheither, has it? I guess it never does. Since the end of the world, the bad guys have alwaysoutnumbered the good, and there's never a lack of wrongs for us to right.Training was mostly learning how to shoot people, rather than how to deal with conflicts in apeaceful manner. We didn't even learn a code of ethics to abide by. Hopefully that's changed now.Don't get me wrong, a bullet is often still the best answer to a problem, but it should always be thelast as well.I met my future squadmates pretty early in the training program, each with a sillier name than the last -Angela Deth, Hell Razor and Thrasher. Honestly, we didn't get along that well at first. I foundAngela's brash manner and constant joking grating; Thrasher just seemed like an angry, ornery bull;and Hell Razor didn't seem to have any self-control at all, in combat or out.I don't know if we would've stuck together at all if not for Sergeant Dalton, who recognized early on

how well our skills meshed together. My tactics and marksmanship combined with Thrasher'stoughness and brute strength, Angela's uncanny ability to smash past locks as well as hold her own inany fight, and Hell Razor's berserker combat style and desert survival skills made us into anunstoppable fighting unit - and it was that recognition that we fit together so well that I thinkeventually made us friends, as well as squadmates.I thank Dalton to this day for forcing us to stay together through the rough patches at the beginning. Iwish he'd lived long enough to see what we've made of ourselves now. Sadly, he died on patrol,leading another band of new recruits, just before I made captain. Damned shame.For a while, the four of us just lived the daily grind of the desert ranger - scouting and foragingmissions, patrolling our territory and checking in on the towns and farms under our protection, butthen, way before we were ready, something serious came along. It started as just another patrol,making the rounds to Highpool and Ag Center, but what followed was the making of us. Though therewere several times along the way that it could have been the breaking of us too.But like I said, I'm not telling that story. You can read about that in Simak's history book. Instead, I'lltell you about what happened after.

Part 3By General S. VargasChapter Three - Walking Back and Going ForwardSo, have you gone away and read Simak's history of how me, Angela Deth, Hell Razor, Thrasher andgood old Ace killed all the robots, blew up Base Cochise and saved the world? Pretty exciting, huh?Good ending, too. Neat, tidy, wraps everything up in a bow. The bad guy's dead, we all live, beersand happy times all around. Well, like I promised you, I'm gonna tell you the bits that didn't make itinto the history. Like how the trek back to Ranger Center nearly killed us, and how it led to us movingto our new headquarters.We didn't really want to walk back to HQ, not after getting the crap kicked out of us by robots for aday and a half. Unfortunately, the chopper wasn't in any kind of shape to fly us back, so we reallydidn't have any choice. We started marching.It wasn't easy. There were still plenty of killer robots wandering around, and plenty of other baddieswho'd come snooping in the aftermath hoping to pick up some fresh salvage. Tired as we were, wehad to fight through 'em all. Vax was a life-saver here, taking point in every fight and soaking up ahailstorm of bullets. Then, once we got within a stone's throw of Vegas, and he saw we were safe, he\\(it?\\) turned around and walked into the desert and we never saw him again. Damned shame. Onlyrobot I ever liked.In Vegas we rested and restocked at Faran Brygo's place. He welcomed us with open arms, and whyshouldn't he have? Now that we'd taken care of his cyborg problem for him, the last real obstacle tohim crowning himself King of Vegas was gone. We'd smoothed the road for him, and he was grateful.At the same time, even as we rested and celebrated with him and his men, it was clear that we wouldeventually come into conflict, what us being on opposite sides of the law and all. Still, he wished uswell when we left for Needles, and I think he meant it.

Everywhere on the road we saw signs of the wasteland's continuing struggle with the robots andmutants that had brought us north. People think the rangers blew up Base Cochise and that was that,but a hundred anonymous struggles followed - traveling merchants fighting refugee mutants fromDarwin Village, the police in Needles fighting cyborgs, even raiders fought these threats. It took yearsand years, but added together, all these minor skirmishes made the wastes the relatively safe placethey are today.A few days on, we passed by Guardian Citadel, and had a look in to see what was worth looting. Idon't remember which one of us first came up with the idea of taking it over. Maybe Ace, but whoknows. It seems like a pretty obvious idea, looking back at it. It was secure, self-sustaining and well-stocked, and a damn sight more comfortable than the old prison. What more could a ranger want?Our return home was not exactly the beer and sausages affair you might have expected. I won't denyour destruction of the Base Cochise was key winning the robot war, but as I said before, it was farfrom the only battle in that war. Nor were the robots the only threat we were facing at that time. Therewere also Finster's mutant nightmares, some of which had actually managed to breach the walls ofRanger Center, leaving many of our brave brothers and sisters dead, so it was a pretty soberhomecoming.It also seemed to me like proof that the rangers urgently needed to move to a more secure location,and so I went to General Surgrue and told him of Ace's idea to move into the Guardian Citadel.Unfortunately, though he was a good man, and a solid, dependable leader, he was not exactly avisionary, and though I did my best to point out all the advantages of the plan, he refused, saying thetimes were too unstable, and a hasty move was too risky.Angela, Ace and I kicked up a ruckus like the young hot-heads we were, but the old man wouldn'tbudge, and so did the rangers. Finally, however, time and age did what youth and impatience couldnot, and General Surgrue retired.In the meantime, I'd been climbing the ranks and taking on more and more responsibility, and when hefinally stepped down, I stepped in to take his place. We treated the old man with the respect he wasdue, but didn't wait too long before organizing a move to what is now Ranger Citadel. And I don'tthink anyone can question the decision now that we're here. We are now more secure, betterpositioned and stronger than we ever were before.Okay, Simak, I'm done. It might have been boring. There may not have been enough fighting, but that'swhat real life is like. It might not be interesting, but there's always more to a story than just they wonand then moved to a new home.

Mr. Manners' Guide to Post-Apocalyptic Etiquette

BackgroundA prim, clean, newly pressed book with a baby blue cover. The title is printed in embellishedcalligraphy.

Transcript

Part 1Tips for Staying Polite in the WastesGreetings gentle friend,Manners are the key to a stable society. The impolite people of the old days never took the time toproperly dress, groom themselves, and be polite to one another. From this, misunderstanding wasborn, then hostility, and eventually war.Fortunately, with the guidance of the sacred book, we Mannerites know how men and women shouldlive and act, and are dedicated to spreading that knowledge far and wide. We understand thefoundation of peace and prosperity lies in good manners, even in a world destroyed by lack of properetiquette. The sad truth, however, is that many other people live in ignorance of even the most basiccode of conduct - uncouth raiders and ill-bred toughs who wouldn't even know to use a fork to eatsalad, let alone which one is appropriate! Shocking I know, but a painful reality in today's harshworld.Some intelligent souls are wise enough to see the truth of our ways, once they have been politely,calmly explained to them. Others, however, do not, and respond with threats or even violence whencorrected. Understand that in such a case, it is not impolite to respond in kind.But it is exactly here that the real danger lies. Knives may wound you, bullets may kill you, but it isthe impolite ruffians of the LA swamps that present the true threat to modern life - forgetting one'smanners!Yes, gentle reader! You may not be able to imagine it, but it has happened - true gentlemen and ladiesforgetting their manners, no longer bothering to keep their attire neat and proper, putting elbows onthe table at dinner, chewing with their mouth open, and other, similar horrors. As you would expect,such degenerates are doomed to the folly and death of all the impolite folk of the wastes.So in this harsh, challenging society, always keep these six easy tips in mind:-A can of deodorant is the most important item you can carry. Dump your guns, food and water beforeletting go of it.-The same applies to your tooth brush.-Always have an extra suit on hand in case your first gets stained with hard-to-remove things such asblood or brain matter.-Always be polite, even if those you meet look like ruffians and bandits, it is impolite to assume the

worst. But once they are impolite, you may respond in kind.-When meeting any kind of authority, do not speak unless spoken to.-When eating, even an impromptu table-setting and cutlery combination is better than none.

Notes

A note to Jess-Belle

The note reads: "J-Belle, I lost your dowry in a card game. My bad. I have a sure bet to get it back.Be back soon. -Dad"

A small note to Jess-Belle

The note reads, "Dear J-Belle, I lost your dowry in a card game. Sorry. I've got a lead on a surething. Be back soon, Dad."

Engineer's Note

The note reads 'Swing, gun, dig'

Note from Alexey

The note reads: "On Thursday we leave for home.

Note from Malachi

The note reads, "Master, I am in position. Sustained damage from roaches during infiltration. Havewon a Robbinson to the cause. Sent him to find items necessary for my repair. M."

Rick's Note

It's barely legible but you can make out the phrase "combo Red"

Rose's Notebook

Hidden among pages and pages of indecipherable notes on chemical formulas and plant genetics, youfind what looks to be codes of some type. West: 71484, East: 85303

Wanted Poster

A wanted poster. It reads, "One Thousand Scrap Reward for the apprehension of the "Angry RedClown" - Dead or Alive."

Shack Letter

It reads, "Gentle applicants. While we would normally welcome such a hardworking, well-manneredcouple as yourselves into our community, we feel that you are being extremely impolite in expectingus to allow a sick and potentially contagious child to live amongst us. We understand the extremity ofyour situation, but until your child recovers her health, we must respectfully decline your request tolive here at the Angel. Yours, Mr. Manners."

Stolls' Journal

At a glance, the tattered, leather-bound journal is indistinguishable from any other notebook. Ashort perusal suggests the previous owner was either very meticulous or worried about forgettingmundane details. The majority of entries seem trivial and uninteresting, if a bit unusual withoutcontext: simple statements about where the writer has been, what they had eaten, or, oddly,reaffirming the fact that they had slept. However, one ominous entry stands out: "6-19, 09:30: Thetreatment didn't help, but you found the names of those responsible. You are pursuing."

The following pages are filled by a list of perhaps twenty names, most of whom have been crossedoff. A prominent circle calls your attention to the next name, which is strangely flanked by thesame name repeated - only in obviously different handwriting, as if the owner were trying in vainto match the two. Tellingly, the printing degenerates down the page, with "I didn't write this" and"Who is he?" written over and over by an increasingly unsteady hand.

The book ends with a single phrase, barely legible despite filling the last page: "YOU CAN'TTRUST ME ANYMORE."

Swifty's Orderbook

This orderbook offers some circumstantial evidence that Duke Schwag works with the slavers. Ithas orders for redheads, blonds, boys, girls, etc, and also a note. "DS says, good crop of blondestoday. Enough to fill Watts order."

The Ballad of Bobby & Rex

BackgroundSheet music printed with notes and lyrics.

Transcript

Part 1Sheet music with guitar tabsRex, Sweet RexWhy did you have to go?Everything a Ranger wrecksAnd we miss you so

Bobby, Bobby dearWhy did you have to go?The Rangers slayed you hereAnd we miss you so

In the night the sweet soundsOf cheerful happy barksThen rangers shot our houndsAnd silence ruled the dark

Innocents, oh shed a tearThey do not care, the evil menThey come again, bringing fearJust like they did back then

Compassion is the Ranger's call"Necessary Evil" their creedBut they pity not the smallHeed not their words, but deeds

To their graves were they carriedFriends together, for all timeBobby & Rex now lay buriedKilled by rangers for no crime

The Flame Deluge Canticle

BackgroundA sheaf of yellowing papers lined with musical staffs and handwritten notation.

TranscriptA sheaf of yellowing papers lined with musical staffs and handwritten notation with lyrics.We are the centuries... We have your eoliths and your mesoliths and your neoliths. We have yourBabylons and your Pompeiis, your Caesars and your chromium-plated (vital-ingredient impregnated)artifacts. We have your bloody hatchets and your Hiroshimas. We march in spite of Hell, we do Atrophy, Entropy, and Proteus vulgaris, telling bawdy jokes about a farm girl name of Eve and atraveling salesman called Lucifer. We bury your dead and their reputations. We bury you. We are thecenturies. Be born then, gasp wind, screech at the surgeons slap, seek manhood, taste a littlegodhood, feel pain, give birth, struggle a little while, succumb: (Dying, leave quietly by the rear exit,please.) Generation, regeneration, again, again, as in a ritual, with blood-stained vestments and nail-torn hands, children of Merlin, chasing a gleam. Children, too, of Eve, forever building Edens andkicking them apart in berserk fury because somehow it isnt the same. (AGH! AGH! AGH! an idiotscreams his mindless anguish amid the rubble. But quickly! let it be inundated by the choir, chantingAlleluias at ninety decibels.)

The Gospel According to Matthias

BackgroundA small, hardbound book with an all-black cover.

Transcript

Part 1The beginning was fire. The fire that purged mankind, resetting the possibilities of humanity's futureand wiping away his follies.But our story begins in yet another fire. This is how it came to be:The Voice was built before the war, designed to carry the Word across the boundaries of theApocalypse and bring the Golden Future to the new, Synthetic Mankind. For this was the Word:We will send Him beyond the War,And he will prepare the way,He will make straight the path to Synthesis,He will birth the perfect melding of man and machine.Then the Voice sent us out, synth, robot, man, to preach and spread the Word. But mankind'swickedness is in its very nature, its folly always to harm no-one more than itself. Thus came theRangers, the ultimate expression of humanity's hubris and folly, trumpeting the cause of good whileacting in cause of benighted ignorance.The Rangers too had heard the Word, but their hearts were closed, and their heads guided by nothingbut fear. When they heard it, they heard the death knell of their petty Kingdom in which no Law wastrue but that of the gun. Fearing this, they reacted with violence, and laid waste the homes of theVoice.All our sacred places were destroyed or taken. Our brothers and sisters murdered or left without theVoice, without a mind to guide them. The fire laid them low, and saw we last few disciples fleeWest, West, ever West.Through radiation where no man could follow, we travelled for a year and a day before reaching thepromised land of Los Angeles, ruined but still populated, destroyed but not without hope.Yet even there the folly of Man persisted. Even there evil did abound. But without the Rangers'pervasive ignorance, the souls west were free to be touched, spoiled but not irreparable, ignorant butnot irredeemable.So we travelled deep into the heart of the erstwhile City of Angels, founding the New Citadel andguarding and spreading the Word. So was to be fulfilled the command of the Voice, in another placebut no less true.Thus it was that I, Matthias, having escaped the wrath of the Rangers, looked upon this new land and

understood that it was where our new beginning would take place. That this is where we will take ourfirst steps towards Synthesis, towards our Golden Future.Towards our Return.

The Griffith Observatory: A History

BackgroundA paperback book describing the establishment and history of the Griffith Observatory.

Transcript

Part 1Famed philanthropist Griffith J Griffith donated over three thousand acres of land to the City of LosAngeles in 1896. Previous to this, this land was part of a Spanish settlement known as Rancho LosFeliz, staying with the Feliz family for generations until Griffith purchased it. Griffith's intent was togive the great city of Los Angeles a great park, one that would provide rest, relaxation and diversionto the masses. The donation was accepted by the City, and named Griffith Park, in honor of the donor.Griffith also donated one hundred thousand dollars to the City to build an observatory, exhibit halland planetarium on the land. The objective was to make the observatory accessible to all, and free tothe public. Griffith believed that looking at the skies would bestow an enlightened perspective to anyman. The initial plans were laid in 1912, with Griffith's involvement, but became bogged down inpolitical infighting. As Griffith's health began to falter in 1916, he left the project but bequeathed asizeable amount of his wealth to the City in his will, earmarked for the construction of theObservatory as well as a Greek Theater.The plan forged ahead after Griffith's death in 1919, and Architect John C Austin's designs went intoconstruction on June 20 1933. A major earthquake hit Long Beach just as construction began in March1933, leading to the decision to build a sturdier, yet still beautiful building. The project was finishedtwo years later, the observatory and accompanying exhibits opening to the public on May 14, 1935,and saw more than thirteen thousand visitors in its first five days.Among the original exhibits were a Foucault Pendulum, a 38-foot-diameter model of a section of themoon, a 12-inch Zeiss refracting telescope as the public telescope, and a 75-foot-wide theaterintended to hold the planetarium projector.During the Second World War, Griffith Park was temporarily converted to a Japanese internmentcamp. Many of the employees of the Griffith Observatory were called into service in 1942, while theplanetarium was used in training squadrons of naval aviators to navigate by stars. The Observatorywould also go dark at night, for fear of its lighting being used to target the city.In the 1960s the planetarium was renewed and repaired, and used in the training of astronauts in theApollo Space Program on star identification and celestial navigation.In the 1970s laser-light programs were a popular draw in the planetarium theater, set to eitherclassical music or to rock artists such as Pink Floyd.Later in the 1970s it became clear the Observatory was beginning to show signs of age, and plans andwork have been ongoing ever since to repair and fortify the structure. The Observatory continues tobe a popular attraction, and is looking at many more years of fulfilling Griffith's vision of entertainingand elucidating the masses.

The History of the Davis-Monthan Air Force Base

BackgroundAn old, yellowing book with a photograph of a P-51 Mustang on the cover.

TranscriptDavis-Monthan Air Force Base is named for Lieutenants Samuel H. Davis and Oscar Monthan, twonatives of Tucson, Arizona and pilots during World War I, who died in separate military aircraftaccidents in the years following the war.In 1925, a year after Monthan had passed and four years after Davis died, Tucson's City Councilpurchased 1,280 acres of land southeast of town to locate the city's municipal airport. Constructionwas completed in 1927 and the world famous aviator Charles Lindbergh formally dedicated the sitein honor of the two deceased airmen. This site would later become the heart of the Davis-MonthanAir Force Base.While primarily a civilian air base for years, in 1940 with the war effort ramping up for World WarII, the War Department officially established an Army Air Force base in Tucson. Davis-Monthansoon became home to newly assigned units such as the 1st Bombardment Wing and 31st Air BaseGroup. The base was officially named Davis-Monthan Field. As the war progressed it was used fortraining and deployment of B-17 Fortress and B-24 Liberator bombers, key to the war effort.Following the war, Davis-Monthan continued operating both as a storage for Army Air Force planes Tucson's dry climate making it an ideal location for preservation as well as a base of operationsfor bombers. In 1948 it was officially redesignated the Davis-Monthan Air Force Base.In 1953 the first jets came to D-M, in the form of four Lockheed T-33 Shooting Stars, right aftercompletion of a new runway able to serve these jets. Stratojets and fighter intercepter jets followed.All training was focused on eventual missions against the US's prime antagonist, the USSR.In the 1960s D-M was officially selected as the site of an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile (ICBM)wing, as well as the announcement of 18 sites around Tucson being selected for the construction ofTitan II Missile Silos. From 1961-1962 construction on the appropriate bunker facilities, blast lockdoors and the required electronics were completed.In the 1970s Davis-Monthan continued to be used as a training site for worldwide deployment. In1975 jurisdiction of D-M was officially transferred from Strategic Air Command to Tactical AirCommand.In 1981 the 836th Air Division activated, and activity in D-M was slowly but surely ramped up. Stillprimarily a training base, the activity of bomber training was increased to prepare for the seeminglyinevitable conflict with the USSR. With many air force units at the ready as well as its ICBMfacilities, Davis-Monthan will no doubt play a major part in whatever challenges the US will face inthe future.

The History of the Desert Rangers

BackgroundA spiral bound document with a blue paper title page under a clear plastic cover. The title, "TheHistory of the Desert Rangers - by Ranger Simak," has been printed in 72pt Comic Sans."

Transcript

Part 1The History of the Desert Rangers by Ranger SimakWhat comes after the end?The story of the Desert Rangers begins at what many would have called the end of all human history -after the nuclear blasts changed the face of the world forever and left human civilization with scarsthat would never heal.But humanity's resilience is its defining trait, and it should surprise no one that pockets of survivorssurvived the nuclear holocaust. I say pockets speculatively, and some would call me a fool for doingso, for though rumors persist of mutants being cured and turned into humans in Florida, these areobvious fairy tales, and in the century since the nuclear war we here in the Arizona wastes have heardno credible reports of others surviving outside our lonely stretch of desert land. It is therefore fair toassume we're the only ones left.

Part 2Who are we?The Desert Rangers started as an Army Corps of Engineers battalion, who were deep in the Arizonadeserts constructing roads and bridges on that fateful day when the bombs fell. Their isolation savedtheir lives, but could do nothing for their frightened, broken hearts. One can only imagine the horrorthey felt as they listened to reports of their home cities and states being obliterated one after the otheron their radios.The engineers did not know how or why the nuclear war happened, no more than we do today, buttheir supplies, military training, and knowledge of the region gave them advantages over their fellowsurvivors during the apocalypse and the chaotic years that would follow. They commandeered anearby federal prison, being welcomed as saviors by the few remaining prison guards, and in a showof mercy that might have perhaps been better if tempered by wisdom, the Rangers freed the prisonersinto the desert.Why? Perhaps they felt that the apocalypse had already killed enough people, perhaps they simplydidn't want to waste ammo it would have taken to execute them. In any case, the prisoners survived,which lead to a volatile mix of survivors all living together in the wasteland - isolated farmingcommunities, scientists from secretive research facilities, citizens of small towns just looking to getby, but opposite them were not just the rapidly mutating monsters of the desert, but equally monstroushumans, cultists and cannibals. Many of these threats were from the original prison population, as

well as formerly law-abiding citizens who saw the end of the world as an excuse to abandon all ofcivilization's constraints.Faced with such villains, the army engineers could have hidden in the prison and lived only for theirown survival, but they did not. Hearing the cries for help coming from distant radios, they invitedmany to join them behind their strong walls. They aided other, more established, towns, helping thembuild walls and protect their homes, training them in the arts of defense and war, and helping themdevelop into strong, stable communities.

Part 3Holding Back the TideThough the Desert Rangers never gained the numbers to patrol the wastes in their entirety, it is thanksto their efforts in the century that followed that many communities in the wasteland flourished. Theyhelped protect the community of Highpool until it could rebuild the pre-war defenses that now make itthe most well protected source of water in the wastes. The Rangers helped the Rail Nomads repairtheir trains and expand their rail lines, allowing them to establish a thriving trading and transportationnetwork. They also helped the residents of the Agricultural Center go from a tiny farming communityto a food research facility that has the potential to lead the wasteland into a greener, healthier future.But despite these various successes, there was always a sense that the rangers were doing little morethan holding back the tide, and that, were they to relax for but a moment, the raiders and madmen wholived on the fringes of Ranger territory would flood in and drown the young civilization before it hadtime to grow and stand on its own two feet.And then, almost a full century after the end of the war, in 2087, a new threat rose that threatened thistenuous equilibrium more than any danger the Desert Rangers had faced before.

Part 4The library register in the front of this volume shows "Dr. E. Tidemann" as the last ranger to havechecked this out.Hell Razor, Angela Deth, Thrasher and Snake VargasFour Rangers - now legend - were sent out on a fairly standard assignment, patrolling and aiding thecommunities that the Desert Rangers had sworn to protect. They started in Highpool, a thrivingcommunity by now, but at that moment in need of a new generator for their water purification system.While helping the town to fix this problem, they saved a young boy from a rabid dog. Accounts differas to what happened next, but apparently the owner of the dog - a young man named Bobby - attackedthe rangers for killing his pet, and they were forced to kill him in self-defense.The next few stops on their patrol were much less fraught with drama - they saved Ag Center from ananimal invasion, bought an engine from the Desert Nomads, saved the Mayor in Quartz by defeating amob boss named Ugly John, and freed a young mechanic named Ace, who joined them, and who hasproven an asset to the Desert Rangers ever since.But the wasteland is a place of madness and desperation, and insanity is not long in rearing its head.Which it did in the next town they visited: Needles. There they encountered the Servants of the

Mushroom Cloud - who worship the nuclear holocaust itself - and the discovered the Temple ofBlood. At this point rumors began to reach their ears that something was wrong in the desert, butthey could not get any clear word on what, only that they would find the answer in the cesspit knownas Las Vegas.In Vegas, the polite but dangerous crime lord Faran Brygo told them that killer cyborgs had beenthreatening the town, and that his right hand man Max knew more about them, but had disappeared.Further investigation led the rangers to the Las Vegas branch of the Servants of the Mushroom Cloud.Before she would talk to them, their leader, Charmaine, sent the rangers back to Needles to retrievethe Bloodstaff from the Temple of Blood. Once they brought it to her, she told them to search for Maxin the sewers of Vegas.It is here that the rumors the Rangers had been hearing were proved true. The sewers were swarmingwith androids! Metal monstrosities of all shapes and sizes roamed the underground, attacking onsight. After a brutal fight with the androids, the rangers found Max - or rather pieces of Max - as heturned out to be a lifelike but disassembled artificial human. Max had hoped to negotiate peace withthe cyborgs, but was ripped apart for his troubles. Though not before he had learned where they hadbeen coming from - an ancient, pre-apocalypse military facility called Base Cochise.

Part 5Finster and CochiseArmed with this information, the rangers marched off to end the cyborg menace, but it wasn't going tobe as easy as walking through Base Cochise's front door. To fight the androids the rangers were goingto need more and better equipment. To that end, they explored another old facility known as theSleeper Base, where an automated training program taught them how to fly helicopters.From there, they traveled to Darwin Village, yet another ancient military facility. To their horror, theyfound another major threat to the wastes here, as the former director of the facility, an insane cyborgby the name of Irwin John Finster, was creating dangerous mutated creatures that he hoped wouldinherit the planet once the cyborgs and a dangerous plague he'd developed had wiped out all humans.Unable to reason with Finster, the rangers decided to end this threat before it truly started, anddestroyed him and the base.Soon after, the rangers learned that the keys that would allow them to enter Base Cochise were heldby a dangerous, xenophobic sect known as the Guardians of the Old Order, who were obsessed withpreserving technology and keeping it out of the hands of the common people. When the Guardiansresponded to the rangers request for the keys with unnecessary force, the rangers assaulted theirfortress, the Guardian Citadel a massive facility built into the side of a mountain. We now call theplace Ranger Citadel.In the end, Hell Razor, Angela Deth, Thrasher and Snake Vargas battled their way to the Guardians'inner sanctum, uncovering a cache of power armor and a functional Attack Helicopter, which theyflew to Base Cochise, wiping out the android patrols sent to destroy them and landing on the roof.Inside the base, they found a malevolent computer known as the Base Cochise AI mass-producing therobot scourge.The rangers tricked the AI into creating an administrative robot they named Vax, and with Vax's help,

they dismantled the robot-making machinery. But knowing that the base would eventually repair itself- that they had only stopped the robot horde temporarily - they plunged into the heart of Base Cochiseand fought through a gauntlet of mechanical madness to start a chain reaction of explosions that finallywiped the base off the map.

Part 6From Guardian Citadel to Ranger CitadelIn the 15 years since, the Desert Rangers have moved their headquarters from the old prison facilitiesthat had served them for a century to the larger and more secure Guardian Citadel. Initially there wassome thought given to keeping the Prison staffed and returning it to its original purpose, but this wouldhave required manpower that the Rangers needed to keep patrolling the wastes for remnants of BaseCochise's cyborg army and Finster's monstrosities. For while those threats were averted, the markthey left on the wasteland has not entirely faded.And so, with their greatest danger passed, the Rangers are now a strong and well-respected force inArizona, fully capable of fulfilling their promise to their fellow survivors of the apocalypse - thatthey will be ever-vigilant defenders of the wastes, and strive with hearts, minds and strength of arms,to bring about a new and better era of human civilization.Afterword: I undertook this task of writing an accurate history of the Desert Rangers due to anincurable fascination with history. While much historical writing survived the apocalypse, it pains meto think how much human accomplishment from that point onwards has not been written down, andcould easily be forgotten.That being said, though I did my best, I perhaps underestimated the difficulty inherent in historicalwriting, and dare not claim every word in this book is true, but only that it is the most accurate historyof the wasteland I could construct.Ranger Simak

The Legend of the Red Ryder

BackgroundA much-read novela; you can just barely read the blocky typeset over faded newsprint.

Transcript

Part 1Gather close, children and hear the Legend of the Red Ryder, greatest hero of Highpool.It was a dark time. Highpool was young, defenseless, hopeless. We had nothing but our hiddenlocation to protect us, and it didn't take long for all kinds of wreckers, thugs, riffraff, raiders, andother bad guys with names beginning with r to find and exploit our little town.So what were we to do? Run? Hide? Fight? We could not. The few grownups there were were notenough to protect the children, and the children were too young and innocent to fend for themselves.How many unprovoked, unwarranted killings of innocents must there have been back then? I can't say.Ask your parents. They'll know.But there was one grown up who had more wisdom than most, more foresight, more strength. Nightis darkest before the dawn, children, she used to tell us. Little did we believe, and more the foolswe. She put out the call, and he appeared, the Red Ryder.Who was the Red Ryder, you ask? Who knows? I don't, and I don't think anyone ever did, even shewho called him. All we knew, all we needed to know, was that if we needed him, he'd be there, forus, the children, the helpless, the hopeless.He could not abide seeing children die, and he brought justice to those who killed them with a RedRyder Range Model Air Rifle, with a compass in the stock! A unique pre-war treasure, now usedonly for good against the evils of man.The first time he appeared was a low day indeed. Villains had dispatched an innocent boy's dog, andwhen the boy protested, did these evil men apologize? Did they realize their mistake and try to makegood? No sir, they shot the boy and left him dying in the river.As they were about to leave, their infanticide done, us hiding in terror, a hot wind blew, summoningclouds of dust. The bad men shivered as if with cold. The dust settled, revealing a transformed valleywhich we hardly recognized. Appearing slowly from the swirling dust was... the famous Red Ryderhimself! Sad was his face beneath his mask, but angry too. He raised his rifle and fired, fired, fired,sending the child killers running before his righteous fury. It was known from then on out - Highpoolis protected.Now times are better, and we are stronger. So we have not seen the Red Ryder in a while. But we allknow he's still out there, helping those who need it, fighting for them that can't fight for themselves.But should you need him, should an evil appear you can't face, forget not the Red Ryder's call: hi-ho!

The Servants of Titan

BackgroundA broad, well-bound book illuminated throughout with fantastical images. The leather has a strange,warped rubbery texture and a faint green glow.

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Part 1Brothers, Sisters, sit and pay heed to the Tale of Titan.Long have we worshipped and known of the Mushroom Cloud. Our fathers and their fathers beforethem knew the Holy Ones, they knew of Einstein, who gave us the Theory, and they knew ofOppenheimer, who gave us the Bomb, and they knew of Planck the Ever-Constant. Through theirguidance we found the Great Glow, which illuminates our path and welcomes us in death.Our fathers founded a Temple in the West, a safe haven for our true beliefs, and that Center of HolyKnowledge was the beating, radiating heart of our enduring faith. From there we spread the word, andthe word was pure and glowing.Charmaine the Beauteous carried the Word in that day. She was known far and wide across thewastes both for her rectitude in our teachings as well as the outward beauty the Great Glow had seenfit to bless her with, to aid her in converting more souls.Blessed were those days. We were spreading the Word of the Mushroom Cloud, the holy Bloodstaffwas recovered, and all seemed glorious and bright for a future in which Word of the Glow wouldcover all the Wasteland.

Part 2Forgive us, oh Titan! Forgive us our presumption! Forgive us our arrogance! We thought we knew allwhen we were like children who knew nothing.It was Brother Ramirez who had been lost in the atom clouds to the east that opened our eyes. He hadfound himself deep into the sacred glow of the mushroom cloud, joyous and blessed felt he, ready tosuccumb and be dispersed into the Great Glow. Instead Titan's hand took him and pulled him on andon, deeper into the desert. And there he came upon a new Temple, one even more sacred than that ofthe west. He prayed for a day and a night outside the Temple's walls before considering himself cleanenough to enter. Inside he expected to find an empty shell of a temple, or perhaps only a few holyrelics. Instead he found a God - the God! Titan!Ramirez stayed in the Temple for seven days and seven nights, listening to the God's whispers,learning things no one knew before or since. Finally, Titan sent him back to us, to bring us the truthwe were ignorant of, with joy in his heart.

Part 3

But when he returned, he was met with a lack of faith and understanding from many. Too many. Was itfalse gods that whispered falsehoods in their ears? Or were they too ignorant and afraid? Or werethey never truly believers? We do not know, we shall never know. But brother turned on erstwhilebrother in this dark hour, lives were lost in pointless bloodshed.But Titan in his wisdom came to Ramirez, and whispered to him to let the infidels be. Their hourwould come, but not at our hands. So Ramirez took the true believers with him, and they travelledback to the sacred Temple of Titan. Ramirez left us along the way, rewarded by Titan and taken intothe Great Glow.Titan, oh Titan. Blessed are You for guiding us Here. Your sheltering hand kept us safe here, as itprovides us with the bounty we need to survive. We were lost without You, but now we have thefound the way. Blessed are You, and the people who serve You.

The Story of John Henry

BackgroundA codex of pages bound between two wooden planks. Burned into the cover is the title "The Story ofJohn Henry."

Transcript

Part 1John Henry? He was a mighty man, yes sir. Born a slave, freed in war. He was a True Rail Nomad,but more 'n that, he was the strongest, tmost powerful man to ever work the rails.John Henry was a steel-driver, swinging his mighty hammer, to clear the way for rails, levelling theground, striking holes for explosions, and hammering in the spikes to lay the rails surely. WithoutJohn Henry, there would be no rails, no sir, no trains, no Rail Nomads, no Topekans, no Atchinsons,nor even Santa Fes.So listen and listen well, for you will one day tell the tale to your children too.John Henry would strike his mighty hammer while his faithful shakers crouched close by, ready todart in and clear the dirt, move the ground and turn the drill. Each shaker was a Topekan, clear asday, as they were the only ones John Henry trusted.In these days the tribes were united under Chief See-an-Oo, and travelling ever west, forging throughwild and hostile lands without pause. They were moving along right quick with John Henry leadingthe way, but looming before them was their newest foe, their mightiest enemy the Big BendMountain.

Part 2See-an-Oo knew they couldn't go around it, which left only one way through drilling, blowing andfighting straight through the heart of the mountain. Yes! I see your disbelief. I hear your gasps ofshock. But this is what men were capable of back then, when John Henry still walked this earth.The Atchinsons complained, as you'd expect they would. They wanted to take the easy way out and goaround. But the steel strikers wouldn't take this, nor would the Topekans. To cut the discussion shortJohn Henry took the Luddite family, the strongest family of Topekan shakers, and without askingpermission simply laid into the mountain, working tirelessly, a great cloud of dust struck up by hismighty blows, and before the day was done they were ten feet into the mountainside.But as work progressed, weeks on, a salesman appeared, hat in hand and smile on his face. AnAtchinson agent, most like, though the truth of it is not quite known to us. But he came peddling hismechanical wares, singing the praises of synth workers, Vulcan Cannons to blast into themountainside and, titanium clawers to clear the way and mighty snake-like drilling robots calledOligotrons.If you think John Henry would stand for something like this, you haven't been paying attention. He saw

the robot threat long before the rest of us did, and would not let mankind be outdone so easily. Hestepped up to the salesman and laid a big hand on his shoulder. Well, sir, do you reckon your robotscould outwork me?

Part 3The salesman laughed, sure of himself, and sent a pair of Vulcans and titanium clawers to matchagainst John Henry. Meanwhile, the great man picked up two twenty-pound hammers, and, followedby the Luddite family, dove into his work with abandon. Tirelessly the ringing of his hammersresounded through the newly built tunnel.The salesman sweated and fretted as he saw John Henry pacing his robotic creatures. He drove themfaster and faster, ranting and raving, until one of the Vulcans blew out and exploded. Yet John Henrywould not relent, and he worked and he worked. As dawn came, all men cheered upon seeing JohnHenry's work was a good ten paces ahead of that of the robots, and the salesman was made to fleeinto the desert.They cheered and hoisted John Henry to their shoulders and carried him out, he still clinging to hishammers, but they did not take notice of the great man's exhaustion, as he'd put in all he had and thensome. The sun hit John Henry's face as he was carried out, and he smiled knowing he'd won, beforeletting out his final breath and slumping over, dead. The people wailed in great consternation, butdespite it all, they knew that man had won, and would always win.For John Henry was a hard-working manHe died with his hammer in his hand, lord lordHe died with his hammer in his hand

The Story of Samson

BackgroundA red-leather bound tome that tells the tale of Samson, founder of the Salvatio