I was very dissatisfied with how Emergency was turning out, so I decided to take a new avenue that made lots more room for humor and a good story. I hope you guys like it.


October 23, 2100.

Sometimes I wonder how far I'd get if I had decided to walk away. The Sierra Madre lords over the sky, and in the other direction...Well, I don't know what's out there. Anyway, the Madre's what matters. But how do I get in? No idea. Sinclair locked the place up tight. The locals are growing rowdy, although they are few enough in number that I can slip around unseen. It's becoming harder, though. I'm more handsome now than I ever was. If only Vera could take a look at me now. Let's see; A man who loses most of his skin is hiding inside of a three-story house with a journal? It must be very attractive. The Cloud is getting thick, although it surprisingly doesn't affect me much, as long as I don't stay inside for too long. Perhaps it's a fortunate side effect of losing skin? Imagine that. Atlantic Records presents Dean Domino.. The singer with no skin! Heh... The trees are always so lovely this time of year. They're dead. I don't even know if it's summer. I haven't seen a blue sky in twenty three years. I wonder if Sinclair survived? Oh, nonsense, Dean Domino. No matter how grand the Sierra Madre is, a man like Frederick Sinclair would get bored. Entertainment is never in short supply here, though. Treasure hunters come-and-go, but they realize that there is no way to open the Madre. Some stick together and try to survive out here. They get ripped apart by the locals. Some still fill their head with nonsense, and kill each other over the casino. It's as if all of this is Sinclair's puppet show. I have to hand it to him, it's entertaining.

November 3, 2100.

Normally, I'm able to slip past the locals quite easily, as they are quite stupid, but there was one fellow enjoying himself a nice cup of tea. Wait. It was a human corpse. That's right. There isn't really much a difference for them, is there? That's why I set out my nifty little traps. Although, I have to admit, sometimes I forget where they are. I scratched my $300 suit trying to avoid one the other day! Anyway, I tried to slip around him, but he somehow heard my creaking dress shoes, and raised some sort of weapon. I ran back into a weapons armory to distract him away from my house. He had a gas tank in his hand, ready to throw.. When they have gas tanks, it's over for them. I fired, and the poor fellow had himself a fit! He was on fire, and everything! His grotesque screaming might have been a bit of an overreaction. I just wanted to kill him, that's all. The man fell onto the floor (at least I think it was a man. They wear scary ass costumes, so it's hard to tell these days), but I could tell that he was still alive. I knew it was a trick. I got an axe from the armory, and chopped the fellow into pieces. The weapon that this fellow was using was quite interesting. A long stick, with several knives tied onto the end. Why the hell didn't I think of that? I carried it home and untied it, and realized that the knives themselves are more lethal than the spear. You can carry them more easily, and they're more fun to chop with! It was a rather productive day, although it taught me one thing. If one of the locals falls down without losing a limb or blowing up, it's a trick... Get an axe!

November 7, 2100.

Well, I'm glad that I stocked up on food the other day. I was remarking about how lovely my house was (not really), when the floor gave way, and I fell through! I sprained most of my limbs, and I am bedridden. I guess that I consider this my "winter hibernation". The knives that I scavenged are good tools to cook with, although the nearby food stores are becoming empty. I can't afford to be very picky nowadays, I guess.

November 15, 2100.

I am not bedridden anymore, although I cannot crouch very easily or move long distances, so I like to consider that I prefer to stay in bed. Is the Sierra Madre worth all this? I ask myself this question all the time. When I say no, I simply gaze up at it, and change my mind. I can't do so much as leave the Residential District without being torn apart by the lovely locals, so how in the hell am I going to get up there? I'm guessing that it will be another century-and-a-half before I even leave the Residential District alone. It isn't as bad as it could be, I guess. Living out in the Villa has turned me into a tough bastard. If I were as tough back in '57 as I am now, I would have given Antony House a run for his money for refusing to have a drink with me! I enjoy having tycoons as friends. When you're surrounded by men who are dirty rich, you feel dirty rich! Well, I am dirty rich, or... I was. I wonder what the currency is now? Maybe jars of bird droppings? Who knows?

Excellent tale, Gingy! I love it! It's very entertaining to be in Dean's head! More please!

Hilarious, keep it up. There have been a lot of stories with a new perspective lately.

Sorry, I've been especially busy in real life, but here is another one.

December 2, 2100

The cloud is only getting thicker. A lovely guy like me can walk in it for a little while and leave, but the tourists? No... They walk into the cloud, not knowing what they have stepped in, then their vision blinds, and they forget the way they entered. Then they die and serve as food for the occasional ghost people. Luckily, there aren't too many ghost people in Puesta Del Sol, but more and more are coming along. It's a fine system, as long as I'm not the food. I recently picked up a Fire Axe in the local armory but let's hope that I don't have to kill a ghost in close range. It's getting harder and harder to scavenge food from the Villa, so I've developed the keen system of collecting Sierra Madre chips and using them to get food from the vending machines. If I could find a better gun than the peashooter that I have, I wouldn't be afraid of the ghosts. But I am quite afraid of them because they're hard to kill. Sinclair gave me the middle finger and placed the vending machines on the other side of this place, so I have to slip past ghosts to make it to them. I'll need to develop an easy food that can be scavenged from materials around here.

January 1, 2101

Here's my plan. The Sierra Madre is tied to some sort of opening event that opens it up. The gates are sealed shut until this event happens. I'll find three other treasure-seekers that enter the Villa, and we will become a team to survive together until the time is right to cast off this event and enter the casino. And then? I'll tie up loose ends. Can't afford to keep them alive as they'll be after what I deserve. Sinclair's treasure trove. I'll steal what's down in his vault and piss on him even after his death. (At least I think he died.)

January 23, 2101

WHY DO THEY KEEP KILLING EACHOTHER OVER THIS PLACE??! I mean, I would have killed them later anyway, but that's not the point. I had a team of about three treasure seekers, and we were making progress on moving around the Villa to search for places possibly tied to this event, but then they murdered eachother, one-by-one. The surviving one is a tough man. A mountain of a guy named Carlos. Not even my bodyguards were as large as him! He knows where I live, as we based out of there before they got greedy and killed each other, so I was forced to relocate to Salida Del Sol. Ick, I hate this place even more than Puesta Del Sol. Puesta Del Sol was far darker, which made it easier to move around, but this place has even more toxic air than the rest of the Villa.

March 17, 2110

If I didn't know how important it was to pull off this heist, I would have splattered my brains all over my house. Years-and-years pass by, and I'm not seemingly getting much older. Perhaps lovely men like me live substantially longer than most? I don't really know. This heist is important, though. I want to ruin Sinclair. If he's still alive somehow, I'll break him. I'll take him down a few pegs, and show him that men as high-and-mighty as him don't belong in the world that we have now. It's been more than thirty [censored] years, and I haven't even gotten a bit closer to finding the key to the Sierra Madre, except the fact that it's called "Gala".

April 15, 2110

I feel in a much better mood than usual. Perhaps the best mood I have been in since the bombs dropped. I have no idea why, but I want to see Vera. She was only a tool in my plot to rob Frederick Sinclair, but for some reason I have the urge to go looking for her when I enter the casino. Oh well, I'll just bury it down and never bring it up again. I know she's dead. She's an actress with good lungs, not a survivor. I'm having my own doubts on if I'm going to survive the next decade, anyway.

May 27, 2110

I think I'm beginning to grow senile and going mad. Sinclair isn't dead. Sure, perhaps when I rob him, I'll find his corpse at the bottom of the Sierra Madre, but that's not the point. I'm beginning to feel like this isn't a modern Taj Mahal type building, where he built it for a woman, but instead he wanted to survive the Great War by placing his heart-and-soul into the things he created. The holograms, vending machines, the casino, everything. Unless someone finds a way to blow up the casino, Sinclair will live forever. Well, maybe I'll destroy the ENTIRE GODDAMNED CASINO when I'm finished. I'm not going to let Sinclair, a dead man, beat me at this game. I have to admit that he has kept me alive this long because of the gifts he gives to me. His vending machines. The Sierra Madre martinis that I have been able to develop are my normal diet, but I still venture out to find vending machines every once in a while. Did Frederick want me to live? No... No man at the peak of wealth and popularity is that kind. He had an angle, and I'm going to find it out. Unless I go completely mad before that happens.

Excellent new installment! I like how Dean sees reasons where there are none, or he reads more into some things. It must be difficult to live in the Villa for so many years, surrounded by silence, fog and the occasional stranger grunting of the Ghost People...