To all who may read this:

I'm writing on an abandoned computer terminal, found while scauaging the Mojave Wasteland. My base camp is an abandoned shack, reinforced with whatever I could find. Each day is a new struggle to survive. Living off the carcus of the fallen society before, sometimes I wonder if it would be easier just to eat a bullet. Or run headfirst into a pack of Deathclaws.

I train everyday, keeping my trigger fingers and eyes sharp. Always watching the horizon for coming danger. I'm good with my hands and I love making things out of random junk. This skill has saved my ass countless times. I've modified everything I can get my hands on. Making sure that whatever I dont use I save for latter use.

My favorite gun would be my hunting rifle, it has never let me down. Even up aggainst supermutants.

I scavenge everyday, somehow finding new areas I've never been to before. Yesterday, I ran into a pack of rabbid dogs rauaging something in the waste. At first glance I thought it was a gecko, but a second look sent a chill up my spine. It was a baby girl, somehow she got stranded in the wasteland. She must of been 2 or 3, what was left of her anyway. I killed the pack of dogs and buried the young girl. I didn't have the heart to leave her to be fed upon by the other monsters roaming the wastes. I may be a killer of men, but when it comes to children.........

Thats it for today, I'll write more later. If I make it back alive.........

Wrong section.

sorry guy. it belongs in http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/forum/42-fallout-artwork-and-fan-fiction/ section of the forums

Not bad, but I can't read much more if your spelling doesn't improve.

Needs to be longer per segment. But good luck, check out my fallout http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1117643-the-settlement-the-wasteland-book-1/

Yea, I know but I wanted to start off slow. Make it seem like the charactor is spending more time out in the wasteland then writing

Another day has passed in this god forsaken hell hole. I can see the temptation to become a raider, theres a pull towards the darkside. I can feel it. The fighting wages on and on, tearing at my mind day after day. Hour after endless hour.

I've spent most of my life fighting to survive. My mother and father protected me the best they could, until one day a raiding party happened upon the shack we were living in. I was 8 or 9. Hard to remember which anymore. We were living in a shack in the middle of nowhere. We could see enemies coming for miles..... so we thought. One night as I lay sleeping, 5 raiders ambushed us. My father was the first to die... lucky for him he died quick. My mother was [censored] for hours as I hid in a secret compartment my father biult in the walls.

Finnally they finnished her, having nothing left and knowing it even at my age I charged them with all I had. Killing 2 out of the 5. Instead of killing me they recruited me. The leaders name was Billy the Barbarian. He had a patch over his right eye, scars marked his face, oily blonde hair, and vibrant blue eyes.

I ran with them a few years, a slave to them. Raiding, killing, [censored]. It all became a blur after a while. Until I found a family of 3 that reminded me of my family, that was when the lead really flew.

Ever since then I've been just another wastelander with a past to forget.....

O, ok so like a pro louge or however it's spelt.

You could still make them longer segments, have a couple entries per segment. It would still make he seem like his out in the Wasteland and you could have longer segments. I personally would focus on the spelling errors, you could say that he has a wastelander and obviously can't spell and blah blah. but I've only actually seen a couple of stories pull it off, try to focus on the grammar errors. Also, this is just my peeve, I like it when numbers are spelled out: 2=two, 5=five, and so on and so forth. But that is just me. The last segment seemed a little corny to me, with the dark side and Billy the Barbarian, but that's just me.