Tales from a Courier of the New Mojave Express

I unfortunately don't remember much before this, but it was an incredibly odd ordeal waking up to a man having me design my face on a mirror and play some arcade game.

It is routine to have customers sign for their orders. I was short a pencil and asked to borrow one. Unfortunately I forgot to return it. The shop owners did not take kindly to this.

Definitely one of my weirdest happening. I'm not even sure how it was physically possible.

One of my lowest moments on the job. The only water source nearby was a heavily irradiated toilet. I had to chug this water in order to muster the strength to fight off some Fiends.

I have very little Explosive experience. I neglected to tell the recruits that pulling the pin on the grenade primes it for explosion. I was indirectly responsible for a tragedy on Camp Golf. I hear it isn't the first time it has happened either.

This guy was so happy that he wouldn't stop running in circles around me eventually blocking my path. As bad as it is to say it, it was fun taking him out of the picture. Thankfully there were no witnesses around.

As compelling as the offer was, I had to put my foot down when she asked me to retrieve some Cazador eggs.

Only in your wildest dreams does this happen. That is all I will say.

We were getting pretty close at this point. I can't say I blame him though. Despite what I tried to convince him to stay, he shot through some Legion troops at Cottonwood Cove and died shortly after. He was a damn good man.

I don't understand this. Maybe it's some sort of running gag with NCR grunts, but I frequently hear this line (and many others) being recited in casual conversations between NCR troopers.

I come across many strange people in the Wastes, but few rival this man. Constantly boasts about his Dino collection and inventory, and almost refused to sell me rocket parts unless I purchased some of his toys.