Screenshot from F:NV

There are days when I wish I was living in a post-apocalyptic world. Here and now, the mood is dreary, metropolitan and jaded but in a rather uninteresting way, just your everyday routine to go about and you feel like you died inside without noticing. I walk around town in style, fighting uninspiredness, aiming at a mixture of Buffy, Sarah connor, the Lone Wanderer and First Recon. By looking that way, I can at least carry the immersion of my fantasy SF-PA world into the seemingly unexciting present.
Whenever I play “Fallout: New Vegas” I feel that things would be much simpler if TWAWKI (the world as we know it)were to end, the standards we adhere to abolished and if civilization, after toppling into anarchy, would reboot itself. But this is merely wishful thinking.
All the “Fallout” games begin with the memorable line “War. War never changes.” War is inherent to humankind, and it could as well be “Man. Man never changes.”
If my daytime fantasy of living in a PA world came true one way or another, my personality would be highly improbable to change as well and become the cool gal, ready with a shotgun. Chances are I would crawl up in whichever faction/town I was born into, like Arroyo or the Brotherhood, and never roam the wastelands all by my lonesome.
This dream is symptomatic.
People think changing external circumstances might affect their inner nature just as much. That’s BS. While traveling I learned that Gottfried Benn, though bleak and pessimistic at times, was essentially right.


Meinen Sie Zürich zum Beispiel
sei eine tiefere Stadt,
wo man Wunder und Weihen
immer als Inhalt hat?

Meinen Sie, aus Habana,
weiß und hibiskusrot,
bräche ein ewiges Manna
für Ihre Wüstennot?

Bahnhofstraßen und Rueen,
Boulevards, Lidos, Laan –
selbst auf den Fifth Avenueen
fällt Sie die Leere an –

ach, vergeblich das Fahren!
Spät erst erfahren Sie sich:
bleiben und stille bewahren
das sich umgrenzende Ich.

Gottfried Benn

So despite my wanting to carry around a shotgun leisurely and wear my leather armor with a bandana to top off the coolness, it is an escapistic notion in and of itself. This tendency has been known to romantics throughout the ages. Cowardice, maybe?
I used to “live in my head” a lot when I was younger. And I felt safe knowing that whatever happened to me in life, I would always be able to crawl up with a good book somewhere. It still keeps me sane, at times, to have that assurance in the back of my back – even though I decided to face the world. The real one.