(Warning, probably going to be a lot of swears and explicit language in this one. Not intended to offend, just for RP and the multiple involved character's sake. Yup, it's going to be a journal with multiple people in it rather than one, hopefully so you can see the differences in character's affected. Thanks!)
Journal Entry 1:
John Perry - Day 3
Bastards, all of them. I don't know where I am or what the fuck I'm doing here, but clearly I've been left. Makes you think, huh. All I know is that I've woken up on the bad side of town, because clearly there ain't nout here, just the dust and dirt, and grubby puddles full of the shit they've blasted this place apart with.
I've been walking for a while now, ain't seen nobody either, perhaps for the best. You can't trust nobody, not even your closest friends.... Friends, that's rich. Well, at least they had the "courtesy" to leave me with my dignity, clothed and armed, but with tasteless food that is well out of date and will probably wreck my gullet on the way down, and a more than out of date pip boy. What is this shit on my arm, I don't know how they did it, but they swapped my one for the trash in that old vault we found. All it tells me is how bad I'm doing, how long 'til I die. No coordinates, nothin'. I need to find her, she'd know what to do.
I can't hear shit either. Either I'm getting more deaf, or the silence of this waste is enough to tear my senses asunder. But yet, whispers in the wind, I can hear 'em. No I ain't crazy, I here somethin'. It's cold and dry too, takes your breath clean out, you can't stand around for more than a minute without feeling like an asthmatic in a sandstorm.
I'm tired, tired of all this. Makes you think deep, gives you the time to gather your thoughts and then feel bad about yourself for not being more. Maybe that's why I was left behind. I'm a stubborn old fool; ain't giving two shits 'bout nobody but myself for too long may have left me in this mess. But I figure I'll get out, sometime.
The road is long, life is short, make the most of what you got, or you'll get nout in return. None of that "be safe" shit here.
Journal Entry 1:
John Perry - Day 3
Bastards, all of them. I don't know where I am or what the fuck I'm doing here, but clearly I've been left. Makes you think, huh. All I know is that I've woken up on the bad side of town, because clearly there ain't nout here, just the dust and dirt, and grubby puddles full of the shit they've blasted this place apart with.
I've been walking for a while now, ain't seen nobody either, perhaps for the best. You can't trust nobody, not even your closest friends.... Friends, that's rich. Well, at least they had the "courtesy" to leave me with my dignity, clothed and armed, but with tasteless food that is well out of date and will probably wreck my gullet on the way down, and a more than out of date pip boy. What is this shit on my arm, I don't know how they did it, but they swapped my one for the trash in that old vault we found. All it tells me is how bad I'm doing, how long 'til I die. No coordinates, nothin'. I need to find her, she'd know what to do.
I can't hear shit either. Either I'm getting more deaf, or the silence of this waste is enough to tear my senses asunder. But yet, whispers in the wind, I can hear 'em. No I ain't crazy, I here somethin'. It's cold and dry too, takes your breath clean out, you can't stand around for more than a minute without feeling like an asthmatic in a sandstorm.
I'm tired, tired of all this. Makes you think deep, gives you the time to gather your thoughts and then feel bad about yourself for not being more. Maybe that's why I was left behind. I'm a stubborn old fool; ain't giving two shits 'bout nobody but myself for too long may have left me in this mess. But I figure I'll get out, sometime.
The road is long, life is short, make the most of what you got, or you'll get nout in return. None of that "be safe" shit here.