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Journal of Nolan Mcdowell; Entry 1


Well la-dee-fuckin'-da. I just so happened to find a pen and paper over at the local medical office. This small camp has been my home for several years, you see. It's a place away from the factions that want to do harm and assert power, and it's somewhere to just...survive. There's no fighting, no conflict, and everyone here realizes the work of the group far outweights the work of an individual; even people that seem like they would quarrel get along long enough to make this place better for all of us. Not everything can come perfect, though; there was a raid recently from some scavengers prowling around the wasteland. I used some medical knowledge that my mother taught me before she passed to create some painkillers and bandages for those wounded, but I don't know enough about medicine to do any surgery yet. That's what our infirmary's for anyways, isn't it?

Roberto Torrente's picture

Robbie's Journal- Entry 2

I haven't exactly been a writing force, have I?

Nothing much has changed. The world is what it is, wrecked and barren and full of people determined to put bleeding holes in other people.  And even as a clone, knowing that if the worst happened I'll pop right back out of a machine- it scares me sometimes. The near-immortality is not a bad thing, I don't think. I like living. I won't kid myself. But dying once is something to dread. Doing it over and over again is to be avoided entirely. It's no picnic.

Sarah Gunsmith's picture

23 Seconds


The bed was a handmade wooden frame; the mattress a hard foam that gave way to her body heat; the sheets were the best cotton available, hardly tattered at all and running all the way up to her neck; the pillows, soft masses of feathers bundled together with more cotton. Sarah lay there quietly, her breathing soft and regular as oxygen hissed through a tube around her nose. Occasionally she’d twitch reflexively, as if trying to regain her balance, only for her body to remember it didn’t need regaining.

History of Cole Wilson. Short version.



Cole Wilson is my name and Province is my nation. Nightmare is my dwelling place and Hell my destination.


Roberto Torrente's picture

Robbie's Journal- Entry 1

I found a pen. Funny how there are all sorts of things lying around, just waiting to be picked up and used, but something as simple as a pen and decent paper is scarce. I guess we go back to the basics when pressed hard, and they were all snatched up and used long before Lifenet decided it wanted me active again. Which is another funny idea, how random that choice seems..but I won't think about it too hard. It isn't good for me.

Junkjack's picture


((this is just for the fun, I was musing some time ago out in the wastes getting some ambient chill time, and was watching a pack of Coyote in the distance when my mind sort of wndered into this story idea.))


I must record this, it makes me luagh now when I think on it.

I was hunkering down one evening out in the wastes, a few miles from any town or outpost. I built a fire under the shelter of a small tree on a low rise. I had tied my food up in the tree with a rope pegged at the base and was just stokeing up my fire ready to get into my bedroll.

Green Vyper, The wandering Finger-Eater




Helle there, I finally made it to the forum, Even If I'm really bad about keepin' such activitys up-to-date.

Alos excuse my english but I am a french speaking person.

I'm not gonna introduce or detail my character since her background remains really secret to the community at the moment.

Just wanted to let the RPing community know that if they are in need of an "explicit" CHOTA character for any events or scenario, I'm one.

I adapt my role-play a lot, from mature to very explicit, depending on poeples I play with at an X moment.


Spookshow's picture

Damaged goods.


widdor's picture

The life of the Widd


Sarah Gunsmith's picture


Sarah let out a long mournful sigh as she left the alleyway and merged into the crowd. The wasteland was finally getting to her, finally chuckling and laughing as Sarah realised how inevitable it was. It was a force akin to gravity, you mocked it, you felt sure of mastering such a feeble thing, and then, after almost forgetting about it, becoming practically inconsequential, you slip and nearly fall. The same with aging: one day you wake up and you realise that ache you feel really isn’t going away, and that stiffness in your limbs isn’t temporary.

Sarah Gunsmith's picture

Morning Light


It was nearly dawn, the sun just nearing the horizon as the sky moved from pitch black to ever lighter shades of blue. Sarah figured it was only about another twenty minutes or so before the sun would finally make its appearance. The man in front of her fended off a coughing fit as the two of them made their way up the gravel road into town.

“You ok Mathis?” she asked, pulling alongside now.
“Never better.” He said sarcastically, “You know, you’d think, by you know, definition, that a desert would be a nice, warm, maybe slightly hot place.”

The Musings of Miss Dustyne Rush


The safehouse Dustyne had been taken to was quite, when she woke up Wolf and Blue had fallen asleep. As she sat up from her resting place on the tile floor she shivered, her clothes still damp from the shower she had taken, tossing them on rather than use something to dry off with. As she tiptoed down the stairs she slipped her duster on, making her way down to the garage. Knowing her owners canter, Old Bestie lifted her head, whinnying as she stood. "I'll getcha fed when we getta New Flagstaff kay boo?

henerkin's picture

Henerkin's Road Logboook


((This is going to be Henerkin's background and log book. This is gonna be pretty chaotic, sometimes in third person, sometimes in first person and some post might appear in between other posts on the way, as I remember things that I want to put in here. So fasten your seat belt, hang on tight, cause I break for no one.  PS: I know, my English sucks, but at least I try :P))

Junkjack's picture

Desert Masquerade

Junkjack's picture

The Diary of Junkjack Jones.

Where do I begin? I ask myself.

I'm feeling a deep urge to write down my thoughts, if these meanderings of mine can be called that. Guess I will start at the beginning then jump around some, much as my head does. See if it makes sense, or not, as the world does to me right now.....or not!

First off, if your reading this then maybe, just maybe it will resonate some in your skull too. If not well, you can have a laugh on Old Junkjack's plight.

Ivy's Lab (Like Fermi Lab but on a much lower budget and it focuses on biology not physics)


//Ok so a qualification, the "science" in these posts is not intended to be accurate representation of any actual sciences. I figured given my knowledge of the hard sciences that it would be for the best to merely use soft science fiction and it would be more in the spirit of the character. //

*Howl-like roars are heard from gorillas in massive amount of pain, others lay dying, Bears, and Cougars are also in various stages of suffering. There is a tarped area that is oddly silent except for the occasional bumping against metal bars of flesh.

Sarah Gunsmith's picture

Past Echoes: A Collection of Sarah Gunsmith Stories

This collection is a series of stories that establish Sarah Gunsmith's past in the Fallen Earth universe. Most take place before the destruction of Hoover Dam, a few others take place in the year or so before the launch of the game. If I ever find an IC motivation for Sarah to keep a journal I'll be sure to mark any true journal posts appropriately.

Soahl's picture

Soahl Music: A Collection of Fallen Earth Stories

This is just what the title suggests, a collection of stories I've written about my characters in the Fallen Earth setting. If I ever do any actual Journal type entries then I'll preface them with "Journal -". Likewise, if anything is In Character then I'll mark it as such.

Characters Written About:

Naomi Quinn, Mikayla Vay, Ashley Scott


Soyala's picture

Hózhóojí - The Blessingway


((The information here is strictly ooc and not to be used icly unless express permission is asked. I write so that I can remember what's going on, and so that others might enjoy it as well. This thread alone will be updated with stories, and occasionally images, as to keep the boards clutter free from individual posts. I appreciate the thoughts and comments, but if you could make them in another post or pm them to me, that would be great. I hope you enjoy a sneak peek into this new character's head.))

First Entry In a While.


((Forgive the writing style here, this would be my first 'log' style post regarding this character and Im sure wherre it wont be the last, some folks will not necessarily appreciate the style and manner in which it is written, remember it is written from the views of my character, and as such will be written how he wrote it, not necessarily for the joy of the reader, though I can only hope that you take some joy in reading it!))

Rovagh's picture

Irovagh's Log Book


((going to start off by saying please do not post in this section if you have a comment please post it in a PM to me to keep it less cluttered and so I can continue my writings. thank you all for helping in this. Oh forgive me and be kind as this is the first journal type story I have ever done.))

Name: Irovagh Dainakor

Callsign: Wolf

Age: 42


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by Dr. Radut