Challenge accepted! I strapped on my Pip Boy and fired up a new modded game with a single goal: survive. Boy, did I ever fail. These are the tales of life, and multiple deaths, in the even-harsher Nevada wasteland.
Death #1: A Radscorpion
It took an hour or so of collecting every edible object in sight and slurping every puddle to start to get the hang of proper nutrition. The rate at which food, water, and sleep deprivation become an issue doubled compared to weak-sauce Hardcore mode -- which, in keeping with the New Vegas desert setting, plummeted my character into the throes of minor dehydration sickness every 20 minutes or so if I went without a beverage. I'd also been forced to wrestle down my Hoarders-worthy pack-rat nature, as the base carry weight of 50 (which I bumped to 110 by boosting my Strength stat) didn't leave much room for the usual giant arsenal or an irradiated Thanksgiving dinner to go. And that went double when I had to worry about stimpacks and ammo actually weighing something, which was actually all the time now.
There came a moment, though, when I was full of food, well rested, and had just stolen a golf club from someone's house. Yep, things were looking up -- which is probably why I didn't notice the carapace the size of a Mini Cooper skittering toward me through the brush until it was far too late. As I kissed my pint-sized health bar goodbye, I learned to fear the Wasteland again.
The 2281 model Volkswagon Bug features an all-new, way-uglier design.
Death #2: Powder Gangers
New Vegas' vanilla Hardcore mode -- for all its much-ballyhooed "realism" -- has a tendency to hand out food and drink like a Costco on free sample day. The Jsawyer mod, however, drastically reduces the amount of sustenance dropped by enemies. To survive, I became a scavenger. Rancid dumpster? Don't mind if I do. Toilet water? Even this mod's not so realistic that I have to dirty it up, so down the hatch. Abandoned house? Jackpot.
I couldn't just rush in guns-a-blazing. I had to pick my battles and think on my feet.
Soon, though, I realized I'd only just get
by on those odds and ends.
If I wanted to accomplish anything, I'd need to think bigger.
I had that realization within sight of the lair of the Powder
Gangers, a bunch of escaped convicts holed up in a prison. Better
still, the Jsawyer mod alters a number of factions' moral alignments --
among them portions of the Legion, certain NCR generals, and, of
course, the Powder Gangers. In short, they're now designated as full-on
evil, which meant no karma loss for swiping their stuff. Not that karma really matters when survival is on the line, but I liked the idea that robbing them
blind was to be the perfect crime.And easier said than done, as it turns out. I thought I was being clever by dressing up in some Powder Ganger rags I'd looted before approaching the fort, but the gate guard -- a clever fellow named Dawes -- saw right through my disguise. He let me off with a very stern warning. You know, the kind that involves bullets in my face.
After reloading I spent an hour and a half attempting to more carefully infiltrate the Powder Ganger compound. Believe it or not, my frailty made combat extremely satisfying. I couldn't just rush in guns-a-blazing -- I'd reliably get shredded into Swiss cheese any time I attempted a face-to-face firefight with more than one foe at a time. I had to pick my battles and think on my feet. It was careful planning, lots of sneaking, and subsequent critical hits that ultimately saw me walk away with a nice stock of supplies. Oh, and a vision-blurring concussion.
Dawes the Powder Ganger dispenses tough love.
Death #3: A Deathclaw
Weakened and disoriented from the Powder Ganger encounter, I tried to slip through a crack between two craggy hills. My character's vision briefly blurred into nothingness. The next thing I saw? Two unfairly lithe tons of claw and hatred running right at me. Seeing as Jsawyer mod's 50-percent XP rate meant that -- after three hours of play -- I was at the tail end of level two, I accepted my fate and didn't even try to resist. Unless screaming counts as resisting.
This Deathclaw may be blind, but he still had no trouble murdering me by smell alone.
Death #4: Caesar's Legion
Setting out in the other direction this time, I sighted a town on the horizon. I was overjoyed -- finally, I thought, a doctor could heal my debilitating head wound, and I could resume an ordinary, extraordinarily death-prone existence. So I got closer, only to find -- what else? -- fire and crucified townsfolk. As always, Caesar's delightful Legion had <i>the best</i> timing. In unmodded playthroughs I'd slaughter these guys. I mean, they're awful, right? I am morally opposed to their existence.
This time, though, I realized something: Short of Mt Vesuvius magically erupting out of the ground to finish what it started, I didn't stand a chance against 10 of Caesar's Legionaries. So I let them go without so much as a shot fired. My character was tired, hungry, and weak as a mutant kitten. What else was I supposed to do? That moment, though, crystallized what this mod's all about: I wasn't a Big Damn Hero. I was like everyone else, just attempting to scrape out an existence in the Wasteland.
And then, in that moment of clarity, a pack of Legion dogs ate me.
I'm really more of a cat person.
Death #5: A Coma
With so many drastic changes to player survivability, the Jsawyer mod was bound to have some deaths caused by unintended complications. One flaw in particular is kind of odd: it doesn't seem to understand the idea that the human body uses less energy while unconscious. I discovered this when I tried to sleep for a bit longer than a day (I'd just missed a store's closing time, you see), and straight-up died of dehydration. Waiting also creates the same effect -- my character literally stood there and tapped his foot as he dried up like a raisin on his feet. That can grate if you don't pay attention to your hunger/thirst stats.
Oversleeping: the silent killer.
Death #6: Loneliness
Having a companion to watch my back -- especially Boone -- killed a lot of the fear and tension created by going it alone. Formerly impossible situations became fairly doable with another set of incredibly precise hands aiding my cause. We even managed to reliably take down Deathclaws, although eventually we got cocky and one of them perma-killed Boone. And then, of course, me.
I really died of a broken heart. Booooooone!
Now that you've got my example to learn from, I expect you to perform better when you try Jsawyer hardcore for yourself (here's that download link again). Just remember these simple rules: stay hydrated, keep your eyes peeled, pick your battles carefully, beware of Deathclaws, nap in moderation, and for heaven's sake, pack yourself a lunch. The wasteland giveth, and the wasteland taketh away.
Spy Guy says: That's
nothing. I'm working on my own super-duper hardcore mod in which you
must manually fill out 269 years' worth of back tax returns.
True, the IRS was the first thing to get obliterated in the war, but
death and taxes are the only two certain things in life --
even post-apocalypse
