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A Biography about Todd Farlen, the wasteland cowboy created by WandererOfTheMojave, from the viewpoint of Todd himself

All right, I ain't written a book before, I don't consider myself no literary genius, that's for damn sure. Personally, I'd just call myself a guy with a set of Desert Ranger armor, a 44. Magnum Revolver and an itchy trigger finger, (As well as a silver tongue) but it seems that since the day I set foot in the Mojave, folks've taken to callin' me a hero. Yeah right. I'm not proud of some of the things I've done. Why would I be? As much good as I may have done for the world, I've done a pretty bit of bad, as well. I'm sure you've heard about the death of Robert Edwin House... I don't like to talk about that.

On another note, I like the soldiers who fight for the NCR, they're good people, and I respect them. I just don't like the corrupt, manipulative people who run the NCR.


If we're going to be talking about my adventures... well, aside from the obvious preparation and result at the battle of Hoover Dam, and just generally helping people, I've had a few outside of the Mojave.


There was the time I went to Zion... goddamn, that was a mistake. Caravan got wrecked by the White Legs. Next thing I know, I'm involved in a war between the tribes. I managed to get a good rifle once owned by a historic legend, along with armor worn by the famous Desert Rangers, but those are hardly worth the dangers I went through in that damned valley. In the end, though, I guess it was all worth it to save those tribals. Who knows, I might even see Joshua and Daniel again some day.

And then there's the Sierra Madre. Goddamn, that was nothing short of terrifying. I'm glad that old man is gone, stuck in that damn vault he loved so much. Haven't heard from Christine, Dog or Dean ever since, though. I'm sure they're alright. (Dog sure is, now that he and his alternate personality don't have to fight any more. Well worth the cost of losing their memories. It's better that he forgets, anyway.) In other news, if anyone questions me having gone there, all I have to do is show them the scars.

And then there was... Well, the place I was at is a secret. Let me just say that I was able to get back out in one piece. Brain, Heart, Spine and all. Without any unnecessary deaths, thank god.

And then... The Divide. I thought the Madre was bad. And then he contacted me, told me to go there... I didn't realize that what I was in for was nothing short of pure madness. Never would have had the nerve to keep going if that little guy I know and love wasn't with me all the way... I miss that robot. In a way, though, I guess I still have him with me. And I'll be damned if I ever let anything happen to him now. I've also gone on some more minor adventures, like that wild story involving D.E.I.M.O.S, or my career as a bounty hunter when me and Cass brought more than our fair share of outlaws to justice, and helped our old contractor Randall take down the son of a bitch who killed his family. Then there was all that fighting at Boulder, Colorado, the time I did all those odd jobs for that Chef, did some stuff involving a Botanist, and my adventures in Denver, or "Dog City" as most people call it. Dog City indeed. Ain't no kind of Dog that can survive a 44. Bullet to the head... Well, except for the robotic war-dog kind.


In the end, though, I'm happy to just sit down and relax on a comfy chair, stairing out onto New Vegas from the top of the Lucky 38 with my wife at my side, listening to "In the Shadow of the Valley" on the old radio. As much as I'd like to wander the wastes again, I have duties not just to New Vegas, but to my family as well. There'll be other people to go out and go on crazy adventures to save the world from an insane mutated scientist or stop some government remnant or mass purify water or something. And to those people, I wish them luck. God knows that anyone in this wasteland's gonna need it.

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