Joe was born in 2253 somewhere out on a highway road whilst his parents were out travelling. His earliest memories are of being in Scrapheap - a dusty junktown in western Nevada, well out of NCR borders. The town ran on a Brahma shit generator and was a pretty podunk place to live. Nobody really came in or out. His pa died before he was old enough to remember - something about fighting raiders. His ma died of fever when he was about 8 years old. He never really knew where either of his parents came from, his ma said they were both from "Out west" and that she lived deep in the mountains when she was his age and that was that.
After she was dead and buried, when he was 13, Scrapheap's generator gave up the ghost finally and the town effectively scattered. He ended up being picked up by a Brahmin herding crew heading down to Tonopah, where he worked as a ranch hand. They already had a Joe in the crew so they called the kid "Blondie" on account of his hair and bright blue eyes. It was shitty and occasionally crooked work when they rustled Brahmin that didn't belong to them - but hey, it meant more food on the table at the end of the day.
Tonopah was a podunk shithole same as Scrapheap- when he was 16 and an opportunity came for a courier job to the Hub paying double his monthly wage, he jumped at the chance and never looked back, not even for the crew that had took him in. It was time to move on. He was warned it was a dangerous journey - but he didn't care. He wanted on the road. Heading down on 95 through Parahump and the remains of Hopeville and Ashton. When he reached the Hub, he'd never seen anything like it. The hustle and bustle. A whole world out there of people making their own way, going wherever they wanted. He hired on with the Mojave Express and reported his route to the postmasters. Listing his name as "Blondie".
Off he went, Junktown, Shady Sands, Boneyard, countless others. Eventually heading up to northern New California. He took on all sorts of work for extra pay - a man on his own, no place, no people, just himself to look out for. He never stayed anywhere for long - no point or he'd wind up in some trouble or another (Never again, New Reno) . He was the type to make friends real easy, but never kept em - moved on too fast and put them behind him. He stuck around in San Francisco for a long while but things...things didn't work out there. Proved to him he was never meant to be a homebody.
Brahmin Drives on the Big Circle, caravaneering across the 80 into Utah, prospecting and even some bounty hunter work here and there. All sorts of adventures and trouble. Ultimately, he always came back to Courier work. Despite his gruff, money-minded exterior the experience of exploring new places, connecting communities with news, supplies, messages - for some places he was their only link to the outside world or the man that would bring the right medicine, messages, supplies that would save the day. It gave him a feeling he was doing something good. The road was his home and being a Courier gave his wandering a purpose. Through sandstorms, pits of the worst wildlife or territory of vicious tribals - he'd always make delivery. No matter what.
In his courier bag he collected tokens - souvenirs from his travels. They were about the only things left when Doc Mitchell gave him his belongings back. After the attack outside Goodsprings his memories were foggy, soup like. He could remember parts with clarity, but his personal history was a vague even to himself, but his souvenirs acted as reminders - brought back solid chunks.
A gold nugget from Redding
Fake gold, weighted dice from New Reno
A cog-shaped beer mat for Vault City's synthetic beer
A jade dragon ornament from San Francisco
A handkerchief with a faded lipstick kiss from...he can't recall.
His time in the Mojave's a little different but it'll ultimately end up the same. He'll put a bullet in the head of the rat bastard who tried to kill him, get his package back, finish the delivery and move on up the road again. Maybe back to Utah, to this New Canaan place he keeps hearing about. Maybe one day along the road he'll find a place to rest his boots, or maybe he'll keep walking till he drops.
Traits:
-Built to Destroy
-Skilled
Tag Skills:
-Barter
-Guns
-Survival
Primary Weapon(s)
-That Gun
-Anti-Material Rifle
-ARCHIMEDES II (I Could Make You Care)
I basically have an "arc" planned where after killing Benny and delivering the Chip to House, he decides to skip town and joins the Happy Trails expedition to head to New Canaan. The events of Honest Hearts and his interactions with Graham convince him it's worth sticking his boots in the ground with a tribe (tribes) and doing some good, convincing him to return to the Mojave (with the added caveat that without New Canaan there's nowhere to go). He buys an Armored Vault 21 Jumpsuit from The Strip to represent the second chance Doc Mitchell gave him in the Mojave and his support of Vegas.
At first supporting House, Dead Money convinces him among his other doubts that House has that same lethal inability to let go, so he works with NCR, his friendship with Veronica meaning he organizes a truce with the Brotherhood, but lingering doubts over NCR are solidified in Old World Blues and Lonesome Road - one man can make a nation, and with the Think Tank he can breathe life into Vegas just like he did the Divide - ultimately following NCR until Hoover Dam, where he pulls the ultimate Wild Card and establishes New Vegas's independence.
No idea why I necroed this thread for this but just got excited about my next NV playthrough for some reason and decided to post more fanfic autism.