Tales by Balefirelight (a Fallout: Equestria Group Collab)

Generation

by TundraStanza

The first life was an Overmare who didn’t give a darn.  The second life was a slave driver that wanted to seek his fortune.  The third life was a shop merchant that sold weaponry to both sides in a civil war.

I took a deep breath before continuing my trek through the dust.

The fourth life was a Follower who offered all his aid.  The fifth life was a raider who was quickly shot dead.  The sixth life was so stupid that he couldn’t talk straight.  Do I even need to tell you how lucky the seventh life was?  She won the pot.

Time passed by every generation.  The stats rolled from one to ten.  Russian Roulette was more fun when you used somepony else’s head.

These were the paths unto the game.  Did you understand the rules?  Playing with the dice of gods would leave you all for fools.  You were just a puppet being pulled by someone’s strings.  I went and rolled the dice of life.

I turned around to make sure no pony was following.  It needn’t have mattered.

The eighth life was a ghoul that barely kept her face intact.  The ninth life was a hired gun and a part-time p***ph*le.  That was a fact.  The tenth life was so boring.  Just forget I mentioned it.  As for the eleventh life, it was too horrifying to go into details.

Different generations held varying degrees.  Power, fame, and fortune could lead to greatness or disease.  Some paths led to a life of sin, while others were quite nice.  Did you want to take a chance and roll the dice?

I drew a sun using nothing but radioactive waste.  I then layered a crescent moon on top with two poured streams of wonder glue.