I had a real name once. Don't remember it much anymore. Not surprising as it's been a few thousand years since I last used it. Now I go by the name Booker... or Pagey... or Mr. Wordsworth... or whatever name some adorable pony has graced me with and I'm too much of a doormat to say no. Dang it, Star Swirl, did you cast some spell on your descendants or something?

So yeah, I'm one of the latest victims of the Merchant. Really should have known better when I was offered that delectable limited-edition Touhou fanbook by some guy who looked like he was ripped from a Stephen King novel, but I'm too much of a bibliophile to pass something like that up, you know? Now I'm stuck in what should be a children's cartoon show with powers that no mortal being should have and enough baggage to choke a hydra.

At least I have my books, even if I do have to beat them into submission occasionally.

A human wakes up at the bottom of crater in the middle of a wasteland. He has nothing to his name but the clothes on his back, a half-crumpled pack of cigs, a cheap lighter, a small notebook, a ballpoint pen, and a flask of most-likely illegal moonshine. Also, he can't seem to recall who he is, where he comes from, or how he arrived in the desert in the first place.

It might be from the blunt-force trauma of falling out of the sky, but he's not quite sure about that.

What he does figure is that he's no longer on Earth. The creatures popped straight out of a children's fairytale book, pastel equines who are way too cuddle-happy, and a rather ornery goddess of the night pretty much clinch that notion.

So what's a lone human with no viable chance of returning to a life he can't even remember to do?

Creating a guide so that he can survive the foreseeable future seems like a good start.

"There are three immutable facts I've come to embrace since my arrival in Equestria - narrative causality is king, magic can go eat a sack of horseapples, and Vinyl Scratch is rutting insane." - The Human's Guide to Equestria, Foreword