War.
War never changes.
Since the dawn of humankind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything, from God, to justice, to simple psychotic rage.
The Romans waged war to gather slaves and wealth. Spain built an empire from its lust for gold and territory. Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic superpower. In the later decades of civilization, the great superpowers of the world, America, China and others, engaged in a Cold War, one kept only in check by the threat of mutual destruction, but even that eventually gave way. Mutual destruction went from a scary idea to our terrifying reality.
War never changes.
The end of the world occurred pretty much as we had predicted, though irony saw that we could do nothing about it, regardless of our ability to see it coming. There were too many humans, not enough space or resources to go around. The details are trivial and pointless, the reasons, as always, were purely human ones. In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. The earth was nearly wiped clean of life in a great cleansing, an atomic spark struck by human hands that quickly raged out of control.
Spears of nuclear power rained from the skies, launched from every corner of our planet, aimed at every other part. The world was plunged into an abyss of radioactivity and rage. Continents were swallowed in flames and fell beneath the boiling oceans. The sky darkened as ash and dirt filled the air, black rain fell and irreversible damage was wrought upon the land. Humanity was almost extinguished, their spirits becoming part of the background radiation that now blanketed the earth.
But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter in human history.
For man had succeeded in destroying the world, but war... war never changes.
In the early days, thousands had been spared the horrors of the devastating holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters known as vaults. Many were built in the United States and advertised as shelters from the coming storm, and on the day fire fell from the heavens, their enormous doors sealed shut, saving and sealing their populations within. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them. Their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, form new tribes.
This was a time of great legends, as the vault dwellers spread out and made new lives for themselves. It was a time of fear, of uncertainty, and many died from the dangerous and terrible lands they now walked. Many tribal communities died from starvation or some other horror, yet others were more lucky. As decades passed, what had been the American southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic, a government formed by traditions and knowledge passed down through time. They were dedicated to old world values, democracy and the rule of law.
As the Republic grew, so did its needs. Scouts and rangers spread east, seeking territory and wealth, in the dry and merciless expanse of the Mojave desert. They returned with fantastic tales of a city untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world, a city of lights and casinos, and of a great, stone wall spanning the Colorado river, drawing more power from it than any generator they possessed. The NCR, recognizing the potential value these things offered, immediately mobilized its army and set it east to occupy the Hoover Dam and restore it to working condition.
But across the Colorado, another society had arisen under a different flag. A vast army of slaves, forged in the conquest of eighty-six tribes: Caesar's Legion. Inspired by the legends, myths and facts of the ancient Roman Empire, Caesar led a brutal and tyrannical regime which saw the Legion grow in power as it absorbed tribes into its culture, rehabilitating its members to serve the Legion before themselves, stripping them of their former identities.
Proclaiming himself Emperor and preaching that the god Mars cleansed the earth with great fire to allow the strong a chance to rule and conquer the weak, Caesar managed to breed a force of unquestioning, highly disciplined and ultimately loyal soldiers, whose tactics and ruthlessness spread chaos and terror wherever they go. Every man of Caesar's Legion single-mindedly works towards the goals and ideals of their emperor, to unite the world beneath one flag, one monolithic empire, no matter the cost.
Caesar learned of the NCR and of their democratic government and determined them to be worthy adversaries. He viewed his actions as being like his namesake, the original Caesar, who over two millennia ago, after years of campaigning against tribes, crossed the river Rubicon, at the time an act of insurrection, to capture Rome and take control of the Republic. Caesar began his campaign against the NCR, and sent his right-hand man and general, known as the Malpais Legate, to lead the forces of the Legion upon Hoover Dam.
Four years have passed since the Republic held the dam, just barely, against the Legion's onslaught. For his failure to take the dam, the Malpais Legate was covered in pitch, set afire and tossed into the Grand Canyon. Caesar made an example of the man who was once his friend, for all the Legion to witness the price of failure.
Despite their failure, the Legion did not retreat. Across the river, they gather strength. Campfires burn. Training drums beat. Soldiers train every day, without complaint and without cease, preparing for their future assault against the dam. Raiding parties of Legionnaires continue to cross into NCR territory, attacking caravans and towns baring the NCR flag, crucifying and burning men and capturing women for their own purposes.
Through it all, the New Vegas Strip has stayed open for business under the control of its mysterious overseer, Mr. House, and his army of rehabilitated tribals and police robots. Since the signing of the Treaty of Hoover Dam, NCR citizens from all over have flocked to the Strip, and the cash began flowing as they gambled away their fortunes and ambitions, just as it was before the war. Though focused much more on each other, the NCR and the Legion both have plans for the city, but the illusive and intelligent Mr. House has plans of his own.
In the midst of these factions and many others was a single young man, a courier with a sorted past, hired by the Mojave Express to deliver an unusual, yet uninteresting package: a single, oversized poker chip made from platinum. This courier, confident in his ability to deliver so simple an item and more than willing to accept the steep payment for the job, never imagined that this small, seemingly insignificant chip would end up being the key to his destiny, his past, and all of Mojave Wasteland itself.
And also his death.