Todblaz Graker
Doctor, Doctor please
Audio Log #1
OOC Note: These are for myself and to create background for those who want to read them, idk I'll try and make them entertaining as well, I'll jump around a lot probably cause then I can make a lot more of these rather than drag a single portion
Transcript:
Today I was asked a logical question, "If life is so precious, then why do you continue to both, leave it undocumented and waste it on training rather than enjoying yourself?" The question was not rhetorical, it was from the Quarter Master trying to talk people out of learning how to fight and shoot. Though when I went through the training a few years ago he said nothing of the sort, guess he likes the new guys better. It did get me thinking, what if I do document my life and travels, I think it would be fun and if I ever die people can get ahold of them and worship me as some sort of god or some crap.
I really did think about it for a short while before Lance yelled at me to go help him in the Medic tent, a man had slipped and had a deep laceration. This was a bad cut he was bleeding profusely, so we clamped the artery that had been snagged, sterilized the area and sewed it back up. He was then back to the hospital a distance away to get a graft. I told them I could do it, they said no, area wasn't sterile enough as we're in the middle of nowhere with a makeshift tent.
Well no where is an exaggeration, it would be more like basically no where. The firing range is a planet over from the main base and a fourteen hour trip to the nearest town. Other than that I haven't had too much of an eventful day, actually the sun's still up, but we have tonight off. My friends and I will most likely go play a party game or have a bit of fun with a sport, who knows, last time I had this time off we stole a Jeep and had to walk fifteen miles in full armor as punishment. Anyway I'm trying to figure out how to end this, maybe I could be like, oh my god, we're under attack or some crap to build up suspense for the next one.
I got it. In twenty-five years everyone will die, spooky. Now how do I turn this crap off.
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