I May Secretly Be a Hoarder
Apparently the only thing stopping me from living in a hand-built castle forged from old People Magazines and cat corpses, is the amount of physical effort involved. Hoarding is just too much work in real life, and to be honest, I'm simply not organized enough. My virtual self, of course, is untroubled by the hellish tribulations of lifting and moving things with his arms, and so I've learned that, when there are no physical requirements to collecting garbage, I will instantly transform into an eighty year old widow whose family doesn't visit so much anymore. In New Vegas my character refuses to throw literally anything away on the off-chance that, somewhere down the line, I might discover a secret formula that lets me combine a coffee pot, two boxes of macaroni and cheese, and a pound of gunpowder into the world's deadliest superweapon.
It fires toasters. See? IT'S ALL USEFUL.
The end result is a grizzled and dangerous warrior, trundling around the virtual post-apocalypse performing great and heroic deeds - saving the president, fighting off ravenous demons, freeing captured sex slaves - who simply will not stop until he either accomplishes his mission, or stumbles across an abandoned dresser containing six irons, a pressure cooker, and seventy-two empty cola bottles.
If I'd Realized This About Myself Sooner:
I'd still have the complete Moon Knight catalogue, and those knee-pads I bought during that week in '93 when we all collectively forgot how gay rollerblading looks. Those are collector's items now, man!
I Am Inherently Good (Unless I Want Something You Have)
I genuinely went into this game trying to behave with the same set of morals, standards and personality traits that I have in real life, for better or worse. And for the most part, my video game counterpart is a good person: He doesn't steal, he doesn't hurt the innocent, he always tries to help when he can, and he occasionally murders senior citizens for their eyeglasses.
When you first start the game, you have the option of choosing genetic traits for yourself - a series of attributes with both negative and positive repercussions. One of them is called Four Eyes, and it gives you a bonus for wearing glasses, a penalty for not. Since I wear glasses in real life, and the trade-off seemed fair, I took it. But I was stupidly figuring that if you built a character who has needed glasses for their entire life, and you join them sometime in their early twenties, they would have either found a pair of fucking glasses by now, or else died by comically falling into an open manhole. I was wrong. After several hours of wandering the desolate nuclear deserts half-blind and miraculously stumbling to accidental victory like Mr. Magoo, I finally found what is apparently the last pair of prescription eyeglasses in the entire world...resting on the face of a kindly, if a bit gossipy old woman running a beat-down hotel. There was no hesitation: I took one look at her face, double-checked that the door was locked, walked back over to her desk, and put six bullets in her face. For her glasses.
I really like those frames, ma'am...If I'd Realized This About Myself Sooner:
Well, I've paid for prescription eyeglasses about six times in my life, at an average of around $150 per pair. So if I'd come to this shattering self-realization sooner, that would've meant two things:
1. I would have saved like $900 dollars.
2. I would've gone down in the record books as the Third Least Intimidating Serial Killer in History, just behind Penguin Ted and the Soft Hands Strangler.