Las Vegas Iconic Neon Signs - VegasGreatAttractions

High all! I really recently fell in love with the Fallout Universe, with all its complexities and unique stories. In particular, I very much enjoy the subjectivity of interpretations of the games and their outcomes, and I wanted to create my own personal contribution by writing a story specifically set after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. The Courier is referenced once in passing and there's no mention of a next of kin for the Courier. The story is completely original with entirely unique characters that I've made and it takes place after a non-specific timeline in which Mr House wins the fight for the Mojave Desert. I wanted to share some of my work with my fellow Fallout fans and see what you think. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
Beginning:
After the guns fell silent during the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, the world was forever changed. Mr House’s City State of New Vegas gained full sovereignty and control over the Mojave Desert, and his Securitron Army pushed the exhausted NCR and broken Legion out. In the following years, Mr House rapidly expanded the city of New Vegas, and reignited the production of old Pre-War Technology automobiles, bus lines, and a high speed train line appeared. The Strip itself expanded beyond the Three Families; Strip clubs, pubs, casinos, all you can eat buffets filling the area, with some residential apartments and houses now beginning to be sold to the highest bidder, just as it was in the old world.
The expanded city of Vegas outside the Strip itself however is a slum, crime, inequality, and denigration is all but abundant, and unrest is growing. Following the removal of President Kimball, his Vice President Donald Watson took over and inherited a State in crisis. Faith in the government had rapidly deteriorated, and the economy of the NCR began to suffer as many relocated to the Strip to live a life of luxury and excess. The NCR is now a shadow of its former self, with Military Police now required to keep order on the streets of its towns and cities. The poverty level is rising. In the East, Caesar’s Legion too is changing, and not for the better. With the Western Campaign a failure by all accounts, resources dwindling, questions about the strength of their Leader Caesar are cropping up in the minds of those closest to him.
By 2295, the pieces had fallen into place. The fate of these States and the people who uphold them is uncertain. One thing is for sure. Whatever happens, the Wasteland will be changed unlike it has ever been before.
‘I appreciate your respectful and restrained response to my contact. It is a pleasure to interact with the less agitated members of your State.’
Aminta barely heard Mr House, and instead stared out the windows of the Lucky 38. The skyline of the Strip extended seemingly forever, pushing away the surrounding darkness with neon light. Just beyond the city outskirts, the silhouette of Mr House’s newly created Launch Pad. It was one of five, and she could just see the other four, each slightly further away from the city than the last. She scrutinised them, and was struck by the boundless possibilities of such technology; the opportunities provided. How exciting it would be! Mr House’s voice then cracked her thoughts and brought back to the present. She listened, without comment.
‘Roughly 18 hours ago, a team of five extraordinarily skilled individuals ascended Hoover Dam from the base of the structure,’ The ostentatiously large screen in which Mr House’s face sat suddenly changed to show grainy footage. ‘This was captured by one of our cameras on the perimeter of the dam. I apologise for the bad quality, it has been surprisingly difficult obtaining improved camera lenses, and As you can see, they used some kind of Grapnel Launcher and ascended via the rope.’
On the screen, it was possible to just make out five distinct figures at the base of the dam. They were clearly dressed in dark clothing, though the quality was too poor and the camera was too far away to make out any of the fine details of the material. Aminta scrutinised the footage, watching intently as the five figures used an oblong object, reminiscent of a hunting rifle to fire a rope, or cord up the side of the dam; high enough to catch the top. The operator of the device then disconnected it from the gun, and pressed it into the ground. It appeared to stick. They then ascended the rope. The camera feed then cut to show three of the attackers subdue and restrain two security guards. Due to the light, it was clear that the clothing the criminals were wearing was Recon Armor, though there were no insignia or identifiable characteristics. The two men were then held down by two and clubbed across the face by the third member with the butt of a 10mm pistol. He then turned to the computer and retrieved something from his pocket. Then the screen went black.
‘At this point, at roughly 1:27 am a Trojan was fitted onto the system. It temporarily disabled all the security cameras in the sector. It was one of the strongest Trojans I’ve ever come across, but I was able to get the system back up and running within 15 minutes. Unfortunately we cannot recover any footage from the corrupted data files that detail how the robbers escaped. I hope you can understand why I decided to contact you.’
Aminta pondered to herself. Why would Mr House, a man who controlled Rockets and owned and governed an entire city and it’s enterprises, would need to contact the New California Republic for assistance in a robbery? From where they were standing, he appeared to be in a position any high ranking NCR official would kill for. She didn’t say anything. There had to be more to this meeting than what Mr House was implying. She looked to her left, trying to be casual. Sitting next to her with an overexaggerated grave look on his face was Political Officer Neville Dawson, and next to him was Dennis Crocker, former Ambassador to the Strip. They too were quiet, their faces frustratingly hiding what they were thinking. Not sure where to look, Aminta turned back to the screen Mr House’s caricature face was on. She had to say something.
‘Mr House, why exactly do you think these people targeted Hoover Dam? There are many casinos and places full of money on the New Vegas Strip. Is there anything of massive value at Hoover Dam?’
‘Well Chief Aminta Marr, no, ostensibly speaking, there is nothing there of real value to anyone, unless they have the ability to take and control the Dam and source it’s hydraulic generated electricity,’
‘Then why would someone do this?’ Aminta said curtly. She tensed up, not meaning to sound dismissive.
‘Well Aminta, they did take one thing from what we've deduced,’ Mr House said, appearing to ignore her tone.
‘And what was that Mr House?’ Neville cut in. He was leaning forward, hands clasped tightly together. He was trying - and failing - to ease the tension in the room.
‘Well, before I contacted you Neville, and to answer your question Aminta, I ran through my storage records from 2285 to the present. I had Mr Harvey Shwarze, my ‘Representative in Government’ review them in paper form in our archives. Three things - completely inconsequential things mind you, were missing. Three Platinum Chips.’
‘Three Platinum Chips?’ Neville said concertedly, as if he knew exactly what Mr House was talking about.
‘That’s right. It’s a data storage device, well it was a data storage device. Designed by me before the Great War of 2077. Perhaps once upon a time this would’ve been valuable to somebody, but after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam I had access to all kinds of ruined facilities all over the Mojave to reform to working order. I began reprinting hundreds of Platinum Chips which were variations of the original Platinum Chip. They continuously upgrade and encrypt my software to prevent any outside programmers from accessing my highly sensitive data. I have no idea what a group of hooligans would want with three. I can easily replace them, and since they’re only usable on my systems, well they would simply be useless.’
‘Perhaps they wanted to sell them,’ Aminta proposed. It wasn’t impossible, she thought. People pay top dollar for things with perceived value, isn’t that the cardinal rule of the Strip?
‘To whom?’ Mr House replied. ‘The point still stands. Nobody has any use for them but me.’
‘Well, perhaps they thought they were valuable.’ Dennis remarked.
‘In any case, they will soon learn they are not valuable.’
‘If you have no problems with this Mr House,’ Aminta cut in. ‘Why do you need us here? The NCR has its own problems, big problems, and from where we’re standing, you seem to have everything under control.’
‘That’s precisely the issue!’ Mr House exclaimed. ‘The very fact they managed to steal anything from me at all is deeply disconcerting! I spent days and nights running statistical simulations for all possible scenarios in and formulated the best plans for countering every scenario I came across!’
‘I guess my point is, I do not understand, in any capacity, why you, YOU of all people would need to call us for assistance in a matter that you - whether intentional or not - have spent the last fives minutes telling us it isn’t an issue.’
The room fell quiet. Aminta pulled her hands back from the table and into her lap, and looked down at them, pretending to be occupied analysing them. She had exposed the true, unspoken meaning of this meeting, and they all knew it. She bit her lip. Dennis wiped the sweat off his face. Neville breathed in deeply, as though he was going to speak. But Mr House did first.
‘As I understand it, the NCR has fallen on hard times since the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. My Lieutenant after the battle was admittedly curt in regards to handling our relations, and since then it seems your economy is really struggling with extremely poor unemployment and satisfaction levels,’ Mr House paused.
Neville looked at Aminta with a look of understanding, and regret but he didn’t say anything. Mr House was right. Of course he was right.
‘It just so happens that while it may look from the outset I’m doing well, with the occasional launch of one of my experimental rockets, crime in Greater New Vegas is extraordinarily high. To be clear, the Strip is not, but the extended city state with the newly constructed buildings - those areas are. I want to make a proposition for the mutual benefit of the NCR, and New Vegas. Neville, think carefully about what I’m about to say.’
Neville spoke up. ‘Alright, I’m all ears.’
‘Dennis Crocker here can once again become the Ambassador to the Strip, and the NCR can once again have an Embassy. I will also give the NCR access to some of my technologies to help your state re-stabilize after everything that’s happened. In return however, I would like Aminta here, who is your Chief and Commander of both your military and normal police forces, to assist my Securitrons in patrolling Outer Vegas. Securitrons don’t make the best police, and security guards are in short supply and are not equipped, in any sense, to be police. I also would like your help in tracking down the culprits of this robbery; that being an extension of the aforementioned policing stipulation. Such a breach of security cannot happen again. Neville Dawson, I’m willing to sign a treaty pertaining to these terms, or any terms the NCR may propose, unless of course it does mutually benefit both states.’
Aminta felt her twang strike her deep in her heart. For years, the NCR Police Force had been absorbed into the Military Police Unit, and they could barely contain black market dealings of Chems and military grade weaponry on the streets of NCR’s cities. They did not have the resources or power Mr House seemed to think they did. For nearly 3 years straight she had been bombarded with evidence of killings by her own subordinates, illegal incarcerations, and illicit behavior between colleagues within her own chain of command, with no power to rehabilitate or prosecute those involved. Meanwhile, those that had the money to escape fled to New Vegas, desperate to find a life of comfort. It was possible that through re-establishing trade and mutual respect with Mr House, they could rebuild the NCR’s respectability on the international and internal level. She found herself hoping the treaty would be signed.
‘This... is a huge proposition. I hope you can understand the overwhelming nature of what you’re telling us, it’ll take a bit for us to come to a conclusion.’ Neville exhaled, as though he had been holding it for the last minute.
‘I understand.’ Mr House responded.
‘Maybe I ask,’ Donnie piped up. ‘What specific kinds of technology will you provide to the NCR?’
Mr House ran down a checklist. ‘Vehicles. Remade pre-war cars. Excavation machines. Cement mixers. Would provide jobs and improve your infrastructure in the process, whilst also giving me business and improving the situation here. Mutually beneficial for both sides.’
‘I see.’
Aminta struggled to contain her happiness. She had become a police officer to enforce safety and protect those who abide by the law. This was a way back to such operations, in which she could help those in need, rather than sit idly while their situation worsened.
‘I’ll also be willing to give 10% of the electricity produced by Hoover Dam to the NCR. It produces more than I need.’ Mr House offered.
Dennis shifted his weight, and opened his mouth. It was a second before anything came out.
‘15% would be great, if possible.’
‘Done.’ Mr House concluded.
‘Well, we’ll definitely have to confer this back to President Watson. As previously said by Mr Dawson, this is a huge offer.’
‘I understand. Aminta, I can only hope you also support this.’
Aminta smiled. ‘I am willing to establish a NCR Police Force here in New Vegas, and assist in establishing prosperity and stability, for the benefit of both states.’
‘Excellent. I’ll arrange for a Taxi to take you back to the border.’
*****
Nobody said a word in the ride in the elevator down to the entrance of the Lucky 38. There was a perpetual sense of being watched, and listened to, and Aminta supposed they probably were. She sensed from the stiffness of Donnie and Neville’s postures they felt the same way. As the three left through the ground level of the building, the desolate casino indicated a time long past, preserved in pristine condition yet uncannily lifeless; inhabited only by robots. Aminta felt a shiver flow throughout her body, prompting her to hurry outside.
Upon exiting, Aminta was greeted by the fantastic lighting she had seen from the Lucky 38. Buildings stretched high into the now night sky, perpetually lit up and calling for you to spend a few short hours in their luxurious suites and lose all the money you have without knowing it. She had visited the Strip a couple of times before the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. Back then, whilst still grand, its exterior walls felt cobbled-together, layered pieces of steel to preserve what glory the pre-war days had. Now, the Strip felt open, almost a complete return to complete pre-war glory, though there was no way of her knowing what such a time looked like. Polished, beetle like cars with extravagant interwoven pieces of silver and gold making up their hubcaps cluttered the road, filled with nicely dressed young women chattering incessantly.
Boys, ranging from teenagers to old men stumbled around, drunk and happy, their legs falling beneath them as though they were wet noodles. To the left, the Ultra Luxe Casino hotel stood at the far end of the street, intoxicatingly ostentatious and alluring for any hoping to climb the social ladder, despite the many rumors of cannibalism attempting to tarnish the brand. The fountain outside the front sprayed sparkling water into the night air which caught the light of the strip and reflected it like the jewels the building it was in front of was embroidered in. However, Aminta was not taken by the hotel, and watched two NCR troopers, still in their military uniforms be forced to dance in front of a crowd of onlookers. They were pushed and shoved as they struggled to dance, their arms and legs barely keeping to any rhythm as they fell to the ground, vomiting a putrid yellow substance onto the asphalt. She looked away in disgust and embarrassment for the two men.
A man in an expensive looking suit and bowtie greeted the three. Behind him stood a long polished black car.
‘Shall I take you to the crossing point?’
‘Yes.’ Donnie answered. Aminta and Neville followed his lead. He had more experience on the Strip than the majority of the tourists around them. She started the car once they were all inside, the engine barely kicking as it began to drive. Aminta marvelled at its power, it’s sleekness, at the strength and confidence of its movement and the luxury of it’s exotic wood plated interior.
The chauffeur drove to the large South Gate of the Strip, passing multitudinous buildings of similar grandeur and spectacle, all the same though uniquely different, until they all blurred into one mix of different colours and moving forms. The chauffeur leaned out of the side window, showed an identification pass to a Securitron, and the gate opened. Aminta’s car was the only car that left. As the gate closed, the car picked up speed and tore through the rest of Vegas.
Immediately outside the Strip, the buildings were noticeably more dilapidated. Aminta watched as the varied prosperity of the Strip curtailed rapidly into a mess of buildings, barely recognisable as residential or industrial, though they were unmistakably new creations. She almost didn’t notice it at first, but they were all the same. Row after row of buildings with the same geometric exterior, though placed at odd angles to each other, as if a child had been playing with them and haphazardly threw them into where they now stood. As the car moved further and further away from the Strip, lights in these buildings became scarce, and the brickwork became exposed to reveal pipelines and shreds of electrical appliances, some still spitting sparks. When the light of the Strip was nothing more than a flicker of light on the night horizon, the copied buildings were replaced with houses, roofs sagging, walls crumbling. As the car zipped passed, Aminta caught wisps of figures; people moving about the ruins and the darkness like ghosts, until they passed the last house, and all that could be seen was the night sky and desert shrubbery.

Name: Ace
Title: Wild-card Gambler
Class: Offense
Age: 26 Backstory: A gambler recruited by Blisk due to his luck and skills...mostly luck. He worked with his childhood friend in a gang that preformed casino heists all over the galaxy (The results were as crazy as Payday) then later spilt up after the last heist before he was found by Blisk
Appearance: Wears a black zip up hoodie with a gold outline and a gold outline of a 4 prong crown with each of the card symbols for each prong, a gold tie that has black card symbols on it, a grey shirt, black gloves with gold a Spade symbol on the right and a gold diamond on the left, black pants, black shoulder and knee pads with a gold outline that each has a gold color card symbol, gold arm guards on the fore arm and a black skull mask that has gold out lines of cards running the cheeks like tears with gold colored eyes
Passive: Lucky loot: Gain a attachment from any gun he picks up said gun "Today is just my Lucky day"
Tac: Card skills: Grab out a deck of specially made cards that each have different effects: Spade= Higher damage, but lower accuracy. Clubs= Increase accuracy, but lower damage. Heart= gives a small amount of health. Diamond= Spawns a random peice of loot from the area (not from a player). Only can grab out one random card and the cool down would be 25 seconds. (patch note) Can throw the random card at a teammate to give them the random buff to be a team player "Let's see what Lady luck has for me"
Ult: High roller: Draw out a special hand cannon that has a mag of 6 bullets with each bullet doing a random effect (sheild tic damage, health tic damage, double damage, small health steal, stunning, and explosive) cool down would be (patch note) 2minutes "I'm all in now!"
Character select: Holds out his deck of cards and slap it between his hands and pulls out his banner card "Let's make a bet that I win this match"
Heirloom: Winning Hand$ (Yes, the cash sign was intentional): a pair of gloves with a gold card symbol on each of the fingers (except thumb) that when meleeing it shoots out retractable razor bladed cards from the finger gaps Rare inspect: Shoots out a card that has the Apex predator symbol between his index and middle finger
Kill quip: "I was right about luck being better than skill"
Revining teammates: "Don't worry, you might get lucky next time"
Season name: Game of risk. Map for season: Olympus with a underground road system that changes paths after a ring count down and it would be at night time to show some pretty neon signs and lights
Town takeover: Olympus at the welcome center and Powerstation east as a futuristic Las Vegas style casino that has 3 floors that uses crafting materials to work the casino games (you might get lucky and get a care package weapon) with a special office dedicated to the special things he stole from his early heists (like a gold sword or something). Special quip in casino: "Man, this brings back more memories. Maybe I should check up with the gang sometime?..."
Finishers: Loaded dice: Tosses dice at enemy then turns around and plugs his ears as the dice explodes on the enemy
House always wins: Picks up enemy and suplexes them then unloaded his ult into the enemy

As I mentioned before, in Vegas you see slots already in the airport. While we were waiting for our luggage, people already sat at the gambling machines. I, myself, wanted to try slots in a better atmosphere than an LED-lit airport. Anyways, it seemed funny to play games on a big touch screen and I made sure that Vegas is a gambling paradise. We, though, put only so much money in the slots to get the free drinks.
After a few hours, I was already walking through the Vegas strip. It was interesting to observe the gigantic hotels, countless lights from slots, cozy Americans and the bewitched tourists that all were just thinking of how to faster spend all of their saved up money in the slots.
It was surprising just how many people were heading every night exactly to Caesar’s Palace. Well, it wasn’t a surprise, considering that this hotel was enormous, the casino space was even more enormous, but even all of that was topped by the shopping mall, which, of course, was also full of slots. There were 16 restaurants in the same hotel space. And have I mentioned that the second-largest nightclub in the world Omnia nightclub Las Vegas, was also located here? While I and Dāvis were walking around the hotel we got lost a few times and it was very complicated to talk of a place to meet.
The New Year’s party for us continued for two days and two nights. We met the most real American party groups as well as girls with whom we spent together nights. Unfortunately, the fast pace of Vegas meant that all of those people already packed their bags and left by 2 January. But my friend and I wanted to relax a little bit after all of the partying.
In the following days, we went to the Grand Canyon with a helicopter. We ordered a helicopter tour, which started in Vegas, flew to the Grand Canyon and flew back to Vegas. This tour made us feel a bit like celebrities, considering that a limo drives you from hotel to the helicopter and then you take off and fly over the whole Las Vegas. The helicopter landed next to the Grand Canyon. We also got to enjoy a glass of champagne and some snacks, which was offered by the tour. The canyon has been created by washing the Colorado River through granite rocks for thousands of years, leaving a unique and glorious memory of the wonders nature can bring. While flying over the I couldn’t take my eyes off of this amazing beauty. By the way, the Grand Canyon is almost the size of Latvia. Truly worth seeing, if you happen to be in Vegas and want to experience something exclusive with a dose of adrenaline.
To balance out cultural wonders with scandalous events, on this night we chose to enjoy Las Vegas Titty Time and went to strip club. The easiest way to get there was to go to the Vegas Strip and check out the advertised offers. It wasn’t long before we got offered a good price, as well as a limo that will take us there. Then we got offered an even better price, then a cocktail, then - a private lap dance and in the end, we got offered a meal. At that moment we couldn’t resist their offer anymore and we went to a strip club. We didn’t even know where they were taking us, but we wanted an adventure and we wound up in Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club. The place was just like my expectations of what an American strip club should look like - big neon signs, angry-looking bouncers, a bit dirty atmosphere and a lot of foreign girls. While there we exchanged our money into one-dollar bills and went straight to the dance hall. I haven’t ever seen someone work that hard to earn one dollar. The view was quite enjoyable, to be honest, I had imagined it being a bit different, but striptease is like a delicate choreographic dance - there was nothing vulgar about it, only erotica. Definitely, only a confident woman can show herself off like that. Their feminine bodies helped as well. Their breasts were rarely real, though, mostly it was just some surgeon’s masterpiece. As a big female lover, I can say, that what allures me more is the naturality.
We got offered lap dances and when we heard the price, we were surprised. Only twenty dollars. I would even say that that is unforgivably cheap for us just to try it once. We started buying dances for each other, till cash in the wallet was nearly gone. We thought of a challenge to invite all of the girls in the club for the lap dance to get the “full experience”. Personally, my favorite was the only girl who had real breasts. Some of the girls wanted us to take the “private room” for 120 dollars. Some even offered the special “private room” for 500 dollars, but as they implied, it was more than just a dance. I politely declined as I didn’t think I had to pay someone for that.
In the following days, we continued to do stuff that is in any Vegas tourist to-do-list. For example, we went to Gordon Ramsey’s famous Hell’s Kitchen restaurant. Dāvis, my companion on this trip, as well as partly its initiator had reserved us a table, but we still had to wait in line. At the start, we just chatted between each other, but it seemed like this hour will be spent in boredom, till girls, who were standing in front of us, turned around. One girl, who later turned out to be a literature teacher for middle schoolers, said that our language seemed interesting to her and asked where are we from. At that moment, the girls' openness didn’t surprise me, all the people in America were unusually nice and ready to start a conversation with strangers. Of course, girls were also intrigued by our unusual language and exotic European charm. Dāvis and I were as well intrigued by the girls’ exotic and alluring American charm. Long story short, two tables for two turned into one table for four. After the restaurant we persuaded the girls to spend the following evening together, going through the smaller Vegas streets and bars.
One more adventure was going to Death Valley. We rented a yellow Ford Mustang convertible, to really enjoy this trip. It’s really unbelievably hot there, but the locals say that during nighttime you might freeze. Death Valley is something everyone should see in their lifetime. The Vegas hotels disappeared pretty fast and all we saw was large, vast desert and majestic mountains. I would call it a surreal view, honestly pretty unbelievable that there is something like that on the Earth. While walking through the vast salt lakes you get the feeling like you’re in a “Star Wars” movie on some distant planet. Just standing in the middle of the field gives an illusion that you are somewhere far from civilization because wherever you look, there is no sign of life.
When back in the city we again focused on something more worldly, such as going to clubs. Interesting, that even on 7th January, which was just a Tuesday, Omnia nightclub was filled with people. I’m talking thousands. Well, the party wasn’t anything special, compared to the New Year’s party. Maybe I just wasn’t in a party mood. But then I saw a beautiful blonde standing next to the bar and, quite naturally, went to her and we started chatting. We didn’t talk for long, because I took her hand and we went to the middle of the dance floor. We danced all night till the club was about to close. The girl had a very short, tight dress and she didn’t have any panties on. From time to time I checked her dress, which was constantly sliding up, so the whole club wouldn’t see her nakedness. The moment when the music stopped, we were holding each other and making out. After getting back into reality, I realized that I have no plan on what to do with this beautiful girl further. We went to a hotel pool. We started talking about life in the USA and in Latvia and how they were similar but also so different. I didn’t want the romantic evening to end, so I thought of a plan. In American movies, couples always go skinny dipping. I persuaded the girl to jump in the water with me, naked. I hadn’t thought of water being so cold during the night and we froze in a moment. Good, that I could save the situation by offering a warm shower in my hotel room. She agreed. We went to shower together and warmed up so much that we didn’t even get to the bed. The next morning the girl quickly took her things and disappeared. When I checked her Instagram account I understood why - she had pictures with her husband (or boyfriend) and children. Now I have experienced the saying that goes - What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

I'm doing a big plot point in an old castle that's been turned into a flashing neon sign casino with shows, gambling, a masquerade, etc. Basically imagine the building from the game Sexy Brutale crossed with the Vegas strip. Looking to see if anyone knows of any maps that even slightly fit that vibe. I haven't been able to find anything so far.

It's just after midnight in Sin City, Las Vegas. In the seediest part of town, you find a tiny casino that catches your eye. A buzzing neon sign spells the name, "FULL MOON CASINO", complete with an image of a full moon.
Inside, the musty air of cigarettes and cheap but strong alcohol makes your eyes wince. Video poker machines on the walls flash brightly, contrasting with the dim fluorescent lights overhead. To the side of the one-room casino floor is a bar, with nobody but the bartender there.
Five people are sitting around a card table, which has more half-empty beer bottles on it than cards. Upon closer inspection, the five all seem to be...werewolves?
They are all wearing matching leather jackets, as if it's a biker gang. But there were no bikes outside the bar. The dealer, another werewolf, hands them out cards for a game of Texas Hold 'em. The pot seems rather large for such a shitty-looking area.
Finally, one of them notices you, presumably by scent. He seems extremely suspicious. Another one, a female wolf, seems more courteous and invites you to sit down next to her. A third wolf, another male, also wants you to sit by him, but he doesn't seem nearly as kind somehow. The two others, a male and female, seem too plastered to care.

Currently smashing my way through Mafia D.E on Classic and absolutely loving it. I never had the opportunity to properly play the original game (Only a few missions at a friends house) so sure I cannot give an actual comparison to the first game, but after playing Mafia 2, and 3, then this game I hope that this is going to be the start of a re-invigorated franchise.
Things I'm noting is the inclusion of Motorcycles, the amazing lightning effects from the neon lights in the City and the multiple Casino signs are somehow something that has made its way into the game as the Devs are developing that rumoured Mafia game set in Vegas.
Man what I'd give to play a Mafia game set in Vegas.

 Hey guys, I posted this on LasVegas but figured I’d also post it here incase any of y’all might be able to help out! This is definitely diving into some deep historical Vegas territory, but for those of you old enough to remember the Moulin Rouge (the first desegregated casino), a piece of the original hotel has remained on the property since 1955 and has yet to be preserved. The original neon sign of the Moulin Rouge (designed by Betty Willis who also designed to “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign) was removed from the building just before it had suffered a massive fire and is now on display at the Neon Museum. The remaining wings of the Moulin Rouge have since been completely demolished as of this year and all that remains on the lot is the original reader board sign on the roadside of West Bonanza Road (which I’ve posted some pictures of below). The sign appears to now be covered in graffiti and slowly rotting away. I’d like to contact the Neon Museum in hopes that they remove and preserve the sign before it’s completely un-restorable, but I’m wondering if anyone here would happen to know the owners of the property? I would like to potentially set up a GoFundMe if people would be interested in having the sign restored (or possibly even purchase it and do so myself!) 

Pictures of the sign: https://imgur.com/gallery/4vE6BnE

So this is definitely diving into some deep historical Vegas territory, but for those of you old enough to remember the Moulin Rouge (the first desegregated casino), there was another building along side it named the Montmartre (Mo’ Mart) Motel which was located at 920 W. Bonanza Road back back in 1956. The original neon sign of the Moulin Rouge (designed by Betty Willis who also designed to “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign) was removed from the building after it had suffered many sequential fires and is now on display at the Neon Museum. The remaining wings of the Moulin Rouge and the Mo’ Mart Motel have since been completely demolished as of this year and all that remains on the lot is the sign of the Mo’ Mart covered in graffiti and in pretty sad shape. I’m not sure if the Neon Museum will ever choose to remove and preserve the sign before it’s completely un-restorable, so I’m wondering who I’d have to contact if I would like to purchase and restore the sign myself? It’s definitely a long-shot, but if it’d at all be possible, I’d definitely be interested in doing so!
Edit: This sign was originally used by the Moulin Rouge back in 1955!

It's 9:00 am on September 18th in Las Vegas and your head is feeling a little too heavy, go figure. Sunlight barely peaks through the window of your room at the Plaza Hotel and Casino. The sliver of sun rays are scarce, but just enough to illuminate the crust on your eyes from a late night on Fremont Street. The inevitable "What happened?" thought runs through your mind. You head downstairs to grab something to soak up last night's debauchery and try and Hash House A Go Go out how you got to this point.
Sure, yesterday at this time you were at your desk doing nothing but last minute checks on which sets you needed to prioritize for the forthcoming next 3 days. Sure, you skipped out early to make sure you had everything packed for the 12th time this week. Sure, as soon as you got to the airport, the first place you hit after security was the nearest bar, because let's face it, the airport drink before vacation is a top 5 drink all time. Sure, maybe you shelled out more than you should have for that wimpy Jack and coke on the plane itself. Sure, Spirit Airlines is the worst. Sure, once you got to McCarran you told your friend that had never been to Vegas before to play those slot machines right out of the gate because they for sure pay out (sucker). Sure, as soon as you got to your room you threw your bags down with little to no regard just to rush back downstairs to take in the Glitter Gulch in all of its neon glory. Sure, you may have lost too much money at Binion's playing craps because "the dice were cold", when in actuality the devil on your shoulder and in your cup told you that recouping your losses was easy with big field bets (sucker). Sure, you danced like an idiot while watching the guy playing buckets like drums because it was "good practice for all the Fremont Stage sets you'll be at this year." Sure, you spent enough money at Pop Up Pizza to feed a small family of 4. Sure, you danced like an idiot watching the funk cover band at the Plaza that wear wigs and have synchronized dance moves, because eff it. Sure, you passed out with your clothes on, (thank god you took of your shoes). But really, how did you get to this point?
The existential crisis marred in a haze of last night's booze and smoke filled casino floors lasts all of 5 min, because the fried chicken benedict that's 3 sizes too big for the plate it's on offers a moment of clarity: It's Day 1 of LIB
Your head alleviates itself of any extra weight, and a shockwave of energy flows through your body as if the mimosa in your right hand is a liquid defibrillator. Your skin tingles knowing that in a few short hours you'll walk through the gates for the first time along with the thousands of others who came to this very city, on this very day to plunge into a pool of escapism. Oh yeah, that's how you got to this point. You slug your drink and head back upstairs to get ready.
While the rest of your crew does their thing, you adhere to your mental checklist, because let's face it, preparation is key if you're going to do the next 3 days right. Comfy shoes: check, chapstick: check, extra gum for new friends: check, hat for the sun: check, earplugs just in case you decide to hug the speakers: check, sunglasses: check. Those all accounted for and out of the way, you move on to more pressing items. Ah, your trusty Camelbak. It's served you well through all these years, and now it's time for the old broad to come out and play again. Drained and ready, you throw what you can in the pockets and strap her to your back, pulling the straps securely around your arms. You do a front kick to show dominance. And now...for your wristband. Let's be honest, this was the first thing you were checking for each time you went back and made sure everything was in your bag this past week. You take it out of the packaging that is much better than last year's, and hold the holy grail of concert tickets in your hand. It reads, 'You are beautiful" on it. You nod in appreciation, and blush a little bit. You slip in onto your wrist and pull the clasp to tighten securely, albeit not uncomfortably. As if the RFID is now a part of your DNA, you remember the weeks of making sure the wristband itself wasn't lost, and you breathe a sigh of relief. It's almost time. You glance at the rest of your crew after a brief moment of silence, you utter one word, *"¿Listos?"
After a cacophonous eruption of sounds that would be right at home on the plains of the Serengeti, you and your friends find your selves walking at a swift pace down Fremont. The street is much more busy than usual at this time in the late afternoon. You scan the crowd to find those that are sporting wrist decoration similar to yours. The army of translucent backpacks, throwback jerseys, bandanas and general jubilation reaffirm that you are headed the right way. You pass The D and know Sigma Derby will take scores of coins from you later that night. People jump on the scale outside Heart Attack Grill to your left after a few minutes more marching towards an experience akin to nirvana. The Fremont East District sign and Martini Glass beckon you further down the street, as the distinct sound of muffled bass begins to ever so slightly reach you ears. A right on 6th, and all of the sudden you're in a line that twists, turns and seems to never end. The pace is snail like in nature. At least that's what it feels like to you and your friends. All of the moments prepping, (mostly daydreaming about the sets you want to be at the most when the lineup dropped 5 months prior) have all led to this. You let you friends go through security first, as if to make sure that the whole squad made it in safe and sound. You tap you wristband to the scanner and re strap your Camelbak on. Inside the festival gates for the first time, you're surrounded by bevy of people who more than likely feel the same way you do. You friends are sharing daps and laughs left and right, while you simply savor the moment. A flurry of folks sprint past you on the left. You smirk, knowing they gravely miscalculated seeing their first set of the day. The Praying Mantis outside Container Park shoots its flame up into the atmosphere as if playing host to the grounds and saying, "Welcome". All the sights and sounds and you can only muster up two words, "Que Hermoso."

Richson White found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. he stared out ahead of him. At a long dimly lit corridor. the walls were cold grey concrete, with a red and purple carpet at his feet. One that had a bright and garish color. that shone vivid and bright under the heavy beam of overhead lights. he moved hesitantly forward a few inches. casting a concerned glance around him. behind him, the din of battle could be heard, gunshots and expolsions.
the whole air of the corridor was unnerving. as it was entirely unfamiliar to him. where was he? the corridor was wholly empty. Just as he'd hoped it to be. ahead of him was a single door, the only one in the corridor. As Richson took a single step towards it. the lights over head went out. plunging the corridor into darkness. He stood motionless. staring ahead at the door. he could see a faint outline of light coming from beneath the door.
A faint whisper behind him made his blood run cold. Richson was unable to clearly hear the whisper. as it came and went quickly. lasting only a few brief seconds. before silence once again settled over the corridor. he crept slowly forward. making his way towards a door at the end of the corridor. Upon reaching the door. he extended a hand to grip its handle. placing an ear against the door to listen for any movement on its opposite side.
upon slowly opening the door, Richson was greeted by an old priest, siting hunched over a desk. in what seemed to be an office. one with white sterile walls, and the scent of rubbing alcohol throughout. Richson approached the priest slowly. closing the door to the corridor behind him. upon hearing the door close, the priest looked up. Glaring at Richson. as he sat down at the desk across from him. drawing a silenced berreta, and cocking it. "hello old man" "id say its nice to see you again, but i was never a good liar" sneered Richson.
The priest glared at him. "you are to address me as father" he replied. Richson growled at this. "no" he stated. the two glared at each other. Then Richson raised his pistol. standing up from his chair. "time to die old man" "your schemes are at an end" he stated. Just as his finger brushed the trigger. the door behind him thudded open. Richson reacted quickly, drawing a second pistol. to aim at the intruder. He was a tall and pale man. dressed entirely in black. he held a pistol in one hand. which he held at the ready.
Richson aimed his gun, "Drop it, or i kill the old man" he commanded. the stranger did as he was told. his gun clattering to the floor. the stranger glance over at Richson. A single word on his lips. "why?" he inquired. Richson shock his head. "you know why" he sated. firing a bullet into the preists head. The stranger than fell to his knees. His mind recalling the path that had brought him there. As Richson leveled both guns at him.
​
Agent 1776 came to in the van. he stirred awake. sitting up from where he had passed out some hours before. Groggily he checked to see if he had his pistol. his hand patting the side of his pants. to his relieve. it was exactly where he'd left it. holstered on his right side. he took in his surroundings. finding himself sitting in a parking lot. In front of a luxury hotel. One that sat along the vegas strip. it was late at night, and the lights of the city illuminated the darkness. casting long shadows onto the sidewalk below. 1776 glanced up at the hotels glowing neon sign.
"the ultra luxe" it read. in glaringly red bright letters. that towered high above his head. He than removed an envelope from the glove box of the van he'd woken up in. carefully removing a single photo from it. he stared at it for several seconds. commitng the man's face to memory. after this. the agent turned the picture over. "Rodney Tailor, room 325" "eliminate target" "no witnesses" "destroy this note after reading" his instructions read.
1776 climbed out of the van. feeling a hot blast of dessert air blow by his face. he stood on the Vegas strip. Amid the flashing lights of casinos and nightclubs. in the middle of the hottest month of the year. just before summer ended. taking a few tentative steps forward. He ripped the picture to shreds. dropping them to the sidewalk. before crossing the street. to approach the front doors of the ultra luxe. As he reached the front doors of hotel. a bellhop held it open for him. earning a polite nod from 1776.
Once inside he, took note of his surroundings. the lobby was fancy and posh. the sort of thing one might find in any decent hotel. it had a black leather couch, that sat before a flat screen attached to the wall. 1776 strolled over to the front desk "yes, may I help you?" inquired an employ from behind the counter. He wore a white hotel unifrom, and his name tag read Adam. the agent nodded in response, flashing adam a fake smile.
"I'm a courier sent to bring a message to room 325" informed 1776. "very well, you'll find that room of the 3rd floor. near the ice machines" replied the employ. the agent nodded his thanks. then made a b line for the nearest elevator.
walking past a chatting couple on the couch. who were oblivious to his presence. As they talked amongst themselves. the agent summoned the elevator to the lobby. stepping in and ascending up. This wasn't his first hit, nor would it be his last. he cheked his pistol, before steeping out of the lift. to glance down the hallway. at a room near the end of hall.
it was there that a single secret service agent waited. 1776 approached him. his hand reaching down to draw his pistol. cocking the hammer as he did so. the security guard had no time to react. his eyes widening as a bullet pierced his skull. sending his lifeless body falling to the floor.
1776 then moved forward. kicking open the rooms door. suprising a woman inside, who wore nothing but a bathrobe. she only had time to let out a single muffled scream. before two bullets found her chest. painting the wall with her blood. in the bathroom her husband screamed. falling in his attempt to leave the shower.
1776 showed him no mercy. firing a shot into his head. as he lay tangled in the shower curtains. he then emptied his pistol into the man. not wanting him to escape. upon lowering the gun. 1776 took a final glance around the room. seeing no one else, his gaze fell upon the tv set in the corner. it displayed a newscast. upon seeing what the screen displayed. the agents eyes widened. as he recognized the men A fellow agent of the order.
there were three of them in total. all of them having been caught. After assassinating several politicians. two senators, and a congress man. all three confirmed killed. the agent shook his head. holstering his pistol. he needed to leave. now, before he was caught. his superiors never rewarded failure.
As 1776 fled the room. he could hear approaching sirens. He sprinted for the elevator, frantically pressing its button. to summon the elevator to his floor. once inside, he holstered his pistol. as the elevator descended. bringing him back to the lobby. where he fled back onto the street. escaping in the van he'd woken up in.
​
Richson stood above the agent. who starred down the twin barrels of his pistols. "you really shot a powder keg, didn't you?" he accused. glaring at the agent. who remained silent. "the whole US is on fire after what you did" "killing those politicians led to a full blown civil war" "tell me why you did it" Richson demanded. The agent glanced up at his would be killer. "we needed to remove the protestants from power" "they stood in the way of our master plan." he explained. "what is the master plan?" Richson inquired.
The agent refused to answer. as an explosion sounded in the background. "ill tell you nothing more" he spat. leaping to his feet and dashing out the door. Richson's bullets grazed the agents back. narrowly missing a direct hit. agent 1776 fled down the corridor. nearly tripping as he made his escape. As Richson burst out of the room behind him. He escaped through the door at the end of the corridor. emerging into chaos.
the room beyond had once been a common room. where agent 1776 and his companions took their meals between jobs. it was in ruins. bodies lay scattered about. he bolted for cover. As machine gun fire sailed over his head. "over here" a man shouted. The agent found himself surrounded. he was backed into a corner. with four guns pointed at him. Richson laughed at him. slowly clapping his hands.
He shock his head. holstering his pistols. "you seem like a fighter, I like that" He laughed. steeping up to the agent and raising his fists. "I wont be wasting a bullet on you" he stated. throwing a devastating right hook. The agent dodged this. punching Richson in the face. Making him angry. He violently shoved agent 1776 against the wall. drawing his switchblade, then plunging it in the agents throat.
For a moment Richson watched the light leave his eyes. Than he let his lifeless body fall to the ground. The hunt was on, and he was just getting started.

I’ve shot a series of photos after COVID shut down Las Vegas. I am a resident in Las Vegas and this was something I wanted to document as a photographer.
I was planning on publishing a small photo zine, and it was brought to my attention by a friend that I could be sued for selling the images of private property, even though I took the photos from public space (the sidewalk).
The photos depict things like, empty Vegas sidewalks, neon signs saying “stay safe, we’re in this together, and boarded up casino doors.
My questions:

• Since this is photojournalism, does this change my ability to sell? (I’m thinking first amendment rights.)
• Alternatively, could I still publish to share my work with others who are interested, without the exchange of money? (Used to promote my skill set as a photographer.)
• Are there any other ways / locations you feel I could post or share these photos without getting myself into legal trouble?

Ultimately, I am an aspiring photographer and the series is very powerful in showing the devastation to Vegas’ economy. I just want to be able to share these with others and help build “my brand”. I would also be willing to share a “mock up” of the zine (PDF) for additional context.

Preface: this is adapted from a job interview question I once had. I embellished it with a story to make it more fun, but if that isn’t your thing, scroll all the way to the bottom for a nice, concise tl;dr version. The story adds a few little wrinkles so the answers to the story version will be a bit different.
After saving up all year, you finally arrive in Las Vegas, $10000 in your wallet ready to win you some big bucks. As you walk the Strip, trying to decide which casino to hit first, you happen to spot what looks like a utility closet door in an otherwise nondescript patch of wall between the glittering towers of the casinos. What catches your attention is the dingy, flickering red neon sign which reads The Devil’s Den. Curious, you open the door and step into the saddest looking “casino” (if you could call it that) you’ve ever seen. In the dim light you see a few run down looking slots, a deserted roulette wheel, and a single card table, all of which look as though they were salvaged cast-offs from the big casinos. The carpet is threadbare, worn down and in desperate need of cleaning. The place seems completely deserted and you immediately turn to leave when a figure steps out of the shadows in the far corner of the room. A pale man in a cheap white suit and a fedora hat quickly strides toward you, flashing a toothy grin.
“Welcome, my friend, to The Devil’s Den!” He says. “Please! Come in, come in!”
“Oh, sorry, I just saw the sign an popped in for a peek.. I’m actually headed over to Cesar’s Palace-“ you start to reply, but the grinning man interrupts.
“Pah! The Palace. Overrated! If you truly wish to win by your wits, this is the place to be, and no other, I assure you. Come in!”
“Uh, I don’t mean to sound rude but this place doesn’t look very-“
Again he interrupts, “Glamorous? Full of glitter and fun? Oh, I know... it’s seen better days. But the real action is behind that door over there.” He points across the room. “Through that door is a room with a briefcase with contents worth $11 million! It only costs $1 million to enter, and, if you can figure out how to get back out again within an hour, you can take the briefcase with it’s contents with you!”
“What do you mean, ‘figure out how to get back out’?” you ask.
“Oh, it’s just a little puzzle. I assure you, everything you need to figure it out is in the room.” his grin gets even wider.
“Well, I’m afraid I only have $10000.” you say, “It sounds intriguing, but I can’t afford the entry fee.”
“Oh... well... I think I can come up with a work around. You can pay out of your winnings if you solve it.” he says.
“And... if I don’t solve it?”
“Oh. Your soul will be the collateral.” he replies, grinning even wider still. “If you get stuck or can’t afford to pay up, I’ll just keep your soul. This IS The Devil’s Den, after all!”
You laugh (a little nervously). Perhaps this man is mad. Or perhaps you are. Suddenly, impulsively, you decide to go for it. “Ok, I’m game!” you say.
“Excellent!” he replies, clapping his hands together. For a brief moment, you could swear his eyes flashed red. He places a hand on your back and ushers you across the room to the door, opens it with a flourish, and shoves you inside.
“WAIT!” you shout, overwhelmed with the sense that you just made a terrible mistake. “I’ve changed my-“ SLAM! The door closes and an hourglass mounted above the door flips over, the trickling sand telling you that your time has started. You spend a panicky minute or so shouting to be let out, but there is no response. There’s no handle or knob on the door, either. Only a round cavity that looks like a small sphere would fit in it. You turn around and survey the room.
In the middle of the room is a table with 8 white billiard balls. The balls appear to be identical in every way. Next to the balls is a balance scale. The arm of the scale seems to be stuck. At the base of the scale is a slot with 4 symbols above it: $1m $2m $3m $4m. In front of the balls is a card that reads:
One of these balls is not like the others. One of these balls has a different weight. Place it in the door and you’ll walk away free. But choose wrongly and you’ll seal your fate.
You pick up the balls trying to judge their weight, but, of course, are unable to detect the difference with just your hands. You’ll have to use the scale, it seems.
On the floor beside the table is the briefcase. As you bend down to pick it up, you spot a Sharpie pen on the floor under the table. You pick it up and test it on the back of the card. It works fine. You then open the briefcase, expecting to see cash. Instead you see 11 poker chips. Each is inscribed with a $1m symbol. The chips are the same size as the slot on the balance scale. You try popping a chip in the slot. Immediately the $1m symbol on the scale flashes. And then disappears. The arm swings freely now. You think you see how it works. You can make one measurement using the scale and then it will freeze again. But the next measurement will cost 2 chips. And then 3...
Can you escape from this devilish room with your soul? How much money might you walk away with?
Addendum 1: The Devil has to follow strict rule when gaming for souls. He may present the truth in misleading ways but he may never outright lie.
Addendum 2: Added the Sharpie pen to the story. While not strictly necessary, it would definitely be helpful.
TL;DR You have a balance scale and 8 balls that are indistinguishable from each other. 7 balls have the same weight. One has a weight that is slightly different from the others (the difference is too small to detect by hand). What is the minimum number of measurements you need to make to be guaranteed to find the unique ball?