<div style="text-align: center"><a class="link link--internal" href="http://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=23151">Character Sign-Up</a>​</div><br/>Vault 38's original purpose in the Vault Experiment is unknown, however it more than likely failed when the Slavers and Raiders took control of the Vault and it's population.  It is believed that the previous Overseer (Charles Marx) was bribed to open the Vault door many years ago, although the exact date is uncertain and there is no proof to support this story, nor any indication of who started it.  One thing is for certain though – the Raiders and Slavers appear to be here for the long haul.<br/><br/><a class="link link--external" href="http://thepinupfiles.com/moore/MOORE_img_07.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Michelle Marx</a>, the Vault’s appointed Overseer, sat in her office behind the desk, glancing over at the window on the wall.  The 10mm pistol, which she carried with her at all times, lay on the desk in front of her, it’s magazine full and unused.  There was no danger of running out of ammunition, as the traders that showed up every few days always had some on them.  Unfortunately, she was running out of things to trade.  Nobody wanted a “Vault-Tec” souvenir anymore.  Michelle had resorted to travelling outside often, becoming a scavenger herself so-to-speak.  One had to get on their knees to survive, and she wasn’t necessarily thinking about looking for treasure.  Being a woman in a hell-hole run by men was not always pleasant, especially if they happened to be rough Slavers.<br/><br/>Her younger sister was a slave, the poor thing.  But sacrifices had to be made in order for her to be able to restore the good old days of the Vault, thought Michelle.  Her father had apparently started this whole mess, and Michelle had to fix it.  Valentina was always too wild, even when they were just kids.  The slavery and bondage would do her good, though she had recently discovered that the younger Marx sister had been addicted to<i>Steady</i>for a number of years.  Sometimes, Michelle wanted to feel some kind of guilt about it – but she couldn’t.<br/><br/>There was a knock on the door, and Michelle turned to it’s direction.  “Come in,”  She spoke.