It's mid-October, and I've just killed Santa. Not the real big man, I should clarify, but someone remarkably similar. Besides having the same name, he's got the same cozy red robes, a workshop full of elves who are hard at work, and a fondness for home-baked cookies. Unfortunately, we're meeting in post-apocalyptic RPG Wasteland 3, where nothing is as sweet as it seems.
Out in the wasteland of Colorado, ol' Kris Kringle rules his workshop with an iron fist. His elves – who make highly addictive drugs, not toys – beg for death if not freedom, and are collared with explosive fairy lights. As I'm playing a band of do-gooder Desert Rangers sent north from Arizona to secure supplies, my first instinct is to liberate these elves peacefully. But when I find a computer and disable the "naughty list", which is Santa's programme for remotely detonating his elves' collars, St. Nick drops his kindly veneer and unleashes legions of festively-named robots to kill ranger and elf alike.
