Mr. House. The man, the myth, the walking cyborg. Robert House, or as everyone in the Mojave calls him—Mr. House—is one of those figures who exists so far above the regular wasteland dwellers that you almost forget he’s just a guy, well, kind of a guy. He’s not some faceless ghoul or a battle-worn raider. This guy? He’s a rich, cold-hearted corporate genius who turned New Vegas into his personal playground.
And here’s the kicker: while most survivors are fighting over cans of beans and shoes, Mr. House has been living high on the hog since the bombs fell. How, you ask? He made a deal with the future itself—technological immortality, robotics, and a little thing called control. He didn’t just survive the apocalypse. He planned for it. Spoiler alert: New Vegas isn’t just a party. It’s the start of his dark and twisted vision.
From Humble Beginnings to Technological Overlord
So, how did Robert House go from anyone to the one calling the shots in the Mojave? Well, let’s rewind. Born in 2020 in Chicago, House wasn’t the guy skipping class to smoke behind the gym. Nope, he was busy making a fortune in the tech world. By the time the world went kaboom in 2077, House was already a top dog in the robotics game, with his company RobCo making waves. Fast forward to the fallout, and while others are struggling to survive in the ash and charred ruins of civilization, Mr. House is comfortably lounging in his sky-high tower—literally, the Lucky 38 building in New Vegas, which, by the way, has been his HQ since way before you ever step foot in the city.
And yeah, he didn’t just chill out like the rest of humanity, hoping things would work out. This guy took “thinking ahead” to a whole new level—by uploading his mind into a machine body. Sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi movie, right? But no, this was Mr. House’s master plan: live forever, control everything. Easy.
By the time the Courier rolls through, Mr. House has crafted a world of excess and luxury, but all under his iron-fisted control. Sure, the Strip is all glitzy lights and neon signs, but it’s also a kingdom of robots, ruthless policies, and Mr. House’s vision of the future. He’s not there to just hand out bottle caps and let folks run wild. This place? It’s a monument to House’s empire—and to his desire to be the guy who makes all the rules.
New Vegas: Glittery But Dark
Now, New Vegas isn’t just a place for junkies to get their fix of chems and hope. It’s also a whole lot of shiny, neon-coated, consumerist madness. The whole place? It’s House’s playground. As someone who might have been born in a world where shopping malls were king, this guy sure knows how to work the glitz. But don’t be fooled by the sparkle of it all.
Yes, people gamble. They party. They live the dream—or at least, House’s version of it. But when you look past the flashing lights, you’ll realize that the whole thing is a well-oiled machine meant to keep people in line. And the ones making sure things run smoothly? His robotic enforcers, the Securitrons. It’s like playing a game where everyone thinks they’re free, but really, there’s a guard watching every move. In other words, freedom in New Vegas is kind of like a mirage—you think you see it, but it’s just House pulling the strings. And you know what? He’s okay with that.
The Big Vision: The Road to Technological Dominance
Okay, so Mr. House is clearly a genius with a capital “G.” But what’s he really after? The guy isn’t just trying to make the Mojave a place where people gamble away their last bottle cap. Nope. His master plan? To bring humanity into a future where technology rules, and the mess of human emotions and unpredictability is, well, managed. Basically, House wants to create a future where every little detail is controlled by machines—his machines, naturally.
Once, he actually told me (yes, I had the “pleasure” of hearing him in person) that the wasteland was a clean slate for humanity to start fresh. Clean, meaning no “chaos,” no “free will,” and definitely no “human error.” It was all about machines taking the lead. His vision wasn’t about democratic society or all that hippy-dippy equality stuff. Nah. It was about perfect order. A world where robots handled everything, and people stayed in their lanes.
Not to say that it’s all bad. But fast forward past the false promises of New Vegas, and you’ll start to notice that the folks living here aren’t really the ones pulling the strings. They’re just dancing to Mr. House’s tune. He’s got them right where he wants them—living a life of luxury and comfort that, at first glance, feels like freedom. But dig a little deeper, and you realize you’re trapped in a gilded cage.
The Cold Reality: House Has No Heart
Speaking of cold—Mr. House? Yeah, he’s colder than a radscorpion in winter. The guy doesn’t even pretend to have compassion for the average wasteland dweller. The people of New Vegas? They’re basically just pawns in his grand plan. It’s all about efficiency, not feelings. His interactions with factions like the New California Republic (NCR) and Caesar’s Legion are the ultimate example of this. They’re just pieces on his chessboard, to be moved around however he sees fit.
Take his dealings with the NCR, for example. They want control over the Mojave, and Mr. House doesn’t exactly welcome their shiny new political ideas. He views them as annoying at best, dangerous at worst. Their values of democracy and law are all well and good, but to House, that’s just a bunch of noise. He’s got his own way of doing things, and it’s a hell of a lot more efficient than the NCR’s constant paperwork and bureaucratic mess.
As for Caesar’s Legion? Mr. House just sees them as barbarians. And, to be fair, he’s not wrong. But you can also tell he doesn’t have any empathy for their suffering—just like he doesn’t care for anyone who stands in his way. His vision is the only one that matters. And he’ll do whatever it takes to crush anyone who thinks otherwise.
My First Encounter with Mr. House: Ugh
I remember the first time I met Mr. House. It was right after I’d finished a ridiculously long trek through the Mojave. My feet were sore, I was out of water, and the desert sun had practically roasted me alive. I roll into New Vegas, expecting to find some answers, but instead, I get that guy.
He’s basically sitting in a chair with a bunch of screens around him, like some kind of twisted high-tech grandpa. And all he does is talk. And talk. And talk. It’s like sitting through an awkward dinner with an older relative who can’t stop bragging about their stock portfolio. But instead of grandpa’s boring stories, it’s Mr. House selling you his vision for the future—one that involves you working for him. No thanks.
Still, I get why people follow him. He’s a visionary, for sure. But damn, does he make everything sound like it’s for our benefit, when, in reality, we’re just the backdrop to his endless quest for control.
The End of the Line: My Choice, My Future
Anyway, here’s the kicker. The big moment comes when you’re forced to pick a side. Do you help Mr. House fulfill his cold, calculated vision for the future? Or do you help the NCR or Caesar’s Legion, each with their own messed-up ideas about how the world should be rebuilt? It’s all on you. But let me tell you: Mr. House isn’t here for a democracy.
He’s here to win. He’s here to rule. And in the end, you’ll have to decide if you want to live in his vision of technological dominance—or if you’re willing to risk it all for a better future, whatever that might look like.
So yeah, that’s Mr. House: part genius, part nightmare, all power-hungry. If I had to sum it up in a sentence: he’s that guy who’s hella good at business, but might just want to run the world like a giant casino. So, uh, good luck with that.
