Fallout New Vegas Vault 22 Oxygen Recycling
So, you're wandering through the Mojave, right? Just another Tuesday, dodging cazadores and hoping you don't step on a Deathclaw. And then, BAM! You stumble across a vault. Another one, you think. How many of these dusty old shelters can there be? Well, my friend, if you've happened upon Vault 22, you're in for a treat. Or, you know, a… smell. Let's just say it's not exactly the fresh mountain air kind of place.
Seriously, have you ever been inside Vault 22? It’s like someone took a perfectly good vault and said, "You know what this needs? A serious, serious problem with its air." And not just a leaky pipe kind of problem. Oh no. This is a fundamental design flaw kind of problem. Like, "Who signed off on this?" kind of problem.
We’re talking about the oxygen recycling system here. You’d think, living underground for centuries, that keeping the air breathable would be, like, priority number one, right? You'd think they'd have it figured out. But nope. Vault 22? It’s a testament to the fact that even the brightest minds can have the dumbest ideas. Or maybe they just got really unlucky. Who knows what went on in that vault before everything went sideways.
So, what exactly is the deal with Vault 22’s oxygen situation? Well, it's all tied up with their big, ambitious, and ultimately disastrous experiment. They weren't just trying to survive the apocalypse. They were trying to thrive. They wanted to be self-sufficient. And when you're underground, self-sufficiency usually means figuring out how to get your air, your water, and your food without any help from the outside world. Easy peasy, right? (Narrator: It was not easy peasy.)
Their big plan involved something called "photosynthesis". Yeah, you heard me. Plants. They thought, "Hey, plants make oxygen! We'll have tons of plants, and they'll give us all the air we need!" It sounds so simple, so… natural. Like a really fancy terrarium. Who wouldn't want to live in a giant, underground garden?
And for a while, it probably was pretty nice. Imagine it! Fresh greens, flowers, maybe even some little fruits growing right there. A little slice of Eden, buried deep beneath the wasteland. But here’s the kicker, and it’s a big one. They weren’t just growing plants for, you know, eating. They were using them to generate oxygen. Like, a lot of oxygen. So much oxygen, in fact, that it became a problem. Go figure.
See, the thing about photosynthesis is that it requires sunlight. And in a vault, where do you get sunlight? You can't exactly open the door and let it in, not without letting in all the fun stuff from the wasteland, like radroaches the size of dogs and people who really want your bottle caps. So, they had to create their own. And that’s where things get… complicated. And frankly, a little bit weird.
They installed these massive, super-powered grow lights. Imagine being stuck in perpetual daylight, but instead of a nice, warm sun, it's just harsh, artificial glow. Not exactly the most relaxing ambiance, I’d wager. But hey, at least they had air, right? Or so they thought.
The problem wasn't just the sheer amount of oxygen they were producing. It was how it was affecting everything else. You see, when you're messing with fundamental biological processes on such a grand scale, things tend to get out of whack. And in Vault 22, they got very out of whack.
One of the biggest issues was with the fungal growth. Now, I’m not saying all fungus is bad. Mushrooms are great! But when they start growing on your walls, in your food, and, I suspect, in your lungs, things have gone south. The high humidity and the constant artificial light created a perfect breeding ground for all sorts of… delightful molds and mildews. And some of these weren’t your friendly neighborhood puffballs. These were the kinds of things that make you go, "Uh oh."
And then there’s the matter of the vegetation itself. I mean, they were trying to create this lush, vibrant ecosystem. But what happens when you pump that much energy and that much special sauce into plants? They get… aggressive. They start taking over. They start… growing in places they really shouldn’t be. And I’m not just talking about tripping over a stray vine. I’m talking about things that have teeth. Or at least, the botanical equivalent of teeth.
So, the vault went from being a haven to a horticultural nightmare. The plants grew wild, fueled by the relentless lights and the carefully controlled, yet ultimately unbalanced, atmospheric conditions. And the people? Well, the people were caught in the middle of it all. Imagine trying to walk down a hallway only to find it completely overgrown. Or trying to get to the mess hall and having to hack your way through a wall of leaves. Sounds like a fun workout, right? Wrong.
And the oxygen? The very thing they were trying to create? It became a bit of a… toxic byproduct, in a way. The excessive oxygen, combined with the rampant fungal growth and the mutated plant life, created an environment that was anything but healthy. It was like a science experiment gone spectacularly wrong, and everyone inside was the unwitting lab rat.
You see echoes of this in other vaults, don’t you? The little experiments, the noble intentions that go awry. Vault-Tec was always so sure they knew best. They had their plans, their contingencies, their little social experiments. But sometimes, nature, or whatever passes for it in the wasteland, just has a different idea. And nature, in Vault 22’s case, decided to get really leafy.
When you’re exploring Vault 22, you’re constantly reminded of this. The overgrown labs, the decaying equipment that was supposed to be the pinnacle of their atmospheric technology, the hushed whispers of what happened. You can almost feel the desperation, the panic that must have set in when they realized their perfect air supply was actually trying to suffocate them with vines. Dark, right?
And the plants! Oh, the plants. They’re not just decorative. They’re a hazard. Some of them are actively trying to get you. Others are just… there. Taking up space. Blocking your path. Making you question all your life choices that led you to this particular damp, green tomb. You have to be so careful. One wrong step, and you could be plant food. Literally.
The real irony, of course, is that they were trying to fix something. The world outside was probably unbreathable. So, they built a vault to escape that. And in doing so, they created their own unique brand of unbreathable. Talk about a cosmic joke. The universe just has a way of laughing at our best-laid plans, doesn't it?
So, if you ever find yourself near Vault 22, take a moment. Think about the poor souls who lived there. Think about the ambitious scientists who dreamed of green, oxygen-rich utopia. And then, maybe take a deep breath of the relatively clean air outside. Because trust me, after visiting Vault 22, you’ll appreciate it a whole lot more. You’ll be thinking, “Thank goodness for a simple, non-mutated, non-fungus-infested atmosphere!”
It’s a stark reminder, isn’t it? That sometimes, the things we think will save us can also be our undoing. And that when you’re dealing with the delicate balance of life and air, even the best intentions can go spectacularly, terrifyingly wrong. So, next time you’re down in a dusty old vault, and you notice the air feels a little… off, just remember Vault 22. And maybe, just maybe, consider heading for the exit. Unless you really like the idea of becoming one with the foliage. Your call, adventurer.
The sheer scale of the failure is what gets me. It wasn't a small thing. It was the entire premise of their existence underground. They wanted to control their environment, to create a sustainable life. And they did. Just… not in the way they intended. They created an environment that was too sustainable, in a way. Too… alive. Too much of everything.
And the poor people who were just trying to get by in there? Imagine the paranoia. Every cough, every sneeze, every odd rash. Was it just a cold? Or was it the vault’s air finally getting to you? Was it the fungus? Was it the pollen from the giant, sentient houseplants? It must have been a constant, low-level terror. Like living in a horror movie where the monster is, well, nature itself, but turned up to eleven and with a severe case of overgrowth.
It makes you wonder about Vault-Tec’s overall philosophy. Were they intentionally creating these situations? Or were they just incredibly incompetent? The answer is probably a bit of both, isn’t it? A touch of hubris, a dash of blind ambition, and a whole lot of "oops, we didn't think of that." And the wasteland is littered with the consequences of their "oops" moments.
So, yeah. Vault 22. The oxygen recycling system that went rogue. A cautionary tale in every sense of the word. A place where the air you breathe can become your enemy, and the plants you rely on turn into a formidable obstacle course. Just another charming little stop on your grand tour of the Mojave. Enjoy! (Or, you know, try not to die.)