Fallout New Vegas.

The light of dawn filtered weakly through the threadbare curtains of your small house in Goodsprings. The air was already warm despite the early hour; the Mojave offered no respite, not even at daybreak. You woke up on your old mattress, your body aching from the previous day's work. The house was humble: cracked adobe walls, a couple of old pieces of furniture, a wood-burning stove, and some canned food on a shelf. On the kitchen table, there were still remnants of yesterday's dinner: some dried gecko meat and a half-empty bottle of purified water.