chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
edited October 2011
In which Milo meets an old friend
From the diary of Senior Initiate Reginald "Rage" Wolcott
Fucking politics bullshit had to work out for me some time.
So, the bitch Farsight comes to my cott. Figure she's taking back what
she said earlier. No such luck.
Instead she says, with this disgusted look on her face, I was getting
a transfer. New squad some little teacher's pet set up as an experiment for
the benefit of the asshats in power armor.
So, I get tossed a rifle, a shotgun, and we start a forced march with a whiny little shit who needs a break every ten, three
chicks who turned me down more than once, and Stitch, who's being a bigger pussy than any of them right now. Fun fucking times.
So, we arrive at a giant ass raider base, and we get told that whoops. The shitwipes have a huge-ass stockpile of fucking soviet assault rifles.
Jo asks for a source and Ice says something about squad leader Milo's "Unique intel sources" in a tone that leaves me hoping for a catfight.
Blueballed, though. Just get Milo spilling something about us all having "Shares in J, M, B, O, and S enterprises."
Hands out pieces of paper that aren't brotherhood script and aren't cat's paw, which places them in boring ass shit as far as I'm concerned.
It was dark, miserable, and I figured talking loud would just get us shot. Me, Farsight, and Ice, we started using some cover. Looking for targets.
They walk right up. Farsight had a shotgun. I had a shotgun.
They had sticks and a dog.
It went as you'd expect. I could grow to love that woman.
Ice and I went north to deal with the guards. Spotted some AKs and hunting rifles, which more or
less beat the shit out of what inbred hicks normally have.
So, while we're busting our asses with those jokers, Stitch, Farsight, Milo, and Jo go for the bridge.
Where they have more clubs.
Meanwhile, Stitch and Farsight still have shotguns. Surprised there was anything left of the corpses.
Sorry I missed out on it. I'd been busy. Some dumb fuck of a Raider got hammered
after grabbing whoever we were rescuing.
Woke up too late to do him any good.
By the time I got there, Milo was talking to one of the raiders there. Rest were dead.
Can still remember the little conversation.
"John! Good to see you. So, what is it this time? More AKs? Mines? We've been seeing a few things that might interest you lately."
The squad leader just kind of swiped his foot on the ground like an asshole.
"Well, Lou, you know the realities of war and economics. They're kind of complicated these days, what with the supply troubles in the west, and so on..."
"So, less goods. We can work with that."
"Ah, no. Actually, the deal now is, apparently, you tell us everything and surrender back at the bunker, and Initiate Farsight here doesn't kill you with a bullet to the
skull."
"Oh."
"I don't like it much better than you, but it's the way of the world. I mean, you can see I'm acting in good faith by not mentioning Rage."
"He's with you?"
"Ah, I don't think I meant to mention him yet."
And then the fucker spilled his guts. I love a reputation.
From what we got, a simple plan came up. Ice could secure the Elder. The rest of us would blow up a still and get attention. Then, when Raiders march their cousin fucking
asses in single file, we blow their damn heads off.
No issues on our end. Other than Farsight getting a little scorched in the blast.
Well, some of them apparently had parents who raped outside the family and didn't go rushing in with the first batch.
Or maybe they just couldn't work doorknobs. Forward team took shotguns. Everyone else sniped from the back.
By the time their leader got off his ass, everyone else was dead. He didn't last much longer.
And it turned out they had Kalashnikovs.
It was Christmas. Ice caught up about then, bloodstained. Said she'd secured the prisoners. Well, the live ones.
The elder we were here for, and this girl Ripley. Jo and Ice figured it'd be best to have her grilled for information. Farsight said some shit about it not doing any good.
Me, I was just hoping for a thank-you fuck, but I knew enough not to say it.
Squad leader was saying something about good PR when Stitch let her run for it on his own. Soft touch doesn't cover it.
Dumbass doesn't either. So no goods, no intel, no sex. Great plan.
We got the Elder out, who obviously hadn't prayed enough to the Brahmin god of not-getting-it-up-the-ass, and left.
Couple raiders tried to ambush us on leaving, and got us the rest of their AKs. Not bad.
Could get used to it in this unit. As long as Stitch gets his pair back.
Is there any other service you can use? I always have an impossible time logging into Yahoo. My problem, I know.
I can look into other options, but, if I can ask, why is the logging in thing an issue?
Been able to view all the images without being logged in for quite some time, and a check today confirmed. What's the trouble on your end?
Also, I hate to say this, as it sounds incredibly needy and such, but could I get some comments now that the board is somewhat less temperamental? It's hard to tell what you're doing wrong without anyone commenting on things.
And with the board view counter down, you can't even tell if anyone is reading.
chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
edited September 2011
In which the Brotherhood provides.
From the diary of Joachim "Stitch" Josephs, Brotherhood East initiate.
Splitting headache. Naseua. Thirst. The shits.
I had too much last night. Or we all soaked too many rads on the last mission.
Probably just the hangover.
After all, I damn well earned one.
After a check at the infirmary, where I was told I looked worse off than any of the actual patients, Farsight yanked me over to the requisitions office, face still scorched from the still explosion.
I tried to say something smooth, I think. The whole rest of the day is a blur.
She ignored it.
"Stitch, somehow the still got here and fixed ahead of us. There's a tab the grateful masses set up in our honor. And Rage doesn't know yet. This will not happen again."
"He's not that bad a guy, once you..."
"One: Drink. Two. You have the worst taste in friends."
"Hey, that's"
"Rage, our resident sociopath. Me, the bitchy sniper who spent her first week talking about how the Rangers would have done things and making everyone else hate her. Not the guys like Kevin who might, conceivably, get you a promotion and some perks some day."
A snort.
"You'd probably be paling around with the Elder's daughter if she had lived another week, and she was the worst thing to hit the country since nuclear war. Would have gotten everyone killed the next time out, so you did us a favor. "
"I didn't..."
"No guilt. Booze."
And then, blissful guilt free oblivion.
I woke up on the floor of the men's restroom. Rage was in a stall muttering something about Ice, Jo, and Betty Page.
And former Senior Initiate Milo was standing over me with two new chevrons and news.
Seems he'd gotten us another assignment while everyone else was drinking.
We're leaving inside an hour. Rage is already planning to kill him.
I agreed to help hide the body, if it comes to that.
Keep up the good work. Always intresting to see more of the "lesser" game in the fallout series.
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chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
edited October 2011
In which hostile words are exchanged, along with bullets.
From the journals of initiatesenior initiate Senior Squire John Milo
Everything was simpler a couple weeks ago. Just make everyone happy, make sure the products arrive on time, and keep the whole thing from showing up as an anomoly
in the ledgers.
Now, two of the three are more or less impossible. Well, one is nearly impossible, one requires the slight adjustment that everyone still alive is happy, and the last one is
is fairly easy.
It just leaves the General in a position to send my squad on suicide missions. (Note to self: Find a name for squad. Looks odd on paperwork the way things are)
At least Rage got his agression out on some Raiders before he arrived. Otherwise he might have targetted me
When we arrived I secured any initial goods and studied the layout while everyone else scouted for hostiles.
Lucky break for me, the fridge had Nuka Cola. Found a few buyers for that sort of thing a while back, and it's technically legal non-brotherhood trade.
Of course, the best market required trade a bit further West, and my contact there appears to have run off. Bad business on his part.
Luck for everyone with me, it was dark, the Raider meeting was leaving the guards sloppy, and a few snipers could tear up the patrols
They had a good alarm system. Improvised, of course, but I recognized the components.
Unfortunately for them, that's because I sold the components, and they ignored my generous extended warranty offer. I did try to help back then. Proper customer service is important.
Ah well. Wouldn't have planned for Senior Initiate Oliver at any rate. She went on ahead alone.
She came back covered in blood, most of it someone else's and gave an "All clear" signal. Farsight took the sniper post, where we confirmed the main entrance was out of
the question.
Ice went for the only secondary entrance we could find, but there seemed to be a problem with explosives.
Well, I assume she found a minefield. There was a minefield, and she lived, so it seems a natural assumption. She never has been talkative, as far as I can tell.
She just found a solution, and signaled for us to follow.
Shame about the lost assets. But we still had the steak from earlier, and the fodder seemed low quality, and had more human remains than I like. Possible disease risk, lowering available markets.
We followed through, when Farsight spotted someone that could be one of our four primary targets. Well, he was one of our targets. I always assumed the local bands kept him
as a mascot, although I tried to be polite about it. I gave her the all clear while Ice and Rage scouted ahead.
He attempted to kill Farsight, but a bad throwing arm was his undoing. Well, a bad throwing arm and three shells through the chest.
A quick scan of the room found a few high quality science textbooks. It's too bad when a genuine desire to learn is prevented by circumstances. Or, as Rage put it a little later:
"Sucks to be a fucking retarded-ass flipper baby."
About then he and Ice were taking down patroling guards. One ran.
[
Stitch subdued him. For a medic, Initiate Josephs is surprisingly good with a shotgun.
His team went ahead to secure the area while Farsight, Jo, and I checked a possible hotspot.
Sending the medic was one of the better decisions I made that day.
They noticed something and radioed in.
"We've found a possible distraction, squad leader. Huge tanks. Rage says they're flamible, and they'd draw enough attention for us to secure the artifact they sent us for no trouble. Permission to detonate?"
"Any tracks?"
"Some tire marks."
And hours of agonizing talk about pre-war automobiles while bartering for hubcaps suddenly paid off.
"Let me talk to Rage."
"Your funeral."
"Don't blow it up. That's gasoline. In fact, that is probably most of the gasoline left in the world. We've found the most valuable... It's like..."
"A threesome with fresh Vaulties?"
"Yes. In fact, we could probably buy an unopened Vault."
"Fuck"
They advanced, we advanced. I found another Raider leader.
I'd sold him some faulty merchandise earlier. Accident during shipping. Which explained the bullets.
It turns out being shot hurts. Easier to know that in the abstract than the concrete.
Rage, Ice, and Stitch were right to the North, fortunately. While he was distracted trying to kill me, Rage detonated his skull.
I found a crude little shotgun... thing by a corpse.
Farsight sidled up by me.
"Don't let Rage see that."
"Why not?"
"The dickweed talks about chainsaw swords and guns that shoot knives. I know he'd love one of these things, and it would get him killed, and then we all die."
And then Rage walked up. Looked at the glove.
"Raiders are fucking retards."
Farsight was speechless. I took it as market research.
"Grown a pair yet, or are you leaving the guys up front alone to die of fucking old age?"
I told him to wait. The first priority was securing the prisoners, if any were still alive. And, more importantly, the technology we were sent for.
A scientist, Brotherhood.
He provided a metal arm.
Farsight sucked in a little air.
"Shit. I was hoping dad made them up."
"Oh, of course. Another little story about the West, where the Deathclaws talk and there are mutants as far as the eye can see."
"Rot in hell, Jo. This is maybe from some sort of combat drone. One with faulty programming took out a whole squad of rangers."
I didn't believe it then, and don't believe it now, but saying as much just encourages argument.
I told Jo and Stitch to guard the prisoner, sent Ice up on the wall, and let Rage and Farsight take the front.
It went fairly well, all things considered. Of course, two of the guard houses were still occupied. I'd been here before, and they were defensible positions. Mostly.
I went to Daisy's first. I'll admit that attempting to talk when the orders were kill on sight might have been ill advised, but it seemed charitable.
It went poorly.
Rage grabbed my shoulder after the shooting died down.
"Two kinds of crazy bitches. One kind sucks Nuka off your John Maxon at eighty MPH..."
"Rage, shut up."
Farsight apparently heard it before.
I ignored the resulting... conversation to deal with the prisoner.
No information. I managed to tell him a little about the virtues of the Brotherhood and old fashioned American capitalism before he ran off. And that left us with
one room full of the nastiest Raiders, who must have noticed the little altercations outside.
Or maybe they didn't. Someone ordered soundproofing, as I remember. And I pride myself on customer service.
We spilit into three groups. Farsight killed the perimeter guards. Rage, Ice, and Stitch would go inside by the back route. And I'd take the front door. Simple.
Simultanious strike on the main room at three. That was the plan.
Ice does an amazingly fast three count, apparently. Everyone in the room dead before anyone else got in.
And that was it. Unfortunately, the sheer size of the fuel plant meant it had to be reported and handed over. Ah well, whatever's good for the Brotherhood...
chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
In which Milo's squad receives a name, among other things.
From the journals of Senior Initiate Nina "Farsight" Stills
Something's going down soon. Everyone here knows it.
Correction. All of the lifers know it. There's a lot of tribals hanging around recently who are too shellshocked by running water and lights to understand anything else.
They're a part of it. Milo's part of it. Getting my chevron back is part of it.
I was going to just drink until it either made sense or I didn't care, but Rage was already there. Wolcott's bad enough sober.
I went to the mess instead. On the way, I dealt with stupid questions from tribals who still haven't figured out that the Brotherhood isn't an actual family, and we don't share a tribe name or, for the most part, know what anyone else is supposed to do. Or care. They assumed an awful lot of giving a shit.
"Hello! Where do they keep the Brahmin?"
"Steel Nina! Where is training?"
"My brother says women can't join the Brotherhood."
I'd hate to be one of them once basic starts. Rasczak is going to eat most of them alive.
At least they were easy to ignore.
Food was good in the mess, which qualified as a minor miracle. And everyone kept their distance, which didn't. The one good thing about a probation on suspicion of murder is no-one is quite as willing to waste your time.
On the way back, though, I met a couple people in the hall.
Sharon, I knew. Weird accent which she claims is English, vain. Not a bad record, though. The other one said his name was Stoma, and from the markings, he was nearly a full knight. I stood at attention.
He skipped procedure.
"You're with Magpie squad, right?"
"With who?"
Sharon spoke up. (I'm still 90% sure no-one anywhere actually sounded like her before the bombs fell.)
"Them blokes wut blown up them ruddy raiders, guvna."
Stoma took the talking from there on.
"The guys who went with Milo. Took on a huge Raider base as initiates? I thought..."
"I was there. Just didn't know we had a squad name."
Foot shuffling. A senior squire, next best thing to a knight, embarrassed to tell me something. As I said, something odd was going on.
"Heard it from Repo. They said you stole anything not bolted down, and you were in the old Raven squad bunker..."
"Got it. So, why do you want to talk to me. Are the Elders taking my chevron back again?"
"No. We just kind of wanted you to put in a good word for us. If a spot opens."
"Wait. What?"
"Look, I saw the papers. Solo asked about Ice already, and Demon needs another sniper. Something might pan out."
"I meant why you'd want in."
They just stared for a second until Stoma said
"Just mention us, alright?"
I backed off.
I saw a pile of papers sticking out of Milo's locker later. Applications.
And mine had what must have been the only Ranger armor east of the Mississippi.
Felt like a bribe, somehow. I'm talking to Stitch about it later. Not that I'm expecting answers.
So, here a ton of potential recruits are added to the roster.
First, the current squad.
Ice is a scout and a sniper. Good sneaking, good shooting. She also has the strength to use heavy weapons, and some training with them.
Farsight's a little worse a scout, a little better a sniper, and can't use as much heavy gear. Otherwise, same story.
Rage is good in close quarters, and with weapons handling could be good with big guns.
Jo's the only one who can fix and operate vehicles when they come along. Otherwise, unexceptional.
Stitch is a good combat medic. Shotgun in close quarters, doctor's bag if any friendlies are sharing the space. Bad eyesight, though.
And finally, our protagonist.
Still no good in a gunfight. Still, good at getting supplies, one way or another.
As for the recruits available:
Level 1
Level 2
Level 3
Level 4
Sharon's got decent stats. Primary point to notice is she's good with combat drugs.
Level 5 and up
Beth's pure melee. Not the smartest option.
All rounder. Light medic abilities. Nothing impressive. Still, heavy weapons will be important later.
Haven't invested much in grenades yet, and his small guns skill is worse than almost anyone on the squad.
No good with heavy weapons, and bad with two handed weapons. Not good.
Noncombatant. One tends to be enough for a squad.
Slow.
And that's the options right now. Feel free to comment on who you'd like to see in action.
Bring in Sharon, and only remove Stitch or Rage to do it. Preferably Stitch. Teach her medicine. This team needs to be John Milo, Rage, and a bundle of ladies constantly at eachother's throats.
I could see replacing Stitch with Keith. Stumpy might be useful in certain missions. Stevie looks like a good choice for infiltration.
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chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
edited October 2011
Intermission
From "The War of the Steel Plague: An Initiate's Guide"
There have been many who claim the legacy of the old world, who claim its fallen glories. The Enclave, defeated soldiers of a fallen government whose attempts to restore it nearly destroyed them. The Desert Rangers, deserters who attempted to protect small communities from the ravages of the new world. The New California Republic. Caesar's Legion. The armies of the Master.
And the many branches of the Brotherhood of Steel. The hidebound fools to the West, the softhearted knights of the East who abandoned their proper duties in an attempt to save a fading populace from itself.
All of them have as great a claim to the Old World as you. Remember that. The old world is not your heritage, nor your proper glory.
We were forged in purer flames. The Steel Plague is our heritage. The Steel Plague is the birth of glory. And by birth or choice, it becomes your burden.
It began with the best of intentions. In the early 2190s, a team of Brotherhood Paladins found a small cache of holotapes, microfilm, and other data on the Vault project. The majority was common knowledge and propaganda.
But a small portion held a terrifying truth. The Elders of our Brotherhood of Steel were among the first to learn the Vaults were never meant to save anyone. They were experiments. The knowledge gained would be collected and sent to government officials who could sweep in and clear out those unfortunate enough to stand in their way.
And, importantly, the knowledge would be sent to Vault-Tec. Where the best and brightest were gathered and stored safely to compile and document the data from project. Vault 0, the most secure facility. Hub for the best technology, with the best defenses. Greatest of the monuments to the old world.
We thought it a gift. A sign from God that our quest was noble and pure.
It nearly destroyed us in the end.
After Raven Squad was lost investigating the area, a recruitment drive never seen before or since began. Soldier who, mere months before, would face firing squads, tribals who could barely understand the operational guidelines for pistols, mutants, the brotherhood accepted all without comment.
Once, we would have condemned any such action. Here, it was our salvation.
The greatest threat in the history of the wastes loomed. And hero after hero rose from the ranks.
General Dekker. Paladin Rasczak. General Milo. And so many more. These are not just names to memorize for examinations. These are examples. The time may come when fulfilling the basic obligations of your office will not be enough.
Thanks to these men and women, you will know what to do.
And the actual chapter ending text.
With your initiation now over the Brotherhood now reveals to you their highest objective, fragments of data, left over from before the great war show that the ancients spent many years constructing Vaults to house the survivors.
Recently acquired data however points to the creation of an enormous super Vault; this nucleus of the Vault Network was built to protect the greatest minds of the time and would be the spearhead of post war civilization. If the Brotherhood could find this vault and activate its systems, they would have access to technology resources previously undreamed of. As well as access to the ancients themselves but the journey to the calculated location of Vault 0 would be perilous. A large army and a vast area of operations would be required for a mission of this magnitude.
They planned to follow the roaring river to the south, forging alliances, gaining fresh recruits and, if necessary, eliminating aggressors. Bunkers will be established in each new region, to firmly establish a secure area of operations. When the Brotherhood's rule in the region is undisputed and their ranks are brimming with new recruits, the real campaign will begin, heading back towards the mountains.
[/spoiler
chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
In which things begin to go South.
(Accessing)
Evaluation form: Junior Knight Milo
"Captain Roger Maxon, service number 072389, sir!"
I swear, that's what the little maggot said. Ask him who founded the Brotherhood, he rattles off a service number.
Like he was expecting a fucking history quiz instead of a basic loyalty oath.
I fumbled something out about his admirable commitment to Brotherhood traditions, handed him to the elder, and stepped in the hall for a smoke and figured that was all I'd have to deal with. We'd be moving south, and the junior officers tend to be left behind for babysitting duty.
Nice thing about being a Paladin. It's more ass kicking, less minding tribal, unless you're a drill sergeant, and then you can rip them new assholes when they're dumbasses.
Which, way I figure, is just about always.
Then, come the day, whoops.
Orders include his little squad. Something about exceptional valor, officially.
Way I heard it, it's more something about running a black market.
Since all the fuel went to the frontline bunkers, we had to walk. And walk. And leave Milo behind. And walk.
He caught up, which is a pity.
Right, I was supposed to say how he was holding up.
Well, he walks in with a cock-and-bull story about raiders working with scorpions.
And his mechanic is "blind" from a "ghoul attack".
Cute story. It keeps the doctors busy and everyone else out while he's loose in the medical office.
All I know? He cornered half the markets here by now.
And he pals up with the supposed ex-raider who just sold us intel.
You're asking if we should send him on a diplomatic mission or a rescue?
I say the question is we shoot him now or wait until we get home.
chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
edited October 2011
In which things continue to go South, then North, then South again.
To: General Barnaky
From: Initiate Jo Cermak
Regarding: Macomb
I don't know if I can go on, sir.
Not observing Milo's squad. He's... likable once you get to know him. Ice is still Ice, even with Rage around, and Farsight isn't as bad as she could be.
I mean field work. I know, we do what needs to be done to civilize the wasteland. I thought I had the stomach for it. I thought it would be cleaner.
It was bad from the start. Celcius needed Stitch in the trauma ward after the recent Radscorpion attacks, so we grabbed Mandy Jericho. Turns out she get queasy at the sight of blood, which restricted treatment to stims.
If you were wondering why we spent so long in the infirmary, sir, that would cover it. It's a miracle any of us came back alive.
More radroaches and other bugs on our way than expected. They seemed more agitated than normal as well.
No idea why.
When we arrived, things were 100% FUBAR.
The driver was a coward, the original escort squad was dead, and some asshole had sold local raiders goddamn rocket launchers.
And yes. I checked. Junior Knight Milo said he'd never been able to find reliable sources, and it was a shame the market opened up right as he left.
As the only one with any relevant experience, I drove the transport while the rest of the squad located and neutralized hostiles.
Rooftop snipers killed. Gates opened. Rage shot repeatedly in the chest. I'll say it right now. It was what the Brotherhood is meant to be.
There was a whole pack of... not attack dogs. Thought they were at first. Feral dogs, the nasty kind you get when a city goes to hell. No food, so they killed and ate some poor SOB.
Rage wasted them with a couple shells.
Farsight cleaned the roof, and we were on schedule to be out of that shithole and back in civilization .
Mandy, Milo and I had to stay back and guard the supplies while Ice and Rage swept the streets and Faright scouted ahead, while we prayed our Nina wouldn't get attention.
Which is when things started to go wrong.
Raider begging for food. And Rage right there.
Rage told him to get on the ground. Farsight said he should go on the ground. He was begging for food and looked like he was reaching for a rifle.
Went about how you'd expect with Wolcott there. The poor bastard had his head blown off.
He did have a gun. He might have been going for it. He definitely was suffering from malnutrition. These people were fucking animals, you're right.
Just saying we'd be doing the same thing in their position.
The next roadblock had a rocket launcher. Rage took the raider wielding it down before he could kill anyone, it knocked some of the barricades into rubble anyway. Milo went ahead. Like an idiot.
Library. Our CO walked in like he owned the place.
He walked out the same way.
"A fellow in there has lost his glasses. Pity. Well, we can keep our eye out. Win hearts and minds, and the like."
It looked naive then. It didn't get better as the mission went on.
We saw a few civvies in our way. Directly in our way. Junior Knight Milo decided avoiding them might be best for all concerned.
It was a set up. Raiders hammered the transport, and when Farsight got soft and tried to give one of the civvies a damn happy pie?
They tried to kill her. Fuck. I mean, we're bringing civilization. We're protecting people. They should be grateful, right?
At least, they shouldn't have been throwing explosives at us. Molotovs aren't rockets, but they hurt like hell.
Rage killed them. Well, those that didn't run. It was a clusterfuck.
It was almost a relief when we ran into some bastards with AKs. Killing them was, well, soldier work. It was our business. It was clean.
Farsight spotted a minefield then, and more raiders. Huge mess.
Milo found the glasses in some shitty little hovel. And then he wandered off to return it.
You know, when I first met him, I figured that was some kind of underhanded secret plan. Now that I've spent more time with him?
He's just incredibly distracted. Give him a chance at 50 ring pulls, and if no-one's getting shot at right then, he'd walk a mile for it. I mean, he's trying, managed to shout off some basic marching orders before leaving this time, but that isn't what you want in a leader.
He said it went well. Good for him. Meanwhile, we were being ambushed by a civilian mob.
I saw Farsight using a pile of human corpses for cover. Rockets flying. Ice was concussed from a rock to the skull, but still trying to stay in the fight. Some raider asshole got blown up by his own rocket, taking supplies with him.
We managed to get out alive, at least. Bleeding, cursing, strung out on stims and with more blood on our hands than any of Shakespeare's characters (Milo got some good stuff from the library), but alive.
Admittedly, it's mainly Norse legends, the ones with the Fimbulwinter and the Fenrir Wolf devouring the sun, but that looks less good on recruiting papers.
"Why, yes, we are involved in a desperate firefight, half-whacked on drug cocktails and high on cordite fumes, but we'll keep an eye out for your glasses."
half-whacked on drug cocktails and high on cordite fumes, but we'll keep an eye out for your glasses."
The "glasses" were actually a mating pair of pygmy radscorpions.
[REDACTED]
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chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
In Which a Hummer proves its worth and Milo does not
From the journals of Nina "Farsight" Stills
Well, it turned out the wasteland is still full of bastards. I'll try act be surprised next time.
Jo was looking down the barrel of an old pump action shotgun when we left. I told her we couldn't afford the shells and I wasn't managing clean up.
At least Stitch is done in the trauma ward. He looked like he lost a couple of patients. I bought him a drink and didn't mention that I still have protester blood on my riot gear. No point in passing shit around when we all have more than enough.
Couple of odd things on the way back that I did mention. Stories that fit
Weird little market. Milo seemed to be a regular, picked up some armor I didn't recognize the design of, and handed them the punch gun and some pull tabs for it.
Of course, that took time to remember. The deathclaw drove out the other memories.
Dad told me stories when I was a little girl. Demons roaming the wasteland. Everyone else said they were stories for a while. I knew better. If a man who could make it to here from Nevada shivered at talk of something, if he told you to run if you saw one? Probably not a myth.
Then I joined the Brotherhood, and heard more stories. They weren't demons there. Weren't talkers or pack hunters like dad said.
Just the nastiest thing in the waste. You shot it to ribbons from half a mile away, or it closed the distance and tore you to ribbons. I once heard a Talon vet describe one tearing up half her squad, and she was a damn Paladin. We had a pair, adult and juvenile.
Jo had her foot glued the pedal, but the things kept coming. Ice and I were firing out the back window, Rage was reloading his AK. Then Jo slammed into reverse and pinned the things under the hummer.
One bullet took out the juvenile, and the adult was struggling to move the tire off its neck when Ice blew out its brains with what felt like a five minute burst.
Stitch didn't believe me when I mentioned that it spoke English, and no-one else heard it over the screaming. Still, he liked the bit where Milo spent the whole mess with a little account sheet in his hand, marking down every bullet at standard market prices in pull tabs and scrip.
And they made him a full Knight. Starting to think the Brotherhood's leadership got inbred a few decades back.
Still, Deathclaws and we aren't dead. Squad leader taking the same shit as the rest of us without complaining.
Might not fill out the transfer forms just yet.
And our current crop of troopers, for the record:
Milo's finally able to aim. Not well, but it's an improvement.
Meanwhile, Farsight's getting good with conventional small arms. Very good.
Jo is a good enough pilot, and a solid mechanic. Also, not awful with a gun. Good if a mission requires a driver. Otherwise, the skills go to waste.
Ice is still Ice.
And Rage is developing some heavy weapon skills. Heaven help us all.
Just to be complete, Mandy. Solid, but no good as a medic. No Doctor tag is kind of a bad thing there.
Hey, I totally said to go for the brit. Last I checked, Mandy ain't British.
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chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
In Which Milo makes friends and influences people
Journals of Knight John Milo, Brotherhood of Steel
It's been a good last few days. Not perfect, markets closing, good subordinates needing leave, and similar, but on the whole, I was pleased with our progress. So, when General Barnaky suggested a little trip to Peoria, some hearts and minds "bullshit" as he put it, well, I was more than ready to go.
Of course, diplomatic talk requires different considerations than straightforward military work. For example, take Rage. For hunting down Raiders, you give him a Kalashnikov and basic directions to the main hostiles. For a hostage situation, you keep him in a support role. For a diplomatic mission, you give him to another squad and pray they don't find out who they were left with until you're already gone.
Unfortunately, our driver would be unavailable for entirely separate reasons possibly leading to a full on mental breakdown. Of course, at J,M,B,O, and S, we've always stuck by the old wasteland saying. One man's nightmarish hell beast is one good marketing campaign from being everyone else's new favorite taste treat. Look for the opportunity in everything. So, Rage and Jo are gone? Fine.
Opens up space for a bargaining edge. I checked over the records. A few of the soldiers around the bunker were only a few months (not counting basic) out of tribal civilization. Sharon, despite her incomprehensible accent, had connections in the region, and Keith was a medicine man or something not long ago, which ensures a certain kind of very useful respect.
The fact they came from gun and stimpak tribes as opposed to the sticks and bloodletting assortment was a further bonus. Nothing against the latter group, simply less useful in day to day work.
Ice drove. Quick learner, our Oliver. Not the most personable, but she is versatile. Tolerable at everything, and amazing at a few things.
It was a small village, in more than one sense. Here since the Great War, and no expansion, no reclamation, no good old American drive. Well, they were lucky the Brotherhood was here to lift them out of superstition.
NCR draw was a start, at any rate.
They called us gods by the ends of the first day's discussion. Farsight seemed to take offense. Serious offense, even. To the point of discussing it with their local spiritual leader.
She didn't make any headway, apparently, but she brought some Rad-X back. I doubt we'll be needing it any time soon, but there is generally a market for that kind of thing no matter where you go. She also said something about cross dressing in a disgusted tone, but it didn't seem worth asking about. Especially when she said something about Squire Wolcott and started laughing.
Apparently, the local chief wants us to perform some kind of exorcism of a local bunker. It survived the war and should have the technology we were sent to find.
Easiest mission yet, it looks like. All we need to do is make a good show for the locals of dealing with the "spirits", find the batteries, and Maxon's your uncle. The tribals are happy, and will be happier when good old American industry comes around. The brotherhood is happy with its power cells. I make a profit, and Magpie Squad gets another boost to the reputation.
I hate to say this, birds of ill omen and that, but I'm having a hard time seeing how this could go wrong for anyone.
Ooh, I can't wait. I remember Cindylu damn near had a mental breakdown trying to spare both her squad and the town. Somehow I don't think Milo would be so accommodating, though I'm sure he could find the profit either way.
Keep up the good work, it's a great LP.
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chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
In Which Milo was very wrong about things.
From the journal of Joachim "Stitch" Josephs, Brotherhood of Steel East Initiate
Farsight is still puking her guts out from the rads, and Rage's response to the whole story was "You should have just shot the fuckers." like it ended the discussion. I guess I have to sort this mess out on my own.
We spent a couple days in the village just talking before checking out their bunker. Shooting the shit, telling old tribal jokes when the squad was alone, enduring Sharon's accent.
"Blimy, Stitch, these ruddy blokes can't tell their bangers and mash from their Chuffin' Nora!"
I swear to God, she actually said that. I saw Ice and Farsight talking a little later.
"Hunting rifle."
"No, Raiders aren't good enough shots. If we have to, stick with the AK. Spray and pray is harder to match up. Only way they won't see the signature of one of the best snipers in the Brotherhood."
I decided not to get involved. Catfights tend to be messy.
The next day, Sharon was still alive, so I assumed it was sorted out. We went into the bunker boldly, Milo giving some speech about the brotherhood.
And a Radscorpion tagged him in the groin. We were swarmed by roaches then. Ice and Farsight were picking off targets, Milo was unloading burst after burst from his AK, I had my shotgun out...
I think we were wading through the corpses before long.
Keith spoke first.
"So, what was that joke about evil spirits, again?"
Milo managed to pull himself off the floor by then, and grunted out something that sounded like either "Fuck off" or "I'll keep that in mind, thank you". I don't know how he managed that.
With the halls more or less clear, we spread out looking for the batteries. We found a lot of old world garbage in the process, but Milo insisted on taking it all.
Farsight and Ice cleared out some larger roaches in a back room. All the time at the range, I guess.
I managed to find one of the batteries we were after, and Milo started talking again.
"Alright, one down. I'll admit I was a bit hasty in declaring the mission a success before, but I think we have the lay of the land. Some anthropoids that don't remember the square cube law, not much of an issue for our excellent sniper team. Smooth sailing from here out."
Farsight nudged me in the ribs then, and pointed at a corpse.
"The bugs couldn't have done that. Plasma, maybe laser burns. We're in for a shitstorm. Trust me, let brit-bitch take point."
"Ah, a slight problem ladies and gentlemen. Nothing serious. Just... run very quickly."
I whispered back to Farsight then.
"You ever hate being right?"
"Fairly often."
We made it across without any serious injuries. Ice found another turret, but it was busy with the radscorpions. Let us through without issue.
Ice found a sledge on one of the benches.
I grabbed another battery. Going in hadn't been too bad. Getting out would be a nightmare, but that was a worry for later. Then I saw the locked doors. We were penned in, and the switch for the doors was next to a turret. Which meant rushing, tagging the switch, and running back.
Ice covered for us. With the micro sledge. Milo didn't ask, just ran in, ran out, waited for Ice, slammed the door.
It was... uneventful for a while after that.
Our squad leader found Ice some combat armor in a trapped desk. Keith and I patched everyone up.
Then we found another sealed door. Hooked up to a switch.
It went back down immediately.
It was a fairly simple decision. We could go back with two batteries and wind up fucked long term, or we could massacre innocent people by activating the defense system.
I said to leave for now, clear the area and pay the price back at base. Ice disagreed.
Then Milo spoke up.
"Ten second transition. Should let us minimize fatalities. I'll stay back and work the switch. That way, anyone dead is one my hands."
"Oy! Guvner, that's a bit sticky, innit? Fish and chips!"
"Please shut up. Your 'accent' is driving me mad. I'm in charge of this squad. If anything goes wrong, it's my responsibility. Forget about the turrets. Forget about the tribals. Just get in, get the battery, and get out."
He paused for a second.
"If you can manage it quickly, anything else with market value would be nice. But don't get killed over it."
He nodded and we took off at a sprint.
The turrets went on as we left, there was a horde of bugs waiting for us, and most of us were feeling sick before we were done with the first batch.
Farsight's eyes were out for half the ruckus and she kept shooting.
Scared the shit out of me when I found out.
"It wasn't a problem, Stitch. I shot tin cans blindfolded as a kid."
"Right. And in the heat of combat, giving someone else a buckshot facial is impossible."
"Haven't fucked up like that before. Often."
"There's always a first..."
And I dropped the line of questioning.
We made it deeper in, and found some fairly heavy blast doors. Farsight was the best sprinter there, so she went in to scout.
She ran out with another battery yelling something about a "FUCKING GIANT COCKROACH AS BIG AS THE FUCKING HUMMER!"
Then she vomited. Light rad sickness.
We had enough Rad-Away to manage it, but I recommended she should spend some time in medical.
After that, all I remember is the mad dash out. Farsight got nicked by one of the laser turrets, and didn't break stride.
We found some bodies on the way out. And heard the whisper of the survivors.
"We think you are gods."
It was funnier three days ago.
Milo went to the local leader and the shaman.
I didn't hear the discussion with the shaman. But the Chief?
It didn't go well.
He was laughing as our squad leader approached.
"Knight John Milo, brotherhood. My actions have lead to the death of several of your citizens. Again, may I emphasize, my actions. The brotherhood cannot be held responsible. Magpie Squad is entirely innocent. I killed your people and will manage the official response. It's the least I can do."
"Well, I hope we can do business in the future, then."
I never thought I'd see Ice and Sharon agree on anything. Still, as we left...
"Queen Victoria's Bloomers! What a pillock."
"Yes."
And that was the end of it. When we came back, Rage had already been kicked from Fang Squad for bad behavior. I wish I could say I was surprised.
Keith is back on duty with Celsius and has asked to be left out of field work from now on.
Farsight said I make the worst friends a while back. She might be right.
Any plans on doing other Fallout games once you've completed this one?
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chiasaur11Never doubt a raccoon.Do you think it's trademarked?Registered Userregular
edited October 2011
In Which things are done off the record.
From the journals of Reginald "Rage" Wolcott
Fuckin' squad leader.
So, we're such fucking badasses, Command says we can take a couple weeks leave.
I start looking at the local map for good whorehouses. It'd been way too long since Stitch and I raised a little hell. He's looking like his dick'd shrivel up lately.
Then Farsight catches me with my dick in my hands saying one of the Knights wants to see me. She didn't look in. Her loss.
I shoved my pants back on and headed out, grabbing my Ripper on the way. Helps emphasize the point you don't interrupt a man's alone time.
Turns out it's Milo, with more brass on.
"Squire Wolcott, glad you could attend. We're going on a supply run. As this is on your leave, you will be receiving a bonus."
I was about to tell him what he could do with the bonus and his ass when I noticed the Squire. Rank lets you get away with more, assuming it doesn't get stripped before one mission with it.
"Of course, the leave will be restored later. Urgent matters, and similar."
I could live with that.
So, we go out and visit a half dozen shitty little traders, and Milo goes off getting rad meds and ammo and crap.
Only he doesn't spend a tab out of pocket. Said something about buying for seven caps and selling for five at a profit.
Bullshit, but hey. Scrip was coming in faster than I thought. And the front of the hummer rubbing up against Ice and Jo wasn't too bad.
We had to break a couple of times to mow down dumbfuck raiders and loot their corpses. Also good.
Then things get suspicious.
We see two bigass supermutants. I get out my AK and tell Jo to drive for the middle. Paladins tend to be impressed when you bring a mutant's head in on a pike, and one was half dead already.
Then Milo says to stop the hummer, hold fire, and Stitch should get out.
Farsight stares, Ice stares, Stitch stares, Jo stares. I go more direct.
"Did your brain switch off with all the time sucking Elder dick, Johnny?"
He just gives a curt nod, and steps out with Stitch following.
Fuck. None of my business.
Stitch just muttered "Hell if I know" when I asked him about it, and we didn't see the mutants again.
I was going to pass it on, but squad leader said the next mission involved a whore house, heavy action, and a little alone time with a mayor's daughter.
This Let's Play and the other one have inspired me to replay this game.
I made a rule of no reloading unless my main character dies. I've been averaging about 1 character death per mission (give or take), and few of the bonus objectives. It's an interesting run.
I've 100%'ed the game in the past, but I'm having fun now making up a story as I play along. It feels better to imagine each character's reaction while the shit's hitting the fan, and what they say to the new recruit every time they're forcibly signed up for ACE Squad. I wonder what God they pray to when they look around the cabin, and know that statistically speaking, one of them ain't gonna come back alive for the 10th time. It's making me appreciate the game more, and this LP inspired it.
Posts
Fucking politics bullshit had to work out for me some time.
So, the bitch Farsight comes to my cott. Figure she's taking back what
she said earlier. No such luck.
Instead she says, with this disgusted look on her face, I was getting
a transfer. New squad some little teacher's pet set up as an experiment for
the benefit of the asshats in power armor.
So, I get tossed a rifle, a shotgun, and we start a forced march with a whiny little shit who needs a break every ten, three
chicks who turned me down more than once, and Stitch, who's being a bigger pussy than any of them right now. Fun fucking times.
So, we arrive at a giant ass raider base, and we get told that whoops. The shitwipes have a huge-ass stockpile of fucking soviet assault rifles.
Jo asks for a source and Ice says something about squad leader Milo's "Unique intel sources" in a tone that leaves me hoping for a catfight.
Blueballed, though. Just get Milo spilling something about us all having "Shares in J, M, B, O, and S enterprises."
Hands out pieces of paper that aren't brotherhood script and aren't cat's paw, which places them in boring ass shit as far as I'm concerned.
It was dark, miserable, and I figured talking loud would just get us shot. Me, Farsight, and Ice, we started using some cover. Looking for targets.
They walk right up. Farsight had a shotgun. I had a shotgun.
They had sticks and a dog.
It went as you'd expect. I could grow to love that woman.
Ice and I went north to deal with the guards. Spotted some AKs and hunting rifles, which more or
less beat the shit out of what inbred hicks normally have.
So, while we're busting our asses with those jokers, Stitch, Farsight, Milo, and Jo go for the bridge.
Where they have more clubs.
Meanwhile, Stitch and Farsight still have shotguns. Surprised there was anything left of the corpses.
Sorry I missed out on it. I'd been busy. Some dumb fuck of a Raider got hammered
after grabbing whoever we were rescuing.
Woke up too late to do him any good.
By the time I got there, Milo was talking to one of the raiders there. Rest were dead.
Can still remember the little conversation.
"John! Good to see you. So, what is it this time? More AKs? Mines? We've been seeing a few things that might interest you lately."
The squad leader just kind of swiped his foot on the ground like an asshole.
"Well, Lou, you know the realities of war and economics. They're kind of complicated these days, what with the supply troubles in the west, and so on..."
"So, less goods. We can work with that."
"Ah, no. Actually, the deal now is, apparently, you tell us everything and surrender back at the bunker, and Initiate Farsight here doesn't kill you with a bullet to the
skull."
"Oh."
"I don't like it much better than you, but it's the way of the world. I mean, you can see I'm acting in good faith by not mentioning Rage."
"He's with you?"
"Ah, I don't think I meant to mention him yet."
And then the fucker spilled his guts. I love a reputation.
From what we got, a simple plan came up. Ice could secure the Elder. The rest of us would blow up a still and get attention. Then, when Raiders march their cousin fucking
asses in single file, we blow their damn heads off.
No issues on our end. Other than Farsight getting a little scorched in the blast.
Well, some of them apparently had parents who raped outside the family and didn't go rushing in with the first batch.
Or maybe they just couldn't work doorknobs. Forward team took shotguns. Everyone else sniped from the back.
By the time their leader got off his ass, everyone else was dead. He didn't last much longer.
And it turned out they had Kalashnikovs.
It was Christmas. Ice caught up about then, bloodstained. Said she'd secured the prisoners. Well, the live ones.
The elder we were here for, and this girl Ripley. Jo and Ice figured it'd be best to have her grilled for information. Farsight said some shit about it not doing any good.
Me, I was just hoping for a thank-you fuck, but I knew enough not to say it.
Squad leader was saying something about good PR when Stitch let her run for it on his own. Soft touch doesn't cover it.
Dumbass doesn't either. So no goods, no intel, no sex. Great plan.
We got the Elder out, who obviously hadn't prayed enough to the Brahmin god of not-getting-it-up-the-ass, and left.
Couple raiders tried to ambush us on leaving, and got us the rest of their AKs. Not bad.
Could get used to it in this unit. As long as Stitch gets his pair back.
Why I fear the ocean.
Is there any other service you can use? I always have an impossible time logging into Yahoo. My problem, I know.
I can look into other options, but, if I can ask, why is the logging in thing an issue?
Been able to view all the images without being logged in for quite some time, and a check today confirmed. What's the trouble on your end?
Also, I hate to say this, as it sounds incredibly needy and such, but could I get some comments now that the board is somewhat less temperamental? It's hard to tell what you're doing wrong without anyone commenting on things.
And with the board view counter down, you can't even tell if anyone is reading.
Makes things a mite less satisfying.
Why I fear the ocean.
Splitting headache. Naseua. Thirst. The shits.
I had too much last night. Or we all soaked too many rads on the last mission.
Probably just the hangover.
After all, I damn well earned one.
After a check at the infirmary, where I was told I looked worse off than any of the actual patients, Farsight yanked me over to the requisitions office, face still scorched from the still explosion.
I tried to say something smooth, I think. The whole rest of the day is a blur.
She ignored it.
"Stitch, somehow the still got here and fixed ahead of us. There's a tab the grateful masses set up in our honor. And Rage doesn't know yet. This will not happen again."
"He's not that bad a guy, once you..."
"One: Drink. Two. You have the worst taste in friends."
"Hey, that's"
"Rage, our resident sociopath. Me, the bitchy sniper who spent her first week talking about how the Rangers would have done things and making everyone else hate her. Not the guys like Kevin who might, conceivably, get you a promotion and some perks some day."
A snort.
"You'd probably be paling around with the Elder's daughter if she had lived another week, and she was the worst thing to hit the country since nuclear war. Would have gotten everyone killed the next time out, so you did us a favor. "
"I didn't..."
"No guilt. Booze."
And then, blissful guilt free oblivion.
I woke up on the floor of the men's restroom. Rage was in a stall muttering something about Ice, Jo, and Betty Page.
And former Senior Initiate Milo was standing over me with two new chevrons and news.
Seems he'd gotten us another assignment while everyone else was drinking.
We're leaving inside an hour. Rage is already planning to kill him.
I agreed to help hide the body, if it comes to that.
Why I fear the ocean.
Also because of this I decided to play Fallout Tactics again.
though I too am a flickr hatr, but that's beside the point; I'm mostly in it for the writing.
Everything was simpler a couple weeks ago. Just make everyone happy, make sure the products arrive on time, and keep the whole thing from showing up as an anomoly
in the ledgers.
Now, two of the three are more or less impossible. Well, one is nearly impossible, one requires the slight adjustment that everyone still alive is happy, and the last one is
is fairly easy.
It just leaves the General in a position to send my squad on suicide missions. (Note to self: Find a name for squad. Looks odd on paperwork the way things are)
At least Rage got his agression out on some Raiders before he arrived. Otherwise he might have targetted me
When we arrived I secured any initial goods and studied the layout while everyone else scouted for hostiles.
Lucky break for me, the fridge had Nuka Cola. Found a few buyers for that sort of thing a while back, and it's technically legal non-brotherhood trade.
Of course, the best market required trade a bit further West, and my contact there appears to have run off. Bad business on his part.
Luck for everyone with me, it was dark, the Raider meeting was leaving the guards sloppy, and a few snipers could tear up the patrols
They had a good alarm system. Improvised, of course, but I recognized the components.
Unfortunately for them, that's because I sold the components, and they ignored my generous extended warranty offer. I did try to help back then. Proper customer service is important.
Ah well. Wouldn't have planned for Senior Initiate Oliver at any rate. She went on ahead alone.
She came back covered in blood, most of it someone else's and gave an "All clear" signal. Farsight took the sniper post, where we confirmed the main entrance was out of
the question.
Ice went for the only secondary entrance we could find, but there seemed to be a problem with explosives.
Well, I assume she found a minefield. There was a minefield, and she lived, so it seems a natural assumption. She never has been talkative, as far as I can tell.
She just found a solution, and signaled for us to follow.
Shame about the lost assets. But we still had the steak from earlier, and the fodder seemed low quality, and had more human remains than I like. Possible disease risk, lowering available markets.
We followed through, when Farsight spotted someone that could be one of our four primary targets. Well, he was one of our targets. I always assumed the local bands kept him
as a mascot, although I tried to be polite about it. I gave her the all clear while Ice and Rage scouted ahead.
He attempted to kill Farsight, but a bad throwing arm was his undoing. Well, a bad throwing arm and three shells through the chest.
A quick scan of the room found a few high quality science textbooks. It's too bad when a genuine desire to learn is prevented by circumstances. Or, as Rage put it a little later:
"Sucks to be a fucking retarded-ass flipper baby."
About then he and Ice were taking down patroling guards. One ran.
Stitch subdued him. For a medic, Initiate Josephs is surprisingly good with a shotgun.
His team went ahead to secure the area while Farsight, Jo, and I checked a possible hotspot.
Sending the medic was one of the better decisions I made that day.
They noticed something and radioed in.
"We've found a possible distraction, squad leader. Huge tanks. Rage says they're flamible, and they'd draw enough attention for us to secure the artifact they sent us for no trouble. Permission to detonate?"
"Any tracks?"
"Some tire marks."
And hours of agonizing talk about pre-war automobiles while bartering for hubcaps suddenly paid off.
"Let me talk to Rage."
"Your funeral."
"Don't blow it up. That's gasoline. In fact, that is probably most of the gasoline left in the world. We've found the most valuable... It's like..."
"A threesome with fresh Vaulties?"
"Yes. In fact, we could probably buy an unopened Vault."
"Fuck"
They advanced, we advanced. I found another Raider leader.
I'd sold him some faulty merchandise earlier. Accident during shipping. Which explained the bullets.
It turns out being shot hurts. Easier to know that in the abstract than the concrete.
Rage, Ice, and Stitch were right to the North, fortunately. While he was distracted trying to kill me, Rage detonated his skull.
I found a crude little shotgun... thing by a corpse.
Farsight sidled up by me.
"Don't let Rage see that."
"Why not?"
"The dickweed talks about chainsaw swords and guns that shoot knives. I know he'd love one of these things, and it would get him killed, and then we all die."
And then Rage walked up. Looked at the glove.
"Raiders are fucking retards."
Farsight was speechless. I took it as market research.
"Grown a pair yet, or are you leaving the guys up front alone to die of fucking old age?"
I told him to wait. The first priority was securing the prisoners, if any were still alive. And, more importantly, the technology we were sent for.
A scientist, Brotherhood.
He provided a metal arm.
Farsight sucked in a little air.
"Shit. I was hoping dad made them up."
"Oh, of course. Another little story about the West, where the Deathclaws talk and there are mutants as far as the eye can see."
"Rot in hell, Jo. This is maybe from some sort of combat drone. One with faulty programming took out a whole squad of rangers."
I didn't believe it then, and don't believe it now, but saying as much just encourages argument.
I told Jo and Stitch to guard the prisoner, sent Ice up on the wall, and let Rage and Farsight take the front.
It went fairly well, all things considered. Of course, two of the guard houses were still occupied. I'd been here before, and they were defensible positions. Mostly.
I went to Daisy's first. I'll admit that attempting to talk when the orders were kill on sight might have been ill advised, but it seemed charitable.
It went poorly.
Rage grabbed my shoulder after the shooting died down.
"Two kinds of crazy bitches. One kind sucks Nuka off your John Maxon at eighty MPH..."
"Rage, shut up."
Farsight apparently heard it before.
I ignored the resulting... conversation to deal with the prisoner.
No information. I managed to tell him a little about the virtues of the Brotherhood and old fashioned American capitalism before he ran off. And that left us with
one room full of the nastiest Raiders, who must have noticed the little altercations outside.
Or maybe they didn't. Someone ordered soundproofing, as I remember. And I pride myself on customer service.
We spilit into three groups. Farsight killed the perimeter guards. Rage, Ice, and Stitch would go inside by the back route. And I'd take the front door. Simple.
Simultanious strike on the main room at three. That was the plan.
Ice does an amazingly fast three count, apparently. Everyone in the room dead before anyone else got in.
And that was it. Unfortunately, the sheer size of the fuel plant meant it had to be reported and handed over. Ah well, whatever's good for the Brotherhood...
Why I fear the ocean.
Also I dare you to make John Milo find a use for the shotgun fist.
Something's going down soon. Everyone here knows it.
Correction. All of the lifers know it. There's a lot of tribals hanging around recently who are too shellshocked by running water and lights to understand anything else.
They're a part of it. Milo's part of it. Getting my chevron back is part of it.
I was going to just drink until it either made sense or I didn't care, but Rage was already there. Wolcott's bad enough sober.
I went to the mess instead. On the way, I dealt with stupid questions from tribals who still haven't figured out that the Brotherhood isn't an actual family, and we don't share a tribe name or, for the most part, know what anyone else is supposed to do. Or care. They assumed an awful lot of giving a shit.
"Hello! Where do they keep the Brahmin?"
"Steel Nina! Where is training?"
"My brother says women can't join the Brotherhood."
I'd hate to be one of them once basic starts. Rasczak is going to eat most of them alive.
At least they were easy to ignore.
Food was good in the mess, which qualified as a minor miracle. And everyone kept their distance, which didn't. The one good thing about a probation on suspicion of murder is no-one is quite as willing to waste your time.
On the way back, though, I met a couple people in the hall.
Sharon, I knew. Weird accent which she claims is English, vain. Not a bad record, though. The other one said his name was Stoma, and from the markings, he was nearly a full knight. I stood at attention.
He skipped procedure.
"You're with Magpie squad, right?"
"With who?"
Sharon spoke up. (I'm still 90% sure no-one anywhere actually sounded like her before the bombs fell.)
"Them blokes wut blown up them ruddy raiders, guvna."
Stoma took the talking from there on.
"The guys who went with Milo. Took on a huge Raider base as initiates? I thought..."
"I was there. Just didn't know we had a squad name."
Foot shuffling. A senior squire, next best thing to a knight, embarrassed to tell me something. As I said, something odd was going on.
"Heard it from Repo. They said you stole anything not bolted down, and you were in the old Raven squad bunker..."
"Got it. So, why do you want to talk to me. Are the Elders taking my chevron back again?"
"No. We just kind of wanted you to put in a good word for us. If a spot opens."
"Wait. What?"
"Look, I saw the papers. Solo asked about Ice already, and Demon needs another sniper. Something might pan out."
"I meant why you'd want in."
They just stared for a second until Stoma said
"Just mention us, alright?"
I backed off.
I saw a pile of papers sticking out of Milo's locker later. Applications.
And mine had what must have been the only Ranger armor east of the Mississippi.
Felt like a bribe, somehow. I'm talking to Stitch about it later. Not that I'm expecting answers.
First, the current squad.
Ice is a scout and a sniper. Good sneaking, good shooting. She also has the strength to use heavy weapons, and some training with them.
Farsight's a little worse a scout, a little better a sniper, and can't use as much heavy gear. Otherwise, same story.
Rage is good in close quarters, and with weapons handling could be good with big guns.
Jo's the only one who can fix and operate vehicles when they come along. Otherwise, unexceptional.
Stitch is a good combat medic. Shotgun in close quarters, doctor's bag if any friendlies are sharing the space. Bad eyesight, though.
And finally, our protagonist.
Still no good in a gunfight. Still, good at getting supplies, one way or another.
As for the recruits available:
Level 1
Level 2
Level 3
Level 4
Sharon's got decent stats. Primary point to notice is she's good with combat drugs.
Level 5 and up
Beth's pure melee. Not the smartest option.
All rounder. Light medic abilities. Nothing impressive. Still, heavy weapons will be important later.
Haven't invested much in grenades yet, and his small guns skill is worse than almost anyone on the squad.
No good with heavy weapons, and bad with two handed weapons. Not good.
Noncombatant. One tends to be enough for a squad.
Slow.
And that's the options right now. Feel free to comment on who you'd like to see in action.
Why I fear the ocean.
There have been many who claim the legacy of the old world, who claim its fallen glories. The Enclave, defeated soldiers of a fallen government whose attempts to restore it nearly destroyed them. The Desert Rangers, deserters who attempted to protect small communities from the ravages of the new world. The New California Republic. Caesar's Legion. The armies of the Master.
And the many branches of the Brotherhood of Steel. The hidebound fools to the West, the softhearted knights of the East who abandoned their proper duties in an attempt to save a fading populace from itself.
All of them have as great a claim to the Old World as you. Remember that. The old world is not your heritage, nor your proper glory.
We were forged in purer flames. The Steel Plague is our heritage. The Steel Plague is the birth of glory. And by birth or choice, it becomes your burden.
It began with the best of intentions. In the early 2190s, a team of Brotherhood Paladins found a small cache of holotapes, microfilm, and other data on the Vault project. The majority was common knowledge and propaganda.
But a small portion held a terrifying truth. The Elders of our Brotherhood of Steel were among the first to learn the Vaults were never meant to save anyone. They were experiments. The knowledge gained would be collected and sent to government officials who could sweep in and clear out those unfortunate enough to stand in their way.
And, importantly, the knowledge would be sent to Vault-Tec. Where the best and brightest were gathered and stored safely to compile and document the data from project. Vault 0, the most secure facility. Hub for the best technology, with the best defenses. Greatest of the monuments to the old world.
We thought it a gift. A sign from God that our quest was noble and pure.
It nearly destroyed us in the end.
After Raven Squad was lost investigating the area, a recruitment drive never seen before or since began. Soldier who, mere months before, would face firing squads, tribals who could barely understand the operational guidelines for pistols, mutants, the brotherhood accepted all without comment.
Once, we would have condemned any such action. Here, it was our salvation.
The greatest threat in the history of the wastes loomed. And hero after hero rose from the ranks.
General Dekker. Paladin Rasczak. General Milo. And so many more. These are not just names to memorize for examinations. These are examples. The time may come when fulfilling the basic obligations of your office will not be enough.
Thanks to these men and women, you will know what to do.
And the actual chapter ending text.
Recently acquired data however points to the creation of an enormous super Vault; this nucleus of the Vault Network was built to protect the greatest minds of the time and would be the spearhead of post war civilization. If the Brotherhood could find this vault and activate its systems, they would have access to technology resources previously undreamed of. As well as access to the ancients themselves but the journey to the calculated location of Vault 0 would be perilous. A large army and a vast area of operations would be required for a mission of this magnitude.
They planned to follow the roaring river to the south, forging alliances, gaining fresh recruits and, if necessary, eliminating aggressors. Bunkers will be established in each new region, to firmly establish a secure area of operations. When the Brotherhood's rule in the region is undisputed and their ranks are brimming with new recruits, the real campaign will begin, heading back towards the mountains.
[/spoiler
Why I fear the ocean.
(Accessing)
Evaluation form: Junior Knight Milo
"Captain Roger Maxon, service number 072389, sir!"
I swear, that's what the little maggot said. Ask him who founded the Brotherhood, he rattles off a service number.
Like he was expecting a fucking history quiz instead of a basic loyalty oath.
I fumbled something out about his admirable commitment to Brotherhood traditions, handed him to the elder, and stepped in the hall for a smoke and figured that was all I'd have to deal with. We'd be moving south, and the junior officers tend to be left behind for babysitting duty.
Nice thing about being a Paladin. It's more ass kicking, less minding tribal, unless you're a drill sergeant, and then you can rip them new assholes when they're dumbasses.
Which, way I figure, is just about always.
Then, come the day, whoops.
Orders include his little squad. Something about exceptional valor, officially.
Way I heard it, it's more something about running a black market.
Since all the fuel went to the frontline bunkers, we had to walk. And walk. And leave Milo behind. And walk.
He caught up, which is a pity.
Right, I was supposed to say how he was holding up.
Well, he walks in with a cock-and-bull story about raiders working with scorpions.
And his mechanic is "blind" from a "ghoul attack".
Cute story. It keeps the doctors busy and everyone else out while he's loose in the medical office.
All I know? He cornered half the markets here by now.
And he pals up with the supposed ex-raider who just sold us intel.
You're asking if we should send him on a diplomatic mission or a rescue?
I say the question is we shoot him now or wait until we get home.
Paladin Henry Hollister
(Message not sent. Save?)
(Message deleted. Network access revoked.)
Why I fear the ocean.
Love it!
Go Diplomacy! Let Milo swindle the rubes make profitable deals with the tribals!
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
From: Initiate Jo Cermak
Regarding: Macomb
I don't know if I can go on, sir.
Not observing Milo's squad. He's... likable once you get to know him. Ice is still Ice, even with Rage around, and Farsight isn't as bad as she could be.
I mean field work. I know, we do what needs to be done to civilize the wasteland. I thought I had the stomach for it. I thought it would be cleaner.
It was bad from the start. Celcius needed Stitch in the trauma ward after the recent Radscorpion attacks, so we grabbed Mandy Jericho. Turns out she get queasy at the sight of blood, which restricted treatment to stims.
If you were wondering why we spent so long in the infirmary, sir, that would cover it. It's a miracle any of us came back alive.
More radroaches and other bugs on our way than expected. They seemed more agitated than normal as well.
No idea why.
When we arrived, things were 100% FUBAR.
The driver was a coward, the original escort squad was dead, and some asshole had sold local raiders goddamn rocket launchers.
And yes. I checked. Junior Knight Milo said he'd never been able to find reliable sources, and it was a shame the market opened up right as he left.
As the only one with any relevant experience, I drove the transport while the rest of the squad located and neutralized hostiles.
Rooftop snipers killed. Gates opened. Rage shot repeatedly in the chest. I'll say it right now. It was what the Brotherhood is meant to be.
There was a whole pack of... not attack dogs. Thought they were at first. Feral dogs, the nasty kind you get when a city goes to hell. No food, so they killed and ate some poor SOB.
Rage wasted them with a couple shells.
Farsight cleaned the roof, and we were on schedule to be out of that shithole and back in civilization .
Mandy, Milo and I had to stay back and guard the supplies while Ice and Rage swept the streets and Faright scouted ahead, while we prayed our Nina wouldn't get attention.
Which is when things started to go wrong.
Raider begging for food. And Rage right there.
Rage told him to get on the ground. Farsight said he should go on the ground. He was begging for food and looked like he was reaching for a rifle.
Went about how you'd expect with Wolcott there. The poor bastard had his head blown off.
He did have a gun. He might have been going for it. He definitely was suffering from malnutrition. These people were fucking animals, you're right.
Just saying we'd be doing the same thing in their position.
The next roadblock had a rocket launcher. Rage took the raider wielding it down before he could kill anyone, it knocked some of the barricades into rubble anyway. Milo went ahead. Like an idiot.
Library. Our CO walked in like he owned the place.
He walked out the same way.
"A fellow in there has lost his glasses. Pity. Well, we can keep our eye out. Win hearts and minds, and the like."
It looked naive then. It didn't get better as the mission went on.
We saw a few civvies in our way. Directly in our way. Junior Knight Milo decided avoiding them might be best for all concerned.
It was a set up. Raiders hammered the transport, and when Farsight got soft and tried to give one of the civvies a damn happy pie?
They tried to kill her. Fuck. I mean, we're bringing civilization. We're protecting people. They should be grateful, right?
At least, they shouldn't have been throwing explosives at us. Molotovs aren't rockets, but they hurt like hell.
Rage killed them. Well, those that didn't run. It was a clusterfuck.
It was almost a relief when we ran into some bastards with AKs. Killing them was, well, soldier work. It was our business. It was clean.
Farsight spotted a minefield then, and more raiders. Huge mess.
Milo found the glasses in some shitty little hovel. And then he wandered off to return it.
You know, when I first met him, I figured that was some kind of underhanded secret plan. Now that I've spent more time with him?
He's just incredibly distracted. Give him a chance at 50 ring pulls, and if no-one's getting shot at right then, he'd walk a mile for it. I mean, he's trying, managed to shout off some basic marching orders before leaving this time, but that isn't what you want in a leader.
He said it went well. Good for him. Meanwhile, we were being ambushed by a civilian mob.
I saw Farsight using a pile of human corpses for cover. Rockets flying. Ice was concussed from a rock to the skull, but still trying to stay in the fight. Some raider asshole got blown up by his own rocket, taking supplies with him.
We managed to get out alive, at least. Bleeding, cursing, strung out on stims and with more blood on our hands than any of Shakespeare's characters (Milo got some good stuff from the library), but alive.
And I couldn't do it again.
Semper Concordia
Jo.
Why I fear the ocean.
True.
Admittedly, it's mainly Norse legends, the ones with the Fimbulwinter and the Fenrir Wolf devouring the sun, but that looks less good on recruiting papers.
Why I fear the ocean.
Steam profile.
Getting started with BATTLETECH: Part 1 / Part 2
"Why, yes, we are involved in a desperate firefight, half-whacked on drug cocktails and high on cordite fumes, but we'll keep an eye out for your glasses."
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
The "glasses" were actually a mating pair of pygmy radscorpions.
Well, it turned out the wasteland is still full of bastards. I'll try act be surprised next time.
Jo was looking down the barrel of an old pump action shotgun when we left. I told her we couldn't afford the shells and I wasn't managing clean up.
At least Stitch is done in the trauma ward. He looked like he lost a couple of patients. I bought him a drink and didn't mention that I still have protester blood on my riot gear. No point in passing shit around when we all have more than enough.
Couple of odd things on the way back that I did mention. Stories that fit
Weird little market. Milo seemed to be a regular, picked up some armor I didn't recognize the design of, and handed them the punch gun and some pull tabs for it.
Of course, that took time to remember. The deathclaw drove out the other memories.
Dad told me stories when I was a little girl. Demons roaming the wasteland. Everyone else said they were stories for a while. I knew better. If a man who could make it to here from Nevada shivered at talk of something, if he told you to run if you saw one? Probably not a myth.
Then I joined the Brotherhood, and heard more stories. They weren't demons there. Weren't talkers or pack hunters like dad said.
Just the nastiest thing in the waste. You shot it to ribbons from half a mile away, or it closed the distance and tore you to ribbons. I once heard a Talon vet describe one tearing up half her squad, and she was a damn Paladin. We had a pair, adult and juvenile.
Jo had her foot glued the pedal, but the things kept coming. Ice and I were firing out the back window, Rage was reloading his AK. Then Jo slammed into reverse and pinned the things under the hummer.
One bullet took out the juvenile, and the adult was struggling to move the tire off its neck when Ice blew out its brains with what felt like a five minute burst.
Stitch didn't believe me when I mentioned that it spoke English, and no-one else heard it over the screaming. Still, he liked the bit where Milo spent the whole mess with a little account sheet in his hand, marking down every bullet at standard market prices in pull tabs and scrip.
And they made him a full Knight. Starting to think the Brotherhood's leadership got inbred a few decades back.
Still, Deathclaws and we aren't dead. Squad leader taking the same shit as the rest of us without complaining.
Might not fill out the transfer forms just yet.
And our current crop of troopers, for the record:
Milo's finally able to aim. Not well, but it's an improvement.
Meanwhile, Farsight's getting good with conventional small arms. Very good.
Jo is a good enough pilot, and a solid mechanic. Also, not awful with a gun. Good if a mission requires a driver. Otherwise, the skills go to waste.
Ice is still Ice.
And Rage is developing some heavy weapon skills. Heaven help us all.
Just to be complete, Mandy. Solid, but no good as a medic. No Doctor tag is kind of a bad thing there.
Why I fear the ocean.
Also, you can salvage a Hummer.
Anyone that can rip the testicle off a Deathclaw and live to tell about it, is more than qualified to be my doc.
Really liking the LP so far, and will continue reading. Keep up the good work!
Want to play co-op games? Feel free to hit me up!
It's been a good last few days. Not perfect, markets closing, good subordinates needing leave, and similar, but on the whole, I was pleased with our progress. So, when General Barnaky suggested a little trip to Peoria, some hearts and minds "bullshit" as he put it, well, I was more than ready to go.
Of course, diplomatic talk requires different considerations than straightforward military work. For example, take Rage. For hunting down Raiders, you give him a Kalashnikov and basic directions to the main hostiles. For a hostage situation, you keep him in a support role. For a diplomatic mission, you give him to another squad and pray they don't find out who they were left with until you're already gone.
Unfortunately, our driver would be unavailable for entirely separate reasons possibly leading to a full on mental breakdown. Of course, at J,M,B,O, and S, we've always stuck by the old wasteland saying. One man's nightmarish hell beast is one good marketing campaign from being everyone else's new favorite taste treat. Look for the opportunity in everything. So, Rage and Jo are gone? Fine.
Opens up space for a bargaining edge. I checked over the records. A few of the soldiers around the bunker were only a few months (not counting basic) out of tribal civilization. Sharon, despite her incomprehensible accent, had connections in the region, and Keith was a medicine man or something not long ago, which ensures a certain kind of very useful respect.
The fact they came from gun and stimpak tribes as opposed to the sticks and bloodletting assortment was a further bonus. Nothing against the latter group, simply less useful in day to day work.
Ice drove. Quick learner, our Oliver. Not the most personable, but she is versatile. Tolerable at everything, and amazing at a few things.
It was a small village, in more than one sense. Here since the Great War, and no expansion, no reclamation, no good old American drive. Well, they were lucky the Brotherhood was here to lift them out of superstition.
NCR draw was a start, at any rate.
They called us gods by the ends of the first day's discussion. Farsight seemed to take offense. Serious offense, even. To the point of discussing it with their local spiritual leader.
She didn't make any headway, apparently, but she brought some Rad-X back. I doubt we'll be needing it any time soon, but there is generally a market for that kind of thing no matter where you go. She also said something about cross dressing in a disgusted tone, but it didn't seem worth asking about. Especially when she said something about Squire Wolcott and started laughing.
Apparently, the local chief wants us to perform some kind of exorcism of a local bunker. It survived the war and should have the technology we were sent to find.
Easiest mission yet, it looks like. All we need to do is make a good show for the locals of dealing with the "spirits", find the batteries, and Maxon's your uncle. The tribals are happy, and will be happier when good old American industry comes around. The brotherhood is happy with its power cells. I make a profit, and Magpie Squad gets another boost to the reputation.
I hate to say this, birds of ill omen and that, but I'm having a hard time seeing how this could go wrong for anyone.
Why I fear the ocean.
Keep up the good work, it's a great LP.
Farsight is still puking her guts out from the rads, and Rage's response to the whole story was "You should have just shot the fuckers." like it ended the discussion. I guess I have to sort this mess out on my own.
We spent a couple days in the village just talking before checking out their bunker. Shooting the shit, telling old tribal jokes when the squad was alone, enduring Sharon's accent.
"Blimy, Stitch, these ruddy blokes can't tell their bangers and mash from their Chuffin' Nora!"
I swear to God, she actually said that. I saw Ice and Farsight talking a little later.
"Hunting rifle."
"No, Raiders aren't good enough shots. If we have to, stick with the AK. Spray and pray is harder to match up. Only way they won't see the signature of one of the best snipers in the Brotherhood."
I decided not to get involved. Catfights tend to be messy.
The next day, Sharon was still alive, so I assumed it was sorted out. We went into the bunker boldly, Milo giving some speech about the brotherhood.
And a Radscorpion tagged him in the groin. We were swarmed by roaches then. Ice and Farsight were picking off targets, Milo was unloading burst after burst from his AK, I had my shotgun out...
I think we were wading through the corpses before long.
Keith spoke first.
"So, what was that joke about evil spirits, again?"
Milo managed to pull himself off the floor by then, and grunted out something that sounded like either "Fuck off" or "I'll keep that in mind, thank you". I don't know how he managed that.
With the halls more or less clear, we spread out looking for the batteries. We found a lot of old world garbage in the process, but Milo insisted on taking it all.
Farsight and Ice cleared out some larger roaches in a back room. All the time at the range, I guess.
I managed to find one of the batteries we were after, and Milo started talking again.
"Alright, one down. I'll admit I was a bit hasty in declaring the mission a success before, but I think we have the lay of the land. Some anthropoids that don't remember the square cube law, not much of an issue for our excellent sniper team. Smooth sailing from here out."
Farsight nudged me in the ribs then, and pointed at a corpse.
"The bugs couldn't have done that. Plasma, maybe laser burns. We're in for a shitstorm. Trust me, let brit-bitch take point."
"Ah, a slight problem ladies and gentlemen. Nothing serious. Just... run very quickly."
I whispered back to Farsight then.
"You ever hate being right?"
"Fairly often."
We made it across without any serious injuries. Ice found another turret, but it was busy with the radscorpions. Let us through without issue.
Ice found a sledge on one of the benches.
I grabbed another battery. Going in hadn't been too bad. Getting out would be a nightmare, but that was a worry for later. Then I saw the locked doors. We were penned in, and the switch for the doors was next to a turret. Which meant rushing, tagging the switch, and running back.
Ice covered for us. With the micro sledge. Milo didn't ask, just ran in, ran out, waited for Ice, slammed the door.
It was... uneventful for a while after that.
Our squad leader found Ice some combat armor in a trapped desk. Keith and I patched everyone up.
Then we found another sealed door. Hooked up to a switch.
It went back down immediately.
It was a fairly simple decision. We could go back with two batteries and wind up fucked long term, or we could massacre innocent people by activating the defense system.
I said to leave for now, clear the area and pay the price back at base. Ice disagreed.
Then Milo spoke up.
"Ten second transition. Should let us minimize fatalities. I'll stay back and work the switch. That way, anyone dead is one my hands."
"Oy! Guvner, that's a bit sticky, innit? Fish and chips!"
"Please shut up. Your 'accent' is driving me mad. I'm in charge of this squad. If anything goes wrong, it's my responsibility. Forget about the turrets. Forget about the tribals. Just get in, get the battery, and get out."
He paused for a second.
"If you can manage it quickly, anything else with market value would be nice. But don't get killed over it."
He nodded and we took off at a sprint.
The turrets went on as we left, there was a horde of bugs waiting for us, and most of us were feeling sick before we were done with the first batch.
Farsight's eyes were out for half the ruckus and she kept shooting.
Scared the shit out of me when I found out.
"It wasn't a problem, Stitch. I shot tin cans blindfolded as a kid."
"Right. And in the heat of combat, giving someone else a buckshot facial is impossible."
"Haven't fucked up like that before. Often."
"There's always a first..."
And I dropped the line of questioning.
We made it deeper in, and found some fairly heavy blast doors. Farsight was the best sprinter there, so she went in to scout.
She ran out with another battery yelling something about a "FUCKING GIANT COCKROACH AS BIG AS THE FUCKING HUMMER!"
Then she vomited. Light rad sickness.
We had enough Rad-Away to manage it, but I recommended she should spend some time in medical.
After that, all I remember is the mad dash out. Farsight got nicked by one of the laser turrets, and didn't break stride.
We found some bodies on the way out. And heard the whisper of the survivors.
"We think you are gods."
It was funnier three days ago.
Milo went to the local leader and the shaman.
I didn't hear the discussion with the shaman. But the Chief?
It didn't go well.
He was laughing as our squad leader approached.
"Knight John Milo, brotherhood. My actions have lead to the death of several of your citizens. Again, may I emphasize, my actions. The brotherhood cannot be held responsible. Magpie Squad is entirely innocent. I killed your people and will manage the official response. It's the least I can do."
"Well, I hope we can do business in the future, then."
I never thought I'd see Ice and Sharon agree on anything. Still, as we left...
"Queen Victoria's Bloomers! What a pillock."
"Yes."
And that was the end of it. When we came back, Rage had already been kicked from Fang Squad for bad behavior. I wish I could say I was surprised.
Keith is back on duty with Celsius and has asked to be left out of field work from now on.
Farsight said I make the worst friends a while back. She might be right.
Why I fear the ocean.
Her kind can't be allowed to procreate.
Any plans on doing other Fallout games once you've completed this one?
Fuckin' squad leader.
So, we're such fucking badasses, Command says we can take a couple weeks leave.
I start looking at the local map for good whorehouses. It'd been way too long since Stitch and I raised a little hell. He's looking like his dick'd shrivel up lately.
Then Farsight catches me with my dick in my hands saying one of the Knights wants to see me. She didn't look in. Her loss.
I shoved my pants back on and headed out, grabbing my Ripper on the way. Helps emphasize the point you don't interrupt a man's alone time.
Turns out it's Milo, with more brass on.
"Squire Wolcott, glad you could attend. We're going on a supply run. As this is on your leave, you will be receiving a bonus."
I was about to tell him what he could do with the bonus and his ass when I noticed the Squire. Rank lets you get away with more, assuming it doesn't get stripped before one mission with it.
"Of course, the leave will be restored later. Urgent matters, and similar."
I could live with that.
So, we go out and visit a half dozen shitty little traders, and Milo goes off getting rad meds and ammo and crap.
Only he doesn't spend a tab out of pocket. Said something about buying for seven caps and selling for five at a profit.
Bullshit, but hey. Scrip was coming in faster than I thought. And the front of the hummer rubbing up against Ice and Jo wasn't too bad.
We had to break a couple of times to mow down dumbfuck raiders and loot their corpses. Also good.
Then things get suspicious.
We see two bigass supermutants. I get out my AK and tell Jo to drive for the middle. Paladins tend to be impressed when you bring a mutant's head in on a pike, and one was half dead already.
Then Milo says to stop the hummer, hold fire, and Stitch should get out.
Farsight stares, Ice stares, Stitch stares, Jo stares. I go more direct.
"Did your brain switch off with all the time sucking Elder dick, Johnny?"
He just gives a curt nod, and steps out with Stitch following.
Fuck. None of my business.
Stitch just muttered "Hell if I know" when I asked him about it, and we didn't see the mutants again.
I was going to pass it on, but squad leader said the next mission involved a whore house, heavy action, and a little alone time with a mayor's daughter.
What can I say? It sounds good.
Don't like making plans that far off. I mean, if I had an idea I wanted to do, maybe.
But, wise man once said, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. Or read him a Dave Barry book."
I try to keep that in mind.
Why I fear the ocean.
I made a rule of no reloading unless my main character dies. I've been averaging about 1 character death per mission (give or take), and few of the bonus objectives. It's an interesting run.
I've 100%'ed the game in the past, but I'm having fun now making up a story as I play along. It feels better to imagine each character's reaction while the shit's hitting the fan, and what they say to the new recruit every time they're forcibly signed up for ACE Squad. I wonder what God they pray to when they look around the cabin, and know that statistically speaking, one of them ain't gonna come back alive for the 10th time. It's making me appreciate the game more, and this LP inspired it.