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28 July 2009 @ 01:54 pm

Purge the Xeno! Suffer not the Mutant, the Xeno, the Heretic!

Yeah... I'm in a killin' mood, right now. If you'd like to commit mass murder on my behalf, please call 555-PURG, that's 555-7873. Thank you. 

18 July 2009 @ 12:54 am

Days 8&9
I know I said I was going to cross the Potomac, but something changed my mind. I'm here now, if it makes you feel any better. Some random streach of rock and sand out in the Wastes between Super-Duper mart and Canterberry Commons.
Anyway, I'm skipping ahead of myself.
When I left the Mart, I glanced in both directions, wondering which why to go before crossing, and the buildings jutting out of the ground reminded me.
Brian Wilks. Greyditch.
I made my way over without incident and spotted a giant ant from my perch, and put a bullet through it's head. The thing went down instantly.
A few more giant ants caught my attention. I took out four of them before they could even get close enough to consider doing what the fifth did.
It spit fire at me.

By that point, the ant was sufficently wounded already and it only took one more bullet to end it's miserable, fire-breathing, insectoid life.
I found the Diner Brian had spoken about and his house and the recently-built shack relativly quickly.
Brian's dad was dead, surrounded by ant corpses. At least he finished them all off.
I took what ammunition the guy had and cannabalised his CAR to repair my own before looting the key for the nearby shack from his body.
I told Brian about his dad's death and promised the kid I'd avenge it, put a stop to all the flame-spewing ants.
I don't know why I did.
First stop was the locked door which prevented me from entering his shack. I swiped the holotpae containing a nearby terminal's password and some .308 bullets from the desk the computer sat on.
Turns out good Ol' Doc Lesko found a place t conduct his experiments at Marigold Station. I had discovered the place a bit earlier as I roamed around Greyditch, getting a hold of the situation.
Inside Marigold station, I fought off large numbers of fire-spewing ants and found a holotape. The guy said his name was Grady, and there was a package hidden in a room locked with a secreted key that whomever was listening to the tape should deliver to some guy in some town. Didn't exactly care. I had flame-spitting ants to fry.
I trekked throughout the bowels of the Metro station, killing ants and looting ammo where ever I could find it.
Found one guy down there with some good gear, if unfortunatly dead.
I took the gear,left the corpse.
It was a long time before I ran into the man of the hour, Doctor Lesko.

I had pillaged a scoped .44 calibre revolver recently, which fit perfectly with the .44 rounds I had been looting the entire time, and opened a door from a crouch.
The man practically shoved his crotch into my gunbarrel, and it was very tempting to pull the trigger to punish the man.
But he had answers.

He gave a very detailed summary of what happened. To put everything in Lamen's Terms - which he didn't do for me, you understand, Diary, he was attempting to mutate the inseccts to become smaller. Like, pre-war small. Somehow his calculations got messed up (Likely by Brain Wilks distracting him, as he implied). The man then asked me to go kill the Queens Ant's Nest Guardians so he could activate a pulse that would frenzy all the ants I hadn't killed, causing them to kill each other.
So I ducked inside the Hatchery chamber and made short work of the five Nest Guardians inside, returned to Doc Lesko, and had him give me the payment he promised. I chose the one which he said would increase my strength. Enough of the kids in the Vault teased me for being ever-so-slightly weaker than them for it to still bother me.
After returning to Brian, I told him it was probably safer to, indeed, live in that big house all alone. I hadn't even found a safe community for me, yet. Theres no way I'm taking responsability for finding one for a kid.

All I did for the rest of the day was return to the Super-Super Mart and sleep for a few hours.
Upon leaving, I saw another raider locked in battle with an Eyebot.

After wandering a bit, I ran into a man named Doc Hoff, and after trading for some food, he said he came from Canterburry Commons way.
I figures it's as good a direction to head as any.

<Don't worry, I plan on getting the marker, watching the Superhuman Gambit scene and then leaving. It's not breaking the conduct, especially since I'm not taking advantage of the town's resources. If I can get the marker without triggering the scene, I'll do it.>

Days 10-11

The last couple days are pretty eventful. I'm sitting here with a new friend, wearing a nice warm coat listening to the mutated crickets chirp on through the night and looking out over the town I have liberated from a crazy sniper. He called himself Arkansas.
I'm getting ahead of myself.

When we left off, I was headed for Canterburry Commons. And I made it there. Found a trader by the name of Crazy Wolfgang I gave him some bottlecaps to repair my stuff, and frowned at his lack of ammunition for sale. He told me that Canterburry Commons was just over the ridge behind him, and he really had to go continue on his trading route. I wished the guy a good day. What he didn't tell me was why he was in such a rush, the jerk.

Turns out a pair of costumed crazies were standing there, shouting acorss the street at one another. The woman on the left had a quartet of giant ants. Thankfully of the non-frebreathing type. The dude on the right had a pair of robots. They shouted some dialogue at each other I was too far away to hear Thankfully, none of them noticed me yet, so I sat there with my trusty Hunting Rifle in my hands, ready to snap off a shot if they turned my way.
Turned out they attacked each other. The combat wasn't very long, but it was a massacre. The robots took no casualties (other than some heavy structural damage) and all four ants lay dead. The Ant-woman ran away, and I considered finishing her off.
Eventually thinking better of it, I relented. By the time I thought to aggravte the robot-man, he had run too far away for me to worry. Then sombody else from the town proper with a rifle slung across his back ran towards me.
Oh, no way. I've already decided I don't want to be mixed up with this.
I turned on my heel and ran away.

I don't know when he stpped following me, but it must have been before the giant mutated scorpion.
First thing I saw was another Wastelander, cowering in a small crater giving off radiation readings. What could be dangerous? I asked myself when the answer grazed past my face.
I jumped backwards and went for my CAR, slipping away from the beasts grasping claws tring to hold me in place. It had found new prey in me.
I ran, holding the automatic weapon out with one arm and laying on the trigger, a spray of bullets impacting the thing in the face before it fell.
My magazine clicked dry and I deftly reloaded before checking on the wastelander. He stood, calm and collected as could be and began walking towards a refridgerator in the distance. I tried talking to him.

He told me to bugger off.
Just for that, I raided the fridge - which, asit turns out, was full of clean, Vault-pure water.
I took it right in front of him and walked away.
He puffed on a cigarette, apparently deciding that he didn't want to mess with the armoured man with an assault rifle.
Directionless, I wandered West. <Truth be told, I was headed towards Minefield so I could get the map marker to make the Wasteland Survival Guide quicker and easier.>
Pretty soon, I ran into a bunch of radiers who turned and opened fire on me, and they were quickly gunned down.
After all this, I located a dog who came up to me and... whined.
I couldn't help but feel a sense of affection for the canine as he cozied up to me.
I decided that now would be a good time to rest.
I spent the next streach of time playing with the dog (Whom I've decided to call Dogmeat in a fit of irony) and reapiring my armour. I found an old longcoat stuffed into the back of a car and threw it over the armour to keep it cleaner, so the sand a grit of the wasteland didn't wear away at it so much. <This is Nevada's Wasteland Longcoat. Exact same stats as and repaired by Combat Armour. Made specifically for aesthetics only. I'm interested in changing the colour a bit, but texture maps are complicated.>

The Next day we set out <I had forgotten to check my compass to make sure I was heading towards Minefield and went towards a random empty location pip>. After a short scuffle with some Raiders, I found myself crossing a bridge into an old woman by the name of Agatha's home. She was kind, a bleak rarity in the Wastes, and told me that she made her living by playing violin music over the radio and then commisioned me to located a Stradavarius violin from another Vault.
Another Vault! Why didn't I think of that? Surely apopulated one would welcome me, right?
She gave me directions to Vault-Tek headquarters and I headed downriver towards it for a bit when something possesed me to turn around.
I found a wounded man beggin for water and I handed him some of my burdgenoing supply <The Random Encounter Water Begger with a name>.
Finally, I came to see a collection of bombed out houses over the horizon.

I dropped into a crouch and crept closer, telling Dogmeat something didn't smell right and he should wait by the nearby riverbed.
Soon, as I crept closer, my fears were confirmed. Someone had decorated the town of what my Pip-Boy called Ridgefield with mines, turning it into a Minefield.
I scouted in advance using the sights on my sniper rifle.

I picked through the ruined ground, disarming a couple mines when the tell-tale sound of a bullet wnhizzing by caught my attention.
It struck a car. The car lit aflame. I snuck away. The car blew up.
More careful scouting eventually revealed the source of my woes.

something told me he wouldn't be receptive to a well armed neighbor, but I decided I needed to make myself known to him, anyway and crept closer, hand hovering over the handle of my SMG, just in case.
He turned out to not be friendly, a bullet tearing into my arm. I turned and opened fire, a few quick bursts to the chest taking down the unarmoured sniper. <I got pretty close undetected actually, and had I checked and ducked under his floor, I would have been able to Sneak Attack in Melee with careful timing or application of my Stealth Boys>.
I turned and looked at his corpse, burning the image into my memory.
It was sad that this man chose to fight without knowing anything, just like all the Raiders. But something was different about him.

He was a man on the run, not a man out for rape, murder and looting.
He had they keys to the remaining houses on his person, so I took them, along with his rifle, the ammo in boxes nearby and his provsions.
I pikced through the town, noting that others had been not so lucky before, bloodied from frag wounds and dead. Presumably Arkansas hunted down and killed the men after they sustained their wounds. A couple of radiers and an innocent Wastelander.
Suddenly, I felt less sorry for killing Arkansas. 
I went to get Dogmeat, telling him it was safe, then I looted some caps, bullets and spare gun parts and slept for a few hours, to the end of the day.
The sun has yet to rise on Day 12 of my journey from 101. And now I look out upon the town of Ridgefield.
It was safe here now. Maybe I could get some people to move in. Maybe they'd be like Dad.


Current Location: The Capital Wasteland
Current Mood: hungryhungry
Current Music: Enclave Radio
16 July 2009 @ 05:22 pm
Are you interested in intergalactic travel? What would you hope to discover?

Sorry, couldn't help but answer as soon as I saw thi was the Writer's Block question.


The correct answers are FUCK YEAH! and stuff, respectivly.

14 July 2009 @ 07:52 am
Day 6>
Well, dear PipDiary, it seems I can go through a day without seeing another live human being, much less shooting one.
As it turns out, I had just about reached the end of the Raider barracks, and found out what they were so hastily garrisoned against. My other ancient foes: Mirelurks.

I took a few down through the liberal use of a scavved submachine gun and some grenades, as well as my trusty Hunting Rifle.
After a bit more exploring, I decided it was not in my best interested to sacrifice ammo and time with a bunch of mirelurks over a streach of irradiated river water, so I left, and went back to the cemetary.
After wandering through there for a bit, I picked up a radio signal the Pipboy took as belonging to the "People's Republic of America" turns out, I should have paid more attention in class.
I was bolstered by President Eden's constant prattling about America and decided the people here might have been friendly.
Well, there weren't any people, much less any friendly ones.

What I found was a bunch of Ghouls. Ugly chinese ones in dirty jumpsuits brandishing their mostly-inferior weapons. There were quite a few with CARs, whos parts I gladly cannibalised, and their ammo was as good as any.
I found myself soon enough at a sniper perch, where I periced one's head with a .32 bullet and cannablaised his gear before moving on throughout the building (Mama Dolce's, it's called). Got to the other end of the courtyard, where the other ghould didn't even have a chance to know I was there before his brain matter gracelessley departed his skull.

A few more Chinese Ghouls later, and I found myself in the courtyard the creatures were overlooking. I knew from before it was populated by three men, and that one of the had a missile launcher.
Fortunatly, he was the only threat.
Fortunatly, his aim was horrible and only ended up crippling both my legs.
UNFortunatly, after I scavved all their guns and ammo (Including the missile launcher a lone, precious missile), I found that the only way foward was locked.
The day is over now, Pip Diary. It's just about midnight.
It's time to heft my rifle and look for a bed and the keys.

Day 7>

Today not much happened. I finished exploring what I could of Mama Dolce's and shooting what fuel Ghouls were left. I found a bed where I rested for a bit and let my body knit itself back together.
A few dead ghouls and I found myself zipping across the Wasteland to turn in some scrap metal and sensor mods to the Outcasts before returning to my home in the Super-Duper mart, which included scouting the Fortress of Megaton.
They have two front guard, one guy with a sniper rifle over the main (and only gate) and a Protectron I didn't get close enough to identify.
Crow was still there, are we traded back and froth for a bit before I retreated to the mart and began arraying my excess weapons and the sexy sleepwear I found.
Then I rest until just after midnight, drank some water from the sink and snacked on my store of hatchling Mirelurk meat.

Tomorrow should be more interesting. I plan on crossing the Potomac.

<Boring Day shall include my updated stats:
Special - 4784774
Perks - Educated, Gun Nut, Swift Learner, Intense Training (End)
Skills -
Barter 20
Big Guns 20
Energy Weapons 18
Explosives 25
Locpick 25
Medicine 18
Melee 12
Repair 55
Science 35
Small Guns 65
Sneak 21
Speech 12
Unarmed 20

Level Five, Neutral Karma (Citizen)>

10 July 2009 @ 08:22 am

Hey, all,I'm taking part in the Fallout 3 Survival Challange over on the GITP boards.

I'm five days in, so here are all my diary entrys up til now.

I'll update here, as well as on the GiantITP boards when approriate.

In addition to the regular rules, I am taking the following challanges:


Nevada, male Lone Wanderer.
A Space Marine Is (Not) You: You may not wear Power Armor. X2 Multiplier.

Awesome Hat: Wear a Pre-War Hat or Shady Hat for the duration of the game. X2 Multiplier.

Illiterate: Read no skill books. X2 Multiplier.

No, I Don't Play with Dolls: Collect no Bobbleheads. X2 Multiplier.

True Patriot: You must always tune your radio to Enclave Radio. X2 Multiplier.

Pet the Dog: You must let Dogmeat join you, and keep him alive until the end of 'Take It Back'. If you have Broken Steel, he must survive until the end of 'Who Dares Wins.' X3 Multiplier.

Soylent Green: You must take the Cannibal perk as soon as it becomes available, and you must eat everyone you kill. On top of that, the items Human Meat and Strange Meat must be eaten as a priority over other food items, for the Survival challenge. X3 Multiplier.

I'm Takin' It All: Whenever you come across a piece of loot worth at least 400 Caps, and you have a humanoid follower (any follower besides Dogmeat) following you, you must kill that follower. X4 Multiplier.

Wastelander: You must go for three in-game weeks without entering the vicinity of a town upon leaving the Vault, and then spend no more than three days at a time in a town without venturing into the Wasteland. X4 Multiplier.

Drug Free: You must play the game without using any stimpaks or other drugs. You must recover health through other methods, such as Nuka Cola, sinks, lakes, etc. Rad-Away is an exception to this rule. X5 Multiplier.


Day 1:

Author's Note: Nevada has the following skills tagged: Small Guns, Repair, Science
Nevada has the following SPECIAL: 4774774
Furhter Author's Notes will appear mid-text with Angle Brackets. (< and >)
/Author's Note

Dad left the Vault today. Not much for a startling line, Good ol' Pipboy Diary 300a, but it's true and it was very, very shocking. Amata woke me up, gave me a gun, and her plan.
Run Away. I needed toget out to survive. And Run I did. I'm not proud of what I did. ten millimeter bullets do a surprisingly messy amount of work on human heads, and punch through security armour pretty well. Found this last one out from both ends of the pistol. There... really isn't much to say. Bunch of Radroaches broke in, I shot them, harvested their meat. Had to... had to eat some of it. Kept me going, filled my stomach. I figured it would be difficult living out there without something in my belly and I planned ahead.

Butch actually asked for some help. From me. That was something, I guess. Never knew the big, unlikable thug could be afraid of some big, unlikable insects. Needed help saving his mum. Heshould consider himself lucky I payed attention during the ethics classes they gave whilst trying to rear me up for Chaplin.
I still say that test was wrong, but Mr. Brotch said it might do good to look like the decision for a change was made mid-stream. Good thing. I couldn't convince a philanthropist that giving money away was a good idea, much less a bunch of intelligent (or mostly so. I'll make an exception for Butch) human beings that God exists and is looking out for us.
Brahmin-produced fertalizer, that whole thing is.

Saw the Ovderseer trying to grill Amata for information, bust through the door and put a bullet through the head of the officer doing the interrogation.
Never liked him much, anyway. Always too hard on us recruits. 

Turned on the Overseer then, held my gun in his face and demanded he give me the keys and his password. Guy didn't relent, I'll give him that. I looted the room, instead, took a spare set of armourand extra pistol, some water and bullets.
Didn't take any stimpaks, though. Ever since Jakob had a heart attack by taking one too many in basic, I vowed to never touch the things.
Went north once I left the vault, away from the ruined city nearby. Ran into a mole rat right quick.
Killed it.
Ran into a couple of bloatflies, killed those too.

Then I met some guys in shoddy armour with guns. I met them when their bullets whizzed past my head.
Things got intense for a few moments before they lay dead. There were three.

One had a flamethrower.
I scavved their weapons and ammo. Left the armour. The stuff I had was already heavy enough. I did some wandering, ended up near a pretty fortified structure I'm learning now is called Fort Independance.
Stop looking over my shoulder, Defender Morgan. Please, respect a 'Local's privacy'.

Okay, she's gone.

Struck a dear with Morgan and some guy called Protector Cassidin. Scav some high-tech bits, get ammo, RadAway, grenades or stimpaks.
Ammo looks like I'll be neeing plenty of that. Got an assault rifle from a couple of poor, stupid blokes that tried to charge the power-armoured Outcast and laser turrent. They didn't stand a chance. My putting bullets into them didn't help their cause, either.

All counted, I got myself a Amata's pistol, my BB gun, the flamethrower and the assault rifle. Ran into a scavanger and bought and sold some gear.
Mostly ammo, but I got rid of a few suits of security armour and bought myself a set of lightweight rags. A "Wasteland Settler's" outfit, she called it <Doing this for the AGI and END boost. Because I'm weird like that.>
I call it better than that bloody reminder of home I sold off.
Gotta close this prgramme, PipDiary. I'd resssure that I'd eaten my veggies, but all I could get was various meats from various hostile animals. Maybe tomorrow.

<Food and Water kept up with. Waited 7 hours and Fort Independance.
Adventured a little bit more and found the Nuka Cola plant. Am currently inside. Killed quite a few protectrons and got a lucky hunting rifle shot to a NukaLurk's face.
Point Total: 12 from Main Quest
1 for the Outcasts Tech quest? Haven't brought them anything, yet. How do we measure this?>

Days 2-3:

I'm sitting here in front of a large collection of scrap metal and mechanical parts. The yellow paint on the sign next to me displays it's name as Megaton.
It's the early morning of the forth day of my venture out into the Vault.
I... I don't want to go in, but I'm low on ammunition, and I don
t think I'll be able to last much longer, or scav very effectivly, not with all the gear from the Vault still weighing me down. I need to find some place to store it. Or liquidate it.

After leaving Fort Independance, I ventured some more south, running across what must have been a pre-War facility for the Nuka-Cola corporation, juding from the contents of the building, the labels on all those Protectrons and the large statue of a Nuka-Cola bottle.
I ducked inside, maybe hoping to find a habitable base of operations.
The Protectrons proved me wrong, and they were a decent fight, but nothing, grit, determination and steady aim couldn't help with.
It was the Nuka-Lurks that made me turn back. I found one, and some him take down a protectron, before he noted me and attacked, I frantically squeezed the trigger of my rifle, ducking around the corner. I somehow, luckily caught him in the face. The door behind him registered a bunch of pings on the Pip-Boy radar. Thinking they were nothing but Protectrons, I ventured foward.
No. NukaLurks, three of them, and all looking at me like I was a particularly tasty morsel.

I beat a retreat, all the waypast Fort indepndance, up through what my Pip-Boy told me was the ruins of some place called Fairfax.
It was there when I had to deal with some Raiders again. We exchanged bullets and they attempted to trade taunts (Not that I would stoop that low).At the end of it all, they were still dead, and I still alive. I took their ammunition, and guns from the ones that had some worthwhile ones.

Then I traded some scrap metal for 5.56 ammunition with the Outcasts <Author's Note: Since Protector Cassidin was alone, I quicksaved and tested whether him or the slightly wounded Nevada would win in a fight. Nevada came out on top. Then I quickloaded.> I moved back vaultward, mostly out of lack of idea where to go.
That's when I first saw this "Megaton". I skirted around the edge of the place, and stumbled across a sniper rifle and some ammunition hidden near a rock, sunlight reflecting off the metal caught my eye. <Author's Note: this is in fact the first time I've ever found that rock>
Not trusting a supposedly inhabited area, due to everything I'd met (Short of the Outcasts) trying to kill me, I ventured past, towards the ruins of what Pip-Boy called "Springfield Elemntary School".
I had to contend with more armed and armoured humans inside, and they depleted my ammo more than scrounging from their bodies restored it.
Found a nice-quality assault rifle for my 5.56 rounds, though. After I felt reasonably sure that I cleared out the raider presence, I took a few last nibbles of food and had a quick lie-down.

Now, sleep does an amazing job on the body, and I founded my nigh-useless arm and similarly-damaged leg healed up pretty much overnight.
Must be all that meat I'm eating, although I am feeling a bit sick from it, presumably from the radiation.
According to the Pip-Boy, I have "Minor Radiation Sickness" right now.

Anyway, a quick sweep of the school uncovered a book of sheet music which I estimated to be pretty valuble in a post-War sceario, so I kepy it for the next time I met a musician. Unfortunatly, I was soon to discover that the school wasn't exactly hosptiable either, as giant Ants swarmed just beyond a door I had opened via one Raider's keyring.
One escaped before I shut the portal and I quickly found myself with a nigh-empty assault rifle from the ensuing fight.
This would not be a good foward base either, at least not until I could handle the ants. Scavanging parts from raider armour to provide more protection than the rags I'd been wearing, I made my way to the Potomic River, where I witnessed an Eyebot and a Bloatfly engaged in combat.
Since I rather enjoyed the music coming through my radio, I lept to the eyebot's aid and plugged the bloatfly with one of my few remaining bullets.

Clower to the banks, I noted a trio of contacts on my Pip-Boy, movin closer, they were exactly what I didn't want to find:
Mirelurks, the less-irrdiated version of my ancient NukaLurk foes.

I dropped some of the frag mines I had aacquired from my altercation with the Fairfax raiders and lead the overgrown lobsters into my trap, using the last of the .32 bullet I had to blow one apart.
At this point I was desperate, and they were getting too close for me to use the hand grenade I had been saving up until this point until I relsied I had a flamethrower.

I turned it on them and carefully regulated the blasts of fire to marke relativly short work of them.

And my efforts were reqarded. I found not only their meat, but a jackpot of Mirelurk eggs!
I tore through the clutches and lone eggs, scavanging what meat I could and hopefully circumventing future confrontations with these beasts.
It was at this point that I relised my dilemna and began heading back twoards Megaton, frying a couple of giant ants along the way.
I estimate that currently, I have two seconds of flame left in the tank.
I reached visual distance on the town and rested seven hours until midnight.
So, it is now Day Four, and I have nothing to do but hope that Megaton isn't crowded with raiders, and in fact, has people like the Outcasts within it's walls...
<No issues keeping up with the Survival aspect, shy of a few close-call combats. Taking no drugs or stimpaks easily helps me eat the minimum, and even some more>

Days 4-5:

I approached the fortress, hands wearily gripping the grip and finger cradling the trigger of my Flamer, with only a few precious seconds of fuel left.
I checked all my stores for a second before trudging on. I still had that Sniper Rifle with fourteen rounds, two ten millimeter bullets, and six 5.56 rounds for my Chinese Assault Rifle, (hereafter abbreviated to CAR), as well as a single, lonely frag grenade.
Then I noticed something, a man in black armour with a tan cap, a rifle and a bodyguard standing outside the front gate.
Surely this could only mean Megaton was not a good place to step foot into.

He introduced himself as Crow, said he was a travelling merchant who specialised in armour.
That was just too perfect, and I liquidated all the old Vault Security armour and even what suits of Raider armour I had scavanged from the school, as well as various odds and ends (And alot of cigarettes). Something possesed me to offer up the flamethrower which had saved my life and the little fuel I had left. Probably the urge to stop toting around dead weight.
In return, he gave me two suits of old, Pre-War Combat Armour. The good stuff that light infantry wore, or just soldiers that weren't trained in that bulky abomination called Power Armour. For a few extra caps from me, he fixed up everything as well as he could, including my (Ammo-less) Hunting Rifle and CAR.

When he handed me the combat armour, I set to cannabalising the more degraded suit to improve the better.
The finished result was practically as good as new and encased my body. I felt secure and safe.

Not nearly safe enough to assault the seeming fortress of Megaton.

I went back to the school and noted a small ranch with a woman named Silver inside, ranting about someone named "Moriarty" thinking she owed him Caps.
I managed to convice her that if she gave me the caps, I'd tell him she was gone, putting an "He sent me to kill you" edge into my voice.
She bought it and forked over 400 caps.
Four hundred.

Then she sat down, all calm, and began smoking a cigarette.
I... I don't know what came over me, Pip Diary, but I pulled the Sniper Rifle and plugged her skull with a .308 round before dropping a second into her chest.

Then... I'm not proud of what I did next.
Suffice to say that nobody else would scavanged anything of value from that house besides me.
The good news was she had alot of .32 calibre bullets.

I snuck back towards the Potomac and followed along the riverside until I saw the shilouette of a large building bearing the words "Super-Duper Mart."
There was a fellow Wasteland Scavanger under attack by a pair of Raiders, and I sacrificed some bullets to help him out.
In return, he offered me a Nuka-Cola Quantum for 100 caps. I told it it wasn't nearly worth that much and he could go ahead and haul his posterior all the way to Girdershade.
I pulled some bullets off the Raider corpses and traded him for some more, as well as a Laser Pistol, remembering that the Outcasts wanted some energy weapons if I could get them some.

For a long second, I hefted my newly-reloaded Hunting Rifle and stared at the back of his head, thinking of blowing a hole in it for the missile launcher on his back.
Shaking the murderous urges from my head, I ducked inside the Super-Duper Mart, where I found a couple more laser pistols with a load of ammo for them. I rifled through the cash registers and left, making a beeline back to Fort Independance where Protector Cassdin gave me a bunch of 5.56 and some RadAway for my trouble.

Rad-Away I immediatly pumped into my bloodstream to eliminate the Rad poisoning in my veins.

Afterwards, it was a quick jaunt back to the Super-Duper mrt to see what else they had.

What they had was Raiders, and alot of them.
Taking it slow and steady, I put a bullet through a sentry's brain, blowing it in half and across the room, and crept up to her corpse, only to be jumped by another.
Out came the good old trusty CAR and replaced her neck with spent 5.56 rounds, treating me to a gooey chunk of brain which would have landed in my eye if not for the goggles Crow had sold me.
I swept along the left-hand wall, where there were some bathrooms. I took a few sips from the irradiated water taps and continued on my way, spying a few guys behind some sort of counter.
Two sniper rounds missed the nearest raider's skull by inches, and he charged around them, straight at me.
I ducked around the corner, popping him a few times with the Hunting Rifle, his buddies showed up.
Long combat sequence short, there were alot of brass casings of various calibres in the pool of blood at my feet and alot of dead Raiders in my field of vision.
I took a breather, eating some food to rejuviante my energy and ripping out bullets and pressing together knife wounds before venturing further.

There was alot of ammunition laying around which I swiped, and even a robot in the back room. A few quicky keystrokes to hack his console and the waving of a stolen Employee badge (It was right atop the console) and the thing considered me a friend.

On my way out, another Raider's voice cackled over the Intercomm.

There were more based here!

I snuck around behind the Protectron, as it engaged with one weidling a lead pipe.
Apparently, it didn't appreciate the weapons discharge I assited it with and turned on me.
Considering it's current state of disrepair, I soon found myself scavving its batteries. I soon found myself shooting another Raider who was kind enough to skyline himself atop the shelves and his three buddies.

And then... silence...
I assumed the place was clear and stood up and srtreached, taking to a quick jog around the outer wall, back to the restrooms which contained a few matresses I could get my forty winks on.
A few bullets missed me by inches, the muzzle flash appearing practically next to my eye, and I whirled around, perforating the last Raider's torso and skull with a quick burst from the CAR.

More waiting.
More Silence.

I snacked on some of my store of Mirelurk meat and got some winks in.

Soon after I awoke, I left to do some exploring around my new home base. I found myself arounf the Potomic again, and I met a lady calling herself Grandma Sparkle on Wilhelm's Warf. We had a pleasent conversation (And I snuck inside her shack to help myself to some .32 ammo and cannabalised a hunting rifle. The Gun Cabinet was locked too securly for me to being to break in, so I left it alone.

A little kid came screaming to me about some Fire Ants, marked the location on my PipMap, gave some info and ran away.

I tried to cut inside to the town of Greyditch and found myself in an abandoned Metro Tunnel. A few dead ghouls later (One via an accidental discharge which happened to propel the bullet throught the brain), I found myself at Arlington National Cemetary. After locating an... interesting mannequin, complete with a set of seyx sleepwear, bottle of wine and two glasses, I was fired upon by a surly group of male raiders.

I think I figured out what the mannequin was for.
We exchanged fire and I explored the rubble-surrounded niche before disappearing into the Utility tunnels, where I am now, sorrounded by brain matter of what must be a dozen dead raiders, all stripped of their ammo and valubles, but keeping their armour. That stuff is heavy and bulky, no use toting it around. This place looks like a barracks of some sort. I must of found more a dozen or so beds so far, too. And the tunnels go further.

I'll check those out tomorrow.

I really am getting too good at this killing raiders thing, and seeing way more human brains split in twain than I ever thought I would.
Hell, the matress I'm sitting on now has half a brain on it.
Goodnight, Pip Diary. May I stave off the oncoming madness for a few more days.

Updates from here on in will be much shorter and more readable. Sorry for the wall o' text, but the LJ portion needs to catch up the the GITP portion.

05 July 2009 @ 10:51 pm

My Facebook status updates read like little highlights from a cheesey romance novel.

Anyway: This weekend was the Fourth of July, as you Americans who have stumbld across this dark corner of the Interwebs know, and as you non-Americans will shrug your shoulders and say "So what?" to. The girlfriend, always interested in studying other cultures decided to take a trip to Yokosuka and immerse herself in a party I was going to.

Said party was great fun, there was much eating and playing munchkin and videogames and King's Cup and boozing (Latter two for the drinkers) to be had. Then I took the Lovely Klaire back to base to stand atop the WX Hill and watch the fireworks shoot into the sky. All was good and pretty and beautiful. And then we went back to the house (PArty had petered out during the bus ride back to it), and got throughly lost, and when we eventually found it, we just happened to turn in.


It was awesome.

This weekend found her and I wandering Kamakura, where we spent the time in each other's presence and talked alot.

You'd have to be me to love it so much. Or her, she says she enjoyed herself. I love this woman.

Current Location: Barracks
Current Mood: contentEthereal
Current Music: Master of Puppets ~ Metallica
27 June 2009 @ 04:34 am
It's time, dear gentle nonexistant readers for me to be morbid once again and foray into the territory wherein I discuss morality.
I start this little jaunt into the throughly negetive with one simple statement:

I am not a good person. I'm a rather horrible one at that. A quick dissection of personality traits revels such gems as:
and Lazy
and, of all those wonderful adjectives, I see one that is sometimes used to describe a positive trait: Stubborness.
And yet, take my entire life, weigh it against that damn' feather, plug it into some sort of D&D-esque alignment detection machine, and I garuntee you the stupid thing will spit out "Lawful Good". I'm not a Paladin by any streach of the imagination, and I'd be the first guy to tear up Miko Miyazaki's kidneys with a muddy shard of glass, but Lawful Good nontheless.
Which really leads me into the big question here:

What the Hell is "Good", anyway?
I'm not exactly the kind of guy who skips down the street with butterflies in my wake whilst showering spare change all over orphans and seriously down-on-their-luck bums. Isn't that what the good guy is supposed to do, though? Help those less fortunate than themselves?
Find and champion a cause?
Take up Arms against a Sea of Troubles, and by opposing, end them?

There are no Crusaders in this world, and there probably never were, works of History twisted to make the Victor a Saint.

Let's face it. Humans are pretty Bad Guys. All the sentiance makes us feel important, like we deserve more.
American culture, at least is based around building yourself up to higher heights and better places. Like the world is a Capatalistic Market and you're a whole Corp by yourself. We want people to invest in us and make us better, richer, more powerful. Our culture says we need to grab respect by the throat and not let the damn thing go.
And this isn't seen as Evil or bad or ugly (Which it, in my opinion, is). It's just the way the game is played, how the Economy works out.
Nobody in their right mind gets upset at Hasbaro trying to turn a profit, do they?

People whine, moan and complain about how they're going about it (Dear Gods, why did we need Fourth Edition? [Disclaimer: I Like and prefer 4e]).
So we look at the currencies of Power and Respect and say:
"Oh, Daniel isn't a bad guy for trying to turn a profit, he's a bad guy for using threats of violence and grevious bodily harm to do so. He's a bad guy for peddling poison and slinging Street Curb Pharmacuticals. He's a bad guy for taking MY Power and Respect from me by beating me up."

To cut the rambling off with a thought, because, really, I don't know how I'm going to get off this soapbox and start actually analyzing and coming up with a solution.
If the ends justify the means, can they damn the means, as well?
Current Location: Ye Aulde Roome de Barracks
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Current Music: Birds Chirping Outside my Window by Mama Nature
16 June 2009 @ 07:28 pm
So, it's been a while, and I decided to start LJ'ing again. I get to hovering my little mouse pointer over the "post" link and can't think of anything.
So, you guys get some Writer's Block...

Empty parking garages, roadside motels, dark caves, dank basements, overgrown forests—what kind of setting makes you feel nervous?

Nervousness isn't in the location of a setting, at least not for me. You put me in a Dark Cave and I'm on guard, dank basements and overgrown forests and I'm happy. Empty parking garages have the unique city smell about them, much like any other abandoned road, and roadside motels make me feel antsy.
Nervousness is in the event, but is far too often mixed into that tasty little fear cocktail. I get nervous standing in front of a line of angry chiefs and first classes. When I'm called into the Chief's office, my mind is racing through what I may have done wrong and what chords of music I'm to face. Nerves aren't the issue, except after the event has passed. When I'm standing there speaking for myself, I'm trying to forge my words so that there is no error in my message.
When I'm in the hallway, I'm deadly afraid that the worst possible consequence is going to happen.
And then, afterwords, with everythin said and done, and the metaphorical hury diliberating, and I'm sitting on my rack thinking, and worrying.
That is when I get nervous, when my hand is empty and the other guy hasn't laid his down yet.

Nerves aren't the issue.
Current Location: On mah rack
Current Mood: calmSerious
12 November 2008 @ 10:54 pm
Boy, this weekend is going to be a FRENZY of mad, disjointed typing.

02 November 2008 @ 10:26 am
Okay, so remember that "explanation later" thingie? See it filling up with a wordcount?
Today is , at least for me, and soon for everyone (If I remeber my timzone-ology correctly) the second day of NAtional Novel Writing Month.

I'm participating.
And here I am, dropping valuble words into my LJ to talk to ya'all.
I'm suddenly very worried abpout posting that on LJ. I have one of my favourite living fiction writers (E.E. Knight) buddy'd, Nit sure if its a mutual buddy, though. He probably not going to read this, but it would be interesting if he were to do so.

On to life stuff.
Conflagration (aforementioned book I'm writing) is off two a slow start, a 423 words behind my quota. I'll add it to today's and try to fix it.

I've lost my support network, though. In a way. Klaire and I have split off. The offical reason is that she doesn't have enough time. This is despite the fact that we've both acknowledged we won't have alot of time over this part of the year, and have accepted it.
This also, unfortunatly, means that everything I've been planning this december (Leave, command christmas party, et. cetera) has been dropped into the proverbial shredder.
At the same time, I've redoubled my effort to extend unto Laur ye aulde olive branch and am constantly being rebuffed. This is making writing something completely different odd. IT should be entertaining to see the steaming pile of fecal matter the document turns out to be. Especially since I'm sending my parents a copy for the to edit it for me. Fun stuff.