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 Welcome to Kings & Queens, our two-headed Let’s Play of an all-time classic Western RPG, Fallout: New Vegas. Published in 2010 by Bethesda (but produced by Obsidian), New Vegas is the 4th canonical Fallout title and a soft sequel to Fallout 3, which it shares an engine and a lot of resources with. It’s still a fan-favorite thanks to its excellent writing and darkly humorous post-apocalyptic aesthetic. But perhaps the most intriguing thing about the game is that, in the 11 years since it came out, New Vegas’ modding community has produced a truly astounding collection of mods for it. Mods you say? Oh my yes. Like most of the other 1-player Bethesda RPGs, New Vegas has a very rich modding community that has bent the game backwards and forwards to the point that it can be downright unrecognizable. Though still infamously fragile in some ways, the game is much easier to mod today than ever before, thanks to tools like Qolore7’s excellent Viva New Vegas modding guide, and the (forgive the joke) game-changing Mod Organizer 2. My copilot Fleta Mcgurn and I will be simultaneously playing two substantially different modded versions of New Vegas; think of them as queen and king sized mod lists! Fleta, for her very first play-through, will be using a smaller and more vanilla-friendly(ish) list of about 25 mods. It should probably allow her to play through the whole thing without too many issues (seeing as the vanilla game has plenty all by itself: if anything many of these mods should actually increase stability). I, for what is probably my 4th or maybe 5th play-through now, will be using a ridiculous list of about 100 mods. I fully expect it to break hilariously at some point, but you never know! A huge thanks to all the modders whose work we will be featuring. Structure This will be a screenshots and video hybrid LP thread. Fleta and I will mostly be posting stills and text describing our concurrent adventures, but we will also publish as many videos as we can, discussing our progress over game-play footage. The tone will be comedic: we’re both pretty big goofballs, and this game universe is fairly drat wacky all on its own. Content Warning That said, this game is also pretty gross in places. There’s bad language, sex, violence, drugs, all sorts of horrible stuff. Consider this paragraph your all-purpose warning not to watch our videos at your rest-home receptionist job, etc. Thread participation The hope is that this will be a fun, chill comedy LP, so please feel free to join in on the discussion! We may ask the audience what to do next at certain points, which options to pick with an NPC, how to decorate a space, etc. The one thing we probably won’t consider at this point are changes to the mod lists: our technical advisor Okitsubu and I thoroughly tested all the mods we chose over the course of several months to prepare, so we’re not going to mess with that now unless something truly disastrous happens. Fingers crossed! Spoilers Here’s the trickiest part: because this is Fleta’s first time through the game but our paths are bound to fork, the rule is please don’t spoil the main quest for her play-through. I have plenty of mod content and side-quest stuff to explore on mine that will, hopefully, keep me a step or two behind her on the primary story-line. There are some actual fun twists to this game’s plot, so please let her come across them naturally. If you simply must make a joke about something she hasn’t seen yet, do it in spoiler tags please. Let’s go!!!! Start here with our first video update, episode 0: opening cinematic and character creation! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7opTCnkhA8 A courier has been shot in the head outside the town of Goodsprings, but has made a full a recovery. They are (either): Fleta Mcgurn as Waynetta Neutron:   BFM (me) as Johnny Smash:   Our starting skills (minus equipment):  Updates: Johnny 1.1: Swing Guitar Waynetta 1.1: Sweet Darlene Johnny 1.2: Mole Rat Stomp Waynetta 1.2: Maximus Jones and the Slightly Predictable Crusade Johnny 1.3: Better Holmes and Gardens Waynetta 1.3: Après Moi, Le Déluge Musical Interlude #1 Waynetta 1.4: Did You Ever Hear of a Little Town Called Goodsprings? Video Episode 1: Goodsprings is a Land of Contrasts Johnny 2.1: We Got Buried in a Fever... Johnny 2.2: ...Hotter than a (Dumpster) Pepper Sprout Johnny 2.3: Bury Me Not on the Sloan Prairie Johnny 2.4: Blood, Sweat and Gears BoldFrankensteinMir fucked around with this message at 07:10 on Jul 15, 2022 |
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Nov 15, 2021 19:46
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Johnny Update 1.1: Swing Guitar Once my eyes adjust to the bright outdoors I behold the glory of Goodsprings, a nice enough town with nice enough looking robots wandering the streets. My Pip-boy has a little fit as it suddenly sees radio stations on this side of the door. Doc must have his house set up like a Faraday cage? Or something?  But hey, what’s that leaning up against the pickup truck at the stop sign? Some kind of hollow wooden club. “Gwee tar” the computer on my arm calls it. How strangely pretty.  Whose club is this? Anybody? Will anybody mind if I just take this? The nearest person, Michael Peterson, doesn’t seem to care what I do.  His brother Monty, working out in the back yard, doesn’t either. Nice hat though.  Does nobody really mind if I grab this gwee-tar club? Nobody like, just set it down? Random nameless settler, what say you?  The general store is too far from the truck for this to be Chet’s guitar. I don’t even think that passing robot could bend his pincher claw thingies around it. I’m calling it, this guitar I found lying around is mine now. Score.  “Guitar” club Dam 26, DPS 32 5 lbs, pristine condition Now I have a little fast melee weapon and a big slow one. That’s all a guy like Johnny Smash needs!  I hesitate to enter Chet’s general store. Do I really need anything right now? I’m much more interested in these crates lying around in the middle of the path, they have full bottles of soda in them! Hey is this anybody’s soda?  Interesting, you can pick the crates up and move them. I wonder how far… 
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Nov 15, 2021 19:47
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Waynetta Update 1.1: Sweet Darlene To recap: I awoke with my head stitched back together by a friendly old man. In exchange for some couch-taco action, he allowed me to rob him blind. Then he dressed me in his dead wife’s clothes and sent me out to find love among a pile of gecko corpses. I’ll get back to that in a moment, but I need to point something out first:  HE HAD A REGULAR MIRROR THIS WHOLE TIME!  Ugggh, I knew this wasn’t my underwear... Anyways, Doc gets me ready to head out on my own, but not before allowing himself to indulge in a little weird patriarchal posturing:   Okay, but… I mean, it’s a vault suit, man. It’s thick enough to block nuclear contamination and it literally zips all the way up to my ears. Besides, what the hell do the citizens of New Vegas and its environs call “immodest,” anyways? YOU LIVE IN VEGAS. EVERYONE’S ALWAYS NAKED. Note: I have never been to Vegas in my life. I went to Reno once and it was Meth City and I got scared, so I shot a man just to watch him die. That’s slang for “hid in the hotel, ate a room service salad, and jilled off.” But I’m still pretty sure that a lot of people in Vegas are spectacularly naked a lot of the time. Also, does everyone who grew up in Doc’s vault also talk like a cowboy, or is this some kind of affectation? Hmm, I smell a fanfic! (I’m not going to write it.)  See? “Sunny Smiles,” that’s a total stripper name. And you call me brazen... Anyways, after a few pleasantries, I decided to see which article of this man’s deceased wife’s clothing suits me best. I started with the “Vintage Parkstroller Outfit” and--  I look like friggin’ He-Man! Uggh, vault suit, vault suit… Well, I guess I can’t stay in here making Doc new inkblots forever. Time to step outside and face my destiny!  Hisssssssssssssssssssssssssssss! Luckily, I don’t have time to roll around on the ground in pain as the harsh post-apocalyptic sun burns my retinas… because I have to wait for ten million notifications that various DLC and mods have loaded!  Cool.  I-- *sigh*  Okay, I’m a whole year older and I’ve been standing in Doc’s yard this whole time, but it’s fine. Skin cancer is basically an inevitability with the courier lifestyle, anyways. So now! Moving on! To adventure!  AAAAAAAAAAARGH!!! I run away from Doc’s horrible lawn, which is apparently haunted by popup ghosts, and immediately find an abandoned gas station. With a working vending machine and a door that has stayed locked for hundreds of years and cannot be picked by any known methods. Sure, why not?  Hur hur. Mr. Handy’s an old-fashioned sort of robot, if you know what I mean. *wink* Unfortunately, I lack the skills needed to turn him into the kind of handy-bot a lady might have use for, so I continue on. It’s around now that I remember the most important part of my quest: finding a hat that will make me, in the words of Walt Whitman, so bangable. My failure to do so thus far weighs my heart with doubt. Yet I press on stalwartly. Neither rain nor snow nor lack of sexual hattitude shall stop the courier from doing… whatever she came here to do! I already forgot! I attempted to engage a cleverly-named NPC in some light banter, but all he did was microaggression me.  OH YEAH? WHY DO YOU JUST ASSUME I WANNA GO BUY SOMETHING? BECAUSE WOMEN BE SHOPPING?! Flush with righteous indignation, I decide to steal his drugs. Luckily for me, he’s so checked out that he doesn’t seem to notice when I steal magic cactus right from underneath his smelly desert butt.  TAKE THAT, YOU GENDER FASCIST! Man, I am gonna get some coyotes hosed up tonight. It’s gonna be awesome! I also break into his dumb house and steal some of his dumb stuff. I looked around to see if he had a dumb wife I could also steal, but luckily no woman has taken a chance on becoming Mrs. Settler, so I yoinked everything except a couple of beers and his pathetic collection of fruits, and went on to the next adventure! P.S. Even that idiot had a mirror. JUST SAYIN’. After an expositional chat with an old man named Easy Pete who claimed to be some sort of scavenger archaeologist and a robot with a TV for a face who apparently saved my life, I finally enter the saloon in search of this “Sunny Smiles” gal. Now, I’ve heard tell that in New Vegas, a “sunny smile” is when the stripper holds herself horizontally on the pole and does the splits, so I was expecting quite a bit from this woman. And friends, she did not disappoint.  Unfortunately, the sounds this sweet angel makes when she opens her mouth are less compelling than the time Jessica Chobot guest-starred in Mass Effect 3. But it’s okay, baby, we don’t have to talk. Let the language of love be our only form of communication. It feels abrupt to leap right into business before I even know how she likes her eggs in the morning (unfertilized, I hope) but this seems like a good time to just put myself in someone’s hands and ask them, “Bitch, how do I live” so… Bitch, how do I live?  I will follow you anywhere. I took a walk around first, though, giving her time to prepare for the unstoppable force of bangability that is Waynetta. Something I’ve always liked about Fallout games is that the world really feels “lived in.” Little things, like empty bottles on a bar table, or concert posters that--  --wait, Madame Lolita? Ain’t that a  Oh, look, even this random saloon has part of a mirror. Again, just sayin’. After a thwarted attempt at stealing (my karma! My precious karma!) I finally join Sunny outside. It’s about now that I make a decision. See, I can accept a lot of flaws in a partner; I really don’t care what you look like or weigh so long as you’re nice to people and make me laugh a couple of times. But I’ll be damned before I scream out a muffled “SUNNY SMIIIIIILES!” during intimate moments, so her sweet country rear end is named Darlene now. Darlene doesn’t seem to mind the name change, and sadly, she doesn’t seem ready to commit to our relationship, either. She just wants to… teach me how to shoot a gun? And here’s the worst part of this intro, from a game design perspective. I feel like I’ve been a courier out here in the wilds of Nevada for some time now. Certainly, I didn’t end up getting shot in the head on my first jaunt, right? So then why does sweet Darlene feel the need to explain how to shoot and aim a gun? This would have played better if Doc had set it up as some sort of test of his medical skills, like “Let’s see if I screwed your head back on straight. Shoot a few of those bottles off the fence, and we’ll see how you do.” Then it would feel a lot more natural, and the progression into joining Sunny on her shooty-shoots patrol would also be more organic. But what do I know, I work for the competition.  Okay, but only if you also teach me how to navigate these fertile hills, wink! That time I just said “wink” out loud, because people in Goodsprings seem kinda slow. I don’t think she got it, though. But I’ll keep trying. After all, tomorrow is another apocalyptic day.
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Nov 15, 2021 20:01
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I live and die by the EVE mod but I understand. Looking forward to this!
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Nov 15, 2021 21:31
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Nov 16, 2021 01:10
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I've never gotten into the modding scene with most games, but I hear that the modern fallout mod scene is pretty intense! And yeah, I kinda wonder if there's a better system to do dlc or mod notifications to tell the player that "psst, there's something good over in *this* direction" besides a dumptruck full of dialog boxes once you first step outside.
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Nov 18, 2021 07:38
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sb hermit posted:And yeah, I kinda wonder if there's a better system to do dlc or mod notifications to tell the player that "psst, there's something good over in *this* direction" besides a dumptruck full of dialog boxes once you first step outside. People have added level-limits to when the dialog boxes pop up (i.e. you only get the Honest Hearts one at level 10, etc) but if the guy who voices Malcolm Holmes has a Cameo account, that character just showing out of no where to tell you to check out the Happy Trails Expedition, etc, would be funny.
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Nov 18, 2021 13:28
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Fleta, what is your familiarity with Fallout games in general?LashLightning posted:People have added level-limits to when the dialog boxes pop up (i.e. you only get the Honest Hearts one at level 10, etc) but if the guy who voices Malcolm Holmes has a Cameo account, that character just showing out of no where to tell you to check out the Happy Trails Expedition, etc, would be funny. Man, I never once put together how many voice actors are on cameo that you might be able to get them to do an introductory line for a mod using a character that they already voiced. James Urbaniak is on there and in this game. If someone made a mod with a radio broadcast that interrupted some of the canned radio spots with a simple "To anyone receiving this broadcast, come to the old mill for an rear end kicking" periodically that would be pretty cool. Though I think that might fall under the "professional" cameo option and really jack up the price.
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Nov 21, 2021 04:39
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Johnny Update 1.2: Mole Rat Stomp I may not need anything from the general store, but I do appreciate a free soda. Or 12. I help myself, with an internal promise to shop there someday. Eventually. And of course I clean up the empties. Boxes you can carry AND put things in, what a concept.  Now you might be thinking, it's funny that a guy named Johnny Smash cleans up after himself. Trust me, if I want to wreck a place, I can. But, as a gritty, greasy symbol of classic American machismo, I have of course worked all the manly drifter-type jobs. I've toted barges, lifted bales, pushed and/or floated brooms, you name it. The crates and barrels go in the alley when they're empty, it's just natural. Once a Mojave Express stevedore, always a Mojave Express stevedore.  Beyond the alley, some kind of enormous monster goat is pacing in an agitated manner. It doesn't seem to notice me, so I attempt to scan it with the computer on my arm, which is a real wonder by the way. It knows the name of every object I pass it over like magic, and at a very portable 6 pounds will probably stop hurting soon. Right? I mean it's prescription so, I guess I just keep wearing it. At the last second the goat moves. He's real jittery for a truck-sized goat. Instead I accidentally scan what was behind him:  So the guy who lives there is named Jimmy Sterland? Not a threat, the computer suggests (despite him clearly having a large kitchen knife sheathed in his belt?), and in good health, which seems, invasive. I finally manage to point the device at the monstrous goat, which thankfully isn't charging or goring me as I fumble to identify it with my toaster gauntlet.  So this creature is a Bighorner, and it seems pretty well domesticated, if still pissed looking. Maybe it just has resting beast face. I can't judge, I look like the "brand X" comparison in a shaving cream ad. The implications of this technology are staggering. I can know anybody's name at a distance, and make invasive surveys of their physical health and wellbeing? There are privacy concerns, ethical issues, plus it seems designed to help not only identify but attack what I'm scanning. I don't know if I want to live in a world where such a device is commonplace. I'm deeply concerned, for a moment. Then I notice that nobody else seems to have a spiffy wrist computer. Just me. All discomfort abates, Pip Boy technology is only wonderful, moral investigation closed.  I try to strike up a conversation with Brian Taylor, but he's suspicious of my even being there. I'm suspicious of him too, with his gardening pistol and freight tie suspenders and thick Australian accent. I excuse myself, lest he think I'm a mutant gopher or whatever he's up against. Jimmy Sterland says even less to me, so I continue to the outskirts of Goodsprings. I'm about to give up on conversation completely when I turn to see, finally, a friendly face. Only it's in black-and-white?  Victor the Securitron has some imposing shoulder pads, but so far he's the nicest resident of this town that I've come across, besides the guy who saved my life and clothed me and gave me rare computer gear I guess. In fact I recall Doc saying something about this robot helping me out of that jam in the graveyard, so I thank him. Victor seems to take helping people as a matter of course, and is a lovely conversationalist. I respect both in a sentient. The Robco Securitron 2060-B is clearly a solid model, though him not remembering anything from before 15 years ago is troubling. Still, complex ethical processing, all-terrain Gizmoduck wheel, looks good in painters' tarp blue. Solid. I don't learn much from talking to him but it hardly matters when a robot is just so darn nice. Happy trails to you too, William Sadler I mean Victor! Be excellent to each other.  Tony Tilack, Mike Woods, and Daniel Harris all seem to be men of little words.  I'm starting to think Goodsprings has its haggard loners quota pretty well-covered as I reach the old Poseidon station on the way out of town. I scan the radio for good songs and poke at the ancient vending machine. More free soda rolls out with a satisfying ka-chunk. This town's manners may be rough around the edges, but you can't argue with their style of hospitality. I notice the robot carcass strewn across the back of a parked truck in the garage is twitching.  General Atomics Industries, Mister Handy model. A nuclear-powered pre-war appliance, if the tattered instructions are to be believed. The nuclear part is no doubt right, if it's still got servos spasming all this time later. There's even an extra fission battery and some spare parts lying around the garage. I nab all of it before I go. Poor guy probably just needs a tune-up. And I always feel better when I have a junker to wrench in my free time.  Oh hey there's a note in my Pip Boy about the delivery I was supposed to make. Definitely have to read that later.  As I leave the gas station I see something across town to the South- a big white cross. There's more to Goodsprings than I've seen, but I've seen enough for now. Time for this slicked-back cliche of a man to be moseying on down that lonesome road to splitsville, daddy-o. I'm picking up some great new phrases from the radio.  The road out of Goodsprings is decorated cheerily with a "Keep Out" sign and a grotesque infant-sized "bloatfly", which my Pip Boy immediately labels and identifies as an enemy. I make quick work of it with my guitar, which emits a lovely wooden smack as it connects with the exploding ichor sack. I'm lucky to have found such an artfully assembled cudgel, but I do have to be careful- it's not in pristine condition anymore. Bug guts take their toll on woodwork, I reckon.  During the brief fight I notice there's a manhole in the road, which the Pip Boy insists with a fanfare is worth noting on its map. Okay. I'm learning to trust the computer's instincts on this stuff. We make a pretty good team, even if the man-machine interface is a little clunky. Little do I know how much worse it could be.  I spot a caravan coming towards me on Keep Out road. Prospector Merchant, says the Pip Boy. Friendly. And behind her is...  Gaaaah. The caravan guard is a robobrain. Based off what I've seen from bots thus far I'm not worried about it being unfriendly, but, I will never complain about the heavy computer gauntlet again because this is the real clumsy-looking interface. You could at least give the meat parts a sun shade, cripes, that gray matter must be sizzling out here like a burger. I do business with the merchant, selling off the pistol and bullets Doc gave me, and buying a head wrap, prickly pear and a police baton. I'm briefly proud of myself for coming out ahead in the transaction, but then I see she has a bottle of scotch for sale. It just had to be the Creature, didn't it? Instead of earning 4 caps, I spend 8. At least the robobrain is, as expected, perfectly charming as it rolls away.  I practice swinging my new baton a few times, and eye the mysterious manhole cover. Okay, Pip Boy, you think this sewer is worth looking into, let's see what's up. Or, down.  I don't know what I was expecting in this sewer honestly, but stairs and bear traps were definitely not it. There are some waterways and drainage areas, but equally as many bus terminal or office break room looking spaces. There are more vending machines of course, even down here. I don't claim to be a civil engineer but, again, not what I was expecting.  I disarm a few traps only to come across what they are clearly intended for trapping: a gigantic mole rat. Several strikes with the baton put him down amidst the flickering shadows of a burning barrel, a whole lot of strikes actually. I basically have to wail on the horrible thing ten or fifteen times before it gives up the ghost, me using fancy footwork all the while to keep away from its horrible giant incisors. But I am victorious.  The locked gym door in the room, sadly, is a different story. It is clearly too complex for the likes of me, so I must leave it for now. Instead I continue down more stairs, and open a complex sliding door with a spinning wheel (also a weird thing to have in a sewer), revealing not one but two mole rats this time. No matter, I think, and ready my trusty police baton.   Oh god. My pride at having sailed through two encounters without a scratch disappears as I'm mauled to death in one shot by a mole rat in a very weird small-town desert sewer. Brutal. (It turns out that this mod list's Very Hard difficulty is no joke. I have both J Sawyer Ultimate Edition's Legendary Difficulty (which mimics Skyrim's hardest setting) and Survival Mode (which mimics Fallout 4's hardest setting) on, which as far as I can figure comes out to about .75% damage from me and 600% damage from enemies. Thus, one-shot mole rats) I shake off the premonition of my own gruesome death and reconsider. I had hoped to save wear and tear on my guitar by using lesser melee weapons, but the police baton is not going to cut it down here it seems.  I instead start exploding giant rat heads with the guitar, which only takes 2 or 3 swings instead of a dozen, but it's still touch and go. Sweating as I excavate hunks of meat from the rat corpses for later, I listen to a man named Groucho on the radio telling me that my chances of surviving an atom bomb are 'excellent'. If only he could say so much for giant mole rats. I drink a couple sarsaparillas and rest in a filthy alcove to recover after stepping in a bear trap. I should have stayed a stevedore.  I attempt to storm another room of rats, this one with a large cistern of water in the middle, and am slaughtered miserably. I try sneaking up on them one at a time, and am forced to consider maybe not blaring country music and flash light beams out of my Pip Boy for a while to help at it. The indignity of it all. I barely make it through, and my reward is a dead wastelander with a bottle of dirty water, some ragged clothes and... a police baton.  Yeah I tried that too friend, and yeah, it didn't work. I doubt the tire iron in a nearby tool cabinet would have helped much either. I repair my police baton with pieces of this new one, as if it will make any difference, and gather what junk I can from the room before continuing. There sure are a lot of traffic cones down in this sewer. I start to wonder if I even understand the first thing about civic waterworks.  Not gonna lie, the mole rats are putting me through my paces. I have to sneak up on them one by one and time a strong attack and then another quick attack perfectly, or they spin around and shred my face like it was tissue paper. I find stray bits of trash, globs of rat meat, a worthless knife that makes the other worthless weapons seem grand in comparison, and several locked containers and doors too complex to even attempt, including a submerged safe I should probably just forget about completely at this point. I do get one stimpak though, which will be useful if I ever face anything that can't just kill me with a glance. I end up with my pockets full of nearly worthless crap and about 5 too-difficult locks to remember. By the time I climb back out of the filthy Goodsprings sewer, night has fallen.  I chug the dead guy's dirty water and a couple more sodas as I walk back into town, which is now lit up with flickering yellow windows in the darkness. According to the neon, the saloon is open 24 hours a day, and I can't resist popping in to waste even more money. At least I haven't touched the scotch yet. I failed repeatedly to protect my internal organs from the slashing of rats, but the glass bottle in my pocket, that I kept safe unerringly.  The Goodsprings Saloon is, it should be noted, open 24 hours a day, but not open for business. There is no bartender on duty at night, just a bunch of locals sitting around with their guns out, which is not my idea of a friendly bar. I do get a lead from a lady with a piebald dog about a schoolhouse with a safe in it. I'm about to brush off the idea of failing at more safe-cracking when she offers me a free magazine on the subject. Maybe. I snatch a couple more old periodicals lying around too, and tidy up the empty whiskey bottles while I'm at it. Once a Mojave Express janitor, always a Mojave Express janitor.  Out in the bar's alley I dump the empty bottles, coffee mugs, burnt books, plungers and other assorted crap I've "harvested" today in one of the stacked crates, trying not to think about the inevitable conflict of it being already dark, while I don't have a place to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time old Johnny Smash sleeps rough, that's for sure, but it would be awfully nice if Goodsprings' famous generosity extended to, say, a soiled mattress or length of cardboard? I'm not picky. I figure my best bet is that giant cross I saw earlier, surely a symbol of sanctuary, right? Maybe there's a hostel or an inn or something. I'd settle for a propped-open dumpster at this point, as long as it didn't have any more giant leathery skull-faced rats in it.  The lights of town disappear behind me and the very dark night closes in fast, as I trudge past joshua trees by Pip Boy light towards the distant cross. I try to lift my spirits with the radio but all I manage to tune in is a dispassionate robotic voice telling me "welcome to the wasteland. It will be your undoing". I'm not in the mood for ominous dark electronic ambient music right now so I turn it back off again, and realize suddenly that I am not alone. The Pip Boy fills with pips. Please no more rats! Thank goodness it's not rats. Instead, I have walked smack dab into the middle of a pack of coyotes. Wonderful.  Pack of coyotes (in the dark).  Several gruesome ways to die flash before my eyes. I try to sneak up on one of the coyotes, and he mauls me. I succeed at sneaking up on one, only to be mauled by another. I manage to kill one and sneak up on another only to discover a third has already leapt out to, you guessed it, maul me. Every combination fails. Running fails. Hiding fails. Light and heavy attacks, VATS and real-time, everything fails. I'm starting to lose hope, crouching behind rocks and crawling through tall grass, sensing mortal danger with every snarl and snap from the scraggly coyotes, who I know can see and hear me in the inky desert night. It's legitimately terrifying, and makes me seriously wonder if that robot on the radio was right. Maybe this place is just death itself.  No matter how I try to strategize it, in dozens of attempts, one of the three mongrels always gets me in the end. All the strategies I built up running the sewer maze with the rats seem hopeless. Perhaps this isn't a place for strategy, I guess between gruesome maulings. Maybe this is a place for just smashing.  Trying to hide from the first coyote I walk straight into the second and the third, setting off a flurry of barking, biting death that I somehow manage to backpedal away from in time to not die instantaneously. They chase me around a rock in a cyclone of teeth, and I swing out with my trusty guitar blindly in the dark, somehow managing to fell one, and then two of them! As I run backwards comically, swatting at the beasts following behind (in front of?) me, it somehow works, as the third coyote foolishly comes at me from the same angle as his buddies this time, instead of surrounding me. I manage to nail him multiple times with my guitar in the split second window I have, and it's suddenly quiet again, except for my IRL pounding heart. Phew. I have killed all the rats in a basement, and faced three wolves by moonlight. I feel... official now, somehow.  By the time I finally reach the giant cross, the dawn is beginning to creep up behind the horizon, and I can see in the early light that it is not the friendly hostel I was hoping for. It's just some kind of war memorial, according to the Pip Boy. poo poo. I don't like the look of the wooden signs with horrible monsters painted on them beyond it either, so I consider turning back- but to what? More gruff townsfolk saying howdy through their teeth at me? gently caress.  As I start to trudge back though, the early morning light reveals a structure I hadn't seen approaching in the darkness- a shack, cobbled together out of what looks like an airplane fuselage. Knowing my luck it's probably full of giant radioactive hamsters that bite like shotgun blasts, but I'm so tired I don't care anymore, I just want to be out of the sun. Of all the mean beings I've come across today, at this point my best chances would be with some kind of...  ...fancy robot???
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Nov 21, 2021 11:58
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See, if you had stolen that coyote tobacco from the dumb guy with no name, you could have been cuddling with them around a fire and feeding them mole rat chunks from your hand!CzarChasm posted:Fleta, what is your familiarity with Fallout games in general? I played all through Fallout 2 but barely remember a thing (this was in 2005). Fallout 3 I sunk something like 250 hours into; I really liked it but I can never play it again because I'm still mad I couldn't save my hot Liam Neeson dad. I played through a good chunk of 4, but then I shipped my computer from China to Spain via the stupid ocean so when I got my poo poo back 7 months later I didn't remember anything that was going on. Then I picked it back up just as BFM proposed this LP so I thought I'd just play NV instead. I'd attempted to play a few years ago since I liked 3 so much and everyone says NV is better, but in all honestly the extreme amount of beige just killed my motivation and I quit right after In general, I have a very poor gaming background because I had carob-covered rice cake parents who thought Kid Pix would melt our brains, let alone anything with an actual gun in it. Now I work as a games writer and spend a lot of time looking at memes to understand the background of a classic game I've never played. Also I have always hosed very nerdy people who breathlessly explain game plots to me and I internalized that sort of thing in order to impress them later. I have a similar relationship to The Simpsons in that mostly it's been explained to me by sex partners and memes.
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Nov 21, 2021 13:51
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Waynetta 1.2: Maximus Jones and the Slightly Predictable Crusade TO RECAP: Traded couch stank for facial reconstruction, explored the very boring town of Goodsprings a bit, stole some guy’s weed, and met Darlene said I could tag along with her on her latest mission. I was hoping we could find this mythical “good spring” and frolic in it like delightful nymphs on a bottle of Victorian talcum powder, but alas.  Aww, man. I really really like geckos.  But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years wandering the wastelands (however many it’s been), it’s that when your girlfriend wakes up and chooses violence, it’s best to just go along with it.Darlene leads me across an interminable amount of beigey-yellowish scrubby bullshit. It takes literally two million years. Her dog is the same color as everything around it and I keep thinking a rock is clipping in the foreground. Other than that, though, I’m having a marvelous jaunt! Eventually, we hear the chittering of some soon-to-be dead geckos in the distance. I try to appeal to Darlene’s sense of justice, but my new bestie is public health-minded, and having none of my bleeding heart liberal poo poo.  Oh, Darlene. “Gecko bites” is what Doc calls vaginas.  Speaking of Doc, maybe I should give him a bucket to keep his WAP in? Hmm. Might be a nice way of thanking him for supergluing my head back together. I sadly kill some geckos, who are very cute even though they’re super chompy, and I’m feeling pretty good about myself until--  Oh my god. OH MY GOD I SHOT THE DOG. gently caress. gently caress!!!! I’M SO SORRY CHEYENNE ARE YOU DEAD?!  The dog seems fine, oddly enough, and I don’t have time to dwell either on my existential horror or the disaster this no doubt spells for my relationship with Darlene. I got lizards to shoot, dammit! guys please don’t tell Darlene ok I hear gunshots in the distance and round the corner to see Darlene fighting geckos off...some guy?!  DARLENE! SAVE THAT GUY! But we’re too late. The cuddly li’l geckos rip the stranger’s guts apart, and even though I shoot them all in the head (and one in the butt), it feels… hollow.  Um, Darlene? Uhh… this is really awkward, but I kind of sh--  Lucky for me, Darlene is more concerned about paying me for my work and teaching me to make stuff to survive in the wilderness. I can only assume this is because she loves me, too; otherwise, why would she go to all this trouble? But before I go looking for the fancifully named plants Darlene requested, I decide to check out the remains of the gecko carnage. It takes me a while to find the body of that poor lost soul, but when I do, it’s well worth the trip...  ...cuz they died RAISING THE ROOF! WHOOOOOO! NEW VEGAAAAAASSSSS!!!! I quickly divest the corpse of what I can only describe as a “Mad Max Roman slave outfit” and head out in search of DESTINY. And xander root.  My quest is epic. It is long. I find every book in the schoolhouse. I shoot every bloatfly in the graveyard. I find the rough-hewn graves of dudes named poo poo like “Jeb” and see the fresh hole dug for me glistening in the moonlight. It is, in short, what happens when you play a Bethesda game while high as balls: you wander in the desert for forty loving years accidentally grinding your way to a higher level only to end up on the opposite side of that barrel you turned left at six loving hours ago. By the time I make it back to Darlene, I’m exhausted. Truth be told, this quiet country life ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. After exhaustedly throwing together some potions or whatever, I contemplate my options, and I realize something. It’s a big ol’ desert out there. Lots of girls, and guys, and robots, and sensuous desert rock formations. Sweet Darlene, you’ll always be my first love--and my convenient Goodsprings bang whenever I swing by--but I think it’s about time for me to be moving on. Adios, guapa.  also sorry I shot your dog okay see you bye! I’m about to hit an abandoned camper for some shut-eye, but there’s just one thing I gotta do first.  Oh. My. God. I’ve finally found it. My Hat of Bangability.   What’s that? The Wasteland just got even hotter? You’re welcome. Okay, now I’m ready for this Fallout poo poo!
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Dec 1, 2021 22:32
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Of course the first Hat of Bangability is Indy's fedora from the Wild Wasteland fridge. Oh Crystal Skulls, you almost seem quaint in retrospect. Also it's crazy how much more logical and tasteful this tiny Easter egg is than FO4's infamous fridge reference.
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Dec 2, 2021 17:56
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BoldFrankensteinMir posted:Of course the first Hat of Bangability is Indy's fedora from the Wild Wasteland fridge. Oh Crystal Skulls, you almost seem quaint in retrospect. I am, after all, a recovering archeologist.
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Dec 2, 2021 18:10
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Johnny 1.3: Better Holmes and Gardens I stare at the fancy robot for an awkward moment, and he stares back. You'll have to forgive an old gear-head for waxing poetic here but "fancy" doesn't fully express the sight in front of me, I mean this bot is fa-an-cy. Detailed paint job, in cherry red, with some seriously formidable looking Teslatronic shoulder tubes that are thankfully not pointed at me right now. He keeps his gun-hands politely aimed at the floor as he jangles up to meet me. I appreciate it.  Having been bit by rats, coyotes and a war memorial tonight (not a hotel, it turns out), I'm relieved to see someone artificially intelligent, not gonna lie. They're the nicest sentients you're liable to meet, I swear. And this fella looks well-to-do (though I'll admit the flaming barrel in the back of his shack concerns me a little). I'm admiring his old-school grill when I realize I'm just gawking, so I introduce myself. Hello. I'm Johnny Smash. The robot responds in a mechanical voice with an accent I can't place.  I'm telling you, man. Robot hospitality. Nothing against us meatheads but it's just always such a relief to see a bot in charge of something, even if it's a shack on the edge of town with- oh yeah, is that an old couch!? Score! Unfortunately, as polite as this robot is, his conversation skills leave something to be desired. He can say "yes sir" and "affirmative sir" and mentions several times that he "keeps this position", but no matter how much I try to change the conversation he seems stuck in a loop. Running out of things to say, I mention being a traveler on somewhat of a journey.  Well, first of all thank you! That's very generous. But before I can explain that this is not what I meant, the conversation is back into a loop of "affirmative sir" and so on and so forth. The downside of robot manners I guess. I can't get a word in edgewise about that comfy looking couch. At least he seems very agreeable, if not entirely all there upstairs.  I'm saved from the monotonous loop of confirmations by a message on my Pip Boy. Although this robot's human interface is... not the smoothest, it turns out he and my computer gauntlet's wireless command software get along like a house on fire.  Robots are funny that way, you know? It's not until we get to the electronic kind of handshaking that I finally even catch this dude's name: Wattsworth. Hello, Wattsworth.  Name: Wattsworth Model: Teslatron with custom laser armament, derby hat Features: Bitchin' detailing Wireless support Weak conversation skills Wattsworth shows me around the place, and as I kick aside a layer of old tin cans while working back to the subject of that couch, I turn around to see what I can only describe as a dream come true. To heck with the couch, this place has a king-sized bed in it!  Jackpot. Wattsworth generously offers to stand in a corner and enter a passive mode while I grab some badly needed Z's, and sleep off all these gruesome coyote bites. God bless the inventor of the cowboy robot, I'd be dead several times over out here without 'em. I get a few hours of shut eye and get up at almost noon for a little radioactive sink water. The barrel fire is still going strong- breached fission battery, maybe? Whatever. I flop back down on the mattress and do some light reading. Now you might be surprised that a guy named Johnny Smash likes to hit the books now and then. Sometimes smashing stuff takes it out of me, so I put up my feet for a day, smoke a pack of cigs and read- magazines mostly, but also books, personal correspondence, blood-splattered journal pages, you know, the usual. I keep my ear to the ground, you know? All I have today are a few magazines from around Goodsprings: Lad's Life, Meeting People, Locksmith Reader, plus the instructions for that junker Mr Handy robot I found in the garage. None of them really catch my interest though.  Instead today I decide to read the book on Feng Shui I printed out on Doc's computer. It's extremely informative! First off, turns out I've been pronouncing it all wrong- it's spelled Feng with an E but pronounced with a U sound, like "Fung". I had no idea! Other than this surprise, Feng Shui seems like a fairly straightforward idea: arranging items in the home, nudging them around until they're in harmonious arrangements with color coded coordinates, kind of a philisophical take on good housekeeping I guess.  I can't help but think to myself Wattsworth could use a little Feng Shui in his simulated life- his place is a bit of a sty. And if a guy named Johnny Smash thinks your pad looks rough around the edges, that's saying something. As far as I can tell, Wattsworth is a body-guard unit. In conversation he refers to "vaporating targets", and proudly shows off the 21 energy cells he has in his inventory. Unfortunately they seem to be the only organized things he has, the poor slob. He was built to blow heads off, not tidy up the place. So, referring to the Feng Shui manual frequently, I clean Wattsworth's shack up. It's the least I can do for all his help. I pick up all the tin cans, empty bottles, several harmonicas, and even a bent-up old golf club that looks like it might come in handy. Scrap electronics, wonder glue, detergent and nettle seeds are just everywhere, it's a real mess. I right the overturned table in the middle of the room, and start putting things away on top of it. It feels really good just be able to do so. Feng Shui!  A couple of old milk crates and a metal bucket make for some functional little shelves, and I line up the room's various containers on the big counter: an old ammo case, a first aid kit and a small wardrobe with legs that snap off neatly to make it into a tabletop chest of drawers. It's not much of an organization system but it'll be enough to keep my weapons, food and clothes in order, for a while at least.  I turn the shell of an old fridge on its side at the end of the bed and put the broken TV on top (I doubt it's salvageable but I'll deal with it later) with my reading collection and an ash tray. Media center!  The old tires go in the corner, I pull out the ammo bench for more storage (though maybe I'll come up with a use for it eventually despite giving two shits about bullets), and pretty soon the place is looking a lot better. Since Wattsworth's toilet makes the Geiger counter on my Pip Boy have fits I decide I'll be using the great outdoors for the immediate future- instead the porcelein throne makes an excellent place to stage the broken Mr. Handy for repairs.  I lay out the tools I've scavenged thus far on the nearby card table, and line the twisted up old metal shelf with spare parts. There's even a fire extinguisher, which I'm not sure would be sufficient to put out the never-ending trash fire but it's a nice thought. By the time I'm done cleaning up Wattsworth's place it's the middle of the afternoon, and my stomach is rumbling. I still have a little food in the first aid kit, cactus fruits and the like mostly, but only radioactive water to drink, so I'll need to meander back to town before too long. I grab a couple magazines for the road, and decide to have Wattsworth join me too. Thank goodness, as about two seconds after having walked out the front door, we're ambushed by a scorpion the size of a go-kart.   Before I even know what's happening the sound of laserfire fills the air. Wattsworth squeezes off two optical blasts before the radscorpion is on top of us- dang Watts, you're just made o' guns, aren't ya? I manage to finish the beast off with a whack to the face from my trusty guitar, but I know who did the heavy lifting in this encounter. That's three times now that bots have saved my bacon. I see Wattsworth save the 2 drained cells in his inventory. 19 left. As confident as I am in my new companion's firepower, I do my best to avoid more monstrous animals on the walk back to town. Energy cells don't grow on trees, and even beyond that, I quickly notice that Wattsworth is not what you'd call a spry guy. It takes him quite a while to clank methodically through the desert, making an enormous amount of noise all the way, and I have to wait up for him several times while he struggles to get over rocks and past Joshua trees. I can see the coyotes on a nearby hill eye us carefully, but keep their distance. Good.  Back in town, while I wait for Wattsworth to catch up I dump his trash in the alley, drink a bottle of scotch and read an article in Salesman Weekly. What can I say, he's not going to win any foot races. While he chills in the alley I head to Chet's general store. I'm not really much of a shopper, honestly, but I do find that a snootful of something strong and a good article on bartering techniques help lubricate the wheels of commerce, so to speak. Or maybe I'm just reaching for a reason to get loaded, I dunno. Hic.  Chet seems like a nice enough fellow, though I knew that already from the free soda bonanza he puts on for passers-by. His inventory is indeed what you might call general: ammunition, booze, used robots, bubble gum, and a charmingly mysterious and oddly expensive thing simply called a "farming sack". I try to skew healthy, trading some duct tape for more cactus, some ancient canned goods and a couple more drinks, but I can't resist the allure of sack-farming and end up with only five caps to my name. But I won't starve!  Chet has some theories about the guys who shot me but they mostly dissolve into him recalling times he went gambling in New Vegas and lost all his caps. Uh, thanks. When the conversation turns to the best discount ammunition types I excuse myself and take my last five caps elsewhere, having no use for gunfood. Bullets are just heavy money to me.   I fend off hunger with some instant mashed potatoes while Wattsworth and I meander to the other side of Goodsprings, and spend the rest of the afternoon window-shopping. Dean Stanton, a ghoul working the front at Edgecomb Repair, wants way too much to fix my guitar, but he seems to know what he's doing at least. Got his own special dumpster and everything. While scavenging jalapenos growing behind the dumpster (food's food, alright?) my Pip Boy alerts me to the old red building there. A school house.  I remember the lady at the bar telling me there was an old safe in this place, and I did bring a locksmith magazine. I have Wattsworth hold the outside while I explore within.  I can't help but think Dean's estimate to fix my guitar is likely going to go up as I splatter it with the guts of several mantises that attack me inside the school. I scavenge several pencils, a toy truck, a baseball glove and a suspicious number of ash trays from the elementary school, as well as an intact mantis egg from one of their weird gray nests my Pip Boy calls an ootheca. It's vocabulary word day I guess. With my luck it'll turn out to be pronounced oothuca. There is indeed a safe in here, and like the locks down in the sewers it is unfathomably complicated, though I could probably make sense of it with the help of the locksmith magazine. However, I notice the safe is also wired up to a nearby computer, and while old Johnny Smash might not know dick about lock picks, I do know a thing or two 'bout 'pooters. With a little help from the Pip Boy it takes all of 10 seconds to figure out the password for the schoolhouse computer. I can't help but laugh- it's "reading".  The safe swings open like a trick revealing medicine, old world money, caps and even a stealth-boy. I hear those things make you crazy, but I bet it'll still sell for a fair amount. All in all the schoolhouse produces some decent junk, nothing to write home about, although one of the few unruined books I'm able to nab does hold some promise. It's on "cybernetic surgery" and while I can make neither head nor tails of it, it looks expensive. And, of course, there's a bloody journal page on the floor, written by somebody named Billy Wharton, who seems to have been having a rough go of things. I don't know if torn journal pages make particularly good bandages or what, but they sure do get bloody a lot.  What's important is that I manage to clear the place out without having to consult the locksmith magazine. I rejoin Wattsworth and we head towards Keep Out road on the North end of town, stopping only briefly to rifle through peoples' mailboxes and talk about bottle caps with a guy named Malcolm who is wearing two pairs of goggles and five or six watches.  He's weirdly excited about caps with blue stars on 'em, okay, whatever you say pal. I say goodbye and climb down into the sewer with a magazine clenched in my teeth, like a normal person.  Luckily the sewers are quiet, with the only giant rats I see being the decapitated corpses of former foes. It's fairly gross, even for a sewer, but I'm able to focus on the locksmith magazine long enough to, along with a wide-brimmed hat and some quick footwork, open two locked doors and a secure gun cabinet. The submerged safe is unfortunately still too much for me, but I nonetheless manage to climb back up to the street with pockets full of mixed ammunition, more glue and duct tape, a hammer, another toy truck, and a nearly demolished laser pistol. Wattsworth is indeed quite good at holding positions, it seems. The tubes on his shoulders glow gently, neon cyan against the darkening sky, while his one glowing eye patiently gazes at the moon.  More trash in the alley, another drink with Chet as I sell him toy trucks and ootheca contents, and I walk out of town with 90 caps in my pocket, plenty of food and drink to my name, the farming sack and an official RobCo brand wrench. We avoid another pair of coyotes on the walk back to Wattsworth's place, and are indoors before it's totally dark. I put my new tools away, eat some Dandy Boy Apples and admire how the place is coming together. It's honestly starting to look like a real home.   Wattsworth's Pad 3 containers 2 water sources (irradiated) 1 bed, 1 seat Ammo bench Farming sack The next morning as I check out the contents of the mysterious farming sack, I can't help but think about all the challenges still out there to face in this wasteland. Wattsworth is no doubt a staunch ally, but he also moves with the speed and grace of an unbalanced washing machine and runs on expensive batteries, so I don't want to over-rely on the guy. I feel I still owe him for letting me crash in his pad for a couple days, so I spend the morning extracting seeds from some of the fruits and vegetables I've collected, and planting a little garden by Wattsworth's shack.  Jalapenos, agave, banana yucca, even a little corn and xander root. I discover the farming sack can be used not only to plant but also uproot plants- I move a couple nearby wild buffalo gourds into the garden, and it's starting to look substantial. Hopefully it'll be enough to produce some real food in the coming days, as I'll need supplies to last any length of time out there. I can't just hide at Wattsworth's forever- somebody has to answer for that business in the graveyard the other night. During a gardening break I absentmindedly flip one of my caps, another resource I'll need more of before I can travel safely. But I'm doing okay for now. And wouldn't you know it, Malcolm was right- on the underside of the cap is a star. 
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Dec 11, 2021 14:54
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BoldFrankensteinMir posted:
I'm fairly sure in Fallout 3 you could wear a pair of goggles, a hat with goggles resting on the brim, and a outfit that had goggles hanging around your neck. It was an memorable day that I could look like an Anime protagonist. Just call me Ol' Three Goggs.
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Dec 11, 2021 19:17
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LashLightning posted:I'm fairly sure in Fallout 3 you could wear a pair of goggles, a hat with goggles resting on the brim, and a outfit that had goggles hanging around your neck. It was an memorable day that I could look like an Anime protagonist. Just call me Ol' Three Goggs. You can do this in New Vegas as well! 
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Dec 11, 2021 19:26
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Poor Malcolm Holmes. In my very first playthrough of this game, I realized I wanted his hat more than whatever my character had on at the time. Did it again the 2nd playthrough as well. and the 3rd. It's my personal NV tradition at this point. Any playthrough I started that lasted long enough for him to show up (so, really, any run that I didn't abandon before leaving Doc Mitchel's) I have murdered that poor man for his hat. Hobo on Fire fucked around with this message at 20:19 on Dec 11, 2021 |
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Dec 11, 2021 19:54
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Hobo on Fire posted:Poor Malcolm Holmes. In my very first playthrough of this game, I realized I wanted his hat more than whatever my character had on at the time. Did it again the 2nd playthrough as well. and the 3rd. it's the most reliable early-game way to get the full trading outfit at the beginning of the game, and the minmaxing goblin in my brain demands i do a murder so i can get the two barter boosts as early as possible
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Dec 12, 2021 14:21
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Hey all, Apologies for being so late with my third update. I've had a shitstorm of technical issues that as of Wednesday morning include "you can have a keyboard, or you can have a headset, but you may not have both." We're working on it! In the meantime, I can say the next update will include rare hand-drawn depictions of Wasteland life done by someone who is completely incompetent at drawing. WOWZA!!!!
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Dec 31, 2021 14:14
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War. War never changes. It just really surprises the poo poo out of you sometimes. We did it! Holy poo poo, you guys, can you loving believe we– …guys?  gently caress. Episode 1.3: Après Moi, Le Déluge  I awaken, full of resolve. Today is the day I finally get the heck out of this sleepy little town! Granted, it’s gonna be totally awkward if I run into Darlene, since we already said goodbye and all–don’t you hate that?!--but it’s okay. If I know anything about these wastelands, which I probably do, it’s that clearing all your quest markers in a settlement means you probably don’t have to bother going there again. And I’d rather cross this palace off my list and find the motherfucker who crossed me. But I barely have time to cock my hat into the “bangable” position when WHADDAYA KNOW, some random no-chin waste of water is waiting for me to help him.   I mention him only, however, because I think I owe him an apology. Mr. Guy, I’m sorry that in the five separate attempts I made to record a play video for this LP, I never once managed to find your girlfriend. I don’t know if she was the Roman slave the geckos ate that one time, or if your “girlfriend” is a caravan full of thugs waiting to jump my rear end, but on the off chance she was a real person who you loved and cared about who truly was caught unaware by geckos and slaughtered, well… sorry. I really did try. I mean, kind of.  Thirty dead geckos later, I find myself reluctantly heading back into Goodsprings FINALLY only to be stopped by the most NPC-lookin’ NPC I ever NP-saw.   Same. Hey, you got anything to trade?  Uhhhh, okay, Macho Man Randy Savage. I don’t know how much more simply I could have asked that. Nothing particularly bandit-y ‘bout it. You got a real r/redpill vibe, you know that? You and your ridgey head! I ditch the suspicious traveler and head back up to town. I stop by the General Store first in search of Stimpacks and maybe something a little fresher than the stolen garments I’ve been slopping around in for days, but at these prices?!  Look, why the gently caress do we even still operate under a hard currency system?! It’s a lawless wasteland! I should be able to gently caress people for stimpacks! Even if that person’s Chet. Huffing, I take my measly single expired stimpack and storm out. I know someone who’ll trade Cram for clam in this town! But before I slink back into Doc’s for another round of sofapoon, I decide to meet Trudy at the Prospector Saloon, since… that’s the whole reason I’m still here, really.  Oh, jeez. AWKWARD.  But I barely have time to wonder why Darlene stands in the Prospector Saloon staring at the wall all day when I’m interrupted by a commotion from the bar area.   The guy books it out of the bar without any further detail, and even shooting after him didn’t slow him down. (And to be fair, why should it?) I immediately return to the saloon owner for the full scoop.   Aha! So that’s who the broken sex bot belonged to? Also, you let that info slip pretty drat fast for someone who’s hiding a fugitive. God, there’s gotta be lead in the water here or something.   I think the “Gangers” part of that name is supposed to intimidate me, but I can’t help thinking about Snuggles the fabric softener bear. Unfortunately, there’s nothing cute about the Powder Gangers–apparently, they’re a chain gang that went rogue. How did that happen, you might ask?  HURRRR. Yeah, probably not. I mean, Andy Dufresne did it with just a spoon, right? I agree not only to take on the Powder Gangers for Ringo, get dynamite, bring backup, and source supplies, but I even fix Trudy’s clock radio. I’ve been in town for literally 24 hours, and I’m bloody irreplaceable. Oh, Bethesda. You gonna make me head of the Thieves’ Guild despite my being totally unqualified after this, too?   I‘ve been stymied by a lack of advancement in the field of technology too long, and more experience is always good. My silver tongue will have to be gilded down the line; I gotta learn how locks work ‘n poo poo.  To be honest, I’d choose this just for the art. But luckily it’s one heck of a bonus! I’m just heading out to confront this Ringo fella when–  …look, she’s…she’s a different kind of girl, okay? But I love her. Some girls like getting their nails done. Some girls like basketball. My girl just happens to love staring into middle distance for hours every day and only coming alive emotionally to shoot lizards. IT’S A BEAUTIFUL HUMAN TAPESTRY OUT HERE, EMBRACE IT. I go up the hill to the abandoned gas station to see Ringo, but it seems I won’t have the chance to try out those spare sexbot parts I found:  Hmm. Wherever art thou, sexbot? Hope I get a chance to “fix” you soon.  The gas station’s surprisingly unlocked now, so I let myself in with the expected results:  I’m here to help you, dude. This ain’t where I saw this conversation going. Now, how about you put your little emotional phallic extension away and parlay with me? Anyways, who am I? I’m Waynetta, I’m a Capricorn, um… I’m really into hats! So what’s your deal? Did you know there’s a guy named Joe Cobb looking for you?  Weird flex, given that I haven’t seen a single two-story building in this town, but whatever makes your dick stand up. Ringo explains that he happened to shoot a few Powder Gangers, which is why they’re after him.   Now, that’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard anyone in this weird town say so far. Me and my hat are in!  Okay, that makes sense. Who should I ask?  What the gently caress is that supposed to mean, you rear end in a top hat?! You sayin’ somethin’ about my girl? Darlene’s friendly but she’s not interested in being friends with the likes of you, ya dirty yellow-bellied bot-loving squatter rear end in a top hat! Snarling, I ignore his feeble whining for dynamite and medical supplies and swipe every precious item from inside the gas station. I may be helping you, but if you talk poo poo about my girl again, I’ll shove these spare robot parts so far up your rear end, you’ll be spitting out microchips. Squinting into the desert, I look at the house next door. It’s familiar. Almost too familiar. I can already smell the couch… To be continued
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Jan 9, 2022 22:30
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!!!BONUS!!!! POINTLESS EXTRA CONTENT!!!!!! I got so frustrated with the repetitive radio tracklist that I made a Spotify playlist of some of my top wasteland wandering bangers: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0WjfdtiwJS1PYoKUMaOOIz?si=33de5eb3d3da49e2 Some songs are repeats from this and other Fallout soundtracks; I apologize for nothing. Shuffle highly recommended.
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Jan 9, 2022 22:33
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Did you spend all 13 points on science? That's a solid strategy. Now you're +10% xp and I'm -10%, how perfect.
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Jan 10, 2022 01:03
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I despise quests that have an artificially extended length. It would be drat frustrating if you recruited Sunny, came back, and he asks you to go recruit more people. Or if Sunny sends you on a quest before she gives you her assistance.
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Jan 10, 2022 01:20
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the "help my girlfriend" dude is lying there is no girlfriend! he tells you to go up to a ridge with a bunch of geckos and beartraps, and when you talk to him again he's like "lol there was no girlfriend thanks for clearing stuff out i'm gonna kill you now" and then you kill him
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Jan 10, 2022 22:31
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biosterous posted:the "help my girlfriend" dude is lying there is no girlfriend! he tells you to go up to a ridge with a bunch of geckos and beartraps, and when you talk to him again he's like "lol there was no girlfriend thanks for clearing stuff out i'm gonna kill you now" and then you kill him There's an SA-lore-based joke up there too iirc
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Jan 11, 2022 08:39
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biosterous posted:the "help my girlfriend" dude is lying there is no girlfriend! he tells you to go up to a ridge with a bunch of geckos and beartraps, and when you talk to him again he's like "lol there was no girlfriend thanks for clearing stuff out i'm gonna kill you now" and then you kill him I loving KNEW IT. Well, good, I don't have to feel bad about failing to rescue the imaginary girlfriend. I hope the coyotes eventually got him. sebzilla posted:There's an SA-lore-based joke up there too iirc BFM recently explained the Lowtax appearance in Morrowind thing to me. What's the FONV connection??? e: I am really exhausted and just smoked a bowl so I left off mid-thought there. Fleta Mcgurn fucked around with this message at 18:04 on Jan 11, 2022 |
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Jan 11, 2022 18:01
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Fleta Mcgurn posted:I loving KNEW IT. It's Johnny Fiveaces from the Zybourne Clock! Imagine four balls on the edge of a cliff... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edbm1cXUqkM&t=268s e: stop watching after 8:20, there's another Wild Wasteland bit thrown in at the end of the video which you wouldn't want spoiled. sebzilla fucked around with this message at 18:24 on Jan 11, 2022 |
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Jan 11, 2022 18:22
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sebzilla posted:It's Johnny Fiveaces from the Zybourne Clock! Ahhhhhh, of course! I am mostly familiar with Mr. Five-Aces's work with pastry: https://mapcarta.com/N3266793451 (sadly closed now, IIRC) Thanks!
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Jan 11, 2022 18:43
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There's a pretty good bounty-hunting mod with a fun Freeside merchant and an okay radio station called Five Aces that I've enjoyed. I didn't install it this time because it adds a bunch of exterior edits for the bounties, and that conflicted with a couple other mods (and my one complaint about the mod itself is none of the extensive exterior changes have any LOD. And the audio is quiet, two complaints, I have two complaints). But it's nonetheless funny and well-made and is worth checking out.
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Jan 11, 2022 19:13
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BoldFrankensteinMir posted:
Play the guitar... play it again.... my Johnny... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACG19kkwnMk
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Jan 11, 2022 19:54
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPQVNkNt34M
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Jan 14, 2022 03:56
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EPISODE 1.4: Did You Ever Hear of a Little Town Called Goodsprings? Before undertaking any violent gang warfare, it’s wise to stock up on medical supplies! Steeling myself for dehydration, I take my first tentative steps back onto familiar ground.  Okay, I know the score here. Might as well get into character. *ahem* “Heeeeeeyyyy, I heard there was a big, strong doctor-y man in here who could do all sorts of doctor things and–”  Aaaaah! You came outta freakin’ nowhere, dude! I almost poked your eye out with my gun! Which I should probably holster because it’s rude to run around with my gun flailing wildly all over Creation, especially in someone else’s house. … Aaaaanyhoo, I’m here on behalf of the Committee to Kill the Fuckin’ Power Gangers. You in?  Yes. Very wise, very astute. Truly, your contribution is highly valuable. So anyway, I’m gonna need some help with the whole “slaughter” thing. Whaddaya say, wanna deconstruct some heads for once?  Sounds good to me. Doc gives me three whole stimpacks (thanks, that’ll be helpful for exactly five minutes!) and I render payment in the manner to which he has become accustomed. I have got to get health insurance; this is ridiculous… Next, I decide it’s high time I break good ol’ Darlene out of her stupor. Coyote ugly be damned, she’s the only decent shot in this town.  Heeeeyyyy! So, you’re probably wondering why I’m still here. It’s this whole…uh, thing, and it’s totally reasonable! Anyways, I know you love justice, so I thought I’d swing by to say hi, tell you that you look cute, and ask if you wanna come kill some Powder Gangers with me! Whaddaya say? It’ll make a nice change from popping geckos!  I LOVE YOU TOO. I mean, uhhh…normal…stuff? For once, Darlene is on the ball. She tells me the key to recruiting more fighters is swaying Trudy to my side, which should be easy enough since, as we all know, a woman’s heart is through her radio. She also recommended dealing with surly Chet to get some armor and ammo, and says this amazing thing:  Tell me more about the extra holes. But this is no time for romance! I tell Trudy to call up some beefy farm lads (why is her “little” black book so thick, I wonder?) and head over to the General Store. Darlene also warned me that “give” isn’t in Chet’s vocabulary, which I think means he’s a bottom. This should be easy enough! (I’m very bossy.)  Oh, come on! The town of Goodsprings has gotta be worth at least a thousand caps. Well, almost. But isn’t it close enough to an even trade? Chet just glares at me over the impressive heft of his nose. Okay, Waynetta, it’s time to do what you were made to do: pass Charisma checks.   “Uurrrr there’s a threat to my very existence targeting the place I live but I don’t wanna spend money or expend effort in combating it urrrr.” What are you, a climate change denier? It’s your hometown! Dick.  I hope I get to murder this chickenshit asshat later. There’s only one more name Darlene mentioned to me: Easy Pete. Apparently, the glad-handing old codger has quite the stock of dynamite stashed away somewhere. Unfortunately, I put literally zero points or efforts into Explosives, but there’s no way that’ll matter, right?   He certainly has a point! Luckily, I’m sure Waynetta has a brilliant Speech-related quip to convince him to just hand over the–  Ohhhhhhh that’s not gonna work. And it doesn’t. Easy Pete firmly refuses to give me any dynamite, but he does let slip that it’s buried somewhere. My silver tongue may have failed me, but my memory hasn’t! I recall an obvious burial outside of town somewhere near the camper I crashed in, and I know that graveyard has some mighty fresh graves. But before I can dig up anything much, I’ll need a shovel.  The graveyard’s fresh outta shovels. I could head back to town, I suppose, but instead decide it might be time to do a little grinding for fun and profit. And EXP, mostly. I’m still only Level 2 and that seems like a bad level to be going into a gang fight, so instead of turning back, I head deep into the hills.  Gee, I wonder what those signs say? Hope it’s not “keep out” or anything like that!  Oh, oops! But I barely have the chance to accept the sign’s challenge when I’m suddenly joined by an unexpected companion.  JIMINY CRICKETS!!! Don’t sneak up on me like that! Why the frick are you following me, you giant floating robo-creeper?  Okay…well…that’s actually really nice. Thank you. Again. Feeling an odd mix of guilty and weirded out, I go back into town to look for a shovel. I’m just passing the saloon when I notice something weird.  Uhhh, Pete? You okay there, buddy? Where are you going? A courier’s instincts are never wrong, except apparently that time I got myself shot in the head. Pete’s not running for his cardiovascular health, some poo poo’s about to go down! I look behind me and–  SON OF A MOTHERFUCK!!! …. Flashback. 2012. Fallout:New Vegas? I didn’t know this one existed. It’s good, you say? I should play it? Okay! I wake up in a town called Goodsprings. I was shot in the head but now I’m alive. A lady teaches me to shoot geckoes and make medicine. A man asks me to find his missing girlfriend. The colors are ugly and the radio’s already repeating itself, but I’m having a fine time… …until a giant radscorpion comes out of the desert and eats me. I get annoyed, put the game down. Forget about it. Flash forward a decade. It’s 2022. I wake up in a town called Goodsprings. I was shot in the head but now I’m alive. A lady teaches me to shoot geckoes and make medicine. A man asks me to find his missing girlfriend. The colors are ugly and the radio’s already repeating itself, but I’m having a fine time… …until a giant radscorpion comes out of the desert and eats me!!! It was scripted. It was always scripted. It was a challenge, and I didn’t have the attention span back then to handle it, but I have to face it now. I’m scared of scorpions, dammit  So, clearly, the straightforward approach is not going to work, and unfortunately, reloading does not remove the nasty behemoth. Well, I may be new to Fallout, but I’m no stranger to Bethesda thinking. I have a cunning plan! Abandoning the stupid dynamite, I book it up the hill and fling myself into Ringo’s hidey-hole, locking the door behind me.  Uh-huh, all good. We’re ready to rock! Why don’t you lead the way? No reason. No reason at all. Just make sure you’re the first one out the door. It’s, uh, good luck. Lovely Darlene shows up like a slightly dense Valkyrie to ride with us to eternal glory, and we’re away!  And just like that, the Gopodsprings brain trust does exactly what I expected them to do: aggro onto the radscorpion, along with the Powder Gangers, grinding the ugly motherfucker into a fine, sticky paste while I hang back and look cute in a hat!  AND IT’S DOWN! I screamed “WE ARE AWESOME” in real life. But the Powder Gangers are still kicking, and they commit a heinous loving crime right away: attacking Cheyenne with a machete.  Hey, back off! Killing Cheyenne is my job! But the joke dies on my lips once I realize that the Powder Ganger managed to kill Cheyenne just as my final bullet took him out for good. That’s when I realized this might not be as big of a win as I thought it was going to be. Despite the fact that the Powder Gangers showed up to a gunfight with knives and exactly zero shirts, they put up a good fight, and my friends start falling all around me. I have just enough time to see Darlene is still alive before running full-tilt around the side of a truck and emptying a million bullets into Joe Cobb’s smug loving face. He soaks ‘em up like a loving sponge, and it’s over.  Ringo says something to me, but it’s just buzzing in my ears. He barely seems affected by the carnage, and saunters away after basically a casual “thanks.” Normally, I’d be pissed at his lack of gratitude, but I’m too busy running to where I last saw my friends. It’s not a pretty sight.  I have done a terrible, terrible thing today. I slowly pick over the corpses. We lost Trudy. We lost Cheyenne. And…  Oh, my sweet Darlene. You deserved so much better than this. You just wanted to help people. I promise you, your sacrifice won’t be forgotten here. I’m gonna clean up this wasteland in your name, and I’ll pet every loving dog I see in Cheyenne’s name. Adios, mi amor. I sift through the wreckage. Find a couple new hats. They don’t cheer me up much. Maybe they will tomorrow. Goodsprings is a ghost town. It already feels emptier, less alive. The only friends I have left are my robot stalker, a whiny little twunt hiding in the general store, and a medical pervert. I can’t keep going, not after this. Not tonight. I’m covered in blood, sand, and scorpion venom. My eyes are burning, but the air’s too dry for tears, and sips them away. I don’t want to stay in this town another minute, but I haven’t got the strength to do much else but drag myself up the hill again to the only place I know that’s still safe. Where everybody knows your name. And they’re always glad you came, because they don’t take credit cards. “Doc? You home? I need help…” coda IT’S NOT loving SCRIPTED. THIS REALLY loving HAPPENED TO ME TWICE, AT RANDOM, A DECADE APART IN TIME. fin Fleta Mcgurn fucked around with this message at 23:49 on Jan 26, 2022 |
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Jan 26, 2022 23:08
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Cool stuff so far, what is the mod that you have that odds all those characters and content to Goodsprings?
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Jan 28, 2022 16:18
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Crazy Joe Wilson posted:Cool stuff so far, what is the mod that you have that odds all those characters and content to Goodsprings? There's a couple but the most noticeable is Goodsprings Filler. It adds a bunch of new NPCs and missions and a cavern area, just to flesh out the starter town a little. The sewer dungeon I ran was from AWOLP and then Wattsworth is his own mod.
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Jan 28, 2022 16:31
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Keeping Cheyenne alive is tricky, especially if you choose the option to arm everyone with dynamite. The villagers bomb the living poo poo out of the approach route, which is often bad if you're anywhere close by, and usually means they kill poor Cheyenne as well. I've never seen the Goodsprings militia get TPK'd like that. Ooooof. 
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Jan 29, 2022 02:29
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bibliosabreur posted:Keeping Cheyenne alive is tricky, especially if you choose the option to arm everyone with dynamite. The villagers bomb the living poo poo out of the approach route, which is often bad if you're anywhere close by, and usually means they kill poor Cheyenne as well. Without spoiling the upcoming video episode, I can confidently say that discovering this was not a scripted event after all was...existentially discombobulating. E: I have vague memories of the dynamite, although I'd swear I never got this far.
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Feb 1, 2022 14:52
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bibliosabreur posted:Keeping Cheyenne alive is tricky, especially if you choose the option to arm everyone with dynamite. The villagers bomb the living poo poo out of the approach route, which is often bad if you're anywhere close by, and usually means they kill poor Cheyenne as well. I'm fairly sure I just don't have this problem? I've rarely had casualties on the Goodsprings side, but I prepare a little ahead and sometimes even do the Powder Ganger quest at the prison, but siding with the NCR at the very end before completing the fight to defend Ringo. I guess I usually have found myself a scope for a gun by then and I start popping off a few heads before fatalities from dynamite can build up.
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Feb 1, 2022 16:33
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZwC7PVOTQE
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Feb 28, 2022 11:36
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In case you don't want to risk a click, this is Episode 1: Goodsprings Is a Land of Contrasts! BFM has been absolutely balls to the wall making this video episode, so I highly encourage everyone to take a look! It's 30 minutes long and covers both Johnny and Waynetta's journeys up to where the last text episodes left off, including more details about how our different builds interact with the world around us, and our plans for future journeys. You'll also be able to hear the exact moment I realized the radscorpion incident wasn't scripted. BFM was kind enough to cut out the five minutes of helpless, apelike laugh-hooting that followed. So if you love women who sound like a slightly more hyper Daria Morgendorffer, (more) random Japanese prints, and feeling bad for Johnny (there was NEVER a man like my Johnny), tune in! It's better than the three or four songs that play on Radio New Vegas, anyways. BFM is awesome and worked really hard on this video, and I think it slaps. YAY BFM!
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Feb 28, 2022 14:27
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Thanks Fleta! I'm still learning Blender's video sequence editor functions with this project so future installments should go faster (eps will probably be a little shorter from now on too, but we had a lot to get through in this first one!). Thanks for being patient while I hobble together templates, raid the commons and figure out where settings are hidden by the nefarious Easter Bunny that designed this UI. Did you know Blender defaults to a 4gb cache limit like it thinks it's 2009 still? I didn't! *Groan* New Johnny update this weekend, let's get this train rolling again!
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Feb 28, 2022 17:25
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