Fur of the Dog

Day three greets me with another bright, clear sky and a pretty brutal hangover. After caning it on the whisky in the Brass Lantern for a few hours, I managed to find an empty bed in a mercifully dark communal shack.

Two things happen when I brave the outside world. First, aargh, my poor eyes, and second, I tune into a local radio station, GNR. Their moderately anachronistic DJ mentions that a vault dweller named James came to visit him recently. That’s a good excuse for me not to follow the main story for a long while, at least – “endlessly trying to catch up with James” is basically the whole plot, and while the game is still giving me conversation options in Megaton about him (slight oversight there, guys), I’m going to leave well alone.

Why not go to GNR to follow him? Well, GNR is in the middle of DC (see the tower above? There, essentially), which everyone assures me is the most dangerous place in existence right now. “Suicide mission” would be an understatement.

So. Cass, then.

Today’s plan is simple enough. I’m very worried about money, but don’t have the skills or supplies to go out starting fights or sneaking around dangerous turf. With no reloads allowed, I would almost certainly be killed, or at best horribly injured. So the plan is to karate the hell out of the local wildlife, then rip out their various organs and sell them to some undiscerning trader.

With that in mind, after breakfasting on a live iguana I head Southeast-ish, and what’s this?

A challenger appears!

I spend a pleasant morning punching animals in the neck. Molerats are plentiful, but I also nab a pair of dogs and murder a completely docile gecko (these are about knee-high in Fallout 3) for its skin.

I cut a vague quarter-circle around town, noting any sites further out that I might want to mount an expedition to tomorrow, or even migrate to (still not at all happy about living in Little Nagasaki).

A dull trip, but I fill my backpack in an (in-game) hour, and head back to Megaton feeling a lot more optimistic. A second trip takes me East, scavenging an unguarded ruin.

I fill my bag with junk (and a few 10mm bullets) and flog it in town. Two trips bag me over 60 caps, and it’s not even midday. Much better. Won’t pay for medicine, but I can eat and drink off that for days.

My third trip takes me North, into a dead town called Springvale. There’s nobody around, so with some trepidation I start rummaging through the ruined buildings, and quickly dig up several finds that should fetch a good price.

Excellent! Now we’re talking. Grenades are expensive, so these will be very handy for seeing off anything aggressive. Jet and Psycho are drugs that I could use for largely pointless combat benefits, or better yet, sell for booze money. And speaking of which…

Jackpot!

Scotch and whiskey are alcoholic drinks that I could use for largely pointless combat benefits, or better yet, sell for booze money.

I may have started early today.

Conveniently, a new caravan appears just as I’m mulling over what to take back to town, so I flog my haul and move on to the next house, which unlike the others is still intact, and appears to be open.

Inside I am immediately confronted by a woman with an inexpert grasp of punctuation.

Naturally, I tell her to calm the hell down, which she apparently interprets as “yes, Moriarty sent me, and furthermore I’m going to rob you”. Maybe the accoustics are really bad in here or something. She immediately pulls a gun on me. Crap.

Fortunately her aim is terrible, and she’s dumb enough to back into a corner, where I tactically contract and relax several muscles, causing my arms to extend towards her at speed, transferring large amounts of kinetic energy into her upper body and face, which makes her die.

Oh man. I did not mean to kill her, but that was definitely self-defence. I didn’t know telling her to calm down would spark her out like that! Jeez, and she’s all lying there with that dead-eyed stare (as opposed to the dead-eyed stare she had a few moments ago)… I’m feeling pretty guil-

-wahaheeey! Jackpot!

Looty looty! Terrible shame, that accidental killing stuff. Real sombre stuff, yes. But hey, I get a free .32 revolver, a junkie egg, and an imperial shitload of cash.

Still though. Bit of a pisser. She didn’t seem like a bad sort. Fortunately I have just the thing to calm my nerves. Our Cass is no stranger to chemical assistance, though I think it highly unlikely she’ll be taking high-risk junkie crap like Psycho.

Stone cold killa, that’s our Cass. Apart from the jangling nerves and the total lack of premeditation, but shut up.

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2 Comments

Filed under Fallout 3, Stayin' alive

2 responses to “Fur of the Dog

  1. DarkVeghetta

    Looking for animals to murder – a staple of any decent roleplaying game!

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