Annoying kids from Lamplight

Last night I agreed to take this grownup kid, lets call him Keeky, hell I can't remember his name. We don't get 20 feet before he gets bored, and insists on telling me a story about a robot called Dynamo and on he went as we walked. I could not get him to shut up.
When are we going to get to Big Town he'd ask.
Big Town, Big Town.
Gawd, I was expecting something like Megaton instead of the dump that Big Town turned out to be.
Kicky kept telling his stupid stories all the way there.
Hey Ralph did you heat about that robot Dynamo as I am emptying my mini gun into a giant radscorpion
I'm bored, I know I will make up a story, once there was this superhero named Gronk, in the middle of a knife fight with three very pissed off Talon Company men
Are we there yet? In a shootout between 6 super muties and 9 raiders
I sure know how to pick em!


This is Ralph

Now where is that nailboard, that won't kill him right?

Deathclaw Stew

Here's how to make Deathclaw stew.
1. Make sure you take plenty of weapons.
Shotgun.....check
railroad gun....check
laser rifle....check
missile launcher...need to get it repaired
Fat Boy...check (don't ask- don't tell, just pull the trigger and run like hell)
2. take lots of ammo....preferably ammo for the shotgun, raliroad gun, laser rifle, missles, mini nukes

3. sufficient body armor.
a couple of things. a) make sure it's thick. b) make sure it's light or c) make sure you can run in it.

4. big knife or chainsaw.

5. sack

6. good shoes.

7. spices.

8. pot.

9. matches or flame thrower

10. Stim Packs, and drugs, lots of drugs.

Now then, since you are prepared.
Things to remember:

1. Deathclaws are faster than you are.

2. Take a friend who moves slower than you do.

3. don't be afraid to make a mess. blow that deathclaw to pieces if you can since it will save the effort of determining if it is really dead and takes less time to cut up.

4. make sure you have plenty of room.

Okay, Good Luck out there.

Let me know what it tastes like.

Ralph, Vault 103

ps. Don't eat raw.

Hacking Blues

Today I hacked into something called the NORAD mainframe. It claimed to  be able  to launch hundreds of Missiles and play something called chess.
For a computer it was  almost as  chatty as President Eden was before I convinced him that he was in fact redundant.
NORAD could not be convinced that it did not  need to relaunch the missiles even after I told it I wasn't plugging that cord back in.
After I left, I realized that when a computer starts  running lots of lines of text, that it might actually be screaming.

when the spit hits the man

Someone once said that the only good gook was a dead gook. I am still not sure what a gook was.
The same could be said about- well just about everyone you meet out here in the wasteland.

Yesterday, I was out walking with this dog that came along and adopted me. (another story) and these two guys game by on one of those motorcycles you see in a lot of places- mostly without wheels. One guy was girly and blond and the other had this wicked mohawk. They looked like raiders. I was trying to decide which weapon I would use today to blow them to kingdom come - I can chose from 8 without even digging through my gear. No I don't get how I can do that but they are there when i need them. I chose the 32 caliber pistol. I hadn't used it since I found it in that dead ghouls hand.
When I looked up, the two of them were sitting right next to me considering me. The blonde one flipped me off- except he had no middle finger. So maybe it was a fist instead.
Mohawk flapped his tongue at me then asked.
"Oy- you seen a truck go by filled with the black gold?"

"No."

"Crimey, of all the rotten luck." he said and spun the bike. "Must have taken the turnpike instead."

Then they were gone back the way they had just come.

What the hell is black gold anyway?

This is Ralph signing off

Misnomers and how to kill them

Someone once said: "If you don't understand it- get rid of it."

In the wasteland one rule stands above all others.
Shoot first and go loot the body later- usually when you are sure that you aren't about to get shot.

This is a good rule to live by. One afternoon, I spotted this Waste-wanderer find a small treasure trove of Nuka-Cola in a refrigerator out in a minefield. the Waste-wanderer did this happy dance around it and narrowly avoided getting shot by a clown faced raider. But as he diver for cover he forgot about the minefield. Pieces of him were everywhere. The raider gives and yell and runs for the fridge at full tilt.
Before he can reach it a Ghoul pops out of nowhere around the fridge and slams a sledgehammer into the raiders chest. The raider falls backwards back into the mine field and we get a rainfall of blood and goo.
The Ghoul cackles as he shoulders the red sledgehammer and leans in for a closer look when his head get shot off from his shoulders by a slaver with a 44 magnum.
The slaver walks over and spits on the new corpse. Pops open the fridge, hears something looks up in time for a cascade of bullets to slam into his blast master body armor and add him to the heap of bodies.
The scavenger carefully slips over to consider his find when he is incinerated by a flamer from a Super Mutant who strolls over the incinerated body. The super mutant starts to laugh when he is vaporized by this Enclave soldier who trots over to the fridge to see what the fuss is about.
The enclave soldier takes off his helmet and wipes the sweat from his brow and takes out a Nuka-Cola only to see his helmet fly up and away as a snipers bullet collects it from the fridge. He is whirling around with his laser rifle coming up when the next bullet rewrites his facial expression.
The Talon Company merc walks over looks down at the enclave soldier, then crouches down as the missile slams into the ground next to him effectively blowing him up and away from the fridge and out into the minefield where his body effectively sets off the rest of the mines.
The resulting explosion is deafening.
I wave at where Gary from Vault 111 has just set off this catastrophe with his missile launcher and shake my head as I go off in search of a less hot, melted, irradiated nuka-cola elsewhere.

Maybe I can grab one at Megaton instead and just sacrifice the caps instead of my own head.

This is Ralph signing off.

Dear Old Dad

You know one of the most disturbing things happened to me today. I was out in the Capitol Wasteland and came across this bar called the Pipboy Pitt. In it are about 5 other Vault exiles like myself. Yes, at first it was reassuring, after all there was Tracy from Vault 98. I guess she did finally get all that gear to Megaton. I bet Moira was ecstatic.
Anyway Tracy waves me over and introduces me to Henry from Vault 104, Peeta from Vault 72, Carl from Vault 106, Toni Ching from Vault 93, Kelsey Eight from Vault 90 and Mike from Vault 101. They are all pretty friendly and fair drunk. So I sit down among them and we have a drink.
Turns out we all have diffused the bomb at Megaton at one point or another. Someone apparently goes back in after a year or 2 and rearms it.
Turns out we all have had troubles with the Enclave hedging in on our business and trying to kill us in the process.
Getting snubbed by the Brotherhood as Wasteland rats, get dissed on by the Outcasts for about anything that comes to their minds at the time.
And we are all looking for our Dads.

Funny thing that came up and we all thought it was kind of weird at the time. All our dads have been called James at one time or another.

About an hour after we all headed back to our various residences around the wastes, I stop mid stride when it occurs to me that Dear Old Dad has been getting around a lot.

What is really weird about it is that None of us really look that much alike.

Ching is definitely Asian.
Kelsey 8 is definitely White.
Carl is definitely Black
and Mike might be one of those Indians.


I am betting Dad will probably be able to explains this when I do finally catch up with him.

Knowing Dear Old Dad though, he will find a way to avoid answering the question.

This is Ralph from Vault 103 signing off.  

Repair this!

Today I noticed something that has me baffled.
I was crossing the something called the Shenandoah highway when my combat shotgun jammed then broke while I was popping off a bloatfly. I did some unsavory language and practically jumped up and down on the broken gun. Now I would have to walk all the way back to Megaton to get a repair from my "Research" assistant Moira- she's the reason I am out here in the first place. Who wants to go looking for "Dad" when there are caps to be made anyway?
So I sat down in a sulk and though maybe I would lighten my mood by listening to this thing called radio on my pipboy. It was pretty garbled out here but this guy came on and started talking about repair you guns in the wasteland. Maybe Old Three-Penny- no wait that's not it, maybe his name was three-cat or three-cow or something had a point.
Here's what he said to do.
1. go kill some people (raiders preferably- they are the scum of the wastes anyway- all mohawks and unfortunate clothing choices) and get duplicate guns for what you want to repair.
2. find a comfortable place away from radioactive waste sites (there are a lot of these out here) pools of water- also radioactive, and probably defensible but not up on a rock ledge since you don't want to go chance nuts, bolts and bullets should you drop anything. I settled on a large patch of concrete near a bombed out building called the Diner near a town called Big Town.
3. take your weapon and place it next to the other likewise weapons.
4. disassemble according to your repair skills as describe in percentages by your pipboy.
5. Re-assemble the "fixed gun" and make cranking gear noises, and duct tape noises while doing so. (this was weird since I have never seen any of this "Duck tape" out here in the wastes nor any ducks for that matter).
6. Test fixed weapon preferably on the Radscorpion charging over to disturb your repairs.

Now I ask you.
What did I just do? Cause when I go to town I could swear that Moira does pretty much the same thing except her duct tape noises are more convincing.

this is Ralph from Vault 103 signing off.... and beating a hasty retreat- apparently the Diner has an infestation of giant fire breathing ants coming out of it.

what we have here is a failure to communicate

Vault 103 Journal entry 44

I have noticed a total lack of being able to say what I mean- really mean when talking with people out in the wastes. Heck, if I were to be completely honest, it's everywhere.
I can never seem to say what I really want to say and ended up having to settle for something vaguely similar
I wonder if this just happens to me?

I was in Rivet City last night, and I wanted very badly to ask Angela Stansby back to my room but all I could manage to get out was- that I thought she and diego had a thing (no, no, no) and what was on the menu? (what kind of pick up line is that?).

I was trying to find out where my father went and could not even manage to ask for reasonable directions. This is the Capital Wasteland not New Vegas after all. Everyone I talked to kept saying things like- I can repair that for you or I don't talk to wastelanders or mommy tells me not to talk to strange men with guns.

It is so infuriating I might just have to go kill some more Raiders- who at least just agree to disagree and then we do our best to kill each other.

This is Ralph from Vault 103 signing off

as you can tell, I am a way better shot than those silly teenagers- I mean raiders.

Ah the Wonderful Laws of Encumberance

Back when I was in the Vault as a kid we would play this game called Vaults and Dragons. We found this book way down in one of the rooms behind a stack of molded girlie magazines and a case of Nuka-Cola (empty) among several fairly decimated boxes of mentats and potato crisps. It was called Dungeons & Dragons.
I read it several times before deciding that Dungeons were just vacant or decrepit Vaults and when we started playing the game- we just ended up calling it Vaults & Dragons or V&D. Macky wanted to call it Vaults & Varmits but we locked him in the waste disposal until he took an oath to not even make any more stupid suggestions and we let him out after a couple of hours.
Anyway, In V&D there is this rule that says you can carry only so much loot, weapons, ammo, armor and gear before you start slowing down and then can't move at all. We almost never saw any point in the rule since who needs all that crap anyway? This rule was called encumbrance and was mostly ignored by all of us Grognak Barbarian classes.

Now I stand here and watch Tracy from Vault 98 making her way down to Rivet City hauling what must be a load of stuff. I say this because she is busting butt to get to the bridge since she's got 2 radscorpiaons and 3 super muties following her at a ever decreasing gap.

You see, out here in the wastes, you tend to pick up a lot of stuff that you will probably need tomorrow or next week and it loads you down. The odd thing is you can be carrying full capacity but everytime you check yourself in a store reflection all you see is your clothes, armor- if you are wearing any that day, 1 gun/weapon and a hat or helmet. It's totally deceptive.

For Instance, Tracy is carrying a Laser Rifle that looks to be in very good condition and wearing her Armored Vault 101 suit (yeah somehow there is only Armored Vault 101 suits- no other Vault uniform has ranked getting armored for some reason- inexplicable)  Still since she is trudging along very slowly I suspect she is hauling a load of loot to the City Marketplace for a stack of caps.

Me, I am running close to my Encumberance- that is what the Pip-boy on my left arm says when I check my inventory, I can carry 260 lbs of weapons, armor, gear and loot- and ammo, a junk like this leaf-blower and surgical tubing and food and chems and if you don't get the picture I can go on. However, since I am only carrying 258 of my 260 lbs capacity I can run rings around Tracy and those radscorpions and muties.

So I watch her for a while, then decide to help her out by shooting two of the Muties and 1 of the Radscorps while she shoots the others with her laser rifle. I like Tracy, mostly since she keeps me well in stock of burned and scorched books for the journal and she doesn't try to kill me. I guess you could say we might even be friends as much as you can with someone from Vault 98 anyway. She is king of Cute too which helps.

When I catch up to her we divide the loot off the Radscorps and Muties- which lucky for me repairs some of my loot and I keep my Exuberance  at 259/260 so I can still jog along. When I look at Tracy she shakes her head and sighs. We look back at the 300 yards to the tower to the bridge across the bay to the Aircraft carrier that is Rivet City. I can see her thinking about the 1 hour "stroll" it will take to get there at least.

"What is your Encumbrance at?" I ask dreading her answer.

You will never believe me. But it is so typical- especially with Hoarders like Tracy. 692/230!
Yep she is dragging 450 plus pounds of stuff across the wasteland since you never ever know when stash locations will get raided or how long a body will last in the wastes.

I take a quick look at her pipboy  inventory:
4 assault rifles, 6 Chinese machine guns, 2 sledgehammers, 5 suits of Badland Painspike Armor- repaired, 12 gas tanks, 14 handbrakes, and the list goes on and on. In frustration she dumps it out of the ground. It is a pile bigger than she is. My admiration at her determination grows as I help her repack it. It will not help either of us to share the load as it would surpass both our inventory capacity and then we would both be crawling along all night. Instead I offer to walk her to the door.

It takes 6 hours to walk 300 yards, go up to the bridge, walk across it and then go down the steps to the marketplace.
Somewhere back in my Big Book of Science- the Scientists would tell you that in reality we would be both dragging a huge backpack/sack/wagon full of stuff across this distance with the likelihood we would not be able to move it at all if we didn't have the pipboys!
I know those who don't have them have to rely on Brahmin to do the hauling.

Well that is all I got to say tonight, Tracey is taking me out for a drink and some Radroach burgers down at Muddy Sal's on the westside to celebrate her haul- she made 3400 caps- which let me tell you is like 100 pounds of money (bottle tops- think lots and lots of bottle tops).
This is Ralph from Vault 103 signing off.

Life as it actually is in the Wastes

Journal entry #24

Having lost my original journal to a rather large mole looking creature who chewed it up with much snuffling and grunting, I am forced to start a new one in this ruined/scorched prewar book. Let me tell you it is good to know that there are literally thousands of these faded out books scattered all over the wasteland! Just about everywhere I go there they are with the other things that there seems no end to, rusty tin cans.
I had to dump my collection of those recently since I had picked up so many for Chris back in Vault 103 that I could barely walk. Okay, I left them behind with the journal as this mole dog thing came after me an I found a real valid need to run away. Man, I tell you they didn't cover that in the G.O.A.T.!

this is me Rusty from Vault 103 signing off and sleeping on about the rattiest mattress I have seen this side of New York (whatever that is).