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On the bottom of this science-coffin is a metal plate bearing your name—Ltcdr. Harvey “Stormy” Weathers—along with some other gibberish numbers you can't make heads or tails of. You can see a flashing red light over a label which reads: 'Atomic Reserves'. Huh. Guess when this thing ran out of batteries and then it just sorta spit you out.

You're all by yourself in this vast silent chamber but not exactly alone; there are long rows of other pods, each filled with a person –or the remnants of a person. Many of the pods have shattered glass covers, some have been completely destroyed by falling debris, and others appear whole but out of power. There are old corpses inside the ruined pods, and inside the operational ones you see that something has gone terribly wrong; the occupants look like freeze-dried mummies. This place really is a tomb, Stormy, and you're its only living occupant!

What should you do now?

[] A. Sit down and rub your temples until you remember.
[] B. Check out the cool gizmos and doohickies. Priorities, man.
[] C. Examine these pods closer. What are they anyway?
[] D. Explore the room. Look for exits and such.
[] E. Other.

>>36604788
>[] A. Sit down and rub your temples until you remember.

>>36604761
Regain footing. Take stock of surroundings.

S 10
P 4
E 8
C 5
I 3
A 9
L 10

>>36604788
>B. Check out the cool gizmos and doohickies. Priorities, man.

>>36604788
>[] A. Sit down and rub your temples until you remember.

>>36604788
>[] A. Sit down and rub your temples until you remember.
>[] B. Check out the cool gizmos and doohickies. Priorities, man.
>[] C. Examine these pods closer. What are they anyway?

In that order.

>>36604788
[] A. Sit down and rub your temples until you remember.
then check the gizmos!

>>36604788
>[x] B. Check out the cool gizmos and doohickies. Priorities, man.
SCIENCE!

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>>36604798 that's pretty close actually

A.
You try to power through the pulsing migraine that stands between you and your short-term memories. It feels like the devil himself is banging on your coconut to the beat of latest rumba as you struggle to remember last night's bender, if there even was one. Wait. That's right. You had drinks with your girl Carroll at a hotel. She had a couple of MaiTais covered in paper umbrellas and you just had... nothing. Not a sip. You drank a Nuka Cola on ice because you had to report for a special assignment in the morning. A special assignment... Yeah! Now it's coming back to you.

You were scheduled to test the Air Force's new atomic superjet called the F-66 Hellfire, take the bird out for a spin to Midway and then bring her back home by dinnertime. But, before any test flight, there's always a rigamarole of paperwork, checking security clearances, rounds of handshaking, debriefings, and then the inevitable physical check up where some egghead doctor verifies that you can still touch your toes and do a pull up or two. Yeah. You can remember all that. But what happened after that? What happened with the flight? Did you even get in the plane?

cont.

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>>36604922
You remember Admiral Bierce came in to the exam room, which was unusual, and he started speaking with you. But you can't for the life of you recall what he said, because you were having such a hard time concentrating. Everything was going all fuzzy. You could barely keep your eyes open while he went on and on about some grandiose sounding stuff. “One's duty to one's nation” “Humanity's future” “the survival of Western democracy” The kind of jazz you might hear at a graduation ceremony. Now, the Admiral could be a bit of a bore, but not enough to make you lose consciousness. Had the doctor given you some kind of knockout drug? Why would he do that?

You don't know what came next, but somehow you ended up in this atomic icebox. And there's no way you'll remember what happened here while you were sleeping, but you can guess that this bunker got hit by one whopper of an earthquake, or something just as powerful. The lights are out, chunks of the ceiling are falling down, and there's a layer of dust covering everything.

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>>36604896
>>36604850
>>36604837
>>36604816
Gizmos

Besides the rows of pods there are rows of machines and panels of glowing switches that, presumably, monitor and control the cryo pods. Many of them seem to be broken or out of power. Beyond those you find desks and counters filled with techno clutter. Here a desiccated corpse sits in a rolling chair. By his uniform you can tell this poor sod was some Spec Ops commando; he still has some of his survival equipment on.

[] A. Examine the corpse.
[] B. Examine the science stuff.
[] C. Other.

>>36605006
>[] A. Examine the corpse.
then

[] B. Examine the science stuff.

>>36605006
[] A. Examine the corpse.
then B
and finally look for any instructions or something that should have been shown to us as we woke up.

Alternatively, look for exits.

>>36605006

[] A. Examine the corpse.
[] B. Examine the science stuff.

>>36605006
>[x] B. Examine the science stuff.
SCIENCE! AGAIN!

>>36605006
>[] A. Examine the corpse.

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>>36605030
>>36605031
>>36605037
>>36605042
Examine the corpse.

All that remains of this poor sod is a dried up a husk. Judging by his uniform this guy was in the USAF Spec-Ops, but you see a lot of unusual markings that you can't identify. He has a patch that shows he's as a “Radio-Commando” whatever the hell that is. You've never heard of them. He does have some fancy survival equipment on him, and—since it ain't doing him much good—you help yourself to anything that looks useful.

1.
The first item is a USAF air-survival belt. It has lots of pouches filled with useful things, like micro binoculars, a lighter, and breath mints. It's packed to the brim with whatever the [spoliler]plot[/spoiler] requires. You snap it on over your flight suit and attach it to your harness.
2
Second is a USAF personal grapple launcher. A “hookshot” as they're known. This one looks like a different model than the one you've trained with, but it's essentially the same. It's a hand-held launcher that fires a grappling-hook attached to a thin steel cable. There are two separate heads for the grappling hook: a folding-claw and an electromagnet, both of which can be activated from a button the launcher. The launcher comes with a motorized winch strong enough to lift an elephant. You grab the hookshot, and click it onto your pilot's suit; this little devil will definitely come in handy.
3
The final item is a sleek chrome pistol with no visibly moving parts except for the trigger and the loading port. It has the word “Destructoluxe” engraved into one side in an elegant flowing script. This must be one of those prototype energy weapons that military scientists love to make: deadly, durable, effective, and absolutely impossible to mass produce. Projects like these do great in trials but never make it past the budget committee. You chuckle to yourself as you pick up and holster a gun that's probably worth more than your house.

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Examine Science Stuff


The desks are covered in a confusion of weird bits and pieces: wires, nuts and bolts, vacuum tubes, transistors, punch cards, and other techno-garbage. But, among the gizmos and gadgets, you see a few items that you recognize.

1
You see a number of e-cells for your hook-shot. Most of them are out of juice, but a few still hold a charge. You also see microfusion cells, which must be the ammo for your Destructoluxe. You grab 10 of each.
2
A security key fob. This is a security device that can broadcast a key-code to nearby doors and electronic locks. Unfortunately for you, it has run out of batteries. It needs an e-cell and a security code to function.
3
A load of holodisks all labeled 'Top Secret'. As a member of the USAF Science Squadron, you DO have top secret clearance, but it's generally frowned upon to just pocket sensitive data. On the other hand, you notice one of these holodisks has your name on it.

[] A. Take all the data. There's a mystery to be solved here, after all.
[] B. Just take the one with your name on it.
[] C. Other.

>>36605246
>[] A. Take all the data. There's a mystery to be solved here, after all.
Who gives a shit about clearance, everyone's dead! Date is data!

>>36605246
>[] A. Take all the data. There's a mystery to be solved here, after all.
Shit, maybe they shouldn't have just left them out in the open if they didn't want others to start being nosy.

>>36605246

>[] A. Take all the data. There's a mystery to be solved here, after all.

>C. Test out the gun on something.

>>36605296
>wasting a bullet/shot in the post-apocalypse

>>36605318
>Making sure your old as fuck weapon actually works

>>36605246
>[] A. Take all the data. There's a mystery to be solved here, after all.
>[] C. Read the one with your name on it right now.

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>>36605262
>>36605293
>>36605388
>>36605296
You grab the holotapes and the fob. Normally this would be a bad idea, but you feel this is a special situation. What with everyone being dead and all.

Test

Having fired many prototype weapons and flown in experimental aircraft, you know better than to trust your safety in an untested machine. You level the atomic raygun at pile of rubble and squeeze the trigger. Instantly a blinding beam of energy leaps out of the barrel, leaving a harsh magenta after-image floating across your retinas. Your eyes have grown so accustomed to the darkness that the bright flash of light is almost painful. You blink a few times and see that the rubble has been blown to pieces, sending red-hot rock fragments and globs of molten metal spattering across the wall. Yowie. This little baby really packs a wallop.

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You've got one hell of a little pistol and some evidence of what happened to you, hopefully. You'll need to find a working data terminal or something to read this stuff. But what are you going to next, Stormy? You're far from feeling tip-top at the moment. The cryonic freezing has left you weak and dehydrated. You'd kill for an aspirin.

[] A. Look at the cryo units. Keep playing detective.
[] B. Look for an exit.
[] C. Other.

>>36605541

A. Look at the cryo units. Keep playing detective.

>>36605541
>[] A. Look at the cryo units. Keep playing detective.
Well it's not like we're going to drop dead, we can afford some time to look around before leaving, perhaps forever!

>>36605541
Shouldn't there be some instructions on the walls or something in case someone wakes up? Or a medical room nearby, at least. Look for signs of those while inspecting the cryo units a bit more.

>>36605541
[] A. Look at the cryo units. Keep playing detective.
[] B. Look for an exit.

>>36605584
This

>>36605318
Worried you might run out of ammo, you glance at your Destructoluxe and see that the Fusion pack is at about 83%. That means about six shots a pack. You're at 59 out of 60 shots. That's a fair amount, but you might want to conserve some juice. Who knows when you'll find more of this high tech space ammo.

>>36605541
[*] A. Look at the cryo units. Keep playing detective.

If only to double check and make sure we don't leave some poor SOB in the lurch. We need to get out of here and get some food and water in our system pronto though.

>>36605584
Not a bad idea.

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>>36605575
>>36605581
>>36605587
>>36605612
Examining the pods.

You decide to examine the pods now, since you have no real desire to come back to this creepy old crypt in the future, but the pods themselves are a mystery to you. Over the years you've handled your fair share of advanced aircraft, sure, but you're no scientist. Your job is to make sure the planes work, not understand how they work. You do know there are cryonics that can freeze a person pretty well, but you've never heard of anything that can successfully UNfreeze a person. Although you wouldn't call this place very successful since you're the only survivor out of two dozen. It seems you're the only one not rotten or freeze dried.

God, it suddenly dawns on you that if you were cryonicaly frozen, there's really no telling how long you've been down here. By the looks of this dump it must have been weeks, even months! This underground complex has taken severe damage and the casualties have already rotted away to bones and filth. You've got to get out of this place, Stormy. Your fiancee is probably worried sick. You've got to let her know that you're all right.

As you scan the pods, looking at all the gobbledy gook on the labels, two names catch your attention: Barney Fields and Walter Wolkowsi.

cont.

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The labels read as follows:

Ltcdr. Barney Fields.
Pilot, Cert. for Space 01/18/2051
USAF S#: N.6495ac90b
ENC.IdForF#:13-AMW-4451

Cdr. Walter Wolkowsi
Pilot, Cert. for Space 11/09/2046
USAF S#: N.7833cd3aa
ENC.IdForF#:13-MGQ-1743


You know these guys. Barney serves with you in the Science Squadron, and Walter was one of your instructors from flight school. The strange thing is that Walter died in a plane crash over the mid-Atlantic back in '46. At his funeral you served as one of the pallbearers, not that there was anything inside coffin since his body was lost at sea. Or so you thought. Because right now you're looking at his dogtags on a pile of moldy old bones. Is this really his corpse? What the heck happened to him? and to you? What's goin' on here? Man does your head ever hurt.

cont.

>>36605584
By the looks of this room, and the way the pods are stacked up, it's more of a storage facility than a medical one. You don't think you were supposed to wake up here, if they meant for you to wake up at all. It's more like your cryopod ran out of batteries and it ran some kind of emergency de-thawing routine.

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Looking for an exit.

The room you're in is quite large, about as big as an auditorium or movie theater. Two opposite walls are lined with pods and a third wall contains the work area for the technicians where you found your new stuff. The floors, walls, and ceiling are tiled with metallic plates, but due to some accident many of them have fallen away from the ceiling to reveal what looks like natural stone. This place must be underground, below the bedrock or carved into a mountainside.

The final wall of the room has several smaller doors, which have been ruined by cave ins, and a set of large bay doors marked with the strange E symbol. The doors have been left open just enough for a person to squeeze through, and they lead out into a wide tunnel most likely meant for loading-vehicles or robots. The tunnel extends indefinitely into complete darkness. The air is very dry and completely still, suggesting that this complex is sealed off from the surface and from any natural caverns.

Are you ready to get out of here, Stormy?

[] A. Forge ahead into the unknown.
[] B. One more thing...
[] C. Other

>>36605796
>>36605936
I don't know much about military habits/protocol, should we take their dog tags with us?
Also maybe look for a bottle head somewhere.

>>36605936
> A. Forge ahead into the unknown.

>>36605936
>marked with the strange E symbol
Has this been mentioned before?
Is it an Epsylon symbol? Maybe just a number 3?

>>36605936
>[] A. Forge ahead into the unknown.
Let's get going already.

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>>36606011
You've never seen it before, but it looks similar to the 13 stars on the American Flag. Maybe it's for some special wing of the USAF.

>>36606086
Oh, this is original colony size US? Alternate history setting?

>>36606124
Or wait, is this what it's like in FO too? I didn't know that.

>>36606124
Set in the Fallout Universe, It's pulpy 50's scifi mixed with post-apocalyptic weirdness. Since this quest is in far off exotic Hawai'i, it's pretty much going to be an original setting, so don't worry if you're not familiar with the games.

Here, have some music...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3aeQ3DmKU7A

>>36606231
Yeah, I was just not familiar with the details of the setting, I only played FO3 and some of FO:NV, you see.
Thought the timeline branched off in the 1900s or somewhere around there, so I assumed it had the 50 states already, since the whole NCR thing, as I think California wasn't one of the early states.
But okay then, so forget about the FO setting specifics and focus instead on the atmosphere, got it.

>>36606124
I'm by no means an expert of the lore, but I'm fairly certain the american states sorta...collapsed? and instead formed into 13 "Commonwealths" that make of the same area as the US normally would. Mostly.

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>>36606026
>>36605998
You head out into the dark labyrinth, illuminating the grimy tunnels with a penlight from your survivor's belt. Even though you just woke up from a very very long nap, you feel exhausted. You're lightheaded and unfocused, probably from a lack of calories. You could sure go for a hot meal right about now. There's nothing to eat in this tomb except dust and some very appetizing jerky. You need to find an exit and some grub.

You wander about for some time. Everywhere there are signs of catastrophe: fallen rafters, collapsed tunnels, fried machinery, and the dried up corpses of military personnel. This is definitely a US military complex. Judging by the set up of this place, it seems to be one of the military's underground nuclear launch sites. It's a vast complex, probably housing a dozen ICBMS and with enough living space for a sizable staff to stay for month-long shifts. However, you see no signs of life right now, human or otherwise.

cont.

>>36606363
I hope we're looting all these corpses we come across.

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>>36606363
“This place has more twists than a pretzel factory,” you mutter to yourself as you wander the winding tunnels. This bank of glowing vending machines looks familiar. Have you walked past them before? Damn. It's quite likely that you're walking in circles. The best thing would be to head upwards or to go down to the bottom level. You're not sure which is likelier to have an exit.

[] A. Head down. Entries are often on the bottom floor.
[] B. Head up. You are underground after all.
[] C. Other.

>>36606391
[] C. Other.
Wait, those are vending machines. Check for food, dumbass.

>>36606391
>[] C. Other.
Do the Vending Machines have anything edible inside them? If so, try to smash that stuff to get some.

>>36606391
>Vending machines
Check those fuckers for food yo.
Maybe try and take them apart for spare parts if we know what to do with those things, or like spare change at least.
Could probably fashion some kind of shiv from all the debris around, now that I think about it.
Did we not check any of the soldier corpses, or did none of them have knives?

>>36606455
>>36606423
>>36606421
Eh, sure, these

>>36606455
>>36606388
Looting corpses? That's so ghoulish. But you are in a desperate situation, Stormy, and sometimes you have to get a little dirty. From here on you can start checking bodies. (I'll add stuff to your item list.)
>>36606421
>>36606423
>>36606455
>>36606519
These are nuka-cola vending machines, still running thanks to their independent nuclear power systems. You always thought that was s dumb gimmick, but as a few refreshingly cold bottles fall out of the dispenser, you're happy that you weren't the only thing put on ice.

Time for a Nuka break. It's not exactly a balanced breakfast, but it'll do in a pinch. You chug down a few bottles of sugar water as fast as you can. It tastes a little different than you remember. Did they change the formula again, or have your tastebuds gone funny from a long night in a Frigidaire? Either way you're suitably refreshed. The cola re-hydrates you a bit and the caffeine helps to quiet the thunder in your skull. You take a few extra bottles in case you get thirsty latter.

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forgot pic

>>36606586
Those type of ads were always god tier, I miss them.

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As you let out few uncomfortable burps from chugging so much soda, a sudden noise grabs your attention. It's not particularly loud, but in the absolute silence of this crypt even this dull buzzing reverberates for great distances through the twisting maze-like tunnels. At the end of a corridor you see a beam of pale red light sweeping the halls. The light doesn't come from a human survivor, but from a security eyebot out on patrol. Whatever destroyed this site, it couldn't take out all the independent defense systems. This is a top secret launch site with state of the art security, and anybody not on the guest list is sure to be escorted from the premises in a body bag.

The eyebot whizzes down the hallway toward you fast as lightning and does a few quick orbits around your person. This little robot's giving you the stinkeye alright; it's scanning you with a front-mounted radar dish. Its tiny speaker emits bursts of radio static: “Hssssshhhhht Bzzzjhhk ftsoooo vzzzt.”

What do you do, Stormy?

[] A. Use your new gun.
[] B. Cheese it!
[] C. Talk to it.
[] D. Other.

>>36606665

[] C. Talk to it.

We were stored here, we oughta be "on the guest list"

>>36606665
>[] C. Talk to it.
State our name and other, uh, military related stuff to it. Hopefully we were tagged to not be killed and that it can still recognize us.

>>36606665
Do we have identification documents on us? Among the things we picked up? Preferably our own, since we have access to top secret stuff, right?

>>36606665
> Talk to it.

>>36606665
>[] C. Talk to it.
but be prepared for hostility, the robot could be malfunctioned

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You picked up a security fob. >>36605246 (Which is basically a fancified version of one of those radio car-unlocker doohickeys people keep on their key chains.) However, it doesn't work without a code.

>>36606830
replying to
>>36606720

>>36606830
In that case have pistol at hand but attempt to talk to it, just because its speakers are fucked up doesn't mean it's mic is as well.

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>>36606761
>>36606743
>>36606719
>>36606710
Talk to robot.

“Hey there, little fella. Uh...Say, nice facility ya got here. Don't mind me. I'm supposed to be here. Really. My name is Lt. Commander Harvey Weathers from the USAF Science Squadron. Ring any bells? No? My Service number is 788fa735h7 if that helps. Ha ha. Look I just... uh... I got separated from the tour, so I'll be on my way then,” you say. The lights on the eyebot flicker for a moment and then go red. It emits an incredibly unpleasant “bzzzzzzzzzzzzzt”, like you just got the wrong answer on a quiz show.

Of course this is gonna work, Stormy. You can't sweet talk a robot. What were you thinking? Your brain must not be completely thawed out. But then again, you're always getting yourself into situations like this, even on your good days. This is pretty typical in fact.

cont.

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>>36607097
You hear a distant rumble from deep within the complex. Something besides you has just woken up. Something big. That little eyebot isn't much of a threat, it has no weapons or anything, so it sounds like it radioed a few friends for help. Big burly friends.

A pair of huge mechanical men, battered and rusted but still distressingly mobile, stomp up the bunker's hallways. Their heavy legs send out seismic shudders which knock dust free from the ceiling and walls. Loose pipes and panels clatter to the floor. Instead of arms these robots have coiling tentacles ending in fearsome clamps. They move toward you with ruthless determination, their red eyes glowing with mechanical determination.

As frightening as these two juggernauts are, you are relieved to see they have no working ranged weapons. If they were armed with guns, you'd already have been shredded by machine gun fire or burnt to a crisp. These are more like heavy-worker bots called in to do a job they're not perfectly suited for, but still capable of.

[] A. Outrun them. They seem slow.
[] B. Use your blaster to blast them.
[] C. Yell at the eyebot.
[] D. Other.

>>36607217
>[] A. Outrun them. They seem slow.

>>36607217
>[] A. Outrun them. They seem slow.

>>36607217
[] A. Outrun them. They seem slow.

>>36607217
>[] A. Outrun them. They seem slow.
>[] C. Yell at the eyebot.

>>36607217
>[] A. Outrun them. They seem slow.
Also shoot the eyerobot, we don't want it following us. we should leave something to remember we've been here so we wont go in circles again.

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>>36607244
>>36607251
>>36607264
>>36607271
>>36607280
You know when to pick your fights, Stormy, and getting into a brawling match with two mechanical titans is not a good bet. A tactical retreat is in order. You take off down the tunnel. Keeping ahead of the bruiser bots isn't too hard, but that damn eyebot is flying circles around you. “Quit tailing me, you traitor,” you shout at it. “This is all your fault, you know.” It lets out a crackle of static, “Grssht pft bzzzt.” And you say “Just following orders my foot.”
(If you want to shoot this guy, roll 1d100. I'll take the best of three rolls)

After navigating through a long series of winding tunnels and large chambers, you come to what appears to be a missile silo. The cylindrical chamber extends a dozen levels vertically, and along the walls metal stairs lead upward to a large circular hatch. The silo does not, however, contain a nuclear missile. Either this facility never had missiles installed, or more frighteningly, they have already been launched. Carbonized walls and thick layers of sooty dust suggest the latter.

cont.

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>>36607458
A story above you is the hatch, several levels down is the floor of the silo, and on the other side of the silo is a second set of metal stairs. That hatch must lead to the surface, but it's locked up tight. It's sealed with a steel disc, probably a foot thick, bisected into two semi circles and held in place by hydraulic arms. None of the machinery that operated these doors is still powered, so there's no easy way to open them. The robots are hot on your tail, but you're not sure what will happen when those ten-ton lifter bots try to step onto these rusty metal stairs, but you have a bad feeling about it. What are you gonna do?

[] A. Go up to that hatch.
[] B. Go down to the launch platform.
[] C. Try to hook shot across the gap, Skywalker style.
[] D. Use your gun on something.
[] E. Other.

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>36607458
>>36607581

>Fire the grappling hook at him to get him to stop moving, then shoot him with the gun.
>C
I absolutely LOVE fallout and I really like the quest so far. Also FUCK YEAH FALLOUT QUEST!

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>36607581

Shoot the little bastard.

>C. Try to hook shot across the gap, Skywalker style

Might as well get some use out of the thing.

Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>36607458
[] B. Go down to the launch platform.

>>36607581
[] C. Try to hook shot across the gap, Skywalker style.

>>36607599
Thanks. Once you get out in the world there will be a lot more interactions with people and factions. Right now, it's sort of the actiony introduction.

>>36607635
I look forward to it!

>>36607581
Can't we use the hookshot to descend down the side of these stairs fast, and pull ourselves up once we go across the bottom?

Rolled 27 (1d100)

A: Go up the hatch

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>>36607599
>>36607616
>>36607617
>rolled 70
You take two shots at the little bastard (3/6). White-hot super-heated plasma flies out of your Destructoluxe at the eye, but it ducks and weaves in an annoyingly erratic manner. It's like trying to hit a butterfly with a rubber band. Its radio lets out a low, “vzzzt vzzzt vzzzt krrrr gshtt bzzzz.” You don't speak robot, but you're pretty sure this electronic-imp is laughing at you. God damn it. You may try to shoot it again in a minute, but for right now you've got bigger fish to fry. It's busting your balls, but without any weapons it's not an immediate threat.

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I'm regular Stormy.

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>>36607616
>>36607627
swing
>>36607617
down
>>36607739
up

Down? Up? Across? Hmm, maybe you should... The sound of screeching metal fills the tunnel as the two robots charge up the tunnel. Hell with it!, We're across then...

cont.

>>36607761
Wait, does this eyebot have an actual personality? Huh that's interesting. I wonder if we can recruit it and make it haul our crap.

>>36607966
Use SCIENCE to combine it with our gun.

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You fire your hookshot up at the steel surface of the hatch above you, and the electromagnet secures itself firmly in place. Then you kick off into empty space. Swinging out across the gap, you press the activator button on the electric-winch, which lifts you slightly higher and up to the landing on the other side. You're a little weak, but you've done similar rappelling maneuvers so many times it's almost like second nature. On the other side, you pause for a second to release the hookshot and look back at your pursuers. Sure enough, the mechanical men are too heavy for the rickety old staircase. It creaks and groans under their heavy feet. You laugh to yourself a little, getting ready for what comes next.

But then the robots shoot their tentacle arms up to the ceiling. Oh geez. And they clamp their grips around the hydraulic arms and lift themselves up. Oh, that's not good, Stormy. These jerks are hand-walking after you, like a couple of elementary school kids on the monkey bars. The hatch shakes as the pair of metal monsters grab hold, and dust falls from above. These things are so large, they're even putting stress on the huge missile hatch.

What now?
[] A. Shoot the robots while they're sitting ducks.
[] B. Shoot the robots' handholds.
[] C. Shoot the hatch.
[] D. Keep running.
[] E. Other.

>>36608174
[*] C. Shoot the hatch.

Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>36608174
[] C. Shoot the hatch.

>>36608174
>A. Shoot the robots while they're sitting ducks.

>>36608174
>[] A. Shoot the robots while they're sitting ducks.
Hatch would open up too many possibilities.
Also, if we ever come back, we want the loot to stay here.

>>36608174
[] B. Shoot the robots' handholds.

>>36608174
C

>>36608174
A

>>36608206
>>36608213
>>36608498
hatch
>>36608538
>>36608365
>>36608320
robots
Next vote decides the tie.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYvONFHI2xw

>>36608761
Hatcj

>>36608390
Hey anon, you feel like changing your vote?

>>36608761
Hatch

>>36608826
got it.

>>36608761
We're getting all the goofy encounters and cameos right? Having to waste a trait for Wild Wasteland was the most retarded shit.

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Unlike that damn eyebot, these worker bots are about as slow and clunky as you can get. You carefully aim your atomic-raygun at their heads, or what you think are their heads, and let loose with a couple of Zeus's thunderbolts (1/6). The beams pierce their metal carapaces and liquify the electronic components within, sending puffs of acrid smoke spilling out of their punctured craniums. The dead robots give a last whirring complaint before they go limp an loosen their grips on the ceiling. They plummet to the bottom of the missile silo and hit the launchpad with a resounding crash, busting apart on impact. Problem solved.

You wink at the eyebot, “How'd ya like them onions?”
It squawks at you with more incomprehensible static, “frggg ghfffk mroonnnzk.”
“Yeah, well you're next on the menu, sweetheart” you say.

It seems that you're at the top level of the facility, and from the looks of things, you doubt there are any exits near the hatches. Where would you like to go now?

[] A. Plunge into the tunnels.
[] B. Go down and examine the dead bots.
[] C. Do something to that hatch.
[] E. Other.

>>36608984
A. Plunge into the tunnels.

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>>36608944
I only know how to write goofy stuff. It's pretty much guaranteed to be weird.

>>36608984
>A. Plunge into the tunnels.

>>36608984
>[] A. Plunge into the tunnels.

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>36608984
>find rebar
>Hit eyebot with rebar

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>>36609028
>>36609057
>>36609111

The eyebot follows you as you head deeper into the complex. For now, you let it live because its search lights are helping you see in the dark. For now. You waggle your pistol at it. “Look, robot, I still got a shot left in this thing, and it's got your name on it,” you say. Along the way, you check the corpses of the dead soldiers to see if they have anything interesting. You don't find any food, but you do find a few things. (a pocket knife, some money, a stimpack, and a 10mm pistol with a few clips.) You take the gun because, after shooting your destructoluxe a few times, you're beginning to think it might be overkill in most situations. It seems to be some kind of compact anti-vehicle or anti-robot device rather than a self defense weapon.

After what seems like an hour of searching, you come to what must be the main entrance of the missile complex. You see long rows of lockers labeled with names, and several emergency supply chests, filled with bulky rad-suits and equipment for the handling of radioactive materials. Beyond that is a large security checkpoint with a sliding gate, metal detectors, and a pair of robotic turrets which are thankfully inactive. “Don't even think about turning those on,” you yell at the eyebot, although from the looks of the turrets they are completely inoperable. The door itself is a metal hatch with a central wheel used to unbolt the locks, similar to what you might see in a ship's bulkhead.

[] A. Search the supplies. Maybe there's some aspirin in there.
[] B. Open the door.
[] C. Other.

I forgot to mention that you're wearing an advanced flightsuit. This thing is built to withstand heat, radiation, and airborne toxins. It provides some armor, for flak protection, and also be fitted with an o2 tank for high altitude flights. You also have the glass 'fishbowl helmet' that was supposed to be in your cryo-pod but we'll say you brought with you since I spaced out that part.

>>36609386

>A. Search the supplies.

>Take a radsuit.

>>36609386
[] A. Search the supplies. Maybe there's some aspirin in there.

>>36609386
>[] A. Search the supplies. Maybe there's some aspirin in there.

>>36609386
>see about taking the turrets apart for a super auto gun

I can't wait to make an obligatory planet of the apes reference when we get back to the surface

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>>36609576
You rummage through the lockers and chests. At this point you've gone into full survival mode, and have no more qualms about looting stuff from this dump. Among the stuff you find:
1
The medical supply chests look like they've already been raided. But you find a First aid kit, 2 stim packs, and an unopened bottle of Rad-X with 100 pills. You take all that and store it in your survival belt.
2
A big rack of o2 tanks, most of which have rusted or burst open. Several still have oxygen though.
3
There are also many radiation suits and radioactive survival gear, which is standard in a facility that contains nuclear materials like this one. You grab a Geiger counter and insert an e-cell.

Scanning the room that there is an above average amount of radiation here, but not quit to harmful levels. Worryingly, the Geiger counter picks up more rads as you point it closer to the exit. That can't be good.

>>36609576
You don't know how to put stuff together, but you know how to take it apart. Inside these turrets, as you recall from your debriefings, are some pretty snazzy components. You grab some laser lenses, power-flutuators, and other parts. Maybe these will come in handy. You also remove the turret's RobCo "BigSmile" facial-recognition chip, which is what allows robots like this to ID people.

>>36609804
If the rads are heavy out there anyway we can grab that spare oxygen tanks and maybe scrap up some radiation suits to place over our armor for a little extra protection?

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There's nothing left here, so you prepare to head out into the real world. You open the front entrance by yanking on the rusty old wheel until it gives, and it's like getting hit in the face with a wet towel. The air that floods in is steamy and foul. You begin to choke and gasp as an ochre colored fog rolls in at your feet. The Geiger counter at your belt begins to crackle wildly, revealing the presence of invisible but deadly radiation. Your flight suit will protect you against low doses of radiation, but not if you breathe in the fallout.

Still coughing, you grab one of the emergency oxygen tanks, sling it on your back, and then put on your glass fishbowl helmet to keep out these toxic fumes. God, this is a smell you are not going to forget anytime soon. It takes a minute to attach all the hoses and nozzles, but after that you should be safe from this gas. Well, you'll be safe as long as your air-supply holds out, which might only be a few hours.

cont.

>>36609965
You can't wear two suits, so you throw one of the rad suits on over your back like a cape, and pull on the bulky gloves and boots over your own. You're not sure if it will help, but it can;t hurt. Anyway, you can always ditch any of this stuff later.

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You head out of the exit and into the damp murky atmosphere. The exit doesn't lead outside but into another underground area. A stream of brackish water flows through the middle of a wide tunnel. It's not a natural cavern, but you might think it was due to the dripping stalactites and the overgrowth of weird fungi and molds. The path is clogged with lumpy uneven masses of rusted metal. On closer inspection you realize that these are the frames of wrecked automobiles corroded into weird and dismal sculptures. They are stacked in a way that suggests there was a huge pile up and traffic jam. Unlike the cryo pods, these wrecks contain no remnants of human beings. The bodies have either rotted away or were picked clean by insects and vermin. Here and there you see glowing pools of radioactive sludge leaked out these vehicles atomic engines. Luminescent fungi sprout from the walls and ceiling, giving off just enough light to show you the contours of this long highway stretching out before you.

It's like you've come to some other world. One totally unfamiliar to the Earth you left behind.

cont.

>>36610102
That eyebot still with us?

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The eyebot follows you to the exit, beeps, then spins through the choking air of the underground highway.
“What? I left the bunker? Isn't that enough for you?” Maybe it's programmed to follow intruders until they are properly dealt with. Or maybe it's imprinted on you like a baby duck. You throw a rock at it, but it deftly twists out of the way. It's fast, you'll give it that.
The eyebot hisses static, “Fssssshhhhht.”
“You aren't much of a conversationalist,” you growl.

Then the eyebot gives an urgent series of sharp beeps and swings its spotlight down the tunnel. From that direction you hear distant and strange animal noises. It's an indistinct sound, somewhere between a low moaning and a furious gulping, but unmistakably the call of a living creature and the response of its pack mates. You'd judge there are may be a dozen voices echoing in the tunnel behind you.

"You didn't call them did you?" you ask the bot. "Didn't think so. Sounds too organic to be the crowd you run with."

[] Head toward the noises
[] Go the other way. Nothing that makes noise like that can be good.
[] Wait and see if they draw closer. Prepare to fight.
[] Other.

>>36610257
[] Go the other way. Nothing that makes noise like that can be good.

>>36610257
[] Wait and see if they draw closer. Prepare to fight.

>>36610257
>[] Other.
Walk far away as possible, but still be able to observe the entrance

>>36610257
>[] Go the other way. Nothing that makes noise like that can be good.

No thanks I'll just be on my way

>>36610257
>>36610404
This.

>>36610257
>CROUCH DOWN AND ENTER STEALTH MODE

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>>36610440
>>36610404
>>36610316
You move back, but keep the door to the launch complex in sight. Getting ready for trouble, you eject the ammo from your ray gun and put in a fresh microfusion pack, just in case you need multiple shots (6/6). You also give your 10mm a once over. It looks okay, but without giving it thorough cleaning it might jam on you. Then you take cover behind a lump of rusty steel and wait to see what kind of traffic still comes down this tunnel.

The noises grow louder and closer. And a minute later a pack of gangrel humanoids comes loping over the wreckage. When they spot the hovering robot, they come to a stop in the spotlight. These people have green skin, hunched postures, and strangely elongated limbs. Their faces are concealed behind large wooden tiki-masks carved in an asymmetrical style, but these masks do more to enhance their bizarre appearance than to hide it. Besides the masks, they also carry long bamboo spears tipped with wicked looking spikes. The savage troglodytes slowly approach you in formation, their spears held out in front of them ready to thrust forward. The ominous gulping increases.

You look to the eyebot, “Well this is the weirdest thing I've seen today. And it's been a pretty weird day.”
It seems to concur, “psssssk grrrnnnf.”

[] Blast them all.
[] Try to scare them off with a warning shot
[] Make peaceful gestures.
[] Hightail it outta there.
[] Other.

>>36610699
Blue board!

>>36610730
That's culture, man. It's like art.

>>36610699
> Make peaceful gestures.
"All commies please take one step forward!"

>>36610699

Try to scare them off with a warning shot

>>36610762
It's a giant wooden wang! get your sick fetish quest out of here! totally kidding by the way.

>>36610699
>[] Hightail it outta there.

>>36610837
>no need to waste ammo on salvages
Well no, but this isn't a salvage mission, and those savages should probably be put down.

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>>36610764
gesture
>>36610837
>>36610779
warning
>>36610837
flee

Hesitant to kill these creatures that look human, or somewhat human, you fire your Destructoluxe into one of the rusted automobiles between you and the advancing troglodytes. The energy beam strikes the car, burning away the oxidized metal and sending a shower of sparks and smoke cascading upward like a miniature volcano. The fungal growth is likewise vaporized into an unwholesome steam. Surprised by the sudden explosion, the green men turn tail and flee over the wreckage, retreating to where ever they came from. These savages are out in search of easy prey, and aren't willing to tangle with a Science Soldier with bolts of atomic fire at his finger tips.

There's no way to know how long you've scared them off. Will they give you a wide berth, or will they return with reinforcements for a sneak attack? You just don't know. But you do know that waiting isn't gonna get you anywhere, so you head down the underground highway.

cont.

(I'm assuming you're going in the opposite direction from the trogs.)

>>36610257
Go the other way, but do it freaking silently...feral creatures generally believe "Fair fight=We outnumber the HELL out of you" and we ain't got enough bullets.

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You make your way down the tunnel for what seems like ages, climbing through the horrific wreckage of a dead highway. But faintly ahead, you can see the silhouette of sunlight. The opening looks choked with debris and obscured by hanging vines and moss.

You exit the tunnel into the rays of the sun, but not the healthy Hawaiian sunshine you're used to. The sunlight filters through a greenish purplish smog which hangs in the sky and covers the landscape, making it difficult to see long distances. You're at the base of a steep mountain covered with weird jungle plants, the likes of which you've never seen. There are creeping vines, grotesque flowers blooming in vibrant colors, moss, lichen, and mushrooms as tall as trees. It's like you've stepped out onto an alien planet. But despite the unfamiliar plants, you recognize where you are.

This is the John Burns Freeway, and you're coming out of the Tetsuo Harano Tunnels. You weren't locked up in some remote facility at all; you're on the windward side of O'ahu, just a few miles from home. It looks like the concrete entrances to the tunnel have been partially destroyed. They've crumbled around the edges, but the main structural elements are more or less still intact. But the H3 viaducts have completely collapsed, leaving nothing but the support pillars poking up from the ground, marking the freeway's former path.

This is your home, but what the hell happened to it?

cont.

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>>36611234
This what the IRL tunnel looks like.

I've crammed my image folder so full of crap I can't find anything.

Been reading on and off all day
Thanks op!

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You're going to have to face it, Stormy. The busted up launch facility with no missiles, the radiation, the wrecked highway, and now this desolate landscape: There's only one explanation for it all. There's been a nuclear attack on O'ahu. While you were sleeping the Reds finally blasted us, and it looks like they did a thorough job. But the thing you don't get is why there are all these weird plants growing here. After a nuclear attack, this place should look more like the surface of Mars than a jungle. It should be a radioactive desert with no life at all. But these plants don't seem to be sick, it's more like they're thriving off the radiation. Could they have evolved? No that's impossible. It takes thousands of years for something like that to happen. And you couldn't have been asleep that long, right? How long have you been frozen anyway?

At the moment, you're too frazzled to think and too hungry to feel any real emotions. Maybe once the facts catch up to you, you'll feel horror and grief, but right now all you can do is focus on survival. The sun is setting, and the long shadow of the Koolau mountains begins to stretch over you.

cont.

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You stop for a moment to review your situation and consider your options. You need food and water. Although you could hunt for food, the local flora and fauna don't look too appealing; they could be toxic, radioactive, or both. You also have a limited supply of oxygen. Once that runs out, you'll have to breathe the outside air and hope that your flight suit's filters catch most of the fallout. It looks pretty grim.

O'ahu has many high priority military targets, the foremost being Pearl Harbor. So it could be that the rest of the islands didn't take quite the same pounding this one did. They might be safe, but even if they aren't, the air at sea will be fresh. You might be able to survive off fish while you Kon-Tiki your way to a virgin land. It's risky, but not as risky as lollygagging at Ground Zero. No matter how you do it, you've gotta get off this island!

What's your next step?

[] - Try to find equipment/personnel at a nearby military base.
[] - Head to the Marine Core Base Hawaii.
[] - Head to the Bellows Airbase. It's further away.
[] - Avoid military targets. Too much radiation.
[] - Head to the shore and look for a civilian boat.
[] - Head to your house in Kaneohe to see what's left.
[] - other

It dropped my indents
[] - Try to find equipment/personnel at a nearby military base.
[] - Head to the Marine Core Base Hawaii.
[] - Head to the Bellows Airbase. It's further away.
[] - Avoid military targets. Too much radiation.
[] - Head to the shore and look for a civilian boat.
[] - Head to your house in Kaneohe to see what's left.
[] - other

>>36611548
>Head to your house in Kaneohe to see what's left.

>Head to Bellows Airbase

>>36611548
>[] - Head to your house in Kaneohe to see what's left.

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Well shit.
Here's a map. You can actually see where you are if you look at that middle highway. It's right where it forks and disappears beneath the mountain.

The MCBH is on that Peninsula/island to the north. Kaneohe is by the bay to the north. Bellows is that group of airstrips to the right.

>>36611548
>[] - Head to your house in Kaneohe to see what's left.
We have to know

>>36611548
>[] - Head to your house in Kaneohe to see what's left.

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>>36611603
>>36611605
>>36611671
>>36611737
You take off across the jungle, following the ivy covered pillars that mark the H3 towards the ruins of Kanehoa. You would say the island has returned to Nature if this place didn't seem so unnatural. The stunted jungle teems with life, not birds or cats or familiar animals, but with insects and other creepy crawlies that have grown to incredible sizes. You see pill bugs as large as bowling balls and slithering centipedes as large as pythons. They don't seem hostile to humans, and you sure don't mess with them, so you keep your distance from the new natives, always watching where you step.

It's hard to say how much of the city was destroyed by nuclear impacts and how much of it has been eaten away by time, weather, and the encroaching forests. There is very little trace that you are even in the ruins of Kaneohe, except the occasional foundation of a house or building sticking up out the undergrowth, or the hint of a road that still cuts a peculiarly straight path through the tangled jungle. You manage to find your house, not by following street signs or familiar sights, but by finding the rocky hills your neighborhood was built on and determining from there which rubble pile must belong to you. It's not in a very good state.

cont.

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>>36612072
Poking through the chunks of concrete and gravel, you find a few pieces of glass or bits of ceramic plates which prove this was once your house, but you don't find the thing you're looking for. “Hey, robot. Why don't you do something useful for a change,” you shout at your annoying shadow. “You've got a radar dish, right? See if you can detect a metal box in this trash heap. It's about a foot square and maybe eight inches deep or so.” The eyebot flits around the empty lot while you continue to turn over stones and poke through the rocky soil. After a minute or two, the robot emits a sharp burst of static and focuses its light on a patch of ground, “krsssht bzzzt beeeez.” Sure enough, the little guy found your lock box...

cont.

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You pull a crusty old lock box from the earth and pry open its corroded lid. This box contained many of your personal documents and papers, but those have all turned to ash and dust. But a few other item have survived. You find your dad's old KABAR knife he passed on to you when you entered the service. You kept it in this lock box for its sentimental value, but today it has a very practical use, so you stash it in your boot hilt. You also find a small wooden box which you know you shouldn't open and you really don't want to open. Despite your wishes, you open it anyway. What can you say, Stormy, you're an impulsive guy. Inside are two rings, a delicate gold band and wider one that fits on your left ring finger. You snap it shut just as involuntarily as you opened it.

You had finally set a date. Just two months away. After a very long engagement, due mostly due to your work and frequent assignments to the mainland, Carroll had become pretty ticked off at her role as a permanent fiancee. Other girls had met young fellows, gotten engaged, and tied the knot all while she was dangling in limbo. So she gave you a direct ultimatum. “It's now or never, Harvey,” she said. “You won the jackpot finding a girl as great as me, but don't push your luck.” So you agreed to be married, no matter what, and set a date for just two months away. It turned out that you missed her deadline. Now all you've got are a pair of rings and a heap of regret.

cont.

>>36612161
Shit man, feels bad.

>32 unique posters
Nice. This quest is getting some deserved attention.

>>36612404
make that 33, i just got done catching up and i'm enjoying it

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As you looked through the ruins of your old house, night descended on the Pacific. You're sure the stars are twinkling somewhere above you, but their light isn't bright enough to pierce the thick layers of smog and mist that swirl around the devastated island of Oahu. The animals have become more active. Maybe this is the time of day when they hunt.

Out in Kāneʻohe Bay you see the glow of burning fires and plumes of dirty black smoke rising upward. You head closer to investigate and you see the dim orange light is coming from Coconut Island, and besides that brighter electric spotlights sweep the surface of the water. Is this a survivors camp? Or a remnant of civilaztion? Cocoanut island is a small place—only a few square blocks—that once housed marine biology research labs. Now it seems to be a slapdash fortress encircled by a rough wooden wall reinforced in places with sheet metal and chunks of rusty old cars. The top of the wall is covered with barbed wire and tiki torches, and punctuated by a series of rickety lookout towers. The fort's front gate leads out to a small dock where a half dozen large rafts are moored.

At its nearest point, the island is only few blocks away from the rest of Oahu, but that's still quite a swim. You're not sure if the water is safe; there's a barrier reef that could be dangerous to swim near at night, and God only knows what else might be lurking in these radioactive waters.

[] A. Try to assemble an impromptu raft.
[] B. Signal the natives with your ray gun.
[] C. Swim it anyway.
[] D. Other.

>>36612497
[] D. Other.
Do you think we could use our penlight or the bot's floodlight to signal SOS in Morse Code to them?

>>36612497
>[] D. Other.
walk/scout near the cost, there must be a boat somewhere or we might just find something else interesting. The fort ain't moving no where (lone survivor for now?)

>>36612497
Try to find a dock or something

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Musical interlude.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfgNwopir7A

>>36612497
How much o2 we have?

After hunting some grub we'll need a pack for storage and we should stock up on more delicious oxygen

>>36612497
[] A. Try to assemble an impromptu raft.

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>>36612597
Yes, but you would have to get close, within the range of their search lights and possibly guns if they have them.
>>36612784
Your valve reads 5%. It was at 6% when you got it, so you have maybe 20 hours of air left. You think. You hope.

>>36612598
I'll back this I don't want no treble so let's avoid the camp for now and stay out of sight

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>>36613021
>>36612717
>>36612598
look around
>>36612914
raft

You decide that discretion is the better part of staying alive. It's been a pretty rough day, and you don't know if the inhabitants of Coconut island are peaceful, friendly, or man-eating savages. You also don't know how anyone can live in a place with such polluted atmosphere. Those green-skinned troglodytes managed it, but could a settlement of real humans survive here?

Walking along the beach eastward, you head generally in the direction of the the Marine Base where you can see a dull green glow lighting up the smog. And you don't think it's from buildings or the airfields. The Marine base is connected to the main island by only a few raised causeways that flank a wide shallow lagoon which makes sort of a natural moat for the base. It was previously filled with scummy seawater and coral reefs, but now it contains some of faintly luminescent goop.

You don't want to get too close, for fear of radiation, but you do see a dock near the lagoon and what you hope to be a couple of rafts. Cautiously you begin to creep forward.

cont.

On my way to sleep, but thank you OP for doing fallout quest. Love it so far

Fuck yes op.
Pls
Cont.

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You move in for a closer look and discover that the radioactive lagoon doesn't bother you half so much as its inhabitants. Giant crab monsters, each one the size a car, dip in and out of the glowing solution! This must be a breeding ground and hatchery for the monsters, because you can see clusters of eggs just below the surface. Newly hatched crabs (only about the size of large dogs) scurry out of the spawning pools, up over the causeways, and then out into the sea, where they will hunt food and slowly grow to mammoth size.

You can't see far beyond the pool, but it looks as if the nuclear bombardment flattened the former military installation. There are no traces of the former buildings and airstrips, just a hellish landscape pockmarked by huge craters. If anything survived, it would have to be deep underground like the missile complex you were imprisoned in. And there's no good way to check for such a place; getting any closer to the base would be suicidal. Even if the crabs were friendly to people, which is doubtful, you'd get a lethal dose of radiation within a few minutes. You'd rather not die bald and vomiting your guts up. Just being near this place makes you nervous. You swallow a handful of Rad-X just to be certain you're not absorbing too many grays. (95/100)

At the dock you find two rafts weighed down by large bundles of some sheets of material. As you get nearer, you can see that the bundles are actually crab shells wrapped up with hemp rope. Somebody has been collecting the molted off shells of these radioactive hell monsters. Not a job you would sign up for. The docks are surrounded by the smaller crabs. As you suspected, early night seems to be the feeding hour on this island. You're glad you didn't go swimming.

What do you do, Stormy?

[] A. Run for the raft.
[] B. Tiptoe very peacefully toward the rafts.
[] C. Try to scare them off with your gun/raygun.
[] D. Hunt a few crabs.
[] E. Other

>>36613599
>[] B. Tiptoe very peacefully toward the rafts.

>>36613599
>[] E. Other
send/order/ask the eyebot to distract the crabs while you
[] B. Tiptoe very peacefully toward the rafts.

>>36613599
>>36613702
This.

>>36613599
>[] B. Tiptoe very peacefully toward the rafts.

MUST. RESIST. THE URGE. TO DO GLORIOUS BATTLE. WITH GIANT. ENEMY. CRAAAABBBSSSS.

>>36613599
>[] D. Hunt a few crabs.
let's try to find a medium sized one, bait it away from the group and shoot it.
might as well make the best out of these rad-X we swallowed, right?

>>36613599
>[] E. Other
Find the biggest, strongest crab and kill it. Then we'll be the strongest crab, and have an army of crab monsters to ride into battle against the island.

>>36613551
>>36613579
Thanks, guys. I was worried too much action and not enough talking might make it a little boring. Hopefully, there will be more of a mix next time.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdpcv8XGcnc

>>36613762
Nice song choices mate.

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Stealthily, or not, you step along the sandy beach among the baby crabs, trying to avoid the larger specimens. When you get too close, they snip at your ankles with their fearsome pincers. But, probably because you are environmentally sealed within your flight suit, they don't perceive you as food. Maybe if you had been injured, and they could smell blood, it might have started a feeding frenzy. You dance around them, jumping to the side, waiting for larger crabs to pass, and occasionally back stepping a few paces, but over all you keep heading to the rafts. Once you're on the dock's creaking old timbers, you feel a little safer from the mutant crabs.

There are a number of large tiki-style statues adorning the tops of the piers. Many of these statues are holding shallow bowls in their outstretched hands, and inside the bowls are trinkets like carved shells, decorated wooden sticks, dolls, or bead necklaces. That's very odd. In one bowl you see something even more wild. There are a handful of a dozen pearls! You pick them up and eyeball them for the characteristic sheen. These look like the real the article all right.

You are now by the two rafts and can easily cut the ropes mooring them in place. They seem pretty flimsy and weathered, but they are clearly still in use rather than some ancient artifacts. They should be seaworthy, at least for a short trip. You wouldn't want to Kon-tiki back to the mainland in this thing.

What would you like to do?
[] A. Row stealthily towards the island.
[] B. Row out of the bay into the open water.
[] C. Examine the bundles of crab shells.
[] E. Other.

>>36614362
>[] C. Examine the bundles of crab shells.

>>36614362
>C. Examine the bundles of crab shells

>>36614362
>[] A. Row stealthily towards the island.

>>36614362
[] C. Examine the bundles of crab shells.

>inb4 More Enemy Crabs

Also would like to stick up on supplies food and maybe if we get lucky water but mostly food and o2

>>36614362
>[] C. Examine the bundles of crab shells.
be wary of eggs and the like, i guess?

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>>36614400
>>36614436
>>36614558
>>36614647
These bundles are disgusting; you don't know why anyone would want this stuff. They still have slime covering them and some pieces, maybe from dead crabs, have rotting strips of meat and tendon still attached to the inside. Each piece is about an inch to two inches thick and weighs about as much as a similar amount of cement or ceramic. There are an assortment of plates off the body, limbs, head, and so on, but they seem to all be from the larger adult crabs. There are no broken pieces that would indicate the beasts were shot or killed in a violent way, so you suspect these are just leftovers from the radioactive breeding ground rather than hunted or trapped game. How the hell would you hunt those monsters anyway? They're like walking tanks.

>>36614691
>What would you like to do?
>[] A. Row stealthily towards the island.
>[] B. Row out of the bay into the open water.
>[] E. Other.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAqDp12d1Mk

>>36614691
>A

>>36614731
>[] A. Row stealthily towards the island.
it's that or starving to death, so...

>>36614731
>>[] A. Row stealthily towards the island.

>>36614731
>[] A. Row stealthily towards the island.

>>36604798
>Less than 7 Int
Anon, you disappoint me.

>>36614876
Luck 10 builds have to take a hit somewhere. Usually I hit Charisma, because that's easily offset.

>>36615106
In fallout I like to have high int and Luck.

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>>36614772
>>36614782
>>36614826
>>36614837
Stealth.

You row the raft towards Coconut island, trying to navigate through the shallow waters, and to stick to the darkness between the lights. The guard towers have electric search lights on the water, but they seem fairly still, and you don't see any figures moving in the towers or along the tops of the walls. They're either unmanned through the night, or checked only at certain intervals, which makes sense seeing as how this is area is hardly a busy place. You bring your raft to the shore, just below the junk walls, and get it ready to push off in case of an emergency.

From further down the island,You hear a ruckus as one of the giant crabs gets a little rambunctious and decides to storm the walls. It rips at the barricade for a minute until the local inhabitants take notice. A few people inside direct the spotlight beams on the crab, and it snips it claws angrily at them before retreating back to the night water. The monsters must not like bright lights, and now you see that the mounted lights are less for searching and more of a deterrent against the local wildlife.

You're thankful for the distraction, and during the scuffle another interesting thing happens. Your security-bot turned biggest fan emits a burst of static, but this time with words you can understand mixed in with noise.

“Grrrrrrrnk pssssh... Fudge Face is... Bzzzt zooeewp krrrk... North wall... Frrrnt ppep bzzzzt. Just crabs on... Bzzzz.” It seems this flying radio is picking up a real transmission.

“Spying on the enemy? That's great, robot, but keep your volume down, would ya?”

cont.

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How do you want to move in?
[] A. Up and over. Climb the wall.
[] B. Up and over. get in one of those towers.
[] C. Around to the front gate.
[] D. Around to that crab hole. Which is still lit up, though.
[] E. Other.

>>36615328
>[] C. Around to the front gate.
DIPLOMANCER IS BEST!

>>36615328
>[] B. Up and over. get in one of those towers.

Secure the boat first.

>>36615328

>C. Around to the front gate.

Remember to archive this when done!

>>36615328
E. bust through the wall.

File: Kalen_Chock_Concept_Art_I(...).png (1.57 MB, 1800x1079)

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I'm going to step out for about 15 or 20 minutes for food. I'll check your votes when I get back. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnUJp9KwbH8

>>36615764
Did we pocket the bottle caps from the nuka-cola we drank?

>>36616295
I doubt we had any way of knowing they were currency. Heck, we don't even know if they're currency on the islands. Currency could be the pearls we saw, or iron bars, or propane cans, or anything really.

>>36616441
Posters of pin-up girls

>>36616477
The United States Navy is the richest faction in the Islands.

>>36604798
no fuck you, stupid runs are only fun in fallout 2 and 1. take like 3 points out of luck, 1 out of agil, 1 out of end and put it all into int for 8 and you have a good set up.

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>>36615357
>>36615431
gate
>>36615385
tower
>>36615660
wall


Should you break in or try knocking? You can't decide. Man, you've run into such nasty stuff today, you feel like this roller-coaster ride couldn't possibly be over yet. But to hell with it; you decide to head around the front gate. It's dangerous but danger is your job. And sneaking in might make a bad impression, and if they're the antsy types, it might even get you shot.

The front gate is made of sheet-metal bolted to a wooden frame. It has a lot more armor along the bottom than the top, which is pierced here and there by gaps and holes. Looking at the road and the size of the gate, you'd guess there are no motor vehicles here, just carts or wheelbarrows.
Looking in a rusty hole, you see two strange figures sitting on some steel barrels and smoking cigarettes. They wear tattered old clothes and beneath those they have white bandages covering their hands and faces. They look like a couple of mummies, or some escapees from the burn ward. Maybe they got fried in the nuclear blasts. They don't have on any breathing gear or filter masks you that you can see. Reassuringly, they also don't have any weapons other than some large sticks, probably meant for polling a canoe in shallow waters, or for jabbing mutant crabs that get too close.

You peek through the gap and say, “Hey, are you fellas open for business?” trying to sound friendly. But you have your hand resting on the butt of your ray gun, ready for any sign of trouble.

One of the burn-victims looks up and shuffles to the gate. He croaks, “Who's out there at this time of night?” He looks out the gap.

“Name is Weathers,” you say. “I was wondering if I could come in and borrow a cup of sugar.”

“What the heck?” he gasps. “Uh. Um. wow. A stranger at the gate. I don't know what to do. OK. Wait, here mister, I gotta ask my boss,” he trots off and shouts, “Fudge Face. Come Quick! There's a spaceman at the front gate!”

>>36616735
Oh god, they're Ghouls aren't they/

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>>36616735
The boss, Fudge Face, comes to the door. He's slightly better dressed than the other two mummies; he has a leather coat and beat up rifle slung over his back. He doesn't seem to be bandaged at all, but his face is mostly hidden behind a pair of goggles, a leather skull cap, and a flight scarf.

“What the hell are you cats smoking?” Fudge Face says. His voice is rough and gravely, like that of a lifelong chain smoker. “I told you that stuff would melt your brains.” He comes to the gate and looks out you. “Well, I'll be. There really is a spaceman. And he's got a robot too.” Fudge face gestures to the other two, and they begin pulling the door open to let you inside.

“Welcome, to Ghost Island. Mi Casa, su casa,” he says . “I don't know what you're doing out in the Murk, normie, but you must have some kind of deathwish walking around on Oahu at night. Don't you know it's the crabs' feeding time?” Now that you can see Fudge Face up close, you see that the skin on his hands and face is decayed. He looks like a walking corpse.

“So what are you doing here?”

How will you handle this, Stormy.

[] Be honest about your situation. Why not? This guy seems OK.
[] Be vague about details. They might not believe your crazy story.
[] Be evasive and lie. They might be untrustworthy.
[] Ask questions about the fort.
[] Ask about other stuff.
[] Other.

>>36617006
>[] Be honest about your situation. Why not? This guy seems OK.

>>36617006
>[] Be honest about your situation. Why not? This guy seems OK.
"Call me Stormy"

>>36617006
>[] Be vague about details. They might not believe your crazy story.

>>36617006
>[] Be honest about your situation. Why not? This guy seems OK.
Also apologize for possibly waking him up in the middle of the night.

>>36617006
[] Be evasive and lie. They might be untrustworthy.

>>36617006

>Be honest about your situation. Why not? This guy seems OK.

>>36617006
>[] Be honest about your situation. Why not? This guy seems OK

>>36617063
vague
>>36617104
lie
>>36617139
>>36617125
>>36617068
>>36617055
>>36617049
Honesty. You've heard it's the best policy.
Writin'.

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“It seems I'm a little lost,” you admit to the living corpse.
“A little?”
You reach out to shake with Fudge Face's hand. “Hey there. My names, Stormy. Sorry if I came at a bad time.”
“Nah, I only sleep like an hour a day. It's one of the few benefits to bein' a leper. Or it would be if this place wasn't so damn boring.”
“Leper?” you say with a thrill of panic. “You're not um.. contagious are you?”
“What this?” Fudge Face, pointing to his ugly mug. “This is all from radiation. It's not catching, but if you stay on Oahu long enough, you might up looking one of us. So why are you here, anyway?”

“You might find this hard to believe, but I've been asleep for awhile and I just woke up in military bunker to the south west of here.”
“How long is a while?”
“Since before the war,” you say hesitantly.
“That's over five years ago. But if you were asleep how did you... Oh, wait, you meant the Great War! Like the nuclear war?”
“Sounds crazy right?”
“I'll say it sounds crazy. That's the craziest jazz I've ever heard,” Fudge Face exclaims. Then he drops the bomb on you, “My friend, the Great War happened over two hundred years ago! It's 2277 A.D.”
“Ugh,” you moan. “I was really hoping you weren't going to say something like that.”
“Come on in, you better sit down,” Fudge Face offers. “I can introduce you to Ol'man Morty. He knows about Old World stuff.”

cont.

You follow your guide into the the interior of the fort where you find a wide courtyard flanked by a collection of humble one-story buildings. The main buildings are constructed with adobe and sheet metal, but the rest of the huts are made in a traditional Hawaiian style with wooden walls and grass roofs. More lepers occupy these homes, curious enough to look out from windows and doors, but not brave enough to come and greet a new visitor. You can sense their fear. To them a stranger from the wasteland is a sure sign of trouble to come, an omen of further misfortunes for an already cursed village.

“Your story's pretty hard to believe, Stormy.”
“Tell me about it. I'm living it and I still don't believe it myself. To me, just yesterday this was a beautiful beach filled with surfers and tourists.”
“Really? Here?”
“Yes indeed.”
“Wow. Just like in Ol'man's post cards,” Fudge Face says.

As you walk through the courtyard, you see more piles of chitinous shell ripped off the huge mutant crabs. The lepers must have some special process for preparing the chitin, because you can see various stages of production: fresh pieces are scraped of meat, then its boiled in sludge, cured, dried on racks, and wrapped up into bundles. This must be the colony's local industry.

cont.

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“We got a lot of sad cases here, so don't mind 'em for being shy of strangers. Most of the lepers here are former slaves tossed aside because they're no good anymore. Too broken to do useful work, but too irradiated to die. All that human wreckage washes up here on Ghost Island,” Fudge Face says. “It's bad, but it could be worse. At least the Murk keeps the outlaw tribes from harassing us. And those crabs will murderize any pirates desperate enough to attack us.”

Fudge leads you to the home of the Chief of the Lepers, Ol'man Morty. His is not the largest of the dwelling on Ghost Island, but it is the most bedecked with tikis, old hubcaps, glass bottles, rubber tires, broken surfboards, and other junk. It also has a large chimney made out of volcanic rocks cemented into a rough tube. The hut appears to be the oldest structure on the island, like this was a once a lone hermitage, and the rest of the village slowly sprouted around it.

You and your guide enter through the beaded curtain that hangs over the front entrance, and Fudge Face calls out, “Hey, Ol'man, we got a visitor.” A large fireplace casts light over shelves of tools and knick knacks, a collection of worthless old items salvaged from the wastelands. There are glass jars filled with marbles, rusty license plates, strings of plastic doll heads, cracked plates, empty soda bottles, and other junk. You can hear a warbling jazz record playing on an antique phonograph.

Ol'man Morty is a small leper wearing a ratty old Panama hat. You really can't tell a lepers age, since they are all wrapped up in bandages, but he is very frail and hunched over. He walks slowly using a cane decorated with a plastic pineapple.

“Aloha, friend,” Ol'man Morty rasps. “Come. Sit down and rest. I am Mortimer, the founder of this village.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Stormy.”

cont.

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Olman waves his cane at Fudge Face, “Fudge. Go to the storehouse and fetch us something suitable for an outsider,” he mutters. Then he looks to you, “My apologies. We can't offer you much, traveler, for our food and drink is contaminated by the Murk. But we do have sealed rations from the big island which should be safe for you eat.”

You sit down across from the wizened old man, and he tells you the tale of his people.

“Welcome to my little island. I'm not the leader of Ghosttown, not exactly, but I am the one who guided the others to this place.”

“Years ago, I was a galley slave, forced to row ships for a cruel tribe of raiders. But after many decades behind the oar, I finally became too crippled to keep time with the drums. My once might arms became as you see them now, withered and weak. So my masters generously granted me my freedom by placing me in a leaky raft and shoving me out to sea. I should have died then. I had no where to go, nothing to eat, no way to defend myself. But lord kanaloa took pity on me, for somehow my boat drifted to Oahu. I built myself a shack on this island which was like a paradise of solitude. You see, the deadly murk can't harm us lepers, so for me it served as a wall against raiders and outlaws. It was a safe place for an old man to settle down in peace. I dwelt alone for many yeats, but eventually O'ahu proved to be a little too quiet for me, and I desired better company than the crabs. So, I contacted my former master, General Montgomery, and made a deal with the Lanai Slavers: I would trade the cast-off shells of 'oihu for any of their worthless lepers that no one else would buy. I would make a sanctuary for the broken lepers like me who had no home or family. Now the village has grown this large, and many ex-slaves rest there wearied bodies here, but it is still secluded from the rest of the islands and from the troubles of the outside world. It is not a heaven, but neither is it a hell.”
cont.

“It is very rare for us to have a guest. Especially a normal human,” he says “Every few years we treasure hunters come to this island in search of Old World artifacts. Or those who have come seeking the fabled Vault V. But they always leave disappointed, for Oahu has little of value.” He points to his shelves of knick knacks, “As you can see from my collection, there is little left of the Old World but these odd curios.”

Fudge Face returns with refreshments. He has glass bottles of soda and kawa, and a few cubes of packaged rations.
“Please, eat. ”
“Thank you. You're a life saver,” you say. “I'm so hungry I could eat a horse.”
“A what?” asks Ol'man Morty. Fudge Face chuckles a little.

You rip into the food. The first package contains some slimy meat stuff wrapped up in a banana leaf and the second is some kind of fruit preserve. The last package at least contains a recognizable food, Hawaiian poi, taro root mashed into a gray paste. It's difficult for you to eat, as you have to keep opening and closing your helmet between bites. The two lepers join you, but they only eat and drink a small amount because their withered bodies don't require many nutrients. The two lepers allow you to eat and regain your strength before pestering you with any questions.

cont.

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You tell Ol'man Morty the same story you told Fudge. He tries to be polite, but looks concerned. Maybe you are a crazy person.

“I got a way to test you,” Fudge Face says. “Riddle me this: what's an elephant?”
“What?”
“An el-a-phant,” he repeats.
“Um. It's a big animal with a long trunk for a nose.”
“Kangaroo?”
“It's an animal that hops on its two back legs. It keeps it's young in a pouch.”
“Those were easy,” he says “Everybody knows those.” Fudge Face takes out a very old picture book for children entitled: Animals Around the World. He continues his interrogation while flipping through the pages.
“Now we'll get serious. Armadillo?”
“It's small animal covered in armored scales.”
“Porcupine.”
“An animal covered in sharp quills.”
“Panda?”
“Its a big fluffy animal with black and white fur.”
“Cazador?”
“Never heard of it.”
“That was trick question,” he smiles.
“Lemur?”
“Like a tiny monkey with a scary face. They live on the island of Madagascar.”
“Well, I'm convinced,” Fudge Face says as he snaps his reference book closed. “You're the first person I've ever met that knows what a lemur is. This guys legit, Morty.”
“I guess all those animals are extinct now, huh?” you say.
“Beats me. But they sure don't live around here.”

cont.

File: together1.png (651 KB, 1024x567)

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You all relax with some refreshing colas. They ask you some minor things about the Old World, and give you a chance to ask about the current situation.

Tell me about...
[] A. Lepers.
[] B. More about Ghost Island.
[] C. Crab shell business.
[] D. Oahu
[] E. The other islands.
[] F. The mainland.
[] G. Other stuff you'd like to know about.

These guys aren't really in the loop for everything, being on a secluded island, but they do have a general knowledge of the outside world.

>>36618108
>[] A. Lepers.
>[] F. The mainland.

>>36618108
Talk about
>[] the other islands

>>36618108
>[] E. The other islands.
>[] F. The mainland.

>>36618108
>[] E. The other islands.
We can't stay here so we need to know this.
>[] F. The mainland.
If you don't mind us picking multiple.

>>36618108
B and C

>>36618108
I could go for the full info dump honestly.

>>36618108
A
B
D
E
F

Start with Lepers since we do t know but try to not be impolite. Then slavery since that is against our american values. General what happened after that.

We'll knock out the Islands and Mainland first.

Chatting is nice and all, but first things first, you've gotta know if there is a safe place to go.

“So tell me, is the radiation this bad everywhere? What about the other islands? the Mainland?” you ask.

Olman Morty assures you, “No no. Oahu is a special case. For some reason it has remained irradiated for these past two centuries. The deadly murk rises off of the Harbor of Pearls where there was once some Old World fortress, but now it is the home of the mutants,” He goes on, “The other islands were blasted by the bombs, but have since recovered and are now teeming with life, Praise Maxwell. There are many normal humans alive, although half of them are still savage outlaws who practice slavery along with other things. The civilized people are centered in Hilo on the Big Island. That's the capital of the Hawai'an Republic. It would be the first place to go if you want to learn about the past and the present. But I warn you, people in your ancient times may have been good and honorable, but the modern people of Hilo are often scheming and evil despite their pleasant appearances. As for the mainland, you had better ask Fudge, as he is a Californian by birth.”

cont.

>>36618539
Fudge steps in, “The Mainland IS a radioactive hell hole here and there, yes, but it's mostly just a big desert filled with assholes. I come from the west coast, where the assholes founded the New Californian Republic. They're not much, but at least they have indoor plumbing. Out there, they call us ghouls. We have it a little better and a little worse than the lepers in Hawaii. At least we can walk around without bandages. That's the reason I go au naturale. I hate wrapping myself up like a mummy,” he curses. “But anyway, the New Californian Republic is the biggest trading partner and ally of Hawai'i. They helped the locals get rid of the Enclave. And a lot of soldiers and workers who came here to fight, like me, decided to stay in Hawaii since the weather's so nice.” He waves his hand toward the window and the roiling clouds of murk outside.

“If you really wanted to, you could catch a ride to Cali. But Hawaii is the land of opportunity. I came here to get rich,” he says gleefully, then pauses. “But that hasn't worked out for me so far. One day though. It will happen.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhJhyZ7lZyg

>>36618236
“How are you going to get rich?” you ask.

“These crab shells, man. They're worth a mint,” Fudge exclaims. “Getting them off a living crab is no easy task, boy howdy, but out here we can just pick up their molted off shells. It's still dangerous, but in the daytime the crabs mostly stay underwater. Better yet, it's a job only us ghouls-- I mean us lepers can do, seeing as how the radiation on the breeding grounds would kill any normal person. If Ghost Island picked up production and built a factory for curing those shells, this tribe could be rich and successful. People might want to come here.”

Ol'man Morty huffs, “Now, Fudge we've talked about this. It's too dangerous. If we become wealthy, it will just attract more raiders. We have no way of defending ourselves except by being so worthless no one would want to harm us. Ghost Island is a place of rest, not an enterprise.”

Fudge looks to you, “As you can see, there are some cultural differences between the former slaves and a Yankee go-getter like myself.”

"We don't want trouble and we don't need money. We trade those shells to the slavers for their worn out lepers who would be killed otherwise. It's to save lives, not make a profit."

>>36610257
I fell asleep last night and catching up right now, am at this post, but I just want to mention that we really should have gone down to loot the robot corpses we shot down for goodies.

>>36618727
Still around OP?

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Well, the server just crapped itself for like two hours, and I have to sleep. So I think I'll leave make one more post to leave it on a cliff hanger.
Before /qtg/ went belly up, they told me I had to get a twitter, so here it is: [email protected]

I'll announce things on there. I might do another thread tomorrow or Monday, but it won't be an all day affair like this one. I really just wanted to get Stormy through some harrowing adventures, impress on him the strangeness of this strange land, and then get him out into the wider world so you can start making some bigger choices about what you wanna do.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JqPxMyDu_eU

>>36618727
Ol'man Morty looks to Fudge Face. “Why don't you take our guest to the empty hut and let him rest. I have to get on the radio and call for help. We need a passing merchant to come by and pick up Mr. Stormy as soon as possible.” Morty says to you: “I would let you stay as long you like, of course, for all are welcome at Ghost Island. But the murk will not allow it. You'll get sick eventually, even sealed in that suit.”

You thank the old village elder and excuse yourself. Fudge takes you to an empty dwelling, empty except for a hammock and a few clay pots. You settle in, hoping to get some sleep before morning when you'll either have to sail out on one of Ghost Island's rickety crab-rafts, or get picked up by one of Morty's passing sailor friends. You just close your eyes and are about to fall asleep when that damn robot starts in with the radio static.

“Bzzzzt,” it buzzes in your ear.
“Geez, give it a rest, would ya?”

cont.

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>>36618814
The eye-bot is getting better reception here, because it only emits a bit of static along with some recognizable voices:
“Bzzzt... Yes. He's a healthy man in his early thirties I'd say. White. Over six feet tall. Good teeth. He also has some fancy Old World equipment on him: a radiation suit and a pistol, and probably more besides,” Ol'man Morty says.
“ Bzzzt... Have you disarmed him?” says a stranger. His voice isn't raspy enough to be a leper.
“No. That's not for us to do,” Morty objects. “You warriors can fight him if you want. He won't suspect an ambush.”
“Okay. We'll come to check out the goods. What's your asking price, Morty?”
“We want to exchange him for six more lepers. Krrrrsht...a bargain. He's worth that even without the equipment.”
“Vnnnnnt... Maybe. If he's in as good a shape as you claim, then I'm sure the Auction Master will to agree to that. We'll drop your people off by the end of the month along with the rest of your order.”
“Excellent.”
“We're sending Punchy Malone and a group of novice slavers to pick him up. They're close to your area.”
“Punchy? Don't send that guy. He's a total fuck up.”
“Sorry, Morty, but there's a reason we send our fuck ups into the murk. No offense.”
“Alright alright. We'll wait for him at the dock. Tell them to be prepared. He looks strong.”
“fuuushm...We can handle it. Don't you worry about that. Later, Morty.”

It seems your kindly host has made some pretty unpleasant arrangements for you. Tune in next time.

>>36618839
Thanks for running. Too bad about the maintenance break.

>>36618839
>“Punchy? Don't send that guy. He's a total fuck up.”
I like this punchy already

>>36618839
This is what we get for trying to be polite. I can get the whole "Trade for ex-slaves" thing, but not at the expense of others who haven't been slaves.

What do you guys thing? Sneak out, ambush the ambushers, or burn it down?

>>36604922
FYI, that plane looks like a Togekiss.