6 comments · 129 views
I was going to post sooner, but I spent a good chunk of my free time being antsy and following the Brexit news. Which is kind of stupid given that I'm all the way here in the Philippines and I'll likely never set foot in the UK. I guess it's just a compelling story to follow.
Here we go, Chapter 6. Let's see what this story's got.
I wasn’t going to discard a single bullet or bit of loot that might contribute to our ten-thousand-cap goal, though, and with P-21’s injured leg and Glory’s lack of pockets, I was left slogging through knee-deep mud while they trotted ahead.
I'm convinced that anyone writing a Fallout story should play in Survival mode, so they can get a feel of what being in a harsh environment is actually like and have to work with stricter weight management. They don't have to beat it. Just get a feel of it.
Then I saw a unicorn inside the trailer who had to be the pony in charge. Charisma and charm seemed to drip from his ivory hide and cobalt mane, and he gave the impression of illuminating the dim interior of the rusty trailer. His smile made my knees feel like I’d just glanced up at the sky. “Greetings. I am Prince Splendid.” You bet you are! “I’m glad somepony responded to my requests in a prompt manner. Would you care for some refreshment?”
Horseshit. This guy doesn't look like a shotgun. I doubt he'd get Blackjack hot and bothered.
Prince Splendid was a gracious host, but there was way too much awkwardness. I had to admit, I was impressed by what I saw; his ponies were better armed and equipped than most. He had fresh food; that was a miracle in and of itself. It was simply the fact that the Society seemed to believe it had some inherent right to rule. Even if he got this super cure for his father, who would it help besides ponies who already had so much?
Yeah, fuck his dying father, and fuck professionalism. He's a snob, and they can all die.
I’m here to talk. If I can work out a deal where nopony gets killed, even better,” I said truthfully. “My name’s Blackjack.” Incomprehension. I sighed and added, “Security?” Comprehension dawned and they started to relax a little. Urgh… as much as I hated to admit it, that little title of DJ Pon3’s was making my life easier.
Oh shit, you're the Security Mare? Well, come right in, armed stranger who came from the direction of the camp of someone trying to get rid of me. No need to prove your identity, I trust you implicitly.
Damn, my mane was itching like crazy.
A little Head and Shoulders should help with that. Or not walking into ominous situations that require foreshadowing.
In the center of the fountain rose the bronze statue of a pegasus pony, one hoof around the shoulders of a young unicorn filly, the other stroking the mane of an earth pony colt. On her shoulder perched an elegant bird. At her hooves, a small rabbit seemed to glare rather insolently out with his forelegs crossed. A plaque at the base of the statue read, ‘We Must Do Better’. Looking at the pegasus’s gentle smile, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the statue wept for all the decay around her.
You know, I'm always wary of politicians who like to pose with children. Blackjack waxing poetic here. Weeping for the decay around her indeed.
Fluttershy. She was a ministry mare, and a friend of Rainbow Dash. She founded the Ministry of Peace and dedicated herself to helping the ponies of Equestria throughout the war.” Morning Glory looked wistful as well as she looked up at her. “As the war progressed it took its toll on her. Some claim she aided the enemy, despite orders to the contrary, and gave zebras medical supplies and other care. At the end... well… I was taught she went mad with grief and wandered out into the Wasteland to die. She simply couldn’t live with having failed Equestria.”
I stared at the bronze statue a moment longer. “If she failed, I can’t believe it was for lack of trying,” I said softly as we headed towards the stairs. Morning Glory, however, examined the remaining elevator curiously. “Something wrong?”
Aww, she was so immaculate that she aided allies and enemies alike. And then she presumably died of grief because she wasn't messianic enough for Equestria. What a martyr. Someone build a temple to her. And Blackjack just knows that Fluttershy gave it her all. Based on the appearance of a statue. Because beautiful people are good. Hold on while I vomit.
What the hay is going on here?” I muttered softly. I suddenly found myself longing for Pony Joe’s. “Give me bodies… or something shooting at me… or something. Not freaky pictures and words written in dark paint.” I glanced back and saw both of them staring at me. “What?”
“She doesn’t know?” Glory whimpered to P-21.
“Apparently not,” P-21 said as he looked behind us.
Glory swallowed. “That isn’t paint, Blackjack.” She pointed at the black-red letters on the wall.
Makes sense. Blackjack has never seen blood on concrete before.
Then we heard a soft ‘thump, thump, thump, thump’ in the hallway ahead of us. A bright red ball bounced down the dimly lit hall towards the three of us. No… not a ball. It was too irregular for that. It rolled to a stop at my feet, leaving bright wet splotches on the floor.
I don't think severed heads bounce. Probably not even Pinkie Pie's. I suspect that if you hurled a severed head to the ground, it will just go splat and maybe roll slightly.
We encountered a box in the hall, a large metal cube with small pink hearts painted on each side. I couldn’t explain why, but I had the strangest fondness for the box.
Too many somehows in this story. "Somehow" you had to open that box, just as you "somehow" knew how wonderful Fluttershy was. "Somehow" can be useful if used sparingly. Sometimes the character doesn't know how something happened, but this is best utilized if the somehow is later explained. Maybe this box had some kind of mind compulsion weaved into it that made you want to fuck around with it. Otherwise, repeated use of this is symptomatic of copping out. "Somehow" is replaced with "because the plot said so".
When the note hit ‘pop’, the metal top snapped open, and out flew a pony. No… half a pony. The skinned front half bounced back and forth on a heavy metal spring, front hooves crossed as if hugging itself. Bony wings flopped around behind it.
This corpse should stink. I've noticed that none of the dead bodies in this chapter has any smell.
Sick fu-- wait... not sick enough. “Run!” I yelled as I grabbed P-21 with my magic and scooped Glory up as I bolted down the hall. A few seconds later the bombs hidden inside the box exploded. The three of us landed in a heap.
This should have more to it. They're indoors. Explosions should be deafening. Where's the bits of broken box and pulverized concrete? How about those chunks of dead pegasus raining upon them?
A means of preserving injured or sick ponies. “This is it,” I said in excitement. “If Splendid can bring his father here, they can keep him alive till the Collegiate makes a cure. Heee! I love it when a plan comes together!”
"Either I’m incompetent or I’m cursed. Either way, you’re better off without me,”
Could be cursed with incompetence.
"You put one shell in! You take another one out!” I shouted as I blasted another bunny camera. “You load another shell in and you blast it all about! You do the pony pokey and take the fuckers out. That’s what it’s all about!”
There are people who find Dark ponyfics contemptible. I disagree, obviously, but lines like this make me sympathize just a bit.
I noticed a sound file loaded on the terminal. Why not? I hit the playback as I prepared my clips. At least it would give me something to do.
Because you're evading enemies and the sound might draw them to you? No? Not a problem? Okay.
I stood and looked at some of the pictures hanging askew on the wall. Fluttershy looking rather terrified on a stage in a weird dress; goddesses, she looked adorable!
Hold on, I have to vomit again.
Bad pony!” they cried as I used S.A.T.S. and dumb luck to chew my way through them. I paused only long enough to smash in their heads with the baton, just to make sure they didn’t start moving again.
Thrilling fight scene.
Then the door opened and all the talking stopped. I’d seen her cast in bronze; now I was seeing her in flesh. The yellow pegasus may have been smaller and less dramatic than her statuary counterpart, but as I watched I couldn’t shake the grace and beauty and aura of kindness that seemed to radiate off her. She greeted everypony by name, shook hooves, and talked with clear sincerity and interest. Just touching her hoof made me feel special, and it wasn’t even me!
You’ve tested them on animals and adults. These are children, Fluttershy. Three months being trapped in your own body might be tough for an adult who understands what’s going on, but what about a child? They want to run and play and talk. They can’t simply be locked up for weeks on end. Fluttershy, it’s cruel!”
Then Fluttershy spoke in a soft and gentle voice, “Are you saying I should leave children to die when I have a way to keep them safe and alive until they can be healed?” At that instant I knew that Cheerilee was screwed.
Oh fuck the children. Whenever there's drama needed just throw in some dead or dying children. As if Fluttershy isn't emotionally manipulative by herself.
Somepony, I suspected Redheart, had cut the connection between the repair bots and the facility maneframe. They’d sat here alone, incapable of any interaction at all. Unable to sleep. They couldn’t even kill themselves. Then the Enclave arrived and connected the maneframe again. The children had resumed their games, honed after decades of being trapped within themselves.
Reminds me a bit of Old World Blues. It's an interesting take and the whole chapter's horror themes is refreshing. It just needs more atmosphere. And less Fluttershy.
Right now, she was a more welcome sight than Splendid stepping out of a hot shower.
Or a shotgun coming out of a shower. Just think about it. Long, glistening, ported barrel with a perky muzzle brake. A stout, shiny drum magazine full of shells just ready to blow, and a marksman's full stock, sturdy and thick. You know you like that better.
A hot, wet slipperiness moved out of me
The explosion was barely equivalent to a grenade, but it did the job. The cable snapped once more as I was showered with shrapnel.
None of which apparently cut her.
I wanted to heal your leg,” I muttered softly.
“Why? You didn’t break it.”
Because you should only want to ease suffering that you caused.
I sighed as I climbed off the bed, looking at the burned out talisman and feeling as if it’d been wasted on me. “I thought if I healed your leg I’d stop reminding you of 99. Then maybe we could be friends.”
He arched a brow and smiled, shaking his head. “Ever think it’s not about you, Blackjack?” I blinked stupidly at him and he sighed softly. “Guess not. Come on. We’ve got one last thing to deal with.” He started back out the door. “And it’s going to suck. It’s going to suck a lot.”
This guy is the real hero of this story. That is laser-precise, razor-sharp, bullshit-slaying right there.
And then they kill some deranged kids. Boo hoo. To be fair, I do really like the lullaby part of the scene.
It was a figurine of Fluttershy. Her soulful blue eyes looked up at me as she hugged a disgruntled white rabbit beneath her hooves. So gentle. So forgiving. ‘Be Kind’ was written on the base. Her head was cocked just so, as if she knew I desperately needed to talk to her.
At least soulful was used right.
New Perk: Foal at Heart - This perk greatly improves your interactions with children.
Well, they do substitute foal for fool so it kind of fits.
Yeah, the change of atmosphere's kind of nice. I like the idea of their enemies, certainly a step up from raiders. There was more tension for this chapter, not just another monty haul. I think I'm done here though.
11 comments · 111 views
Right, two to go.
Step one… stay alive. Step two… I dunno. Step three… profit!”
Step one, overused gag in an overused crossover. Step two...???? Step three...literary genyuss!
I actually like the initial description of Hoofington. It's got some details going on and a grand sense of scale.
We have to pay to get in?” P-21 said skeptically.
This is where the adverb fails. Give us some body language here like a snort or a raised eyebrow. Don't just say skeptically.
How these ponies are able to confirm that she's the actual Security Mare isn't shown very well. Did they just buy into her outfit? Pretty gullible sentries here.
Overhead rested ‘Gun’, a huge cannon mounted in a ceiling turret.
That may be intimidating, but it's also stupid to place it inside the settlement with the purpose of shooting individual ponies that are already past the gate. You'll just blow up your own base and kill your own troops. A huge cannon should be by the perimeter where it can take out approaching vehicles or large masses of enemy troops.
Some were obviously raiders,
Why? Were they wearing the standard raider armor? Did they have slabs of meat hanging off them to remind you they were raiders?
I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” she said as she looked at me with a cool little smile. “Anypony would have given them a wide berth while they tried to extort my caravans. You were the one that shut them down. Perhaps not a big deal to you, but we’ve lost six caravans in as many months.
It's not like we're an organized group sitting on a massive stack of weapons and have enough caps to hire a large group of mercenaries armed to the teeth to clear out these raiders that were so incompetent that they were ultimately taken out by one slightly irradiated pony. Only you, Security Mare, were good enough for such a task.
I glanced at my PipBuck and saw the amount. Five hundred caps, not counting the miscellaneous junk we’d acquired.
I swear this omniscient pipbuck is so broken for the story. And, I'm sure that five hundred bottle caps don't weigh down our intrepid heroes.
Just a few days, imagine that,” she replied dryly, arching her brow in a way that suggested I hadn’t seen anything yet.
Should have stopped at dryly for this one.
He looked at me coolly. “Girl, I’ve been in the Wasteland a while now and outlived my children and grandchildren. If there’s one thing more precious than clean water and bullets, it’s the feeling that tomorrow you’re less likely to die than today. Those raiders might be replaced by some other band, but yesterday we nearly had a party when we’d heard we could send caravans safely to Manehattan again. That might be nonsense to you, but it means the world to us.”
Because what I did means the world to you. You'll treat me for free, right? After all, I got these injuries from fighting those raiders.
Pfft, I doubt she would have had the charisma to pull that off. Maybe if she put on some lingerie, drank some beer, and popped some grape mentats.
Again, clearly not a question she expected. “Um… it’s different. That’s all I can really say,” she said softly. “We’re not supposed to discuss Thunderhead. It’s all classified.” Huh, go figure. Secrets for her, suspicion from him. I could tell I had a long way to go on this whole ‘making friends’ thing. P-21 still wasn’t even willing to carry a gun; he still saw me as embodying all the fucked up shit he’d endured in Stable 99.
You've done nothing to earn P-21's trust or respect, bitch. You refuse to take his advice and you drag him along for your harebrained schemes.
Casserole,” P-21 answered with a small roll of his eyes. Glory mouthed the word in bafflement as P-21 went on. “Apparently they’re delicious and nutritious. She’s paying twenty-five caps each. Six hundred caps if we can bring her twenty. Apparently there’s a pit west of here that’s full of them.”
Ah yes, the Emperor Scorpion, well known for its tendency to gather together in huge nests.
My ears immediately perked. “Remove? As in kill and mutilate?” Glory looked at me with some concern. “What? You’ve heard these contracts. The mutilation’s always implied.”
That's it. Blackjack is a munchkin. She doesn't mesh with the world she's in, she's obssessed with gear, the author makes a big point of listing down all her acquired powers and perks, and her flippancy with this killing and mutilating shows that she sees others as pixels of XP and Loot. Or as friendly NPC's. As if she were in a game.
I tried to keep my voice as calm as possible, but P-21 still looked suspicious… okay, he usually looked suspicious. Honestly, what was the deal? You round up a guy for summary execution and they never trust you again? Well, if we found something to help his bum leg, maybe then he’d start thinking of me as a friend rather than ‘stable reminder’.
How do I get him to idolize me so I can get his companion perk? Maybe I can climb in and out of a power armor suit. Or just use drugs next to him. Or help a hundred settlements.
I just had to say it!” I shouted over the chittering, snapping horde that was advancing at me. The drum-fed combat shotgun I’d picked up for a hundred caps roared over and over again as I retreated around the gravel pit, a half dozen of the radscorpions clawing at me with their pincers and stabbing with their venom-tipped stingers. I couldn’t miss at this range… but I also wasn’t having the best of luck piercing their hides.
Obviously, when faced with the prospect of taking on multiple melee-focused monsters, I'd go for getting up close and personal with a shotgun as opposed to arming my flying companion with a high-powered rifle to pick them off until I got enough glands.
Why’d the ground just move? “Look out!” I screamed, seeing flashbacks of ghouls exploding from heaps of bone as I knocked Glory aside. From the middle of the pit heaved the largest radscorpion I’d ever seen! It was as large as three ponies combined, with pincers large enough to snip my limbs and head like a daisy… well… pictures of daisies. I always thought they were flimsy looking flowers… but why was I thinking about flowers now? Its tail struck with such force that I could imagine it going right through me.
And out comes the scorpion queen. Scorpions are bees, right? I mean they both have stingers. Ah fuck it.
Let me fly you out!” Morning Glory yelled as the giant radscorpion was tangled in some rusty cabling from a steam crane. There weren’t enough words to express my skepticism, but then there also weren’t enough words to stress how much I really didn’t want to be in that pit.
“If you think you can,” I said as it scurried towards us. I felt her bite the back of my barding behind my neck and felt her hooves hook into my straps. Her wings beat furiously and I was stunned as we slowly rose up into the air.
Of course, if you dumped your gear, she'd have an easier time pulling you out. But fuck that shit, a drum-fed combat shot gun is worth both your lives.
Join the club,” I remarked, then saw their looks. I was splashed almost head to hoof in radscorpion bits. P-21 gave Glory one of our healing potions, but even though the hole in her flank right above her sunrise cutie mark closed, she still didn’t look so good. “Are you okay?” I asked her.
You know, the massive dose of venom from a giant scorpion should kill her swiftly. Or, the fact that it's giant should mean that it has no venom at all.
I had no idea what constituted a ‘radscorpion poison gland’, but apparently P-21 did. He and Glory went from scorpion to scorpion collecting them.
And all of the glands were intact, despite your shooting spree.
I want that gun,” I shouted, my buckshot peppering the head of a sentry pony as I embarked on a grand unofficial tour of the premises. “I want a lab first, but after that I want an IF-88 ‘Ironpony’. Can I have one?”
“I’m sure you do,” P-21 said as he carried Morning Glory on his back, watching as my second shot destroyed the sentry. “Ask your mother.”
Ahahahahaha! Your friend is dying.
The fight with robots is, surprise surprise, dull. Recently, I've been playing Darkest Dungeon. Now, that game knows how to create tension. It only highlights how quickly Bethesda's rpgs turn into dull power fantasies.
I proceeded further into the lab, kicking brass and shotgun hulls with each step. I had to admit I was glad nopony had made it up here before us. There was a veritable cornucopia of ammunition up here. I passed by ammo crates with pistol, revolver, shotgun, and rifle ammunition. Several of them had markings I’d never seen before: red, orange, green, blue, and black bands. And here I had a number of sentry robots to try them out on!
This section descends into gear porn. Look at all the fabulous toys Blackjack's getting!
I reached out with my magic and carefully lifted the gun. I’d never seen its like before, but something about it made me squirm. I put it in my duffel bag. Most ominously, perhaps, my PipBuck identified it as simply ‘Trottenheimer’s Folly’. Then I looked at the wall the exit wound pointed at...
Horseshit. At this point, your pipbuck must be making shit up. How would it know this? And if it could know this, why didn't you just hold the ammo you found earlier to it so it can identify them?
I’m on attempt sixty-one,” he replied with a soft sigh, returning his gaze to the terminal. After a moment, he suddenly brightened a bit. “And… apparently sixty-two is the charm.” There was a click, and the safe in the corner opened up. “There are some journal entries here. Want to read them while I see what we have?”
Sixty one? Dude, you suck worse than DSP for lockpicking.
The mysterious journal they find is the only thing that keeps this chapter from being a stupid sidequest filler.
I’ve decided to rename it ‘Trottenheimer’s Folly’.
You see, this could have been the part where they discovered the name. Not just have the pipbuck just know it.
New Perk: Shotgun Surgeon - When using shotguns, regardless of the type of ammunition used, you ignore an additional 10 points of a target’s damage threshold.
That's a crap perk. Limits you too much to one type of weapon. Never took it myself in any Fallout game. I suppose it's more appropriate for what happened in the chapter.
7 comments · 109 views
Right, let's keep going. The story has three more chapters to strut its stuff before I reach the crisis point in our relationship.
Nopony knew the Overmare,” P-21 muttered. He’d been in a snit all morning, grumbling to himself and giving me sullen looks. Really, was shooting a bunch of radigators so bad? He scowled at every lump of dead grass beside the road. What was he worried about? My E.F.S. would pick up any threats.
I've never encountered radigators in fallout, then again I haven't played every fallout so points for not sticking to in-game monsters. But I would think that giant mutated alligators should have a better introduction and present a bigger threat than just more mooks to bring down.
As for the last bit, he's probably training himself to not rely on machinery that might give out. Proving yet again that he's smarter than you. Which is barely an accomplishment.
P-21 looked at me and then gave a disinterested shrug. “Don’t ask me. There’s nothing in 99 I want to remember.”
Except my name, which is symbolic of my objectification in that vault.
I almost stopped… but fuck it. He was going to be in a bad mood either way. Why’d I have to leave Stable 99 with the pony carrying a whole stable’s worth of issues? Why not U-14? Least then I’d be in the Wasteland with some fine flank.
It is good to see that the gory death of Scoodle has impressed upon Blackjack the gravity of her situation. As such, she has learned to take minor annoyances in stride as they are nothing compared to the harsh reality of daily living in the surface world.
I snorted. “I am not oblivious!” Then I tripped on a chunk of asphalt and went sprawling on my face. Okay, maybe a little oblivious.
If she tripped because she didn't see the chunk of asphalt, then she should have fallen first THEN checked what tripped her before describing the chunk of asphalt.
P-21 sighed. “First, that this ‘Sanguine’ was probably watching the stable before U-21 left it.
Yeah, he's the daedric prince of hedonism. You guys are fucked, possibly literally.
Again with the running plan. Always a running plan. Never a sneaking and avoiding a fight plan,” P-21 whispered as he limped along behind me.
Exactly. Blackjack is thinking like a gamer here, trying to get as much XP and phat lewtz as possible and acting as if she can just load if things get fucked, while P-21 seems to understand that you can win a hundred battles, but you only need to lose one.
I remembered Scoodle mentioning roboponies
This "gotta go through me" narration has been a prevalent annoyance in the story so far. "Scoodle mentioned roboponies" works just as well with fewer words.
So there's a random encounter with a robot which they salvage. It's a dull one-sided affair as have most of the fights so far. I'm starting to suspect that, if you remove all the random encounters, you might be able to cut PH to half its size.
“Huh… I think I prefer raiders. They at least carry loot"
I prefer to kill living ponies so I can loot their dead bodies. A bastion of equinity, this one. There's that gamer thinking.
I hit S.A.T.S. at once and, as before, unleashed three blows on the machine’s head. Fast as I was as I made the attack, the beam proved faster and scorched a line across my neck.
Yawn. Not even a description of the pain. At least tell me how much HP you lost.
All the ponies had dented plates from bullet impacts. “I guess they weren’t made to resist being attacked by some pony with a heavy metal stick.”
Makes sense. A metal plate strong enough to deflect bullets would not be effective against lower-velocity strikes from weapons with multiple points of impact.
Then I noticed the bodies at the door. Not decades or centuries old, these were fresh, pungent, and swollen.
You would smell these first before seeing them. Describe the smell first then have her look for the source. Is her sense of smell that bad? Probably from snorting coke in Vault 99.
Any idea what this is?” I asked, pointing the boxy pistol at the wall. My telekinesis pressed a small button on the handle. With a sharp pop of expanding air, a red bolt of energy shot out and left a singe on the concrete wall. A glance at my PipBuck confirmed: magic beam pistol. I also noted our location: Weather Monitoring Station 4.
Maybe you should consult with your omniscient pipbuck BEFORE fucking around with mysterious devices, genius.
I was amazed to get four shots programmed with the S.A.T.S., and, while the blasts were definitely not as tightly placed as with a normal gun, my luck didn’t seem to care what weapon I shot.
I was amazed to get four shots programmed with the mookslayer, and, while blasts were definitely not as tightly placed as with a normal gun, the author didn't seem to care what weapon I shot.
There, fixed it.
The robot’s red searing beam struck me in the chest, scorching my barding and reminding me to move my ass!
These lasers punch through metal plate, but they have all the effect of cigarette burns on Blackjack. They don't slow her down, they elicit nothing more than a throwaway mention, and they're gone by the next potion chug. She gets hit multiple times throughout this drawn out fight, but they appear to cause nothing more than first degree burns whereas her lasers melt steel.
One wall was dominated by a massive terminal that had clearly seen better days, while a corner held shelves with an automatic pistol and two ammo boxes.
Now, I'm not American. This doesn't take place in America, but Fallout is supposed to take place in America, so I have to ask. Is this a good representation? Do you all just have guns and boxes of ammo lying around everywhere?
"What is it with people shooting me when my guard is down, huh? That’s twice in two days.”
How about not dropping your guard all the time, then?
Since when did my eyes fucking glow?
This is where the end notes fuck the story up. We know this ahead of Blackjack so it's no reveal.
No idea,” he said as I started on my last Sparkle-Cola. Darn things were addictive! Enjoying the warm carroty taste, I glanced back down the hall
Isn't Nuka Cola radioactive? Clearly something you should drink when you're still suffering from radiation poisoning.
The recording was clearly old, but I heard a dull chuckle. “Yeah dude. Rainbow may be hot but, like, you got no chance man. Dude, isn’t she like the spokespony for mare riders? Heh… yeah I hear that. So you check out my score on the last basketball match with monitor one? Shyeah, we kicked tail thanks to yours truly. Hey, what happened…?” Suddenly I could hear a noise with a deep reverberation and a sucking sound that transformed into a roar.
Why would they record this? This isn't from a security camera or whatever, it was on a pony. Why would you record yourself talking about fucking your boss or some high-ranking official?
Damn it! I’d been fine when the bones were just bones. I didn’t want to think of dozens of foals dying slowly of radiation poisoning while someone, somewhere, casually let them die. “How could they?”
Oh no, children died. Reading these fallout stories throw child deaths and rape out there is like watching Miley Cyrus sexing it up. It's not shocking or disturbing. It just gets sad in the long run. It's done too often and with little impact.
Right. And then they sent these volunteers on a peace mission to raiders? If that was incompetence, they deserved an award for the sheer scale of it.
You'd be the expert on incompetence, Blackjack.
The story seems to be blurring the Followers of the Apocalypse and the Enclave. It's a genuinely interesting eyebrow raiser, but I'll have to see how it's executed.
They go into another raider hideout and shoot it up with ease. Good God, somepony please crank up the difficulty level. What is this, Very Easy mode? If I want an endless grind of shooting up raider hideouts, I'll talk to Preston Garvey, thank you very much.
And then Spike does the Three Dog thing. It's pretty dumb, and props to Blackjack for pointing out how dumb it is. Even though she's just as bad.
Footnote: Level Up.
Makes sense that Blackjack is levelling with each chapter. She has the Idiot Savant perk and it's proccing very often. DUHHHHH!
New Perk: Friend of the Night - Your eyes adapt quickly to low-light situations.
Maybe change that to "Near-invulnerability to Energy Damage" because that's what you demonstrated in this chapter.
6 comments · 104 views
Enough preamble, let's get to it.
A purple unicorn sat on the library wall, looking clever and surrounded by floating books, saying ‘We need every idea’. Well, that’s what I thought it said. Some wit had scratched out ‘idea’ and written ‘penis’. I got the joke.
No shit, you got the joke? Truly thou art possessed of razor-sharp wits to decipher the humor of "We need every penis".
In the nurse’s office, a soulful yellow pegasus hugged a bunny while telling me ‘Little ouchies are still ouchies’.
I know what soulful eyes are. It's the thing puppies and children do to blackmail you into caving into their demands. I don't know what a "soulful pony" is supposed to look like. If this was a Soulsborne crossover, I'll take it that Fluttershy is loaded with souls. Somepony should stab her face and steal her equinity.
“How are we going to carry all that?” I asked as I looked at the heap. There were at least four rifles, a shotgun, a revolver, the automatic pistols, two knives, a cleaver, two grenades, and the assorted junk we’d taken from the raiders. Between P-21 and me, we’d be able to do it, but it would still be quite a weight.
You don't. Carry weight is a gaming thing and it's designed to have some nod to realism but to keep things convenient. Even if I had the strength to carry four assault rifles, I wouldn't carry four assault rifles. They would tire me out faster, and they would be awkward to actually carry.
“Ya don’t need ta carry all of it,” Scoodle said as she looked at the heap. “Well, ya wouldn’t if ya had some tools. What ya can do is take ‘em apart and just put the best pieces together.”
Everypony knows how to juryrig various guns of possibly different models and manufacturers.
I saw that the teal pony that had been so helpful was getting upset so I adopted my easiest smile as I looked down at the fillies.
It's Scoodle. You know the name, stop saying teal pony.
Once we were outside and under the clouds I felt a little vertigo.
Yeah, don't mention the world spinning or your legs being unsteady or anything. Just say vertigo.
I might not have known the specifics, but I knew which end went bang.
You just admitted that you know next to nothing about your rifle. Somehow, you were still able to perform repairs on it. Amazing.
Huh?” She looked up with a bloody knife clenched in her jaws; I did my best not to shudder. She stuck the tip in the corpse and answered brightly, “Oh, this? Radhog is good eatin’!”
Radioactive tapeworms. Mutant salmonella.
I just turned my back and busied myself with not being nauseous or watching them finish their work. I’d stick with the Sugar Apple Bombs.
Over here, we call sugar apples "atis". I don't think the story is describing atis-based cereals.
That did it for some reason. Fillies scared of bones I could accept, but being told what to do by a pony that wouldn’t carry a weapon himself just annoyed the shit out of me
You are a fucking idiot.
“Heads!” was all Scoodle shouted before drawing her gun and taking aim at the running forms. I wasn’t familiar with a rifle at all, but I knew I should use it before they closed the distance.
The thing with feral ghouls is that they're not zombies, as Scoodle pointed out, so it's not like they'll just keep coming if you don't destroy their brains. As such, I would think that going for center mass would be a wiser option especially with wild, erratic targets. Then again, I'm assuming that these ponies are in the realm of mortals, not deific sharpshooters with a broken spell for aiming.
What took one round to the head would require four to the chest.
Why? They're not zombies.
The teal filly was ripped in two before my eyes.
I fell into a moment of horror that felt like a S.A.T.S. that would never end as I saw with terrible clarity the organs and viscera pouring out over the asphalt. I smelled the wash of blood even over the unnatural reek of the undead monsters around me. I saw the stunned look on her face as she slowly fell, and a pony that had weathered raiders and who knew what else died because of my stupidity.
You'd think she'd have screamed, whether when she realized that they were upon her or when they started pulling her apart. And that starting line...Good God that was beige. I'm no master of description, but that clearly needed more. The fact that they ripped her apart swiftly like a wet napkin hurts the moment. This was a point where gore was needed. The agonizingly slow pull, the drawn out scream, the garish red sinews of her halves desperately trying to hold her body together, the lurid white of exposed spine and ribs. Come on.
I'm convinced that Blackjack is some kind of luck demon. She's incredibly lucky because she sucks the luck of everypony nearby.
The scene with Silver Spoon dives into the realm of the silly, which only serves to weaken the child death.
How profoundly insightful I’d become since I’d fucked up.
Nah, Blackjack, you were this profoundly insightful before your fuckup. The latest, I mean.
All the while, P-21 nursed me back to health. He’d disappear for hours on end and I’d lie there wondering if he’d died or simply moved on
I recall that severe radiation poisoning only gave you 48 hours before you died. I suppose this is Fallout universe radiation, which is only mildly inconvenient.
I triggered my S.A.T.S. and placed two rounds exactly in the forehead of my target. The fourth round caught his eye, and the beast staggered. The fifth missed. The final round, three past what I’d hoped to use, dropped the beast in its tracks.
Yeah, fuck that severe radiation sickness shit. Still near-perfect aim.
Skill Note: Guns (50)
Ah, yes, that all-purpose Guns skill. If there's anything I've learned from Fallout is that years of shooting beer cans with a pistol will prepare me for mowing down moving targets with a minigun.
New Perk: Run and Gun - Better accuracy with ranged weapons while moving.
At what point in this chapter did they have to shoot at enemies while running? When the ghouls popped out, they immediately went for a last stand. Why not something like bonus damage against ghouls, or radiation resistance? Something that actually relates to the chapter.
Quest Perk: Minor Mutation: Rad Sight - When under the effects of minor radiation poisoning, gain +1 Perception in low light conditions. -15 to sneak, speech when not wearing sunglasses, authority glasses, or mirrored sunglasses.
Cool glowing eyes. Sure, why not.
Here are some perks that I think would fit after that bout with radiation.
Infertile - your uterus is as radiation-ravaged and as barren as the Equestrian Wasteland. Why is this a perk? Well, it's a perk for the rest of the world as you are clearly a Darwin Award winner. Besides, if somepony raped you, their cock would instantly ghoulify, grow teeth, and try to bite their balls off.
Cancer - you have cancer. At least you're not reading Displaced.
2w, 3dPrejudice16 comments · 185 views
I'd like to think that I'm sort of an open-minded guy when it comes to checking fics out. Sure, I don't like inter-Mane 6 shipping, or Twilestia, or adultery, or fix fics, or anthro, or fics about the latest episode that come out immediately after the episode, or HiE, or the random tag, or Fluttershy stories, or Equestria Fuck Yeah stories, but I will occasionally check such a story out if I'm in the mood. Just to check if there's one I can say is the exemption.
But there are some stories that I've simply developed such an intense prejudice against that all it takes is one look and no. These include:
1. In Which My Story Screams Look at Me I Have a Stupidly Long Title Aren't I So Clever, Kooky, and Zany!?
2. Half or more the story description is not a description of the story. Saying featured is annoying, but mild. Includes things like going on about how or why the story was written. Excuses like "written while drunk" or some shit.
3. Displaced - I actually click on these stories, so I can add to the dislike bar. I'm done looking for that elusive "good" displaced. All I want to do is make them feel just slightly more disliked.
4. Conversion Bureau and Fall of Equestria - I don't care if it's a reaction against the original stories or actual additions to the "mythos" of these stories, I want nothing to do with them.
5. "Hilarious" Mary Sue Parodies - Proving that saying about those who hunt monsters, these stories have become as cliche as the cliches they mock.
6. Memes - If I see that fucking doge and its ilk, I'm out.
This story is a sequel to Upheaval: Reckoning
Equestria's fragments have reunited, and the power of sunlight shines once more within Celestia. With the remnants of the Old Kingdom destroyed, the Abyssal Throne sent away, the threat of Gravitas defeated, and Black Rose no more, Equestria now faces the encroaching darkness of Oceanus and his rebels.
But the stage is not yet fully set. Twilight Sparkle and her friends must gather what means they may before the battle is joined.
Cover art provided by Obsidian Rose
After the siege of Bastion City and the theft of the power of sunlight, Spike takes on Prince Terrato's offer to train under the kirin, Seethe Scale. He must travel to the Western Barrier Land to gain the strength to help his friends.
Once there, however, Spike soon realizes that there is more for him to contend with in this harsh environment than developing his abilities.
Black Rose's elite agents serve her in various ways. To accomplish her tasks, their talents must be both great and diverse, requiring individuals from the far-flung corners of Equestria. To gather them is a difficult task in and of itself, a task that two siblings must deal with if Black Rose's plans could even have a chance to succeed.
Throughout history, the wolven have been known as vicious and rapacious raiders, swooping in from their frozen homeland far to the north in small bands to seize what they please from unfortunate settlements and caravans across Equestria's borders. For this one occasion, however, wolven raiders have acquired something that may be more trouble than it's worth.
Lexarius the steward, the alicorn sent by the Herd to aid those oppressed by the Everlasting Kingdom and their own tainted heritage, seeks to help those he considers his new kin. The first step, however, proves difficult as he must preside over a meeting that reveals old hatreds that may well destroy his path before he could even take it.