Fallout 4: Angel's Pip-Boy Diary #14 · 8:19am Dec 23rd, 2015
art by JetWave
For Christmas, I bring you a double-sized, holiday-edition Angel’s Pip-Boy Diary! 
Previously, I was asked if there are any more mods that I would recommend. I have recently added two mods, one of which I can already strongly recommend: Shaikujin’s Better Warning for Settlements Being Attacked. The warning that Fallout 4 normally gives you when a settlement is under attack is very small and lasts only a couple seconds, making it easy to miss. This mod changes that warning into a normal box warning, which is a huge help. It even tells you who is attacking. (The number of exclamation points indicate the severity of the attack.)
This picture is from the mod’s webpage.
The other mod is called Robot Home Defence, and is supposed to allow you to build robots to defend your settlements if you have sufficient ranks in Robotics Expert. I say “supposed to” because Angel doesn’t yet have the Intelligence rating to allow her to start taking ranks in Robotics Expert. So while I have the mod installed, I haven’t really been able to play with it yet. But sooner or later, Angel will start taking Intelligence Training and Robotics Expert in order to allow her to build settlement-defending robots. Expect that to show up in her diary… eventually.
Angel's Pip-Boy Diary
Days 31 – 32
Day 31
November 23, 2287I have been in the post-apocalyptic Commonwealth for a full month now, and tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It is time to take stock. I am trying to build more than I destroy. I hope that I am a positive influence on this new Commonwealth.
I spent breakfast with the Abernathys, then stopped in at Sanctuary. Everything seems to be going well. I then traveled to Hangman’s Alley where I helped plant some crops. The settlement only has room for a small garden, but the location doesn’t offer the room to grow into a large settlement anyway. (Theoretically, I suppose we could expand into the adjacent buildings, but that seems off the table. For reasons.)
I intended my next stop to be Oberland Station. But as I reached the former feral ghoul neighborhood, I stumbled into a pitched battle between Gunners (whom I know are the bad guys) and the Children of the Atom (who I have never even heard of).
The Children of the Atom appear to be religious fanatics. And they have the most evil weapons ever. From the explosions, I thought they were lobbing mini-nukes around. The nuclear grenades they were using were certainly a near match. And their “gamma” guns fire concentrated pulses of lethal radiation. I am deeply surprised they aren’t all ghouls.
(Okay, admittedly my laser rifle sets enemies on fire. “Most evil weapons ever” needs a reality check.)
After the battle, I took shelter in a trade post while I let Radaway dissolve the copious amount of radiation poisoning I was suffering. I found the trader dead, but the place didn’t look robbed and there were no signs of violence. The post looked to have been recently in operation. There was food growing in the planters. I found a chem lab in the back, and the dead woman had a bottle of Daytripper nearby. Did she die from her own product? Was it suicide?
Just above Oberland Station, I came across an abandoned waystation. The waystation has multiple buildings and nearby train cars. It would have made for a far better location for a settlement than Oberland, but instead was home only to a handful of feral ghouls. The place feels like a missed opportunity.
Oberland, however, is coming along nicely. The settlement now has power and defenses. Everyone seems in good shape, so tomorrow I am going to enjoy the holiday.
Day 32 – Noon
November 24, 2287Thanksgiving!
I work up early, intent on getting an early start. Today’s the big day.
I jogged back to Hangman’s Alley, where I helped Preston finish setting up power and defenses for the settlement. (I made a note to myself that we need to get up there and remove those hanging corpses.) We set up a settlement beacon, and I recorded a message of rebuilding and hard work. I also threw in some patriotic music.
It didn’t take long to get our first new settler. To my surprise, he’s a ghoul. (One of the sane ones.) He immediately volunteered to help out working the garden in exchange for a good and safe place to live.
Of course, we immediately heard gunfire a few blocks away. Guess who and where. The neighborhood feral ghouls are back, and they are fighting raiders again. What the heck is it with that street?
I went back to ask our new ghoul settler about it, but he had nothing to say. So I cleaned up and prepared to make the short trek to Diamond City.
I struck out just after noon, putting Travis on the radio. He’s still playing the same old songs. I wonder if he will mention Thanksgiving? Is it even still celebrated? I know that there might not seem like there is much to be thankful for in the post-apocalyptic Commonwealth. But at this time in history, we have survival to be thankful for. We should thank God for every new day we are alive.
Day 32 – Early Afternoon
November 24, 2287I was following the signs pointing to Diamond City and I came to an abandoned guard post. Crap. Please don’t tell me I put off traveling here too long, and now the place has been wiped out. Even my luck can’t be that bad.
There is a green garage door painted with the name Diamond City. It this it? Was the place literally just a couple blocks away from Hangman’s Alley all this time?
Is nobody home?
There’s not much here. There has got to be more to the biggest town in the Commonwealth than this, even if it has been abandoned or massacred. Where are all the stores Travis talks about on the radio? For that matter, where is the radio station? Am I missing a hatch in the floor?
Oh, wait…
Okay, I feel both relieved and a bit silly. There is a “traders welcome” sign up ahead. And here comes a trade caravan. I have not yet reached Diamond City.
Day 32 – Afternoon
November 24, 2287I just met Cricket, a death merchant. She sells weapons and ammo, and seems a little extra into it. If I by any weapons from her, I might want to irradiate the handles before using them. Which will happen sooner or later – I will have to find her again when I can afford “Spray n’ Pray”. What an impressive submachine gun! If killing was a hobby rather than a duty, I could see that weapon getting me really excited to. Also, I would be a horrible person.
A helpful Diamond City guard sent me the right way. Diamond City dead ahead.
Wait… isn’t this Fenway Park?
Holy heck, it is! Diamond City is Fenway Park. They built a city inside the stadium. Which explains the name.
That… actually makes a lot of sense. The park had been used as a disaster relief center before, so I can easily imagine the remnants of civil authority utilizing it again after the bombs dropped. It is huge, exceptionally sturdy, and defensible. With some effort, you could convert part of the outfield for farming. Water would be the biggest concern. I suppose I will see how they overcame that soon enough. Maybe they have working plumbing?
Damn, and that is one hell of a door. And here I called Corvega a fortress.
Day 32 – Late Afternoon
November 24, 2287I’ve met the press, and her name is Piper.
Piper is feisty, wily and dangerous. I generally have a good read on people, and as much as I want to like her, something about Piper screams trouble. Apparently, Mayor McDonough wants to bar her from Diamond City thanks to her reporting. The two of them had quite a row in front of me.
That was after Piper roped me into her bluff to get inside Diamond City. (I was pretty sure the guard Danny saw right through it, but what could he do?) Then she dragged me into the argument with the Mayor. I had to admit that I generally support freedom of the press.
I didn’t bother to explain that in my experience, government and corporate entities tend to be so corrupt that we need whistleblowers and someplace where they can be heard. Not that the press is free of bias and corruption… and I could rant on, but none of it was applicable to their conversation, being rooted in the sins of people over two centuries buried.
When asked, I told the mayor that I have come to Diamond City looking for a missing person. I didn’t mention Shaun by name, or give any details. Given the argument I had just witnessed, I wasn’t going to trust either of those two with personal information.
The mayor suggested that I look up Nick Valentine, a detective who specializes in tracking people down. That sounds like exactly the sort of help that I need. I hope he’s good.
I also talked to Danny. On a whim, I continued the bluff, claiming to be a trader who will be bringing in a lot of goods. I was lying, yes, but it is not entirely bullshit. Considering the amount of weapons and armor I collect and sell on a regular basis… well, yeah, it was still bullshit. Sadly, Danny is stunningly gullible. I ended up getting caps as a down payment on parts for the gate.
I’m better at building and crafting than anyone I’ve met, except possibly Sturges. I think I’ll have a look at the gate. I feel I owe Danny that much. And after my scare earlier today, I don’t relish the idea of Diamond City’s main defense failing.
Day 32 – Early Evening
November 24, 2287So this is Diamond City. Wow. This is… really impressive.
Okay, not impressive by 2087 standards. It looks like a junkpile by pre-apocalypse standards. But by the new Commonwealth standards, this place is amazing. I can only dream of Sanctuary or Starlight growing into someplace like this.
And the first place I come to is Publick Occurences, Piper’s newspaper. Oh God, it’s a tabloid.
According the Piper’s little sister, who is standing out front hawking their paper. According to her, the Institute is snatching people. Is this why people are missing? Or is it a bunch of hooey.
I’ve been given a free copy of the paper, so I might as well take a look.
I’ve popped into All Faith’s Chapel. The idea of a blended-faith church is just bizarre. That’s not how religion works, and I’m not sure God would approve. Then again, maybe He would. It is certainly a better method of practicing your faith than running around shooting people with gamma guns.
On that topic, I had actually hoped the pastor here could help me understand the Children of the Atom. No such luck.
“The Synthetic Truth”… this is apparently the story that has the mayor locking Piper out of the city. I’m not sure if it is safe to trust this rag, but I’ll give Piper props on being a good writer.
First note of interest is a reference to the removal of ghouls from Diamond City in 2282. I wonder if that is where the Alley’s new resident came from. Next is a reference to “The Broken Mask” incident…
Oh holy hell!
Well, this changes everything. Synths – those humanoid robots from the Institute – come in models indistinguishable from human. My increasingly put-out rational side wants to call this impossible, but I spent much of this week fighting ogres. I’m not sure anything is impossible anymore. And this jives all too well with what I’ve seen and heard elsewhere. However insane it sounds, this is a much simpler explanation than Frankenstein-style name migration.
So that man trying to get to Bunker Hill…
That “man”.
…And Piper ends by casting doubt on the mayor. Lovely. No wonder he is locking her out.
So the synths really are like the communists: anyone could be one and you wouldn’t even know it. I’ve lived through this. The paranoia is going to do more harm than the likely miniscule number of actual human-replica synths. The obvious reason for such creations is infiltration. Although to what purpose? Spying? Sabotage?
It’s even possible the disguise is to allow these synths to do perfectly harmless things without interference from local humans. Although if that is the case, it is a boggling miscalculation given there are far too many raiders, bandits and thugs who make a lifestyle of “interfering” with their fellow humans.
Or it is possible that they are all part of a relay network. Or they’re all bombs. Of course, that starts getting into the realm of comic book villain plots. There are much easier and more efficient ways to do those things than building hyper-advanced robots.
Day 32 – Late Evening
November 24, 2287Diamond City is in the grip of synth paranoia. Rampant fear has already resulted in at least one fatality. Diamond City Security just gunned down a man. He was holding a gun on his brother, convinced that his brother had been replaced by a synth. His brother was left sobbing in the street over his dead body.
It was tragic and heartbreaking. Security blames the paper.
It all reminds me of home. For the last year (relatively speaking), hardly a Homeowner’s Club meeting went by without Mr. Baker suggesting one of his neighbors might be a communist. The anti-Red posters that virtually painted Boston still exist in places. Everyone owned a gun, just in case the Chinese decided to invade the suburb. Shortly after Shaun was born, Rosa asked me if I had already decided on his daycare, pre-school and youth self-defense.
Maybe I’m just catching Diamond City on a bad day, but this is the sort of first impression that makes me eager to find the detective that Mayor McDonough recommended, hire him, then quickly leave.
Unfortunately, Nick Valentine’s office has demonstrated skills at stealth which put mine to shame. I’ve probably seen nearly every other person in this city, but I haven’t found his office yet.
Of course, there is one place left to check (that doesn’t require breaking into), and it probably should have been the first place I looked rather than the last: the bar. I think the only other open-to-the-public building I’ve seen that I haven’t taken a peek into is the schoolhouse, but that seems a real long-shot, especially as it is past any reasonable school hours.
One of the city’s shop owners, Myrna, is so panicked about synths that she is letting it hurt her business. I had to do some fast talking after a snarky remark almost got me shut out of doing business with her. That would have been very inconvenient, as she sells exactly the sort of junk that I am looking for to scrap for parts. She also offers shipments of adhesives, which I am painfully low on… but for such a steep price that I wouldn’t consider it even if I could afford it.
Arturo is the local weapons dealer – a reasonable man who doesn’t fetishize his wares (unlike Cricket) and who is a weapon-modding enthusiast. I spent some time chatting with him, and showing off the modifications that I have made to my own arsenal, getting some great pointers. The man has a few really impressive pieces for sale, including a terrifying fatman named “Big Boy”.
Next door to Arturo, Moe sells “swatters” and the worst revisionist history version of baseball ever. I was sickened to hear America’s beautiful national pastime misrepresented. I tried to set him straight, but it didn’t matter. He liked his version better. I find him appalling.
Appalling or not, I took a job for him. (He’s hardly the worst man I’ve ever accepted as a client. Heck, next to Sully, he’s a saint.) But I wasn’t willing to work for him cheap, pushing his caps offer up an additional fifty percent. The job is collecting baseball memorabilia for him (as if he could properly appreciate it). It is a task I’m filing in the “I’ll do it if I happen to find myself in the right place while doing something actually important” cabinet.
Moe also had a rather unique “swatter” for sale, the Rockville Slugger. I’m tempted to buy it just so someone who appreciates real baseball has it. I’m certainly not going to by any of his merchandise for use as weapons… although I’ve already contracted a shipment of wood from the man, and will likely do so regularly in the future.
Moe’s wasn’t the only job offer that I took today, all of which are filed in the same cabinet. But even if I have no real plans to chase these thrown sticks, it is nice to have the option open should serendipity put me in the position to cash in on them, or I find myself desperately needing to generate some caps. (I can’t believe how quickly thinking of bottlecaps as money has become second nature and no long seems quite so absurd.)
The Science! Center is run by an amusing couple, albeit less so when Duff tried to rope me into bloatfly hunting as a “field trip” rather than a proper job. I talked her up to 150 caps for the job. In comparison, the local chem dealer was pleasantly straightforward and has offered me a job finding a mutated fern. The location he suggested for finding one is nowhere near anyplace I expect to go anytime soon, but unless “mutated” means “man-eating”, there’s no reason not to grab one if I find myself in the vicinity.
Actually, now that I think about it, I would not be at all surprised if the ferns were carnivorous. Or had spores that turn people into zombies. Or some other horror. Post-apocalyptic reality has not done pleasant things for my imagination.
On the plus side, this would put me on good terms with two chem dealers (the other being Wolfgang). And considering how absolutely amazing grape-flavored mentats have proven to be for my shopping efforts, I would like to make use of them far more often if I can secure reliable sources of Addictol.
Side notes: Travis… is even moreso in person.
I overheard one a member of Diamond City Security talking about a raider-only bar named “Combat Zone”. Part of me immediately thought “how convenient” it was for them all to gather in one place like eggs in a basket. Not that I have a deathwish. Nor do I think I could survive the firefight if I tried to take them out. This wouldn’t be like Thicket Excavations. However, it sounds like the sort of thing that be perfect for a few power armor-clad Brotherhood of Steel soldiers to take care of.
Between Moe’s and Arturo’s, I encountered a man named Sheffield who went on like he was dying, desperate for a bottle of Nuka~Cola to quench his thirst. Seriously? Drink. Some. Water.
Apparently, part of the outfield has become a pond, and that is where the city gets its water supply. I’m not sure how it gets replenished or why it hasn’t turned truly foul. But then, I still haven’t figured out how cockroaches grew to the size of cocker spaniels. Sometimes, I think the bombs gave science a chance to just throw away the rules.
There is some strife between Sheng, the man who keeps the water purifiers running, and city security. The security guard that I over heard mentioned a hazard. My first thought was that he was making chems, but chems are clearly legal in this city, so that makes no sense. Not unless his equipment is in dangerously poor condition. Having a water purifier in bad shape is a more likely scenario. (And, from the less pleasant reaches of my imagination, he could be keeping a mirelurk as a pet, perhaps in the shed near his place. My imagination is not doing me any favors tonight.)
And one final note: Diamond City has its own upper-class. I just encountered Malcolm and the Mr. Handy robot named Wellingham, who seem to be engaged in a secret contest to out-snob each other. Wellingham greeted me with “sensors indicate you have dangerously low levels of class for this establishment.” I said nothing. I couldn’t think of a response that didn’t use language which would have proven its point.
art by Atompop
Quick, get Robotics Expert and scrap him for parts.
3637910 lol, that could work.
Sheng is a kid...
A bald kid...
Charlie Brown's descendant?
Angel's paranoia is hilarious, but it carries a tragic undercurrent, all the more so for being justified. It's fascinating to watch the Wasteland gradually reshape her even as she looks at it with pre-apocalypyic eyes.
Thank you for continuing this, Kkat.
Littlepip's been replaced!
If synths were to be incorporated into Fallout: Equestria, we already have a perfect candidate in the changelings. Though they aren't nearly as science-focused as the Institute itself.
Diamond City: the town of paranoid bigots. I heard there's a house for sale, but I'd rather not live there.
3638090 well you could make robots with the magic of changelings
No one noticed the Vault 22 reference?
3638090
I've bought that house, it's actually pretty nice once you get all the random crap scrapped.
And all I can think about is what would Codsworth say and do?
I have to admit that Angel is taking the news about the synths rather well. Even if it's bringing up more questions then answers.
Yikes.
I've got some language for that robot.
That last picture though. That would be an interesting interaction.
...
No Ron Perlman intro. Already minus a point and I HAVEN'T EVEN PLAYED THE GAME YET!