This is the journey of Nate Whitman, a former resident of Vault 322 who went to sleep on his twentieth birthday and woke up in the middle of the woods.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/FalloutQuest
Stats and inventory:http://pastebin.com/5dQ7hz8T
Last time on Pacific Fallout Quest: You woke up in the woods, found a cool rain poncho, and fixed the Ocean Point radio relay. Your current objective is to secure an old Nuka-Cola shipping crate for the shopkeep at Ocean Supply.
>Just then, you spot a horribly disfigured man in a pre-war business suit and matching fedora step out from behind a large rock, both hands up enough to show he's not hostile. "Good shot there, partner." His voice is as rough as stones in a tumbler, and his stance suggests he's packing a weapon of his own. "Got time to help a fella pick something out from the water?" He gestures with a jerk of the wrist over his shoulder at the very crate you were sent to get. "I'll make it worth your while. Cut you in on what it's worth to me."
Do you:
>Shoot the disfigured man
>Question the disfigured man
>Other?
Also, archived version of the last thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/43733513/
Woo lets get started talk to disfigured man ask exactly what he's trying to get
>>43778131
Shoot him.
Highly differing choices, can someone break the tie?
>>43778131
>>Question the disfigured man
>>43778496
Question him.
>>43778268
>>43778538
>>43778570
>Question the man
"Jesus, what the fuck!" you yelp reflexively, the sight of a walking corpse a rather unfamiliar one.
"What," he retorts in a sarcastic tone, "never seen a ghoul before?"
You lower your gun just a little, "a ghoul? Can't say I have, I'm usually used to people having a bit more, um, skin on their faces. Even out here."
A chuckle rips out of his throat, sounding more like a handful of wet gravel being thrown into a garbage disposal than human laughter.
"What, you been living under a rock your whole life or something? Jesus." He lights up a cigarette, clamping it between yellowed teeth. "Look kid, s'much as I like standing around getting rained on, I got a schedule. You gonna help me get this crate outta the ground or what? I promise I'll cut you in on the caps."
>>43778940
Woops, forgot
>Accept offer
>Refuse offer
>Question ghoul further
>Shoot ghoul
>Other?
>>43779095
Accept offer
>>43778940
>Accept offer
>Question ghoul further
>>43779095
Shoot!
It probably wants your brain!
>>43779370
>>43779452
>Accept offer, question further.
You drop your gun hand down to your side and warily nod, "sure." You start slowly towards the crate, following the 'ghoul.'
"What are you going to do with the crate when we get it out of the dirt anyways?"
The ghoul draws a heavy looking pistol from the back of his waistband and holds it at the ready as he nears the crate doors.
"I really love Nuka-Cola, dig? Here, grab that latch and pull the thing open when I tell you will ya?"
You grasp the rusted latch firmly in both hands, the metal cold and wet. "Alright kid, I don't know what's gonna be in here but I'll bet you fifty caps it ain't pretty." He cracks his neck and levels the gun. "Alright, open it up!"
You heave on the latch, muscles working against the old metal. With a last push it cracks open, door swinging loudly on rusted hinges.
"Fuck!" you hear the ghoul shout, and your ears are slammed by the sound of his pistol going off once, twice, three times. You peer inside, still covering your ears, and see two rock crabs painted in their own blood lying atop several wooden crates. The ghoul slaps you on the back as he tucks his pistol back into his belt,
"that was way easier than I thought it'd be, I barely needed you at all! I appreciate the help anyways." He motions for you to close it up again, pulling out a small whistle from his jacket pocket. For the second time in two minutes your ears cringe, the shrill blast of the whistle just a bit too close for comfort.
"We'll have this outta here in a jiffy. Your cut, how does one hundred caps sound?"
>Haggle
>Accept offer
>Decline offer
>Betray
>Other?
>>43780076
>Other
I don't like even numbers, how about 111?
>>43780076
Will helping the ghoul fail our current quest for the shop keeper?
I'm fine with accepting to help if we don't.
Won't progress until a choice gets a one vote majority.
>>43780482
Well, shopkeeper wants the crate so he can have nuka-colas to sell at Ocean Supply. Ghoul seems to have his won plans for the crate, stands to reason that the two probably conflict.
>>43780719
kill him loot body
We have one vote for put the ghoul on ice, one vote for haggling up to 111 caps.
>>43780076
I'd like one or two cases. He doesn't go for it he dies.
Haggle for some of the cola as payment? We can take the cola back to the shopkeeper as a compromise.
Rolled 3 (1d100)
Sorry, my mom called me making sure I knew about internet scams. Was good for a chuckle.
>>43781455
>>43781324
>>43780370
>Haggle for a few crates of cola.
"I promised the shopkeeper up at Ocean Point that I'd bring him back some Nuka-Cola to sell, how about instead of caps you let me take a few cases?"
>>43781626
What!? Then the Nigerian Prince needing my bank account is false?
>>43781626
>Fail
"Sorry pal, Amy buyer wants the whole shipment, not bits and pieces. One hundred caps, take it or... well I suppose taking it's really your only option," as he says this, you hear the rumbling of an engine off behind a rocky spit. A crude boat slowly chugs out from behind it, turning widely towards you. You can tell it will take at least two or three minutes for it to get to you.
>Agree
>Violence
>Other
We already have one vote for violence from >>43781324
>>43781665
She was so earnest, "make sure you don't give money to anyone you don't know!"
>>43781768
Engage in murder, violent bloody murder.
>>43781768
>>Violence
Loot corpse
Rolled 13 (1d100)
>>43781814
>>43781324
>Skeet Skeet
"Sorry, but I honour my deals," you say, snapping your pistol back up. It bucks in your hand, two sharp cracks ripping through the drone of rainfall, crashing waves, and the boat engine.
Rolled 75 (1d100)
>>43781988
>Failure
"What the fuck!" the ghoul cries, diving out of the way at the last second to come crashing down hard on the wet rocks. He pulls his gun and fires at you wildly while crawling backwards to take cover behind the crate.
The boat continues to bear down on you in spite of the gunfire.
>>43782114
You involuntarily growl; a hot lance of pain throws your right shoulder back, and you nearly lose your footing on the slippery ground. Clutching at your injury, you feel hot blood seeping through your fingers.
>Go in for the kill
>Escape
>Other?
Is there a better way of doing this? I feel like this is a lot of spammy posts, how should I do this in a more streamlined way? Quest-veterans help me
>>43782179
>>Go in for the kill
Let the players roll for actions? If there's to be a rolls or just right what you think is good enough without rolls.
>>43782304
That's actually a much better idea. I guess from now on, I'll have everyone roll a 1d100 when they vote for an action, and randomly pick from the rolls.
Rolled 84 (1d100)
>>43782382
Might be better to take the best of first three regardless of choice. Also Rollin boss!
>>43782664
>>43782304
Still clutching at your shoulder, your advance towards the ghoul leaves a trail of steaming red droplets on the ground. The ghoul levels his heavy revolver at you and spits in his gravelly tone:
"You shouldn'ta crossed me kid, worst mistake you'll ever make!" he punctuates the last word by pulling the trigger, but the gun sits limply in his hand. He blinks, and pulls it again, an empty click in place of a flash. Empty.
"Not taking my bargain was yours." You stare down the sights of your pistol at the prostrated figure, watching him crumple in a spray of irradiated blood as your last bullet tears into his chest. Suddenly the gun feels heavy in your hand, its grip slick with rain and blood, the pain in your shoulder all too real.
You tear your eyes away from the dead man to see the boat turn around and start chugging back the way it came, hurled insults echoing at you across the waves. The treasure is yours now, it would seem. Rifling through the pockets of your erstwhile business partner recovers a plastic bag of twenty six caps, the whistle, three additional rounds, and his heavy revolver, now empty. Additionally, you find a scrap of paper with what appears to be some sort of contract bearing the names Gable as the recipient and Monoghan as the seller. You pocket the possessions and figure out your next move, clutching the bullet wound in your shoulder.
>Return to Ocean Point
>Further investigate/loot the shipping container
>Other
>>43782976
>>Return to Ocean Point
Get the shoulder treated immediately.
>>43782976
>Further investigate/loot the shipping container
>>43782976
You know what, changing >>43783124 to quick patch up of our wound then investigate
Tiebreaker needed! Is there even a third person following this to do that?
>>43783192
Wanna roll for it?
>>43783192
Huh, yea Investigate shipping container.
>>43783124
>>43783233
>Investigate shipping container
You jerk the door of the container open again, revealing case after case of Nuka-Cola. You power on your Pipboy light, washing the scene in a sickly green. You heave yourself inside, and your geiger counter clicks. The clicks are seconds apart, but the radiation is there. Curious, you shuffle deeper into the container. Standing out, you see a faint blue luminescence seep out from the cracks of one of the crates.
You pop it open, and find the source of the light: a bright blue bottle, labelled "Nuka-Cola Cascade: Limited Edition!" Satisfied with your prize, you slip it into your bag and climb back out of the container.
As you crest the elevated edge, your foot slips on the slick, wet metal and you tumble. The cold ground hits you like a sack of bricks, driving the air from your chest. The pain in your shoulder feels as though it's consuming you, and the last thing you feel before slipping into unconsciousness is the patter of rain on your cheek.
Keep forgetting to put my trip on when I switch between threads, sorry gang. Also, posted that last bit before I realized you changed your vote there guy, sorry D:
Going to take a break for tea, dinner, and winterizing my bedroom so I don't freeze to death, do y'all have any comments/suggestions/advice? I'd appreciate anything. i think I'm going to use this >>43782664 suggestion for rolling too, seems the best.
>>43783412
>>43783459
ey boss anyway we could have fit patching our wound up? in?
>>43783459
Best of three rolls is good for keeping things moving. Less deadly and the like.
Otherwise nothing major of note. Lots of people with different taste and your style has kept me coming back. As long as you keep posting actions so we know to vote. Things should be smooth.
The first thing you feel is pain; a numb, yet burning flower blossoming on your shoulder. You struggle to open your eyes, and when you do, you can see little beyond your bare right arm and torso. Bandages wrapped around your upper chest and shoulder are stained red, illuminated by a flicker, yellow light. Any attempt to crane your neck around is met with stiffness, but casting your eyes about fills in the details of your surroundings.
The room around you is dark, the only light comes from a cluster of candles on an end table at head height, accompanied by a dirty looking bottle of water and a syringe of Med-X; the window is dark. You're lying belly up on what should be a bed, but compared to your cushy Vault Tec spring mattress feels more like a a particularly lumpy boulder. Other than that, you can see little.
You hear footsteps to your left, and a door creaking open and then closed. A chair scrapes towards you, and someone sits down in it.
"So, you don't even come out scavving and you still manage to get shot? No wonder they kicked you outta the vault!" says a familiar female voice.
>Write in
>>43784094
Well someone else wanted the nuka-cola. I still got them back yeah?
>>43784162
this works.
>>43782976
Guess I'm dead! Ah well. Thanks for humoring me, Opie.
>>43784162
>>43784353
"Well, I ran into someone who likes Nuka-Cola as much as I do. I got it all back yeah?" you manage to retort, groaning in pain after the effort. Marcie chuckles,
"No shit. Took some real guts gunning down a guy like Monoghan, though I can't say anyone round here's complaining. Him and his goons've been hassling folks up and down the sound for months now, scooping up claims, generally being a pain in the ass. No one ever wanted to shake things up with him though, didn't want to start a fight with the folks over at Queen Island." She sighs, "guess we're past that now."
She leans over in her chair and grabs something off the ground. Returning to view, she places a cracked glass bowl filled with steaming hot... something on the end table. A match flares in the dim, and you smell the acrid smoke of what passes for cigarettes on the surface.
"There's your dinner, don't tell me I have to feed it to you. What the hell happened down there anyways?"
>Boast
>Humble
>Plain and simple
>Other?
Should I bother with images? Do they add anything?
>>43784544
Sorry anon, looks like Nate decided that Ghoul McCool wasn't McCool enough. It definitely provided for more excitement than I had in mind though!
>>43784566
>>Plain and simple
Just the facts, jack.
>>43784566
>>Plain and simple
Dude helped us and he didn't what to share in the loot.
>>43784612
>>43784754
You try to orient your body towards her, grimacing with the effort.
"Went down there to clear out some rock crabs, get some store credit at Ocean Supply," you grunt, was going well enough when that... thing showed up and offered to work together. Realized he wasn't going to share, so I shot him. He got me first though, guess you can probably tell," you grin a bit with that last comment before continuing.
"Looks like he had some backup in a boat on the way, they buggered off when they saw the ghoul go down. Lucky for me, don't know how well things would've ended if they stayed. Went into the container to make sure everything was still secure, slipped and banged myself up pretty bad. Next thing I know, I'm lying in this bed getting interrogated."
"You're damn right you got lucky, Vaultboy," she says between puffs of smoke. "I've seen better get gunned down by worse. But, you're alive, and that's what matters I spose."
She tosses a spoon onto the bed, "make sure you eat it, I don't want to hear you complaining about being hungry tomorrow morning. I'll seeya then, get some rest you lucky idiot."
With that, she leaves you alone in the room to dwell on the events of the day.
Your entire way of life was wiped away this morning, and you have no idea why. The outside world is a strange and dangerous place, you can tell already. At least it seems not everyone is out to kill you, you think between spoonfuls of the surprisingly tasty, if greasy, stew.
Finishing it, you reach for the Med-X on the nightstand. You pop off the cap and sink the needle into your chest. Pushing the plunger, you immediately feel the dull aching across your shoulder fade away into nothingness, and the rest of your body follows. Relaxation comes easily, and you drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Forgot trip again. Fucksake boys. Writan more.
Light shines through your eyelids, so you open them. The sun has just come up, you can see through the window, and muffled sounds of movement come from below. You instinctively touch a hand to your shoulder, and find the pain, while still definitely there, has gone down a considerable amount. With a heavy groan, you slide out of bed, the wooden floor cold on your bare feet. You see your effects piled on the floor at the foot of the bed, clothes dry-looking and folded neatly.
>Wear Vault Suit
>Wear tan pants, white t-shirt, flannel jacket
>Optional: wear pork-pie or visor
The clothes are cold and rough feeling on your slightly grimy skin, but you pull them on anyways. You stretch your shoulder out a little bit, testing its limited range of motion. Satisfied, you sling your bag over your good shoulder and shuffle out into the hallway and down a rickety flight of stairs.
Marcie, Loons, and a third, aging man you don't recognize sit around the kitchen table drinking from steaming mugs and exchanging words:
"Come on Marce, this town has nothing left for you anyways," says the old man, "we can cope without you."
"Why not Loons?" Marcie retorts, "he's got family in Gastown anyways, when the hell was the last time you visited?"
They stop arguing when you enter the room, "good to see you up and about, young man!" the old man cheerily exclaims, "I was worried that I might've been a bit messy digging that bullet out of you, especially with your, *ahem,* milder constitution."
He gets up to shake your hand, "Kirk Mitchell, but most around here just call me Doc. I'm the one who patched you up last night, glad that Larry found you when he did, things could've been a lot worse!"
"Thanks, Doctor Mitchell," you respond while shaking his hand, "I owe you one." You gently lower yourself into the last remaining chair, and Loons slides you a cup of the stiff "coffee."
"Sure are tough for some cushy vault baby," he remarks. "Still, took some balls to draw on Monoghan, props."
>>43785323
>>Wear tan pants, white t-shirt, flannel jacket
>>43785323
>>Wear tan pants, white t-shirt, flannel jacket
The hat will be for when we knock.
"What were you talking about before I came in?" you ask through a coffee induced grimace.
"Well," pipes up Loons, "we figured you wouldn't want to stick around this backwater forever. Guy like you, you could make some serious caps down in Gastown, hell even Chief or the Royals could probably set you up real nice. We were talkin' about maybe helping you make your way to the city, it's tough going for fresh meat even if you stick to the road."
"These two seem equally eager to go, don't you?" the Doc cuts in, shooting an expectant look at the two. Marcie starts to interject,
"But Doc, I can't just le-"
"Enough. We can afford to let one of you go for a bit," the Doc cuts her off, "wouldn't you agree?" he asks in Loons' direction. Loons simply shrugs and continues drinking his coffee.
"So Nate, who's it going to be? That is, if you even want to head south."
>Go South
>Alternate plan
also
>Marcie
>>Melee
>>Medicine
>>Speech
>Loons
>>Repair
>>Lockpick
>>Small Guns
>>43785452
>>Go South
>>Loons
>>43785452
>>Go South
Unless that ghoul gang is likely to be a problem after we off their leader.
>>43785452
Yeah, I'm down for south. It will let us build some rep and what not.
As for who... Yeah, Loons. They can get thru doors we can't. Plus fix things for us and we can upgrade them.
>>43785492
I want to ask about this as well. Maybe we can come back and make some defenses for them.
>>43785479
>>43785492
>>43785516
"Won't those ghouls come back for revenge?" you ask.
Loons shakes his head, "nah. Goons like those tend to fall back into the cracks without leadership, sure some new loser will probably show up to cause trouble in a few weeks, but killing Monoghan like that probably sent a pretty strong message."
You sigh in relief, "well, that's good at least. You pretty experienced with this kind of stuff, I'd be glad to have you along when I head south. Are you up to it?"
"Yeah Loons, think you're tough enough to babysit Vaultboy?" Marcie jibes.
"Eeh, go do one Marcie, he did get shot. That makes him okay in my books." Loons looks over to you and nods, "sure buddy, I could use with some fresh air anyways. Is he safe to travel Doc?"
"He's as good as he's going to be for a while, I think," the kindly-faced doctor looks to you, "so long as you don't run around swinging it like a lunatic, it shouldn't cause you too much trouble."
"Good, he snores!" Marcie jibes.
"Shutup Marce, I've got plenty choice stories to tell him on the road." Loons stands up from the table and throws on his jacket.
"Guess I'll go pack up, head over by Ocean Supply and I'll meet you there when I'm ready to head out, I'm sure Larry wants to give you something for saving his supply. Thanks for the coffee Marce. Doc." he gives a low wave and heads out into the street.
"You're in good hands, kid," Marcie says as she starts putting the cups away, "see him out Doc, will ya?"
You and the doctor head out the door after making your goodbyes with Marcie.
"I put a few doses of Med-X in your bag, just in case. You're in good hands with Loons, he's not quite as... erratic as Marcie." he shakes your hand vigorously, "you're always welcome in Ocean Point Nate, I hope to see you again."
"You to Doctor, take care."
You head up the road towards Ocean Supply, weaving through puddles limned in orange and violet by the overcast early-morning sun.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBn5aIfZElE plays on the radio inside Ocean Supply, the familiar string-lights a welcome sight. You ring the bell and wait a few minutes as you hear someone hastily getting dressed in the room over. The shopkeep, who you know now to be named Larry, stumbles through the door, pulling up one end of his overalls.
"Oh hey, you're up 'n about already! Doc sure knows how to work huh? Saw that hole in yer shoulder and figgered you'd be out for at least a few days!"
"I'm not that easy to keep down," you respond with a smile.
"Haha, well no shit," beams. "So, seems like you're needin' a reward after all that fuss! Here, take yer pick." He gestures towards a shelf on his right hand side, which is strewn with an assortment of items:
>>Choose two
>Hockey chestpad
>Box of 24 10mm rounds (fits Monoghan's Revolver)
>Stimpak
>Climbing kit
>Crowbar
>>43785709
>>43785807
shitsake. Y'all know it's me.
>>43785807
Box of 24 10mm rounds
And
Climbing kit
>>43785807
>>Crowbar
I'm sure there is will be many uses for this.
>Box of 24 10mm rounds (fits Monoghan's Revolver)
For the road. (Man I can't wait till we get a good heavy weapon.)
>>43785873
>>43785921
Looks like the ammo is a definite, just gotta get a majority on item #2, so many good options!
While I respect the climbing kit. I think we will get more uses out of the pry bar. It's great for B&E and getting into other things.
>>43785873
>>43785921
>>43785965
"I'll take the ammo and the crowbar, if that's alright."
Larry takes the items down off the shelf and slides them over to you,
"Hope they work out for ya, you really helped me out yesterday. Seeya around, eh?"
You nod, and exit the shop to find Loons leaning up against the outside of a building, wearing a beat up leather jacket and smoking a cigarette. He's got a backpack and weather carbine slung over his shoulder; it sure didn't take him long to pack.
He peers out from under a dirty ballcap, "ready to get going pal?"
"As I'll ever be. Not too sure what to expect out there, to be honest."
He pushes off the wall, and hiking his effects up on his shoulder, starts heading towards the gate.
"Don't worry about it Nate, I've been up and down from Chief to Gastown and back more times than I can count. It's not til you get off the ninety-nine that things start to get real dicey."
"If you say so, let's hit the road."
The sentinel at the wall pulls the gate open for you, closing it again as soon as you're through.
The sun is well on it's way up, and your Pipboy reads 8:32 AM. The highway shimmers, rainwater mingling with the morning sun to give a golden sheen to the otherwise desolate and ruinous roadway. It's a long road to Gastown.
I'm a bit fatigued and I feel the quality of my content slipping guys, so I think I'm gonna call it. thanks for following, I appreciate it!
>>43786154
Later.
>>43786154
Good place to stop. Thanks for running!
>>43786154
thanks for running boss.
