msraffertyspants

[msraffertyspants]

Nice

Nice

[msraffertyspants]

General Beale’s Day Out

OK. So.  I had a goal today.  Go to Watoga, find that frigging mayor and tell her to shove it where the sun don’t shine.  I tell ya, I’m glad she and the Grafton Mayor don’t know each other otherwise it will be trouble for us all.  Either that or they’ll have an affair that’s like the one between Mad Dog and the Warden only about 85 percent more dumpsterfire.

Anyway, I ask General Beale for some help.  I left a note on his door and headed off to Grafton.  When I get there I’m looking at the lay of the land when two legendary three star scorch beasts appear.  I’m thinking ‘THIS IS AMAZING’ I didn’t even have to lose my pants for this!   So, General Beale and I make short work of them.  Well, it’s more apt to say General Beale makes short work of it. I’m just getting target practice.  Then we run for the Mayor’s office.  Now anyone who thinks they can’t keep up with General Beale... they’re right. We get to the Mayor, find out that I need to find some guy who’s likely been dead for the past twenty years and figure out how to get all the damn robots from having PMS 24/7.  We head out to where he was last seen.  We see a supermutant and General Beale says ‘Coleen, I’m going to take care of this.  You go search for clues.’ So I am in there, searching for the clues when I hear the sounds of a Tesla rifle going, Supermutants, thier hounds, some scorched, an assaaultron, three bears and I think there was a Mirelurk in there.  I step out and there are bodies and blood everywhere.  General Beale is still immaculate in his suit.  No idea how he keeps his hair like that.

Anyway, we find out we gotta go to Robco.  Last Robco robot I had was one that went by the name of Fisto back in Vegas. Let me tell you... my legs were numb and I was shitting in cubes for a month after that encounter.  I get my face scanned into the virus, head BACK to Watoga, up to the rooftop, click click click.  That clicking was the sound of gunfire so..  We fight off the Colonel Gutsy’s which I was sad over. I rather like thier cheerful attitude.  It’s a refreshing change out here in the wastes. Finally we get the thing uploaded, I’m mayor now or at least one among many.  So I go to Kenneth and say, “Hey, let’s celebrate.  My place. I got some nuka-colas.”   He says “badass” then just starts walking to my place.  From the roof of the Mayor’s office.  Just steps off the roof like he was stepping down the stairs and by god... if he doesn’t just stick the landing and keep casually walking. I get back to camp first, set up a nice celebration by my campfire.  I figure I got time so I take a nap.  I wake up to General Beale breaking into my house, tossing me a uniform that looks like someone drew inspiration from early 20th century military and says, “put this on, Imma try something” Let me preface this next bit by saying...  General Beale’s mind is open but not so far to let his brains fall out.  He always makes sure that he gets consent before doing things.  So what happens here is way out of character. I’m thinking he was short on sleep and in a bit of a fog from it. I do, to which he pulls out a Commie whacker and starts slapping my knockers.  And not in a fun way either.  He keeps muttering numbers to himself after he slaps a knocker.  Yanno, Slap a knocker, ‘sixteen’.  Slap a knocker, ‘sixteen’.  Slap a knocker, ‘twenty’.  Now, normally, I wouldn’t mind, I’ve had weirder foreplay. But then he hits a nip just right that it twists, yanno and it hurt.  Beale goes, “Coleen, Vats says that was the combat inhibitor, lift your shirt”  Is that what the kids are calling nipples these days? Well, he won’t leave them alone, keeps wanting to slap em around, nuthin else.  They eventually start hurting and I ask him to stop.  He keeps going, as if entranced.  I ask again.  Again he’s deaf.  So I hit him with my heavy sledge.  He collapses to the ground snoring.  Wouldn’t be the first time a guy fell asleep on me. Not bad for a Wednesday night.

[msraffertyspants]

Huh. Once again I take the road less traveled and it seems to have made all the difference.  When I got to that spot there weren’t basketballs there but three of those bug eyed aliens.  About three foot high and they had a can of beans between them and were.. yanno, sniffing at and trying to figure out what it was.  They were shaking it like one of those old cow toys where you flip it over and hear the moo?  These guys were flipping it over to hear the SLLOOORP. So I approach with a can opener and open one of my own cans so they can, yanno, see what it was for.  You’d think I had shown them the cure for cancer for all the hooting and hollering they gave.  They started slapping my knockers around.  I didn’t want to do anything because first of all, they were three feet tall and aliens and I had no idea if knocker slapping was a hello.  Second.. well, let’s just say it’s been a while. So I’m standing there, opening cans for thier amusement and getting my knockers slapped when what appears to be thier boss shows up.  He is a lot taller.   And Meaner And Purple And his how-do-you-do was less knocker slapping and more firing energy weapons at me. So I duck away when, once again, this guy who sounds suspiciously like General Beale.  Looks like him.  Wearing his unreasonably handsome face except for his blue eyes were all pupil and he was screaming, “NUCLEAR WINTER TO PROVE YOURSELF WORTHY OF HIS LIGHT”.  Three shots and the purple guy was dead. These three little grey aliens started crying like children and I couldn’t just leave em there!  I open my backpack to give them a ride and they all jump in.  Then this Giant chicken appeared. I wake up in my house, my backpack has three Jangles the Moon Monkey stuffies in it and I’ve got a hangover.  I’d think it was all a dream if it weren’t for the tiny three fingered handprints on my knockers where I was slapped. Oh, and the three little aliens that keep my reactor running.

I am a grown-ass man. I am supposed to be unfettered by the many frivolous distractions present in day-to-day life. As a fully mature, fully realized human being, I am capable of maintaining unwavering focus and purpose, my eyes fixed squarely on my lifelong dreams and goals.

So anyway, these 15 seconds of my life were way more entertaining than anything should ever have the right to be, and if you’d also like to find out how easily amused you are, head to this marker south of Camp McClintock:

[msraffertyspants]

LIttle different for me when I use turbo-fert See I got one of those things and I thought it was a grenade.  I mean, it looks like one right.  So I’m hiding in the bushes near the Bloodeagle camp outside Top of the world, yanno, the one along the road.  Anyway I’m sneaking around, quiet like when someone sees me. I try like hell to hold my own, but I’m stealth with very little in the way of defense if I am bumrushed. I shoot with my automatic pistol, hold a lot of em off.  Yanno.  Well, there comes a time where I’m cornered and I got NUTTIN Man.  I’m just standing there, surrounded by Blood Eagles.  I reach into my bag and toss out the Turbo fert. At first, nothing happens.  I think I’ve just tossed a stink bomb.  But then, I feel some sharp pains in my stomach like I just ate some steak knives.  Now, I’m not one to mess around with this and I figure.. if I am gonna die, I’m going to at least go comfortable.  So I drop trou and bend over. The Turbo-Fert combined with the old package of gummybears I ate had performed some sort of unholy necromancy in my colon.  Armed with thier new weapons they lauched thier attack.  My sphinter was in no mood to resist.  LIke a firehose on tissue paper these tiny demons launched through my sphincter, turning my mud gun into a minigun. The viscus go that came out of me made the Turbo fert smell clean and refreshing.  The little bastard souls of the gummybears returned from from the firey pit to unleash upon the world.  They coated the Bloodeagles in this viscous goo that smelled like the septic tank of a supermutant colony. Did I mention I also had Muttfruit that day? I hear screams of agony behind me, which I naturally assume was due to them getting hosed down.  But the voices trialed off like they were being choked.  When I finished being a portal for the damned. I turned around to see a smallfield of Muttfruit growing over the lumps of what I assume were the corpses of Blood eagles. Mom always said I got gramma’s green thumb.

𝒲𝐸𝐿𝐿 𝒮𝐿𝒜𝒫 𝑀𝒴 𝒜𝒮𝒮 𝒜𝒩𝒟 𝒞𝒜𝐿𝐿 𝑀𝐸 𝒪𝐿𝒟 𝑀𝒜𝒞𝒟𝒪𝒩𝒜𝐿𝒟

𝐸 𝐼 𝐸 𝐼 𝒪, 𝑀𝒪𝒯𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐹𝒰𝒞𝒦𝐸𝑅𝒮

No, seriously, I’ve discovered something amazing, but it might actually be a little too amazing. So uh… maybe don’t try this at home. At least for a month or so, and wait to see if I’m still alive by then. Because I’m honestly kind of thinking the Hand of Todd might come down and spank my ass for this.

What I’ve done looks like it’s breaking, just, a whole bunch of different laws of physics and thermodynamics. Something about it just feels a little, uhhh, too good to be true.

So here’s what I did.

First, I turbo-fertilized some plants at my CAMP to give me the seeds for a bunch of other ones.

Then I took a workshop. Then I made two different blueprints: One using the garden plot foundation, another using the garden plot upper floor. Each blueprint can support exactly 16 tato plants.

Then I replicated these blueprints several times, as you can see… and I also discovered in the process that the turbo-fert grenades have a VERTICAL area of effect as well.

There are 24 plots, for a total of 384 tato plants in that image… and they can all be instantly fertilized with a single grenade… and with a Green Thumb, that turns into 768 tatoes in one go. And I’m pretty sure even the most awkward of salesmen can manage to sell a tato for at least 1 cap, so… yeeaaaaaaaaahhhh. This actually might be slightly, uh… excessive?

Now, admittedly, the setup for this is pretty fuckin’ elaborate. First you have to do the whole gold bullion thing, then you have to get the Settlers to like you enough to sell you the plans for the garden plots and the turbo-fert. So that’s a huge time investment right there.

You also do have to have enough fertilizer to support the operation - if you’re a good Contractor, then each one of these blueprints only takes 8 fertilizer to set up. But that was still 192 fertilizer I had to use for this particular arrangement.

I would need to stuff 1,920 tatoes away somewhere and let them rot in order to replace all of that fertilizer, so that’s actually not exactly a drop in the bucket. The thing is, though, that it is technically a self-renewing resource if you use it carefully. Plus, you wouldn’t have to set up 24 plots to get a hell of a lot of use out of this; you’d just have to use a few more turbo-ferts to get the same amount of produce.

Speaking of which, the turbo-fert collector produces a new ‘nade about every 5 minutes, give or take 30 seconds or so. So that’s good to know.

The biggest caveat to this method, though? It’s a bit… carpal-tunnel-inducing. As much as I’d love to continue discovering just how far I could run with this, it might be in my best interests - for several reasons - to just continue hunting and selling cooked meat.

Pretty neat to basically be able to conjure 700+ caps out of a single bomb of irradiated brahmin shit, though, huh?

[msraffertyspants]

Not General Beale

OK so.  The day in the wastes, starts pretty damn normal.  I wake up kill a few Molerats, cook em up for breakfast.  Normal stuff. So I get my stuff together to go and retrieve this key for my bartender.  I don’t know what he wanted it for.  All I know is, he wants the blood eagles dead and I’m all for it.  So I head out to the Mire.  I’m... skulking around all stealth like.  A pair of Snallygasters attack just as I’m about to get to Treetops.  I’m fighting them, Yanno, trying to dodge and juke.  One of those things tongues come out, whips my pants off.  Which, yanno, wouldn’t have happened if I actually had ARMOR for my legs and not just my arms and chest.  Anyway, so I get up to the top of this thing and find the key.  Wouldn’t you know it, I saw General Beale, flighting a Behemouth on the road below.  I yelll to try and get his attention, which is odd since usually when I’ve got my cooter and my pooter out, guys tend to take note. Anyway, I climb down and head out to catch up.  However, he must have been in a hurry because he looted the behemouth and was running off.  Sprinting like he had an appointment he was missing just... full tilt.  Now, most people think they can’t keep up with him and they’re right. Anyway, I head in a southerly direction toward Watoga.  Now, I’m not SAYING I saw him again.  I am saying someone wearing his suit, his shades, holding a gun that looked like his, screaming in his voice at the Scorchbeast, “PRETENDER TO THE SKIES, THE MOTHMAN WILL NOT TOLERATE RIVALS”.  And proceeds to shoot it out of the skies.  I run over but by the time I get there, it’s completely down and Kenneth is calmly grilling Scorchbeast lungs in his tent. So anyway, I passed this odd pipe coming out of the ground earlier with some dead dudes around it so I stayed away.  Wonder what that’s about.

[msraffertyspants]

It’s a box!

So I wake up this morning to this note pinned to my door.  It said ‘Surprise at my place’ along with a number.  So I think... OK this is unusual.  I pack my bow up and head out to General Beale’s place.  When I get there I see this new boxy building with a door on it.  And I am THRILLED.  It’s a box like a present! Biggest present I ever got!  I tapped in the number on the keypad. This place is AMAZING!  It’s got a Hubris comics bed, lots of stuffed animals, stash box and.. best of all.. a Slocome Joe’s vendor with arrows, weapons, armor... All the stuff I need to resupply with. The wallpaper and flooring just match my shirts.  This place rules. It’s so hard for those of us not at ‘maximum’ skill to find any upgrades in weapon or armor for sale.  We’re stuck using only what we can find in the world.  Anyway - after that I headed out to set free a dude in a cult for my barkeeper.  I get there and ya know, I’m stalking around careful like, trying not to alert anyone.  I’d had been doing pretty good with my bow, yanno.  I took out an assaultron earlier by going for the legs then the head.  So got the drop on one of them.  And that alerted all the others.  Yeah.  Apparently these cultists are smarter then raiders that way.   So there I am, pretty sure I’m gonna die when I hear a voice scream, “I AM HERE TO SEND YOU TO THE LIGHT MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS”. And @general-beale comes butterflying in on his jetpack, shoots them with a Tesla rifle and they all drop dead.  He then flies off screaming something about worthiness.   Anyway, my night ended with my drinking a Nuka Cola and a visit from Mrs Krinklemaus.  Didn’t get a lot of sleep that night.

[msraffertyspants]

How I met General Beale

So I was out in the forest, trying to survive.  I had no more ammo, I was just down to me and my machete.  Some Super Mutants came along and I thought... this is it Colleen!  This is how you die.  With your pants ON. Then this man in a suit and wearing a jet pack comes flying in and butterflying around the area, shooting everything in sight.  How his own pants don’t catch on fire I will never know.  Whatever those pants are... I want them.  That is when I pass out. When I wake up, I have no idea where I am.  For some reason I have armor on my chest and arms but not over my fun bun and mud gun.  Which is odd to wake up both with more clothes on but seemingly less clothed at once.  I head down to the shop and find a nice bow and some arrows for sale.  I figure stealth might be a better option for me.  I arm up and decide to leave before things can get any wierder. I am not two hundred yards from the place when Krinklemaus shows up... and he is PISSED.  He points right at me and goes “HRRMGGMEMDNHFID” before charging at me and hitting me in my right knocker.  Not the gentle butting he had been doing before but sending me flying into a tree where once again I am hanging by the remains of my pants.  At this point, I am pretty sure Mrs Krinklemaus had told him about what happened at easter and I figure I’m a gonner. Same sharp dressed man comes flying in and starts shooting.  When he’s done he looks up at me in the tree and says. “Hi, I’m General Beale.  Seems like I found an expert at being bait.” I reply, “This wouldn’t be the first time someone caught me Master Baiting”

[msraffertyspants]

What? This man is running around looking like he’s a movie star, meanwhile I try the same thing and a thousand bees cover my face.  I look like some sort of new cryptid of wastes.  I drive into the water I’m bathing in to make them go away.  Little do I know they are hybrids of those japaneese bees that raise thier body temperatures to try to kill enemies. So my face is getting real hot as I try to hold my breath underwater.  They let go of my face but not before giving me a first degree burn so it looks like I got a sunburn.  I come up for air a few yards away.  A yao guai is attracted to the sugar and is drinking at the edge of the pond, sees me and starts charging. I take off running, completely naked  and yelling my head off hoping like hell I can find shelter. So I’m sitting in this treehouse with this computer in it hoping the bear gets bored and I’m hearing screams of damned in thier never ending agony.

So I found this ‘sugar scrub’ that exfoliates your skin. And I figured, hey, might as well try it, right? A lot of women really seemed to like this stuff before the war, and it’s not like there are many men left in the world to make fun of me for doing ‘woman stuff.’

(Besides, making fun of somebody who is level 527 and also as unhinged as I am is an extremely bad idea.)

Just to see what would happen, I also mixed it with some Mothman egg oil. I’ve noticed that stuff seems to make my hands real smooth when it gets on them, so I figured either I’d come out looking amazing or some kind of severe reaction and keel over. Not like it’s any more dangerous an endeavor than stepping outside of my shelter every day.

Holy shit. My skin is so smooth that a ghoul would take my very presence as a personal insult. I’m just sitting here constantly petting my face and for once it’s not because of the chems.

You guys gotta try this stuff. I’m going to be storming through my next daily operation looking like a million bucks.

… or a million caps. Hmm. That version of the phrase just isn’t as punchy as the original.

A million gold bullion?

Handsome as fuck. I’ll be looking handsome as fuck. Let’s just go with that.

[msraffertyspants]

Little different for me there, sport.  I must have gotten there just after you cleaned the place out.  I was there trying to get some cloth because the waistband of my pants was done so they were drooping on my hips.   As I am approaching some unexploded ordinace went off and I go FLYING up into the air.  My elastic gets caught on the edge of a building on the way down. So I’m hanging there wondering what ELSE is going to happen when the Free Radicals come back.  They see me there like someone traded all thier shit and left a woman in thier place.   My elastic snaps and I fall, pants shredded in front of thier scouting party. So there I was, my rauncher and my fatman launcher, exposed to the world, the Free Radicals standing there with thier guns out and all I can think of is, ‘This is not how I saw my birthday going’  Thank god the Three Star Albino Deathclaw appeared and distracted them so I was able to get the hell out of there.  Guess I’ll try somewhere else for new pants.

WV Lumber Co

21 aluminum scrap, 9 circuits, 13 excess adhesive, 28 lead scrap, 17 loose gears, 19 loose screws, 15 loose springs, 90 molded plastic, 33 raw asbestos, 69 raw cloth, 11 waste acid, 396 steel scrap, 35 waste oil and 154 wood scraps…

That’s just a selection of the scrap that I got out of ONE run of the WV Lumber Co. One! That’s a fucking shit-ton of aluminum for a single run of one place!

I know some of you probably did your share of dealing with the Free Radicals there and then never looked back. It’s understandable - everything out here was so new and deadly and exciting, you needed to go on to bigger and better things after the Wayward! But do yourself a favor and head on back to the old lumber yard. The Free Radicals really do keep the place incredibly well-stocked, and, well, if they didn’t want me repeatedly taking their stuff, they wouldn’t have fucked with the Wayward.

There are three, count ‘em, THREE different places that I’ve found magazines lying around here at the Lumber Co. There’s also a surprising number of stimpaks and other various chems and food. There’s even a Port-A-Diner in the leader’s place. Just all kinds of stuff.

I guess the only caveat is that you do have to come pretty well-armed. Well… unless you’re one of them, I guess. And if you are, sorry I’m taking your stuff.

(Obviously I’m not sorry enough to give it back, but, you know. My condolences.)

[msraffertyspants]

Amature

Man. What the fuck. My mouth is as dry as a desert, I’ve got about 5000 less bullets than I remember having and I woke up naked with a diseased mirelurk hatchling chewing on my ass.

I found a couple of Mothman wings in my inventory? I guess I got ambushed. Good thing I was able to defend myself. Don’t remember a damn thing about it though.

Anybody else notice that the Psycho that people are making is… a lot more potent lately?

On the bright side, that’s another Challenge down. Never thought I’d be proud of catching a disease, but here we are. Bet you suckers are jealous, huh?

Don’t be. Just get naked, pop a Rad-X and go bother the mirelurk eggs near Ohio River Adventures. Hopefully you’ll find a diseased mirelurk hatchling. You gotta let it chew on you for a while and, this is really important, you gotta be naked.

(Maybe. I don’t know. I just know that the only time I actually managed to catch Woopsies when I was trying to catch it was when I didn’t have any clothes on. So there you go. Just try not to let the hatchling get near your balls.)