Thursday, August 27, 2015

Tales of Vault 867 - Part Eight

Just freaking spiffy. Captain Terry finally goes missing in the Wasteland, and rather than let him die two of my best people get up an unauthorized rescue mission.

What's going to happen if we get hit by Raiders, ladies? Because we're totally getting hit with Raiders right now.

To beef up security and prepare for Terry's inevitable assault, I've ordered a secondary Vault built at the bottom of the elevator shaft. Might as well get some use out of the damn thing before it breaches R'leyh.

Hilltop Hattie was out in the Wasteland with Terry and warned me about his seditious talk, so I've assigned her to head up the new Vault. I'm a bit light on people I can trust, so I initially assigned her to cover it solo.

Which would have been fine, except somebody let this asshole in.

(What the hell kind of camera glitch is that?)

This greaser immediately cozied up to Hattie and convinced her to let him open a bar in the new Vault. A bar. We don't even have alcohol beyond what the Gasmonger brews up from the radioactive sump in Corridor G!

Scumbag Owens immediately began chatting up some of the Vault Kids I'd detailed to help out Hattie.

With predictable results. Once again I'm forced to bemoan Vault-Tec's inability to provide prophylactics to our merry Dwellers.

Unfortunately Owens didn't stop there...

(At least one of the Vault Kids understands how STDs work.)

And then he kept going. Where did he find lingerie?

I'm going to have to seriously investigate whether Owens slipped some mind-control substances into the water supply. Or, maybe it's the jacket.

Nothing much else to report except for the usual outbreaks of vermin and random fires.

I'm... I'm pretty sure someone already said that.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Tales of Vault 867 - Part Seven

The Overseer's paranoia aside, Vault 867 appeared to be a stable, if not thriving enterprise at this point in the logs. Regarding the surface conditions that concerned him, we were able to locate a travel journal maintained, apparently, by Captain Terry Davidson, the target of much of the Overseer's ire. We hope excerpts from this journal may shed some light on the reality of his time in the Wasteland.

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Tales of Vault 867 - Part Six

Well, I was right about the half-rations, but I assumed it would be food and not water. Silly me! Some idiot threw a mole rat corpse into the water supply and now everyone is running around with mild radation poisoning. We are out of Rad-Aways and I've ordered everyone deemed non-essential to get busy with the filters and recycling systems.

Naturally then we got hit with the Raider attack I was expecting. Captain Terry was conveniently eight hours away from the Vault, but our Dwellers are armed to the teeth and cut the invaders down with little trouble.

New arrivals have been streaming in with disturbing regularity, and I've directed them to be trained for menial cafeteria labor rather than anything sensitive. I've also descended the main elevator shaft and constructed a secure backup power generator in the depths. There's nothing down there except roaches and mole rats, and I'm much more concerned about whatever is gunning for us on the surface.

Speaking of which, Captain Terry took a gang of our best workers up to the surface for an extended tour. I've marked all of them down for stricter surveillance and half rations when they return.

Oh wait Terry you bastard you left the door open!

Monday, August 24, 2015

August 21st - 23rd, 2015

Plague, horrors, sleepless nights and no crabs. I have had much worse weekends and I have had much more stressful weekends, but everything aches and I'm plotting vengeance against the dog for asking for a glass of water with 2 a.m. barks.

The tiny male human has been banished to his grandparents' house for a week of vacation, and we are strongly feeling the vacuum of his absence. It's something like how a deep-sea fish will dissipate into mist if it suddenly finds itself teleported to the surface. My wife and I know intellectually we have a golden opportunity to get our house in order, but all we can do is sit and marvel at how quiet everything is.

Today I Wrote:

HA HA HA HA HA. I can't even say I worked on my Fallout Shelter log because everything's so damn stable. Part five is up but was already written.

Today I Read:

Finished reading The Divide, and it's very difficult to read this and take any candidate other than Bernie Sanders seriously next year. Now I'm back into Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, which continues to read slowly but amusingly.

Tales of Vault 867 - Part Five

Today I began handing out work assignments to the latest crop of Vault Kids, a fun and exciting occasion which was only marred by a spontaneous fire in the Athletic Room and a molerat invasion.

A fire. In. The Athletic Room. I shit you not. Luckily it was pretty easy to put out considering that there was no source of heat that would have actually caused it.

The molerats were a bigger problem. I guess one of the Vault Kids found a baby molerat down in the depths and brought it up to the main cafeteria for food. How anyone can find the hairless, radioactive shit-rats cute is beyond me.

Naturally the parents responded by invading the cafeteria en masse, and nearly eating the unarmed Vault Kids before they could figure out which end of the gun was "point towards enemy".

The adults sorted it out eventually and everyone ended up getting a cocktail of shots from Doctor Adreno and a stern lecture about the dangers of violent, ill-tempered pets.

While all this was going on Our Hero Captain Terry went on yet another extended sabbatical into the Wasteland, leaving us dangerously low on medical supplies. I should pay someone to slip a bit of thermite into that Fat Boy he's always hauling around, or swap his Rad-Away with tap water. effing Terry thinks he's so special 

Anyway... that Vault Kid who set up the Athletic Room actually managed to become an effective cafeteria manager, I assume through the power of bicep flexes. Despite our new training program we are very close to a half-rations situation and I may need to banish a few of the Kids out into the Wasteland to sink or swim. Most likely sink.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Tales of Vault 867 - Part Four

I'm not sure what the hell happened, but some sort of Quiverfull / Free Love cult doctrine has spread through the Vault like the plague. We've had eight babies crop up this past cycle (and I hate that I have to say "cycle", but I still haven't found the damned coma drug dispenser), with more likely on the way. Somehow this hasn't crippled our food and water stocks, but I'm terrified of what will happen if these idiots keep rabbiting.

One fringe benefit is that the potentially dangerous relationship between Captain Terry and Annihilatrix Lewis appears to have gone up in smoke. (Or, possibly, Terry is sterile. They are technically grandparents at this point.) The Captain took another sabbatical to the Wasteland and came back with yet another load of crappy guns and crappier clothing. I'm half-convinced he's raising his own army out there, with an eye on overthrowing Your Own Overseer.

I could probably confirm that if Vault-Tec's surveillance equipment wasn't built from scrap wire and old bread baskets. I'm over the urge to see what my Dwellers are doing in the goddamn Love Lockers,

but it would be nice if I could capture a proper log of, say, the spontaneous four-room fire that cropped up recently. I swear to the Master I'm going to drop everybody's hormone levels.

In other news, we had a new arrival that was not in the form of a toddling Health & Safety violation. I found out later that she's deaf and arrived at our Vault by happenstance. Take that Tutone!

Our descent continues apace. One of the Vault Kids set up an athletic room about a mile below ground and refuses to do anything but situps all day long. He claims it's part of the Cafeteria Workers' Training Program, but I can't be bothered to kick him out or gas him.

(Note to self: see if gassing disobedient Dwellers is a valid option.)

No raids recently. I think the Captain is planning something. I've had the Vault door reinforced just in case.

Friday, August 21, 2015

August 20th, 2015

I'm getting sick, my wife is getting sick, my son is getting better but still has little appetite and a need to cling to me like a lemur. On the bright side my daughter still seems healthy and cheerful. Stay happy little girl!

Today I Wrote:

About three updates for the Vault 867 logs. I just have to insert some amusing pictures and they'll be up.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

August 19th, 2015

A fine relaxing day today. I spent it home with sick son, who is happily on an upswing but not quite back to the "puppy on meth" level of energy he's had before. So we read books, colored things, blew bubbles, played Scholar of the First Sin, and fought over how much food he should be eating. Normal father-son stuff.

Of course then he threw a fork at his mother (I'm 99% sure this was an accident) and woke up screaming at 3 a.m., thereby squandering his earned goodwill. But it was nice while it lasted.

Today I Wrote:

Nada. I will openly admit I could have done much better. I did generate screen captures and material for the next Vault log though.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

August 18th, 2015

Young son is back on antibiotics today over... something rough, anyway. Poor kid can't catch a break. I'm really hoping my daughter doesn't catch it. Or my wife. Or me.

Today I Wrote:

Meeting notes, mostly.

Today I Picked Up:

A copy of Chuck Wendig's new book Zer0es. It's either going to be a delightful thriller or a fine chance to laugh at another bad depiction of information security, but I'm going to go in giving Mr. Wendig the benefit of the doubt. I did the same for Alyssa Milano's Hacktivist and that worked out pretty well.

Today I Watched:

Two Scotsmen discussing the best ten weapons in Dark Souls 2.

I always enjoy listening to people talking stats, it's like listening to a conversation in a foreign language. Also I've got more reason to buff my Roaring Halberd now. Another old favorite of mine is the classic Onyxia wipe audio from World of Warcraft. Just try to parse this:

August 17th, 2015

Sitting home alone with both kids until 8 o'clock at night? Check. Son sick, refusing to eat and demanding to be held constantly? Check. Dog refusing to drink water for two days? Actually unchecked, she finally drank something.

Writing time? Oh ma'am, you must be joking.

Today I Wrote:

Actually I did manage to finish the third part of the Fallout Shelter log, which is posted up here. For the record I'm trying to capture a disaster on the scale of Boatmurdered and it's nowhere near happening so far. My natural inclination toward doing well in a game is messing me up, I think. I'm either going to have to institute a "no resurrections" policy or go whole-hog into the nightmarish deeps beneath the world if I want good copy.

Tales of Vault 867 - Part Three

I guess I should have known we'd have more raiders, but it couldn't have come at a worse time. Terry Davidson, now self-promoted to Captain Davidson, took our tactical nuke gun and went walkabout to the Wasteland for supplies.

As soon as he left, bam! Raiders.

We called him back, but by the time he got here the raiders were already dead.

So, naturally, the good Captain took the unexpected time off to romance Annihilatrix Lewis.

Which, because the engineering groups still haven't figured out how to fabricate condoms, led to this:

Which led to the sort of talk I can't tolerate, so I sent the Captain back outside for an extended tour. At which point we got raided again.

Our fearless crew fought them off eventually, of course, but Coffin Cat Clark and Gasmonger Henriquez were dead in the upper water processing plant for a week before anyone found them.

Doctor Dredd and Resurrector West did a bang-up job, but the two of them still seem unhappy for some reason, muttering about "the soul-sucking horror of beyond". I'm trying really hard to ignore that.

Hard work and some family time will sort them out just fine, I'm sure.

"Crazy" Jan ran out into the wilderness and got herself killed, with a pack full of valuable supplies. Against my better judgement I had the radio room recall Captain Terry and asked him to bring her corpse back on his way in.

Ah, yes, we have a radio room now. Annihilatrix Lewis insisted on setting one up, ostensibly to attract more Dwellers to our community. I don't have a problem with that, but one of the Vault kids has taken over its operation and keeps playing a goddamn Tommy Tutone record on a loop. Needless to say no one has come looking for our Vault since.

Despite Tutone our community has grown. Captain Terry made a friend out in the wastes and sent her back here. I don't know what kind of steroids she's been mainlining but she's stronger than Groovy Gary. Hopefully we proceed to whatever the appropriate depth is without further interruptions.