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.
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