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Games / Re: Fallout: New Vegas T- Shirt Giveaway NEW EASIER SUBMISSION!
« on: September 11, 2010, 01:31:46 PM »Sent my story.
I kinda want to read these stories now.
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I kinda want to read these stories now.
2
Games / Re: Fallout: New Vegas T- Shirt Giveaway NEW EASIER SUBMISSION!
« on: September 09, 2010, 10:59:52 PM »Quote
You get shot in the face by a guy in a suit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1kTQFyMRSXk
God, this was the first thing that jumped to mind, lol.
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Games / Re: HALO; REACH (Countdown Topic)
« on: September 08, 2010, 10:38:44 PM »
God, I'm so pissed that my Xbox drive burnt out on me. Right after getting the cash to buy Reach. Good ol' Microsoft engineering!
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Games / Re: Fallout: New Vegas T- Shirt Giveaway
« on: September 08, 2010, 10:35:08 PM »I actually liked yours smokingyoung.
Heh, thanks. I usually avoid fiction (especially of the fan variety) but it was a good excuse for being hammy.
Now, I just hope my luck stat is high enough.
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Games / Re: Fallout: New Vegas T- Shirt Giveaway
« on: September 07, 2010, 10:54:50 PM »
Here goes my shot. I already sent it off, but you guys might get a kick out of my crummy writing.
_______________
[Brotherhood Scribe Charles, Session One; Holotape Recording begins]
Alright, alright, don’t wave that thing at me, junior. I’ll do the blasted recording. You Brotherhood guys don’t seem to have much of a problem with Ghouls when we’ve got info you want, eh? Whatever, just have the caps lined up when this story time is over with and you can be as bigoted as you damn well please.
It was a normal day. I never really thought about how Armageddon would look, but October 6th, 2077 didn’t fit my description. The morning began like any other in the sleepy town of Goodsprings. Hell, I’m surprised it’s so sharp in my mind. But then again, I did have skin back then, so I suppose it’s a pretty precious recollection. More to the point, I was heading towards my work at the local bar, back before we all jumped back three centuries and started it a saloon. Cowboy nonsense, sheer nonsense. Anyway, I did the usual bartender crap, served drinks, made small talk, and kept everyone happy. People never got too violent; everyone knew each other too well. Gabe, Tycho, Anne, all the regulars were there, and it was looking like a good time. Some bearded yahoo was selling some Do-It-Yourself survival kit, ‘Saxton Hale’s Endurance Enhancer’, or such. I’d say the product wasn’t very solid, seeing as I’m here, and he ain’t. He was barking up the wrong tree anyway, nobody out in the Mojave Desert cared if a bunch of bigwig starfishs said the world was going to end. Heh, ironic, eh?
Okay, I’ll pick up the pace. Keep that metal skirt on, kid. The day kept on moseying along until, say about noon. The television on the bar started to blare. It was the emergency broadcast signal. Nobody have ever heard it, or ever expected to. The room got dead quiet. It was like even the goddamn rats just froze in place. Somebody ran in a started hollering about the planes, and everyone left the bar. The bombers; Christ, even after two hundred years, the image still gives me chills. You could see them from miles away. At first it was just ballistics, but then…
God, I feel old. After we saw the forgetin’ Apocalypse coming, you know what we did? Ran. Your little Brotherhood might have its’ code and high ideals, but when you get under pressure, all that garbage comes tumbling down. Nobody in Goodsprings had a cozy little Vault to hide in; we were out in wild wasteland. Now, not everybody was a scumbag. Some people went home, saw their kids, their families, and tried keeping civilization together. God rest ‘em. Everyone else was looting, burning, killing, generally acting like cavemen. It all gets fuzzier here, probably because I keep trying to ignore what happened next.
I tried running back in and grabbing the shotgun I kept under my bar. It always seemed paranoid before that, but the universe has a pretty cruel sense of humor. Unfortunately, one of the waitresses had the same idea. Her name was something like ‘Brenna’. We…fought over the gun until I got the upper hand and…forget, is this really important? I shot her, okay? I did what I had to do. After that, there was just this blinding, searing flash and a massive wave of heat, like someone just poured radscorpion venom all over me. I blacked out from the pain.
Next thing I know, I’m out on the street. Half the houses are leveled, my gun is gone, all these pools of pink and tan liquid on the ground. There were corpses everywhere, charred skeletons. I pretty much lost it. Waking up around that while looking like a zombie screwed with how I saw reality. It wasn’t until I wandered into Primm, half dead from starvation, that I got my head on straight again, thanks to the smoothskin doc. Good guy, he knows respect, unlike certain power armor-clad pansies.
There, satisfied? You can go ahead and scribble that down in some dusty books or something. Shouldn’t you be out killing some Super Mutants or something? Y’know, back in the day, we went out and fought for our lives, like men, instead of sitting around with wussy holotapes—
[Recording ends]
___________________
PS: Holy stuff people would wear a Guild Wars 2 t-shirt? And, yeah, I get the irony of that statement.
_______________
[Brotherhood Scribe Charles, Session One; Holotape Recording begins]
Alright, alright, don’t wave that thing at me, junior. I’ll do the blasted recording. You Brotherhood guys don’t seem to have much of a problem with Ghouls when we’ve got info you want, eh? Whatever, just have the caps lined up when this story time is over with and you can be as bigoted as you damn well please.
It was a normal day. I never really thought about how Armageddon would look, but October 6th, 2077 didn’t fit my description. The morning began like any other in the sleepy town of Goodsprings. Hell, I’m surprised it’s so sharp in my mind. But then again, I did have skin back then, so I suppose it’s a pretty precious recollection. More to the point, I was heading towards my work at the local bar, back before we all jumped back three centuries and started it a saloon. Cowboy nonsense, sheer nonsense. Anyway, I did the usual bartender crap, served drinks, made small talk, and kept everyone happy. People never got too violent; everyone knew each other too well. Gabe, Tycho, Anne, all the regulars were there, and it was looking like a good time. Some bearded yahoo was selling some Do-It-Yourself survival kit, ‘Saxton Hale’s Endurance Enhancer’, or such. I’d say the product wasn’t very solid, seeing as I’m here, and he ain’t. He was barking up the wrong tree anyway, nobody out in the Mojave Desert cared if a bunch of bigwig starfishs said the world was going to end. Heh, ironic, eh?
Okay, I’ll pick up the pace. Keep that metal skirt on, kid. The day kept on moseying along until, say about noon. The television on the bar started to blare. It was the emergency broadcast signal. Nobody have ever heard it, or ever expected to. The room got dead quiet. It was like even the goddamn rats just froze in place. Somebody ran in a started hollering about the planes, and everyone left the bar. The bombers; Christ, even after two hundred years, the image still gives me chills. You could see them from miles away. At first it was just ballistics, but then…
God, I feel old. After we saw the forgetin’ Apocalypse coming, you know what we did? Ran. Your little Brotherhood might have its’ code and high ideals, but when you get under pressure, all that garbage comes tumbling down. Nobody in Goodsprings had a cozy little Vault to hide in; we were out in wild wasteland. Now, not everybody was a scumbag. Some people went home, saw their kids, their families, and tried keeping civilization together. God rest ‘em. Everyone else was looting, burning, killing, generally acting like cavemen. It all gets fuzzier here, probably because I keep trying to ignore what happened next.
I tried running back in and grabbing the shotgun I kept under my bar. It always seemed paranoid before that, but the universe has a pretty cruel sense of humor. Unfortunately, one of the waitresses had the same idea. Her name was something like ‘Brenna’. We…fought over the gun until I got the upper hand and…forget, is this really important? I shot her, okay? I did what I had to do. After that, there was just this blinding, searing flash and a massive wave of heat, like someone just poured radscorpion venom all over me. I blacked out from the pain.
Next thing I know, I’m out on the street. Half the houses are leveled, my gun is gone, all these pools of pink and tan liquid on the ground. There were corpses everywhere, charred skeletons. I pretty much lost it. Waking up around that while looking like a zombie screwed with how I saw reality. It wasn’t until I wandered into Primm, half dead from starvation, that I got my head on straight again, thanks to the smoothskin doc. Good guy, he knows respect, unlike certain power armor-clad pansies.
There, satisfied? You can go ahead and scribble that down in some dusty books or something. Shouldn’t you be out killing some Super Mutants or something? Y’know, back in the day, we went out and fought for our lives, like men, instead of sitting around with wussy holotapes—
[Recording ends]
___________________
PS: Holy stuff people would wear a Guild Wars 2 t-shirt? And, yeah, I get the irony of that statement.
Pages: [1]