Dual wielding no worky =\
Unless there's a mod for that. brb checking FO3nexus
EDIT: Nope, no dual wielding

>@Bentus: Yeah well maybe you should SHOVE THAT VICODIN UP YOUR ASS

Oh Duh, you so silly. Vicodon is not taken through the ass, but rather, orally. Maybe you should get back to the kitchen and let the boys talk about TV.

PS back on topic we should have moderate skill with thunder rocks.

Let's be really skilled at bombs and sneak. Don't trust anyone, be extremely paranoid, and be a borderline psychopath. Recipe for fun right there.

Grenades+pants. Always fun.

Ok, working on the character definitions I have, random.org strikes again.
If we [], we get...
1. GATLING GUN/SCOPED MAGNUM girl (AKA, HEAVY girl, possibly with sandvich)
2. AFRO (or as close as I can get) GIRL THAT USES PISTOLS (and I'm guessing wears shorts if possible)
3. My choice of character with thunder rock skills
4. My choice of character with explosives and sneak skills raised
5. My choice of character with my choice of skills as long as we 'splode some pants

Aaaand, random.org gives us 1, so we're going gatling.

So begins the story of Anginia, the Cowgirl of DC.
(If you're interested, I'm going to be following the main story arc but trying to keep the commentary and actions consistent with my character's temperment. Think of it as a forum-based fanfic with pictures and I'll take suggestions on where to take it occasionally)

(insert boring intro sequence here)

Pops raised me to be self-sufficient and in-dee-pendant, which is why I took charge when Amata woke me up that night. A girl's gotta take care of herself, nobody else is gonna do it for ya unless they want something out of ya.

Gettin' out of that disgustin' hole was the first step in the right direction, if'n you ask me. Overseer whatsisface always breathin' down your neck is no way to live, 'specially when he's all creepy-like on me an' Amata. Nice gal, but I ain't interested in her or nothin' like he seems to think.
Made it real easy to pull his strings when he was starin' me down though, just mention Amata and he crumpled like a sheet a' paper.

So anyway, next step out is to find Pops again. I love the old lug, couldn't bear bein' out without at least clappin' him on the back for leadin' the way. Amata didn't know anything about where he went other than outside (typical, dame doesn't bother to check her facts first), so I'll have to do a bit of lookin' around. Shouldn't be too hard, guy like him makes waves.

The outside world is a dump, no lie. Crumblin' concrete everywhere and lots a' dust. Luckily, I found Pop's dog K9. Friendly fella, 'parently he wants to hang round me 'til we find Pops, so we set off together.

I met this gal Silver hidin' in a shack near the vault entrance. Seems like a pretty decent gal, but she's a little bit too comfy, if you get my drift. I ain't interested, but she seem like she thought I was.



I got out of there quick-like and roamed around some more. Town's a wreck where Silver's shack was, a few odds and ends around worth collecting, but not much else. On the horizon at night was a pretty big light, turned out to be another town, still occupied. I moseyed on in and met the sheriff, Simms. I like his attitude, doesn't take nonsense, so I sang the right notes when he asked me to. I don' intend to cause him any trouble, but I might just cause some trouble for someone else. Some folk deserve some trouble made on 'em, if'n you know what I mean.

Askin' around town, I met this guy Moriarty. Real shady fellow, kept lookin' at his computer screen the entire time I was tryin' to talk to 'im. I think I saw him grippin' his saddle horn pretty tight, but the back room of his saloon was too dark to tell rightly. I don't doubt it though, I know his type. Think they own the place 'cause they got dirt on all the folk around, treat everybody like ♥♥♥♥ and extract favors out of honest folk 'cause he knows something they don't want told. I don't like 'im, and if he tries anything funny I might just smack some sense into him. Old coot needs to be taught his place and let law-abidin' folk get along with their bizness.
Moriarty said he knows where Pops went, but I have to pay him nice before he'll talk. 100 caps, which is what they use for money 'round the surface, seems. I'll get him his 100 caps, I ain't no freeloader. But, 100 caps is all he gets, he tries for more and he'll find himself starin' down the wrong end of a hot barrel.


Same time, met this shady character Blake. He looks like a city slicker, talks like a city slicker, and even smells like a city slicker. Like Moriarty, I know the type. Dirty, real dirty, and not afraid of gettin' others dirty if it's easier on his back. Pointin' to the bomb in the town square, he asked me to rig it with some fancy detonator and blow up the whole town for 100 caps. I told him to take that idea and shove it so far up 'is ass it came out his mouth agin. Greasy ♥♥♥♥ told me the offer still stood in case I changed my mind. I might just have to start some trouble on him, but not now. Got more impor'nt things to take care of.



Finally, met this dame Moira mindin' the only shop in town. Right scatterbrain, this one. Asked me what life in the hole was like. I told it to her straight, and she scribbled around in some notebook. 'Parently, she's writin' some book for other folk to read about survivin' in the wastes. Now I ain't too crazy about the idea, since if'n you ask me survivin's a pretty simple concept, but she was damn pushy about me helpin' her out. I'll be paid and she gave me a slight advance in the form of some new clothin', but the gleam in her eyes made me a mite scared. I dunno what she's gonna have me do, but I have a feelin' it ain't gonna be pleasant. Right after she explained it all to me, I noticed she had a piece of mighty fine-looking cheesecake on her desk. Oh lawdy, what I wouldn't do for that cheesecake, but t'aint right to take what ain't mine, Pops always said that. I left the shop before I got any funny ideas (though tell truth, Moira prob'ly wouldn't notice, gal was too busy countin' the bolts in the wall behind the counter).

Next time I got the caps, I'm buyin' that cheesecake.


(Continue like this: Y/N)

Very yes.
But, uh, what are our options as far as stuffs to do?

Oh lawdy, of course.
Look around Megaton. See what jobs them ceety peoples have going.

At this point, there aren't many. Pretty much just do odd jobs around town and go exploring for Moira.
Grabbing a big boom boom at the earliest opportunity of course.

Updates when I have the time like normal, meaning probably after 6pm EST.


City slickers always wantin' someone else to do their jobs.

Report the douche with the suit to the sheriff, then steal his crap when he dies. Boom boom, AND a fancy hat!

Mmk, making another entry now, meaning it'll be up when I've accumulated enough interesting things to report (and typed it all out).

Feedback tiem: The accent.
1. Can you identify what it's supposed to be?
2. Is it worth me doing it, or is it distracting, etc?

1) South US? I read "Oh lawdy", went back to check if out character was black, and then thought it was Southern.
2) Whatever's fine for you. Might help us make decisions based upon the character's personality? But might be annoying for you.

1.Texan?
2. In my opinion it work's rather well, since it allows our imagination to make the character more believable.

People don't actually talk like that down here.

Some don't, some do. Thats how accents work.