"Come here pilgrim, scoot closer"

You scoot closer to the old coger, he reeks of booze and sand (who knew sand had a smell?), and looks like sand blasted (censored)

"You've been coming here for some time lad, never really said much. Now i respect a man's privacy, particularly when he's got a blaster like that, but hey, let me tell you a story son, about my old bar, in a town called Innsmouth. It's a good story i swear."

You protest, it's getting late and you really have had enough. Besides, you were never much for stories, anyway you need an hour to sober up before you venture into the wastelands, after all it's a dangerous enough place in the daytime. But he pours you another glass of moonshine, and it is awfully good moonshine.........





"It was years ago, my goodness it was years, I had a bar like i said in Innsmouth. Now Innsmouth was a trading town in Louisianna"

Louisianna? You ask, unfamiliar with the term

"Oh, thats what they called it in the old days, 'fore the war, it was one of the states"

He pulls out a map, the text is nigh entirely worn, you cant quite read any of the words and the borderlines of these "states" but you can see where he points

"Anyway, i was tending bar one night.............."

FADE OUT

War... war never changes. The Romans waged war to gather slaves and wealth. Spain built an empire from it's lust for gold, and territory. Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic superpower. But war never changes.
In the 21st Century, war still raged over the resources which could be acquired. Only this time, the spoils of war were also it's weapons: petroleum, and uranium. For these resources China would invade Alaska, the US would annex Canada, and the European Commonwealth would dissolve into quarreling, bickering nation-states bent on controlling the last remaining resources on Earth.
In 2077 the storm of world war had come again. In two brief hours, most of the planet was reduced to cinders. And from the ashes of nuclear devastation, a new civilisation would struggle to arise.

Welcome, one and all to another Fallout forum roleplay. If you've never joined a roleplay before, I would suggest you had a quick look at IllusionaryNothing's guide, although bearing in mind that it was written for Elder Scrolls roleplay. For general information on Fallout, one might consider looking at Fallout PnP or the Fallout wiki.


RULES
1: No ubering. This includes starting out with power armour and a turbo plasma rifle.
2: No god-mode. If people are shooting at you, expect to be hurt.
3: Romance is okay, but six will be treated the Fallout way: screen blackout and cut to post-coitus cigarette.
4: Profanity is fine, as long as it fits the situation.
5: The will of the host is law.
6: No flaming or insulting other players.
7: Remember, you're human. You have to eat, drink, sleep, and go to the bathroom.
8:Remember, its just a game. So relax, and have fun!


For story purposes there are two Vaults. Their numbers are not known. One was a vault filled with nothing but children and a host of machines designed to feed and provide "care" for the children. They grew up in a Lord of the Flies ish environment but never self destructed. The other is a mystery. Surrounding towns and factions will develop as the story progresses.
This will be done somewhat as a tabletop RPG would be done. Introduce your characters in the bar and after 3 or 4 people join an event will propel the story. Where that story goes is, for the most part, up to you.

Calvin Krieg, a trapper who occasionally works as a caravan guard has been following a set of Yao Gaui tracks all morning with his trusted canine Sheeva.
Sheeva is a mutt, as are most surviving dogs in the wasteland, who has been taken care of by Calvin her entire life, and would do anything to protect her owner.
It is the early afternoon now, and Kreig has tracked the animal to a small farming settlement some two miles away from the nearest town, Barren Valley. Calvin Krieg can only expect the worse as he slowly approaches the three small buildings that are lifeless. The front door of the nearest building is wide open. As Krieg gets closer he puts away his scoped hunting rifle and takes out his Desert Eagle .44 and signals Sheeva to wait by the door to ambush any possible threat.
Calvin slithers through the front door and immediately notices the seemingly fresh carnage that has left the house in ruins. Broken glass and pools of blood are immediately evident. It seems he has found his bear, but too late. As Calvin investigates the empty rooms he hears a rustling followed by the crushing of even more glass in the uncharted pantry ahead. Cautiously Calvin opens the door, and what he sees is...

A small man rifling through the belongs of the people who once lived here. He wears a dusty brown polyester jacket, it may once have been worn by a business man but who knows, and is too busy sweeping aside broken glasses to notice that he has been seen.

Krieg decides to stay hidden for the time being, keeping an eye on the man.

The small man opens a wooden cabinet, the door coming off in his hands as the worn hinges finally submit to the desert. His dirty hands brush out 4 shattered shot glasses and one intact one, as well as a 1/3 of a bottle of Rotgut. The man holds it up into the light examining its contents then empties it into a flask. He ventures further into the house, following a trail of blood and bits of gore.

Krieg cautiously follows him in. The man is small but you never know what someone might be holding in the wastelands. Further inside the building cobwebs have been able to grow unharrassed by the desert winds. Krieg finds the small man standing in the middle of what was once a small bathroom. The previous owners evidently had a child as uncharacteristicly clean toys lie on the ground just outside the door. The child, if it were still here, is indescernible in the human mulch that lies in a lump in the bathtub. Curiously the gore is contained all but entirely in the.....

"God," Krieg thinks to himself looking away despite the danger the small man may still pose, "I hope that kid got out of here"

It's time to find out exactly whats going on around here, Krieg draws a revolver from his waist and cocks back the hammer, the noise echoing in this small bathroom in the middle of a small abandoned charnel house in the middle of a wasteland....

"Who the **** are you, and what the **** happened here mate?"

The man slowly turns around staring up into the most unforgiving face he's ever seen and a hole deeper and darker then he would have believed existed in the barrel of a revolver. He continues to stare into the gun, seemingly lost for a moment.

"I said,"

"My family." The man says in a curiously flat tone.

Krieg lets the hand cannon fall to his side...., "This was your family?"

"I'm......i'm almost done."

"It was another long night in Innsmouth. A caravan of goods had just arrived trailing their dead, so while the sheriff and the priest buried the bodies everyone else was drowning their worries in cheap ale. My cheap ale. They call me Toad. You can call me Toad too. I used to be William back before the bombs started dropping."

"Now Innsmouth was about as bustling as a city could be in the middle of post apocalypse America. Like i said we had a sheriff, a priest, my bar, a drug dealer named Tim, guards, and a couple of prosttutes who had more or less retired. We just happened to be positioned just north of one epicenter and just south of another, so neigh any caravan passing through those parts would come through Innsmouth."

"This night I was hustling pretty quick to keep business flowing, Nancy my barmaid was really working keeping everyone's glasses full and bringing in some caps. We'd all heard rumors of an infection. Some of the travelers talked about strange suicides amongst their friends, and all agreed that going too much further south was simply a bad idea. I didnt much care though."

"I know you cant really tell age that well anymore, but even then i was getting up there in years. I was 53 then, ive lost count of how old i am now. Anyway, I wasnt much afraid of infection, figured with what the war had done to me wasnt much worse nature could do. In the coming months i'd find just how wrong i was."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The bar is filled with the sounds of muffled worry, laughter, worry, and dread. A mutant works the register (that'd be Toad) and a young girl by the name of Nancy refills glasses with a mixture of hard alcohol and dirty radioactive water....why not. Change is in the air.

OOC: Anyone want to join? Didnt really plan to do this myself, dont really have time to be writing much.

Name: Soki Tamugara
Age: 19
Height: 6 foot 5
six:Male
Looks Like: Short Messy hair like a rock star and a faded 5oclock shadow with a Thin mustache and a short goatee.

Background Info: Soki is really basically new to the wastes. He grew up in a vault, but It has been raided viciously by a group of Death claws shortly after he turned 19. After witnessing the deaths of his parents, he narrowly escaped and has been moping about the wastes for a week. All that is about to change...

OOC: TMI? Anyway I'm in for some RP until FO3 is released.

cool, introduce him by having him walk into the bar, ill wait a bit longer for another person or two to join, but there doesnt seem to be too much interest, so it might just be you and i and krieg if he comes back.

While exploring the vast wastes, Soki happens upon a shifty bar. He stops in and seats himself at the bar.

"Could I have a beer please?"

"Sure thing" Repliea Toad.