What if the Lone Wanderer never Existed?
What if the Enclave destroyed the Brotherhood?
What if the Enclave took control of D.C?


By year 2278, America was under the reign of the Enclave. Their prowess was far too much for the Brotherhood, and they were eliminated. Super Mutants were enslaved and forced to work for the Enclaves as brutes, while raiders and slavers were either captured and drafted, or killed off. Some fled D.C., the others who remained ran for the Museum of History, a.k.a. Underworld, where we still cower to this day. But the doors weren’t enough to keep them away, so we went underground, to the tunnels, were we were finally forgotten.

But where one danger subsided, another emerged. Once underground, we had to fend off the dangers of ferals, mutants, mirelurks, and even deathclaws.

While we were below, above the Enclave were making moves. They took siege of the White House, eradicating any mutant threat, and posted guards all around the city to make sure no threat was possible. As time passed, all other connections were destroyed, and more and more fled underground. They destroyed GNR, disabled all vaults. Megaton, Tenpenny Tower, Rivet City, were all swept through.

Now there are two sides. There are the Enclave, a massive beast that rules everything above ground, then there are the Damned, the group of derelict misfits, all too weak to name themselves the resistance. All they did was survive for scraps that we find, and attempt to defend ourselves from the terrors that also lurk in the dark, dank, underworld.

Then, something happened, one man rose from our little settlement and appointed himself leader. That same man was that man that single-handedly led us above ground, through D.C., and past it. Past the Pitt That man’s name was Calvin Cowell.

Now, the year is 2280, we now reside above ground in New York city. We have been accepted and welcomed by our fellow residents, and now I am proud to say that we have a Resistance. We call ourselves the Risen, and just like my father has saved us once, I plan to make sure he didn’t die for nothing. For I heard that the Enclave are headed up North, and when they get here, I will be ready.



How does that sound, or would it sound better as an RP?

Well, they way you have it written, it could really flow both ways. I personally prefer fanfics to RPs, I've tried, but I can never really get into a RP. Also, as I'm sure you know, we don't excatly have a lot of active members here, so chances of success would probably be minimal. So my vote is for a fanfic. Either way it still needs work, as this is just the idea, and if needed I'd gladly help.

Of course I'd want your kelp. Please do tell.

Well, you going with Fanfic or RP?

Right now, I just want you to pretend its a fanfic and give me advice.

Sounds like a test...Cool, I'm just going to pretend I don't know you, it'll make writing this easier. Just give couple minutes to get my thoughts straight-ish

Okay, Ant.

It seems like you've got a good idea formed here. Just a few pieces of advice.

When you begin your story, I would open it in the middle of some kind of conflict, maybe a skirmish with the Enclave. That way the reader is immediately svcked into the story. Then reveal little bits and pieces of why it has led to this(perhaps flashbacks, the travel through the tunnels, the Enclave taking D.C., etc.). This way we can fully immerse ourselves into the story from the beginning. Also, since this a fanfic and most of us have played the game, you can be a little lax on the detail. If you fear you are breaking the flow with to much detail, it's okay to take out a lot, especially since a lot of us already know what things look like.

Try not to open it with heavy dialogue or describing a person's features. Be sure to watch for those grammar errors. I would also write three chapters in advance, then sleep on it, before actually posting the next chapter.

That's all say for right now, when you actually start on it, I'll be there to offer more.

Dude, mad good entry! I usually like to steer clear of factions in the game in my writing, but I am intrigued nonetheless! If this turns out to be a fanfic, keep going haha!

-Pip

Saturday, May 16th, 2278 – 1103 hours

There were bullets flying everywhere, but they were ready for it. Calvin Cowell bravely led sorry convoy across the border. This was the hard part. It was impossible to void the deaths that were to come, he just hoped he didn’t lose too many. One of the many shots, this particular one being plasma , shot through that air and pierced the woman next to him. He watched as the ooze flew through her spine, and out from her belly button region. She only had time for one brief look at the empty green molten circle where her body had been before she fell limply to the ground. Calvin turned and kept running, wanting to yell some form of motivation to those who were in one piece, but being too tired and out of breath to do so.


Ahead of him was nothing but more land, and behind of him was a dozen Enclave soldiers, boasting everything from Plasma Rifles, to Gatling Lasers, to Heavy Incinerators. All time of hell was raining down upon them. There was no chance they would make it…

Thursday, May 14th, 2278 – 2014 hours

Calvin Cowell sat in his leather seat, petting his dog gently, his hands brushing against her flesh, occasionally hitting a soft patch of fur. Behind him roared the a generator, his source of heat, and ahead of him was the gate that separated his makeshift home from the miserable excuse for a settlement that was home. His son was nowhere to be found, probably out defending their feeble existence from the outside dangers, or foraging for scraps.

His dog barked angrily, moving from under his palm. Calvin hadn’t realized he was digging his fingers into her hide. Calvin rose from his seat and wiped his bloody hand on a dirty nearby newspaper, wishing he could brush of his tension in the same way. Tomorrow, the left the remote safety of the subway tunnels to escape the tyranny of the Enclave, head up north for sanctuary, asylum, anything except their current state.

He was scared.

They all were. Even his son, steadfast leader that he was, wasn’t ready for what was about to happen.

How could he? How could anyone?

His son, Wilson, rounded the corner, carrying the body of a boy who couldn’t have been more than nine. Calvin could tell by the hanging skin tissue below the boy’s jaw that he was dead. He could also tell the the boy died by a feral attack, most likely sent out scavenging by his parents.

Calvin nodded, accepting the harsh truth as his son continued through the intersection in heavy silence, headed for the front gates, where lay all the bodies of the deceased. His grimy, bloody face revealing hints of anger behind the tolerant grief.

Once again, Calvin sat down in his leather chair, bloody thought of revenge working in his head. He knew who was really responsible for the boy’s death, and it wasn’t a feral or a mirelurk of anything that lurked in these tunnels. No, it was the demons that so buoyantly frolicked in the meadows of their own success. But under every meadow, are the tiny insects waiting to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. It’s just a matter of time before they rise up, and take over. Calvin looked to he left at the wall painting. It was a detailed drawing of him breaking through the ground, leading an attack on the enclave, drawn by one of the tunnel dwellers in his name. He drew his pistol, and pointed for the Enclave officer as he’d done so many times before, this time aiming for his head.

That night, the final beam was shot into the wall that marked their countdown. Their countdown to rebellion.

Nice story you have going there Ant1iv3, I'd like it to be an Rp, probably because there's nothing to do in this forum at the moment.

Your choice though, I think you'd do well both ways.

Yea want it to be an rp, but if it.goes that way ill need to see who's on board. Its funny becuase I actually came up with rpfanfic idea but strangeglove put it out first. Now if I do ine everyoned gonna thnk I'm on hid bandwagon,

Ah phooey.

If you want to have it as a RP, then you should probably do it. Even if it it the same hybrid format of Dr.Strangelove's, that's okay, totally different plot and everyone here is friendly enough. Though, then again there does to be some lackage of people and it's school time...I would do right now, see if anyone would join. If nobody does join, wait until NV comes out, there might be more people then.

As for the story, it was okay. There to be something lacking, it felt like you could have done better. Well that's at least how I feel, sorry for being so vague. And besides the fact that you missed a "the", it seems all good. :thumbsup:

I don't think I'll have the time to create n RP anymore, but I am saddened that you think something is missing. I guess what;s missing is the spontaneousness of it. My whole last entry was chapter to chapter, completely throughout of while in the reply messages.

I will try to remedy what you are missing, I will.

SLIGHT SPOILER ALERT: There is certain information in the third whole paragraph (I don't consider those one and two liners paragraphs) that might come as a spoiler to anyone who hasn't finished the whole game. Tell me if you are okay with the military time.

Friday, May 15th, 2278 – 0920 hours

Colonel Autumn shifted in his seat uncomfortably, not sure how to quite respond to what he’d just been given, or how it got into his room, which was always being guarded by one member this brainless ensemble or another. What he was staring at, was in fact a letter given to him from his daughter, Rose. This is what it had said:

Dear Xavier,

Is this what you wanted from me? Don’t worry about how I got this to you, daddy’s little mistake learned a thing or two from her heartless father. Tomorrow, I leave D.C. I don’t know where to go, or if I’ll live, but I wanted to let you know, that your daughter thinks you’re a selfish, self-centered, [censored], and that you can go to hell. I hope I meet you on the way, so I can get the pleasure of emptying a clip on your conniving face. And no doubt you’ll bring some lackey’s (you never did have balls to face a woman). Hell, maybe you’ll do me the kindness of bringing your favorite pistol, that way I can take it as a parting gift. God I swear you always loved it more than me.

But no matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know, that I’m proud of what I’ve done with my life, and it I die tomorrow, I’ll die trying to kill you.

Hope I became the daughter you always wanted…to erase.

-Rose

To this the Colonel wasn’t sure how to react. He wasn’t concerned with the death threats. He hadn’t taught her much in the six years of neglect. But he had a strange feeling, as if after twenty years, it had finally reared its ugly head, fangs bared, and attacked full force, with the spite and bitterness that had surpassed anything he’d ever felt . That feeling was guilt. It was a wired feeling, for guilt had never entered his processing. Everything he’d done, from day one, was all apart of a master plan, and that was to rule. Rule with a passion no automated system could ever achieve.

Leaving his daughter at the age of six? That wasn’t an act deserving of guilt, especially when done for the right reasons. Was it harsh? Yes, but worthy of guilt? Guilt ‘at the highest echelonce’ as his president would say.

My president, he thought to himself. He is in control of the Enclave. He is the one with the authority here, not me. If those soldiers come down on their heads, it won’t be my fault.

He was wrestling with himself now, unsure what his next move should be. And it scared him. He wasn’t used to things backfiring on him like this.

Who does the think she is, he thought, now defending himself. Who is she to try and confront me? To even think I deserved this?

“I brought her into this world!” He said aloud; face beginning to flush with obvious anger. “Goddammit, I can take her out, and I will!”

He calmed himself, collected his thoughts, regained his composure, then left his room, headed for Mr. Eden, the president. He had a new resolve now and it entailed the attack on his daughter.


Friday, May 15th, 2278 – 0932 hours

It was time for Rose to gather her gear, which wasn’t more than old withered leather armor an even more emaciated hunting rifle. Of course, she’d known that Cowell was leading the march, but she wanted to make sure she was first in line. She wanted to be the first to put a shell in on of those a**holes.

She took one last look at her home for the past ten years, then as an afterthought, grabbed the locket given to her by her mother, a picture of her parents together, standing in front of a beautiful mountain on some derelict city in some country she will never see. She had noticed a long time ago that her mother was smiling but her father wasn’t. She wasn’t completely sure why she still had it, but as she looked at the photo again she had no questions about why her father wasn’t smiling in the picture. Her father never smiled when he was looking at her.

Short and Sweet. I like it. Can't complain about much. The thought of Colonel Autumn having a child never occurred to me, so this was a pleasant surprise. I can't see anything wrong this, so I'll just have to see were your taking it.

EXTRA: The original name fro Brian would have been Bryan, but then I realized that was the name of the kid the already lives there. I thought about making Bryan from my story th same as Bryan from that FO3 mission,but I decided to change his name to avoid confusion. Whatever.

Friday, May 15th, 2278 – 0935 hours

Through the upturned rock that barricaded their fortress climbed the resistance as a whole. Leading the crew was both Calvin and his son, Bryan, armed with their rare but powerful laser rifles. The only two that ave been scavenged from the tunnels, others were duly equipped with a menagerie of weapons, but none besting the might of father ans son's. That was why they were leading, because they were a step above the rest, and the best chance of survival out in the wastes. Following closely behind was Rose, wielding her hunting rifle, finger apprehensively on the trigger, waiting for the jump-off

The first few minutes had been quick and uneventful, seeing as there weren't any attackers yet. Bryan was walking stiffly, rifle alternating through all forms of movement. Of all the resistance, he was the most ready, and the most pissed off. He knew firsthand how inhospitable the underground had been, how many people were lost. He still harbored the scar on his back from a frightful deathclaw attack, the only one he'd been in. The gash ran the length of his back, and was sloppily stapled shut, there were no doctors. Just a rusty staple and some random wastelander whose experience didn't exceed check-ups.

After thirteen minutes, they made their way to a building, or the remains of one. To Brian's knowledge they were reasonable distance from the White House, in an area known as Grayditch, Bryan remembered playing with the kids while he lived there, and how his dad never left that rusty shack by his house. He and his best friend (who coincidentally was also named Bryan, just spelled differently), would shoot BB's at eh aluminum walls just to annoy their father's. Then, one day something had went horribly wrong in that room, one of the days he shot a BB at the walls and heard familiar screams of protest, but these sounded slightly elevated. As the screaming continued, both boys grew more anxious to know what was going on.

Once little Bryan had opened the door, he saw his Mr. Wilks being mutilated and scorched by two gigantic ants, each being the size of a small child. Brian's father, Calvin was firing his pistol at both of he insects, trying his best to nullify the damage being done to his friend, meanwhile Mr. Wilks had been stabbing the ant with a nearby scalpel. By the time both were killed, Mr. Wilks had lost alot of blood and was rushed to his house, where he shortly died, on his own bed.

All three survivors bowed their heads in sorrow, but Calvin was the most saddened, and felt it was his personal fault that his friend and colleague had been killed.

Shots rang out, which jolted Brian out of his miserable thoughts, and as he looked forward, he spotted the ant that he'd so fondly remembered. This one was bigger than the one he'd remembered in his dream, and that wasn't good, but their combined fire was enough to silence the beast. Calvin looked back at his convoy, all were staring at the now dead creature with distraught disbelief, and disgust. And no one had fired a single shot, not even Rose.

That was enough to tell him that chances were they wouldn't make it out of D.C alive.

Eh, I really don't know where your taking this at the moment.

The back and fourth transitions, have me a little bit confused, only a little though. Also, this chapter had a lot of grammar mistakes. Missing commas, letters, or bad word choices:



This word didn't seemed right to me, so I brought out my handy dandy dictionary!...And it still isn't right. I would use a better word. This chapter seemed short and dry to me, but I'm sure you can pick it up. It just seems to me that your slipping a little, just a little.

Owww, i never thought words could hurt so much. I think I need to sleep on this story and think about my old one. There might be a need for a part two... <_<

My brain is like about to burst, but I wanna work on this by the next few days.

Like a slap to the face hurt, or a serrated blade to the gut?

And lets not forget that Ant wants to be known as the guy that always finishes what he's started...Unlike a certain someone.

Yeah yeah, I want to finish this, but not if its not good. I know it is good, but I was thinking about going back to what I was great at, FPS (First Person STORIES not shooters). I'll work on this and see what people say.

Saturday, May 16th, 2278 - 1012 hours

Col. Autumn had made up his mind. He reached for his intercom that was placed ever so neatly on the corner of his desk and as he spoke, his voice echoed out throughout the system or wires and motherboards, stretching the whole infrastructure. Every person in every room heard his voice, and he felt the power that came with it. His voice boomed over the intercoms:

“Attention Enclave, this is Col. Autumn.” This they knew, but he said it anyway. He liked the sound of his own name. “I just picked up information that a small resistance has been formed and is now attempting to cross the D.C. border. One battalion shall be sent out, lead by me, to interfere with them, and eliminate them. That is all.”

He released his finger from the button, and picked up his trench coat and effects, then exited the room through the sliding doors. The two nearby guards, who had been talking nonchalantly, both immediately stood at attention.

“Come with me,” Autumn said, and they followed. The Colonel navigated many sectors and chambers until he made it to his crew, at section C1, the entrance/archive section. They were all standing is seven man rows, plasma rifles in hand. Some of the higher ranked officers had bigger weapons like gatling lasers and heavy incinerators. They knew what they were up against, and they know they would essentially be wasting bullets, but they were a malicious lot. At this the Colonel smiled.

“FORWARD, MARCH.” He yelled, and as the battalion filed trough the large steel door, and up the steps out into the barren, dusty wasteland. Not too far from them were their transportation, a few trucks waited their presence. The battalion broke into groups of five and filled the empty backs of the trucks, as they pulled of, creating a fallout of dust in their wake. The old tires began to rotate more and more quickly as the engine accelerated the automobiles, propelling them towards the violence to come.

Friday, May 16th, 2278 - 1100 hours

Calvin and Brian had been walking together, followed by Rose, followed by the rest of their aggregation. Rose turned her head, squinting out into the bright sky, looking for nothing, but anything. They had been walking for a very long time. They were tired, bored, and mostly tired. Very tired. Since they started their journey they hadn’t stopped for more than a minute. Calvin seemed quite avid about reaching the border, As if everyone else wasn’t. they were all scared, fatigued, and anxious to escape from the constant, inhospitable danger. They hadn’t all shot yet -- which was good because bullets were a delicacy in their situation -- but, her and Calvin and Brian had used up most of their ammo. As for her, she only had whatever was already in her weapon. Calvin had resorted to his laser pistol sidearm, while Brian had took out his pipe axe, which he’d made himself. It was basically a short pipe from one od the tunnel stations , with four knives tied on it, two to either side. Not much had been happening, and at this point, pretty much everyone had their heads hung, and were just shuffling along silently, minds elsewhere.

Then, in the distance, Rose saw something that she hadn’t seen before. The silhouette of what looked like a truck, except the tuck was only a single part of a convoy of trucks. She counted six in all, then alerted the group rather urgently, for she knew who were inside of those trucks.

“RUN!!”

You could have both a fan fic and an Rp. You could post the story following Calvin Cowell and everyone else can make up their stories and characters.
(By the way the white house was completley destroyed)

I love it, and since I couldn't really comment on WNM, i'd like to say I love that also. The only spelling/grammar mistake I saw was "s short pipe from one OF the tunnel stations..." So there. i've commented.

Cool, thanks. Means alot to me that this thread isn't barren and bereaved.