ROBCO INDUSTRIES UNIFIED OPERATING SYSTEM COPYRIGHT 2075-2077 ROBCO INDUSTRIES -Server 5-
Hello, Daring! May the twilight of your life be filled with the same wonder and adventure as your youth.
Good Ole’ Craggy, King of Rockopolis.
He offered Argyle and me shelter back in the summer of ’48. Unfortunately, there was a little incident with his daughter, and we were exiled.
We sought shelter again a couple years later, but Craggy didn’t take to kindly to us luring the Slavers into his hidden underground city.
That was the last time I ever saw Argyle -- right after he saved my hide for the hundredth time.
Miss Penelope Chase -- Two-timing bitch. She got what she deserved.
My dearest Destiny.
Harlot par excellence and the proprietor of the Blue Destiny Brothel. One of the loveliest women I’ve ever had the pleasure to pleasure.
Sadly, she died from cholera in the summer of '49 (an event that closed down the brothel forever).
The best manservant a guy could ask for.
Tough, loyal, and a hell of a good friend (even if he did smell like a bag of rotten meat, but what’s a Ghoul gonna do?).
The last time I saw Argyle was in Rockopolis, decades ago. I know he's still out there... somewhere.
Slaver leader and psychotic cannibal, circa 2250. See entry on Paradise Falls.
The most dangerous dump in the Capital Wasteland.
The Slavers there would have bought and sold anything with a pulse. They still will, from what I hear.
Back in my day, they were more disorganized, though. Their leader was a guy named Harmon Jurley, a psychotic son of a bitch who was rumored to eat the slaves he couldn’t sell.
An underground city.
Not a bad a accomplishment, all things considered, but their leader, King Crag, became too isolationist for his own good.
Okay, so I accidentally led the Slavers there and those bastards cleaned the place out. It was an honest mistake.
The best damn whorehouse in the Capital Wasteland. Strong booze and soft women. It shut down in the summer of ’49 when most of the ladies died from a cholera outbreak.
A city of the dead. Or undead, as some would believe.
Underworld was, and is, a settlement of Ghouls, established in an old art exhibit in the Museum of American History.
Argyle and I used to go there quite a bit. I was even voted "Honorary Ghoul" back in '51. I really should go back and visit sometime.
A town built around an undetonated atomic bomb. My kind of place!
Megaton is pretty well fortified now, but back in my day it was even more ramshackle. Great place to grab a drink or a broad.
I hear Moriarty even has his own place now. Guess that shouldn't surprise me. That guy had been playing the angles since the day he ended up in this country, as a kid.
Goddamn walking crabs.
Tough to kill, but pretty delicious afterwards. The outer carapace is hell to penetrate, though. Good thing their face isn’t armored (and Argyle had such a good right jab).
Ghouls gone bad. Their brains had rotted through so much, they lost the ability to think straight.
Argyle and I fought these hapless zombie bastards more times than I can count.
I think he actually liked killing them -- saw it as some sort of revenge against God for his own situation, or something.
I've been a lot of places in my day, and everywhere you'd find those damned Radscorpions.
Rumor was they'd descended from Emperor Scorpions, which you could find in pretty much any pet store in the country when bombs fell. I guess that explains their population.
Bears, or the Capital Wasteland's equivalent, anyway.
You're not going to find one of these babies balancing on a big rubber ball, though, I can tell you that much. They're are vicious as they come -- razor sharp claws, razor sharp teeth. Nasty, nasty temperament.
I have to admit, I've always been fascinated by these things.
Such an ingenious creation -- a robot powered by a brain, and a sexy dame's voice. Of course, I always had to wonder. Were they human brains? Were they actually the brains of sexy dames?? Or is it all monkey brains and recordings?
Anyway, I got hit by one of their mind blasts once. Hell of a headache for three days.