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Untitled Prototype/Fallout snippets
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Forgetful
Nuka Chemist
Slight issue. Falloutverse is apparently someplace where the culture never really left the fifties, and everything was manipulated by some illuminati-like group.
Prototypeverse on the other hand, appears to be mostly similar to ours....except for the man-eating supermutant zombie plague in New York. So, yeah.
Prototypeverse on the other hand, appears to be mostly similar to ours....except for the man-eating supermutant zombie plague in New York. So, yeah.
He/Him
Please sir, can I have some more?
Well right now the Courier is rather distrustful since well, Mercer basically shapeshifted right in frotn of his eyes. He's not quite trusting of Mercer yet.
I'm rather aware of that. I'm admittedly handwaving it away. You can say that the US got a big retro craze after Manhatten or something. It's not that big of a issue.
Kalaong
Extinction Is Approaching. FIGHT IT.
FEV works rather well as a tweaked Blacklight. And the first thing powerful governments do when they come to power is re-write history.
History is a procession of victories by the strong over the weak. It is not that the weak never win, but only that, in winning, they become the strong. In winning they control the writing of history. So. they were ALWAYS strong. History is strength.
--Trevor Goodchild, the Herodotus File
Re-writing history as a decades-long 60's time-warp under constant attack by foreign powers would be well within the ideals of the planners of Hope, Idaho - an experiment in creating a virus to target specific minorities.
And to eliminate alternate historical records, you'd need to severely damage widespread use of information technologies, which would also lead to Fallout-style computer systems.
History is a procession of victories by the strong over the weak. It is not that the weak never win, but only that, in winning, they become the strong. In winning they control the writing of history. So. they were ALWAYS strong. History is strength.
--Trevor Goodchild, the Herodotus File
Re-writing history as a decades-long 60's time-warp under constant attack by foreign powers would be well within the ideals of the planners of Hope, Idaho - an experiment in creating a virus to target specific minorities.
And to eliminate alternate historical records, you'd need to severely damage widespread use of information technologies, which would also lead to Fallout-style computer systems.
Author's Note: Here's the next snippet. This is told entirely from the Courier POV and it's to give you an idea of his history and personality so far.
***********
The Courier watched the hooded man called Mercer with cautious suspicion. Not many folks he knew could do whatever the hell Mercer did when he changed from that Fiend to into his current form. And the Courier didn't know many people who could survive getting shot in the head by Boone.
Although admittedly, he himself was precedent for surviving otherwise fatal wounds to the cranium.
His longcoat flapped in the brisk breeze as he scanned the horizon for any more Fiends. He hated Raiders of all types. All of them twisted and greedy bastards that sucked the life from honest hard-working types.
When he had learned of the NCR's difficulties at Camp McCarren, he jumped to help. He took any opportunity to kill Raiders and the Fiends were the worst of them all. Already he had killed Driver Nephi and Violet.
Now Cook-Cook was the last to take down. He had talked to the men at Camp McCarren and he learned just what a twisted fuck Cook-Cook was. He relished the chance to take that bastard down. Boone was glad to help.
He had met Boone two weeks ago when he passed through Novac. After he discovered the person who had sold Boone's wife into slavery they had traveled together. The Courier shared Boon's hatred of the Legion, and the two had carved a bloody path through any Legion patrol they had met. He was extremely grateful for the sniper's sharp eye.
ED-E was his other companion. He had repaired the little bot when he first passed through Primm. ED-E had so far proved to be an excellent companion on the long roads of the Mojave with its enhanced sensors.
He had a tumultuous time in the Mojave wasteland so far. After being shot from Benny he had tracked that rat bastard through the wastelands, eventually he had met Mr. House, his mysterious employer. Then he had tracked Benny down, killed him and delivered the Platinum chip to House. Then he had infiltrated Caesar's camp and upgraded the Securitron army there.
He didn't quite know what to make of House. The man was rather mysterious, refusing to show his true face to his employee. He was arrogant but still rather polite and so far he had paid the Courier for all his troubles.
After that he had worked in a variety of mercenary jobs while House conducted his plans. He spent much of his time clearing out Raider and outlaw groups. He had personally cleared out the Power Gangers at Vault 19 and at the old NCR prison facility.
He had met Arcade Gannon at the Followers camp and worked with him briefly. During that time he came to respect the Follower and had even helped Arcane reunite his former friends together to fight one last fight. From that he had acquired a suit of Enclave power armor, one of his most valued possessions. In that he was practically invincible to small arms fire. But it was a bulky suit and he only used it for heavy duty combat. Instead he donned a set of Elite Riot Gear he found when he traveled to the Divide.
The Courier was one of the few people currently to have fired a nuke. When he had his little adventure with Ulysses in the Divide he had fired the nuke towards the Legion forces, devastating the forces in Arizona.
And now he was killing Fiends. The Courier watched Mercer's back as he suddenly stopped. ED-E beeped, confirming the presence of several Fiends nearby. The Courier paused to glance at the eyebot before sighting down his rifle.
''It's Cook-Cook. Or I'm guessing it's him. His head is mine, or I don't get paid,'' He told Mercer curtly.
''Fine,'' The hooded man told him.
Rifle and energy rounds whipped across the ruins as the Courier ducked and began to return fire. His laser round blew a large hole in the torso of a Fiend. A second shot blew off the arm of a Fiend before he silenced the screaming Fiend with another laser burst.
Boone meanwhile was efficiently dropping Fiends with headshots. Fiend after Fiend went down, heads reduced to bloodied chunks while ED-E hovered overhead and blasted more Fiends as they attacked them.
And Mercer…
Mercer torn them apart. The man's arms were now covered in glistening black and red tendrils and his hands were twisted into massive talons, like a Deathclaw, he sliced apart Fiend after Fiend, ignoring rifle rounds that impacted against him.
What the hell was Mercer? The Courier thought. The hooded man was nothing like he had ever seen before. To be frank the Courier doubted that Mercer was even human at all. No human he knew could shapeshift his arms into…whatever that black stuff was.
His attention was torn away from Mercer by the armored form of a large Fiend. It was obviously Cook-Cook, going by the large Incinerator that he was currently firing at the Courier's group. The Courier ducked behind an old car and lined up a shot with his laser rifle.
A single burst tore through Cook-Cook's neck and the body was blown back with the head falling to the ground and rolling along. The Courier paused to deliver a few more shots into the last few remaining Fiends before he got up.
Carefully scanning the horizon, the Courier checked for any more Fiends. There were none. Pleased he walked over to Cook-Cook's head and hefted it up out of the helmet. A rather ugly, olive-skinned face greeted him. It stank horrible. Fortunately his helmet had air filters.
Gotcha, he thought as he grinned under his helmet. No more rape for you.
He stuffed it in his trophy bag along with Driver Nephi and Violet's heads. That was three for three. He hadn't killed Motor-Runner, but he had taken out three of the major Fiend leaders in the process. In all, it was a good week.
Then then turned to see Boone peering suspiciously at Mercer, whose arms transformed back into their normal shape. The hooded man stood silently, watching them. The Courier didn't entirely blame Boone's suspicious at all.
''Mind explaining what the hell you are?'' The Courier asked.
''Just a man with some tricks. That's all,'' Mercer said. It was obvious he was not going to be very forthcoming with information.
''I doubt it's just that. You turned your arms into…something,'' The Courier commented.
''It's a power of mine,'' Mercer confirmed.
''Something tells me you ain't exactly human,'' The Courier said dryly. ''Are you a mutant of some kind?'' he asked.
''You could say that yes,'' Mercer told him.
''Any particular reason why I should trust you?'' the Courier asked.
''None in particular, save for the fact that if I wanted to kill you I would have done so already,'' Mercer paused.
''Really, you would only be my enemy if you caused trouble for me. As of now you don't have any outstanding issues with me I hope?'' the hooded man mused.
The Courier lowered his laser rifle. The other man had a point.
''True. I don't go around picking fights unless it's for a good reason. If you're going to kill Fiends then be my guest. I won't stop you,'' The Courier noted as he turned around, longcoat blowing behind him.
''Where are you going then?'' Mercer asked as he watched him leave.
''Back to my employer. These heads are rotting and I need them as proof for the bounty,'' The Courier told him.
''Fair enough,'' Mercer shrugged and then walked, away, his features melting into the form of the Fiend. The Courier guessed he was going to head into Vault 3 and infiltrate the place. It rather terrified him on a primal level that Mercer could apparently steal faces like that. He could theoretically go anywhere like that.
''What do we do then?'' Boone asked.
''Go back to McCarren, then the Lucky 38. I would rather prefer not to get in that man's way,'' The Courier nodded as he set off.
If you can even call him a man… The Courier thought.
***********
The Courier watched the hooded man called Mercer with cautious suspicion. Not many folks he knew could do whatever the hell Mercer did when he changed from that Fiend to into his current form. And the Courier didn't know many people who could survive getting shot in the head by Boone.
Although admittedly, he himself was precedent for surviving otherwise fatal wounds to the cranium.
His longcoat flapped in the brisk breeze as he scanned the horizon for any more Fiends. He hated Raiders of all types. All of them twisted and greedy bastards that sucked the life from honest hard-working types.
When he had learned of the NCR's difficulties at Camp McCarren, he jumped to help. He took any opportunity to kill Raiders and the Fiends were the worst of them all. Already he had killed Driver Nephi and Violet.
Now Cook-Cook was the last to take down. He had talked to the men at Camp McCarren and he learned just what a twisted fuck Cook-Cook was. He relished the chance to take that bastard down. Boone was glad to help.
He had met Boone two weeks ago when he passed through Novac. After he discovered the person who had sold Boone's wife into slavery they had traveled together. The Courier shared Boon's hatred of the Legion, and the two had carved a bloody path through any Legion patrol they had met. He was extremely grateful for the sniper's sharp eye.
ED-E was his other companion. He had repaired the little bot when he first passed through Primm. ED-E had so far proved to be an excellent companion on the long roads of the Mojave with its enhanced sensors.
He had a tumultuous time in the Mojave wasteland so far. After being shot from Benny he had tracked that rat bastard through the wastelands, eventually he had met Mr. House, his mysterious employer. Then he had tracked Benny down, killed him and delivered the Platinum chip to House. Then he had infiltrated Caesar's camp and upgraded the Securitron army there.
He didn't quite know what to make of House. The man was rather mysterious, refusing to show his true face to his employee. He was arrogant but still rather polite and so far he had paid the Courier for all his troubles.
After that he had worked in a variety of mercenary jobs while House conducted his plans. He spent much of his time clearing out Raider and outlaw groups. He had personally cleared out the Power Gangers at Vault 19 and at the old NCR prison facility.
He had met Arcade Gannon at the Followers camp and worked with him briefly. During that time he came to respect the Follower and had even helped Arcane reunite his former friends together to fight one last fight. From that he had acquired a suit of Enclave power armor, one of his most valued possessions. In that he was practically invincible to small arms fire. But it was a bulky suit and he only used it for heavy duty combat. Instead he donned a set of Elite Riot Gear he found when he traveled to the Divide.
The Courier was one of the few people currently to have fired a nuke. When he had his little adventure with Ulysses in the Divide he had fired the nuke towards the Legion forces, devastating the forces in Arizona.
And now he was killing Fiends. The Courier watched Mercer's back as he suddenly stopped. ED-E beeped, confirming the presence of several Fiends nearby. The Courier paused to glance at the eyebot before sighting down his rifle.
''It's Cook-Cook. Or I'm guessing it's him. His head is mine, or I don't get paid,'' He told Mercer curtly.
''Fine,'' The hooded man told him.
Rifle and energy rounds whipped across the ruins as the Courier ducked and began to return fire. His laser round blew a large hole in the torso of a Fiend. A second shot blew off the arm of a Fiend before he silenced the screaming Fiend with another laser burst.
Boone meanwhile was efficiently dropping Fiends with headshots. Fiend after Fiend went down, heads reduced to bloodied chunks while ED-E hovered overhead and blasted more Fiends as they attacked them.
And Mercer…
Mercer torn them apart. The man's arms were now covered in glistening black and red tendrils and his hands were twisted into massive talons, like a Deathclaw, he sliced apart Fiend after Fiend, ignoring rifle rounds that impacted against him.
What the hell was Mercer? The Courier thought. The hooded man was nothing like he had ever seen before. To be frank the Courier doubted that Mercer was even human at all. No human he knew could shapeshift his arms into…whatever that black stuff was.
His attention was torn away from Mercer by the armored form of a large Fiend. It was obviously Cook-Cook, going by the large Incinerator that he was currently firing at the Courier's group. The Courier ducked behind an old car and lined up a shot with his laser rifle.
A single burst tore through Cook-Cook's neck and the body was blown back with the head falling to the ground and rolling along. The Courier paused to deliver a few more shots into the last few remaining Fiends before he got up.
Carefully scanning the horizon, the Courier checked for any more Fiends. There were none. Pleased he walked over to Cook-Cook's head and hefted it up out of the helmet. A rather ugly, olive-skinned face greeted him. It stank horrible. Fortunately his helmet had air filters.
Gotcha, he thought as he grinned under his helmet. No more rape for you.
He stuffed it in his trophy bag along with Driver Nephi and Violet's heads. That was three for three. He hadn't killed Motor-Runner, but he had taken out three of the major Fiend leaders in the process. In all, it was a good week.
Then then turned to see Boone peering suspiciously at Mercer, whose arms transformed back into their normal shape. The hooded man stood silently, watching them. The Courier didn't entirely blame Boone's suspicious at all.
''Mind explaining what the hell you are?'' The Courier asked.
''Just a man with some tricks. That's all,'' Mercer said. It was obvious he was not going to be very forthcoming with information.
''I doubt it's just that. You turned your arms into…something,'' The Courier commented.
''It's a power of mine,'' Mercer confirmed.
''Something tells me you ain't exactly human,'' The Courier said dryly. ''Are you a mutant of some kind?'' he asked.
''You could say that yes,'' Mercer told him.
''Any particular reason why I should trust you?'' the Courier asked.
''None in particular, save for the fact that if I wanted to kill you I would have done so already,'' Mercer paused.
''Really, you would only be my enemy if you caused trouble for me. As of now you don't have any outstanding issues with me I hope?'' the hooded man mused.
The Courier lowered his laser rifle. The other man had a point.
''True. I don't go around picking fights unless it's for a good reason. If you're going to kill Fiends then be my guest. I won't stop you,'' The Courier noted as he turned around, longcoat blowing behind him.
''Where are you going then?'' Mercer asked as he watched him leave.
''Back to my employer. These heads are rotting and I need them as proof for the bounty,'' The Courier told him.
''Fair enough,'' Mercer shrugged and then walked, away, his features melting into the form of the Fiend. The Courier guessed he was going to head into Vault 3 and infiltrate the place. It rather terrified him on a primal level that Mercer could apparently steal faces like that. He could theoretically go anywhere like that.
''What do we do then?'' Boone asked.
''Go back to McCarren, then the Lucky 38. I would rather prefer not to get in that man's way,'' The Courier nodded as he set off.
If you can even call him a man… The Courier thought.
volrath77
Serial Editor
Nicely done. However the Courier did miss something though:
He was hit by two 9mm pistol rounds (I'm discounting Maria having higher damage than normal 9mm pistols in FNV as merely game mechanics). Mercer was hit a .308 rifle round. There's a very big difference there since the combined energy of those 2 pistol rounds still pales in comparison to the energy of a single .308.
Yes. The Courier doesn't really care about that. He's just making an idle comparison. It's not intended to be a strict scientific analysis by him.
Wiggin42
Wage Slave
Wait, so most of the plot is already over? Let's see, there's the assassination and all that jazz, the actual assault, the Boomers, maybe the Big Empty (which I think would give Mercer a kick), and that creepy Dead Money expansion.
Huh, guess there's a lot left, even excluding original content. Objection withdrawn.
Huh, guess there's a lot left, even excluding original content. Objection withdrawn.
Kalaong
Extinction Is Approaching. FIGHT IT.
Now it's holding up an array of FULLY ERECT HAND-PENISES! If it tries to insert them, activate vivisectors!
Aaand Mercer's hand-penises should indeed be feared!
Aaand Mercer's hand-penises should indeed be feared!
volrath77
Serial Editor
Hmm. His perception must be less than 10 and his science and medical skills are probably less than 100.
Barrel length, grain weight and load basically. The test results on the wiki pages stated the barrel length used for each test and where overpressure rounds (+P) were used, they were also indicated accordingly.
Still, if you look at the 9mm entry, the barrel length used is 150mm whereas the 9mm pistol used in FNV (Maria included) is based on Browning HP which has a barrel length of 118mm. The wiki page presumably shows the optimum results for the 9mm (various grain weights) using standard load.
Mercer walked through the halls of Vault 3. He had gained access rather easily, using his disguise to move past the guards at the entrance. They had let him past with hardly a backwards look at him. After all, to them it was just another Fiend coming in.
The Vault here smelled badly of shit, drugs and blood. The Fiends were not very sanitary people. If Mercer were human he might have been more disgusted with it. But Mercer was certainly not human at all.
He knew the outlying structure of the vaults pretty well. They had been structures made to protect a pre-war populace in case the bombs fell. Mercer himself had hid into a Vault and then eventually emerged later on.
Vault 3 was apparently a safe haven for a group of peaceful Vault dwellers. Their water purifier chip had broken and they had opened the Vault to trade with the outside. That had spelled their doom as the Fiends came in and killed them all. That, he had learned from Jarti's memories.
The Fiends had taken over the Vault and made it into a fortress. For any conventional attacker it would be a nightmare to dislodge a group of heavily armed and drugged out psychopaths from an armored fortified Vault.
Of course Mercer was no normal attacker.
His captured memories told him that Motor-Runner was located in the maintenance wing of the Vault were he had set up some sort of crude tribalistic throne room with his pet dogs, inventively named BoneGnash and GnashBone.
He walked through the hall and past a pair of guards with an Incinerator and a chainsaw. One of them spat a wad of phlegm as Mercer passed by. None of them gave a second look, apparently henchmen coming to kiss ass was rather common.
Motor-Runner slouched on the throne before him, just like his memories had shown him. He was a tanned swarthy man wearing dirty patchwork armor, cobbled together from rags and scrap metal. He wore a huge goatskull helmet on top of his head. A pair of large snarling dogs were at his side. He looked at Mercer.
''Well Jarti? What the fuck do you want?'' he quested.
Mercer smiled, his right arm shifting into a large black sword.
''This,'' The blade came crashing down, faster than Motor-Runner could react. The blade cut him in half with the top half flopping to the ground. The dogs reacted, leaping up and snarling, but Mercer's blade-arm flashed, cutting them to pieces.
Then Mercer shed his disguise, skin melting into insectoid black armor plates and his hands into long black claws. He stepped outside, glanced at the guards and then he promptly leapt into actions, claws flashing.
*******
As it turned out, clearing the Vault was not an especially difficult task for Mercer. In the close quarters of the Vault he had fought through Fiend after Fiend, ripping scores of them apart in cramped ill-lit corridors.
On occasional he could utilize stealth, switching into the form of a one of the Fiends he had slaughtered and he used that to sneak among the confused and panicking Fiends. Then one by one they would disappear.
Other times he would stich back to brute force, slicing apart Fiends. They hit him with Incinerators, chainsaws and rifle butts, but it all served to merely slow him down as Mercer tore through him. Only the few laser weapons that they had gave him sufficient pause.
At one point he had found a group of prisoners locked up in a cage by the Fiends. Those he set free and told to leave. They were all too happy to do that.
Eventually he stood alone, claws shifting back into hands as he looked about the Vault and he began to take a stroll through the halls. It was silent now, rather than filled with the noises of the Fiends raucous activates
He paused before the maintenance wing, where he had started his rampage. He looked around the various pieces of technology he Fiends had tossed away. Even with the Fiends destructive activities much of the old Vault technology still remained behind. He could think for a few uses for this stuff.
********
Veronica Santelego looked over the auto-doc as she put away the tool for repairing it. It was midday now at the Old Mormon Fort and it had been two days since Mercer had left out for his little trip. She hoped nothing bad had happened to him.
Outside there was some sort of commotion and she peeked out her tent. There was Mercer, talking with Julie Farkas, one of the senior Followers at the camp. Veronica thought she was nice and helpful enough.
Behind them a bunch of laborers where moving in what looked like supplies and equipment. Then Mercer appeared to finish talking to Farkas and he moved over to where she was.
''Well, I see you returned from your little trip successfully. Did you have fun?'' Veronica asked.
''Oh, you could say that. On the way I found plenty of equipment that was just resting in the storage wings,'' Mercer jerked his thumb over there. ''It has some parts you might find interesting.''
''Parts? Where did you get these?'' Veronica asked, looking over the crates that the laborers were carrying. Her experienced eye spotted many items that the Brotherhood had catalogued. Some of them she could use to fix the auto-doc.
''Vault 3,''
''The Fiends' Vault? How did you get in and out without them noticing?'' Veronica asked.
''Oh, I have my ways,'' Mercer shrugged.
The Vault here smelled badly of shit, drugs and blood. The Fiends were not very sanitary people. If Mercer were human he might have been more disgusted with it. But Mercer was certainly not human at all.
He knew the outlying structure of the vaults pretty well. They had been structures made to protect a pre-war populace in case the bombs fell. Mercer himself had hid into a Vault and then eventually emerged later on.
Vault 3 was apparently a safe haven for a group of peaceful Vault dwellers. Their water purifier chip had broken and they had opened the Vault to trade with the outside. That had spelled their doom as the Fiends came in and killed them all. That, he had learned from Jarti's memories.
The Fiends had taken over the Vault and made it into a fortress. For any conventional attacker it would be a nightmare to dislodge a group of heavily armed and drugged out psychopaths from an armored fortified Vault.
Of course Mercer was no normal attacker.
His captured memories told him that Motor-Runner was located in the maintenance wing of the Vault were he had set up some sort of crude tribalistic throne room with his pet dogs, inventively named BoneGnash and GnashBone.
He walked through the hall and past a pair of guards with an Incinerator and a chainsaw. One of them spat a wad of phlegm as Mercer passed by. None of them gave a second look, apparently henchmen coming to kiss ass was rather common.
Motor-Runner slouched on the throne before him, just like his memories had shown him. He was a tanned swarthy man wearing dirty patchwork armor, cobbled together from rags and scrap metal. He wore a huge goatskull helmet on top of his head. A pair of large snarling dogs were at his side. He looked at Mercer.
''Well Jarti? What the fuck do you want?'' he quested.
Mercer smiled, his right arm shifting into a large black sword.
''This,'' The blade came crashing down, faster than Motor-Runner could react. The blade cut him in half with the top half flopping to the ground. The dogs reacted, leaping up and snarling, but Mercer's blade-arm flashed, cutting them to pieces.
Then Mercer shed his disguise, skin melting into insectoid black armor plates and his hands into long black claws. He stepped outside, glanced at the guards and then he promptly leapt into actions, claws flashing.
*******
As it turned out, clearing the Vault was not an especially difficult task for Mercer. In the close quarters of the Vault he had fought through Fiend after Fiend, ripping scores of them apart in cramped ill-lit corridors.
On occasional he could utilize stealth, switching into the form of a one of the Fiends he had slaughtered and he used that to sneak among the confused and panicking Fiends. Then one by one they would disappear.
Other times he would stich back to brute force, slicing apart Fiends. They hit him with Incinerators, chainsaws and rifle butts, but it all served to merely slow him down as Mercer tore through him. Only the few laser weapons that they had gave him sufficient pause.
At one point he had found a group of prisoners locked up in a cage by the Fiends. Those he set free and told to leave. They were all too happy to do that.
Eventually he stood alone, claws shifting back into hands as he looked about the Vault and he began to take a stroll through the halls. It was silent now, rather than filled with the noises of the Fiends raucous activates
He paused before the maintenance wing, where he had started his rampage. He looked around the various pieces of technology he Fiends had tossed away. Even with the Fiends destructive activities much of the old Vault technology still remained behind. He could think for a few uses for this stuff.
********
Veronica Santelego looked over the auto-doc as she put away the tool for repairing it. It was midday now at the Old Mormon Fort and it had been two days since Mercer had left out for his little trip. She hoped nothing bad had happened to him.
Outside there was some sort of commotion and she peeked out her tent. There was Mercer, talking with Julie Farkas, one of the senior Followers at the camp. Veronica thought she was nice and helpful enough.
Behind them a bunch of laborers where moving in what looked like supplies and equipment. Then Mercer appeared to finish talking to Farkas and he moved over to where she was.
''Well, I see you returned from your little trip successfully. Did you have fun?'' Veronica asked.
''Oh, you could say that. On the way I found plenty of equipment that was just resting in the storage wings,'' Mercer jerked his thumb over there. ''It has some parts you might find interesting.''
''Parts? Where did you get these?'' Veronica asked, looking over the crates that the laborers were carrying. Her experienced eye spotted many items that the Brotherhood had catalogued. Some of them she could use to fix the auto-doc.
''Vault 3,''
''The Fiends' Vault? How did you get in and out without them noticing?'' Veronica asked.
''Oh, I have my ways,'' Mercer shrugged.
silentcrusader
Leaping couch, Silent potato
Why would Mercer go into the vault on Dooms Day? He's practiclly invincible.
Dimensionist
Grand Master of Apologism, Keeper of the Faith
...
All of my what.
Otherwise, it was a decent chapter, though the end could have used some work. Mercer did not, after all, display any power that should have truly made the Courier and Boone wary in a direct battle, which seems to be what they're afraid of facing him in.
Speaking of which ... did this Courier do Old World Blues yet?
Oh well, time to read the next snippet ...
*Incidentally, I'm fairly sure that Enclave Power Armor isn't something you can get in New Vegas without console commands, seeing as how it's the Advanced Power Armor Mk II. Maybe you're thinking of the Remnant Power Armor, aka the Advanced Power Armor Mk I?
A product of reading Gaunt's Ghosts and writing 40k fiction. ''Las-round'' is often used as a shorthand descriptive term. I must have unconciously put it in.
It's not so much that they're afraid of facing him on. The Courier is just freaked out by the obviously inhuman powers Mercer has as well as his freakish durability. Although granted I do admit I did make it sound like they were afraid a bit.
Maybe. I never got a chance to play that DLC. Not enough money to get all those Xbox points.
Yes. I am referring to the power armor you get from the Enclave remnnants. I just use the term interchangeably.
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