Today we're gonna go track down a private dick named Nick Valentine. He's gone missing, and I'm told I'll need his help to find my son Shaun. He's got a knack for finding missing folk, they say! I could use a man like that on my team. But first, time to put down some of this loot I got from ransacking Hubris Comics. Back to Sanctuary!
|"Us addicts gotta stick together."|
Sheffield needed a hand, so I stole a nuka-cola and gave it to him. Time to cook all that radroach meat I got, prep me a goddamn FEAST, SON.
|"Gordon Ramsey wishes he looked/had it this good."|
A good batch prepped and served; I'm literally overflowing with radroach stewmeats. Mmm Mmm!
Back to Hubris Comics, and onwards towards the questmarker. I'ma comin' for ya, Nick! Hold on for just a little bit longer. Wait. What's that sign over there say...
|"Waaaaaaaaaaaay back! Gotta double back my friend. Right into my deuce coupe."|
Stay back from what? This truck seems to know.
|"I feel like I'm being trolled by Stephen Merchant right now."|
I guess I have to look out for a Swan? Really? Swans aren't terrifying. now DUCKS. Ducks are fuckin' terrifying. Goddamn serrated tongues and corkscrew penises. Eugh. Wait; what's that in the water over there...
|"When they have a skull next to their name it means they're level FUCK YOU in comparison to your ass."|
I TAKE IT BACk, SWANS ARE WATERFOWL SATANS. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I duck back into an alley, down a flight of a stairs and through a door, hoping that I didn't anger whatever that 'Swan' thing was.
|"Nobody knew who I was."|
A somewhat familiar bar setting, where the manager's office is filled with baseball memorabilia, and a very tall skeleton is found behind the bar. One day in the future, I bet someone will buy it. Maybe in the year 3,000 or so.
|"I saw a guy sellin' Ratzenbergers; he Wendt that way."|
Deepest cut right there. Get on my reference level, nerds.
Nice little Cheers easter egg, but the place is devoid of enemies (cool!) and also devoid of loot (NOT cool.) Seeing as whatever Swan was hasn't made its way inside the bar to kill me, I presume its safe
|" Buncha fags in a pram.'|
Relax, its British, it's OK. Whoever had the babycart had some really fucked up priorities. Thankfully cigarettes in this game are great for you! And by that I mean they're full of asbestos and a wonderful source of it for your settlement crafting needs.
A few more street corners, and Park Street Metro station looms.
|"I wonder if he'll go all Olmec of the Hidden Temple on me."|
Subway system is flooded with tommy gun-toting triggermen, as apparently the place belongs to a deposed Mafioso from Goodneighbor. Thankfully they're terrible shots, and have a distinct weakness to me burrying my barbarian waraxe into their faces.
Who'd've thought that I'd be going full Skyrim in Fallout 4.
Oh well. Onward deeper into the belly of the beast, as they say!
|"A taste to die for."|
Nuka Cola Quantum; just enough isotopes & spices to give it that zip! Plus I bet it makes your pee glow. Man I want some right now.
|"Ominous lighting & giant metal wall-sphincter: check."|
Vault 114! The vault's hidden experiment was quite devious; bring in a bunch of affluent families to the vault, under the pretense that it is lavish and quite opulent. Just resplendent with luxury piled upon luxury; while in fact everybody is cramped into single room units and communal bathrooms / showers. Furthermore they actively choose the absolute worst candidates to be Overseer every cycle, and then encourage them to nurture really shitty conditioning and behavior amongst the vault dwellers.
Speaking of sick; let's see how I'm doin'.
|"Stat mods out the wazoo. Also I'm addicted to wazoo now."|
Wubalubadubdub; I'm LIT. Just ambulating around, all high on water, mac&chee and whiskaaaaaaaaaaaay.
Honestly not much different than my actual normal life.
|"Do androids dream of classy dames in dives like these?"|
So... Nick. Nick's a rowbut. An automaton-man. A Robomatronical humanitron. Neat. But also scary. He's a synth! People keep tellin' me synths are bad and scary and I should fight him or somethin', but he's so goddamn SMOOTH. He's like a gritty LA detective novel come to life.
|"Like Moe Cronin's version of Baseball."|
Nick's pretty good in a fight, and I let'im take point because shit, I did all the heavy lifting so-far, he can pay it forward and rescue his own damn self.
|"Reaching peak PULP levels."|
Bonus Action Points? Awesome. I love these mags!
|"WHISKEY PARTY IN MY TUMMY."|
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrripped. My screen is just missing heavy motion blur and sound distortion, because I just slammed back 2 cans of Cram, 3 bottles of whiskey and some Instant Mashed Potato mix. Which I figure I made with one of the whiskey bottles. whiskeytatoes. Maybe I'm not so-much Gordon Ramsey, and moreso Guy Fieri... eurgh.
|"Skinny Malone? Sounds like a Dick Tracy villain."|
Skinny Malone sounds like Little John; who was in fact quite big, within Robin Hood's band of Merry Men. Not withstanding Lil'Jon, who is as we all know, Turn't down for what.
|"Fat Andy Garcia, or Regular Daniel Baldwin. Take your pick."|
Nick lets me know why he's here, fully: the missing girl he's looking for wasn't kidnapped so much as she's now Skinny's main squeeze. And the only thing she's squeezing right now is his sack. Oy. I TRY to assuage everybody's fears, which leads Skinny to get all ALPHA MALE CHESTPOUND and bark something about "Nobody tells me what to do!".
First thing I did was DECAPITATE his dear Darla, and steal her sequined dress. She had it comin' for insinuating that I was a hired goon of Nick's, and that Nick should've just been killed immediately. Skinny wasn't so bad; he had a respect for Nick and what he did, but he was thinkin' with his lil paisano rather than his noggin'.
|"Silly Malone brought a gun to an axe fight."|
Didn't take too long, but I own a nice tuxedo, formal hat and gun ensemble. Vault 114 is now eerily silent; something it hasn't been in a long time since Malone's crew muscled in on the previous inhabitants.
|"I bet he sees a blue moon, just standin' around there."|
Fresh (relatively) air! Nick gives me a quick thanks, and tells me to meet him back in Diamond City at his agency, so we can work my case.
|"My weird, half-naked goggled ways. With bonus happy dog ways."|
Time to head back to Diamond City, and pick back up the quest for finding my lost boy Shaun; but first, time to ding that level.
Death Count: 3
Game Crashes: 1
That's it for this edition! Up next: Diamond City, Nick Valentine and a pizza place. (Maybe.)