in case you wanna see it.The courier opens his eyes. You're awake. How about that? A man with a snazzy mustache greets him.
Where be me? ...our courier is not the smartest fella on the planet. Or of the continent. Or of the west coast. Or of the Mojave desert. Or in town. Or in that house. I'm pretty sure there are radscorpions who are smarter than him. Wouldn't be surprised if I met one playing chess sooner than I saw that courier using tenses correctly.
Our courier, our hero was shot twice in the head and dropped in a shallow grave for the package he was carrying: a platinum casino chip. These days there are far too many wastelander interested in useless trinkets. Truth be told, the checkered suit he was wearing suggested the man wasn't just a normal wastelander, but a crazy one too.
Easy there, easy.. you've been out cold a couple of days now. Why don't you just relax a second? Get your bearings. Let's see what the damage is.. how about your name? Can you tell me your name?
Bob.
is the photobucket album where I'll keep all of the screenshots for this Liveblog. I may or may not add some other things related there too, like screenshots that looked cool but didn't fit in the installments and such, as of now I'm not sure.I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings. Doc Mustache. Good springs. Uh. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rooting around there in your nogging to pull all the bits of lead out. Nogging? The doc handed over a fancy mechanical uhm.. mirror-thingie to the courier, I think they call it a Reflectron, made by RobCo, to see if the works he's done on his head is okay.
Doc Mitchell's needlework is pitch-perfect. Bob's just as ugly as he ever was.
Doc also wants Bob to use a Vit-o-matic Vigor Tester, see if he's recuperated physically and mentally.
After checking his vitals, it's time for word association! Bob LOVES word association because he just has to blurt out something after hearing a word without thinking. Much easier that way, without all those pesky things like context and making sense and such. Anyway, a mention of "human shields" after the word "mother" later, it's time for the second part of this suspiciously short rehabilitation.
Now I've got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you'd say.
The vacant stare in Bob's eyes after Doc utters the first statement suggests him to skip to the Rorschach test. This goes slightly better, if not for having to interpret Bob's monosyllabic answers. When it comes to making Bob fill out a form of his medical history, Doc Mitchell decides to give him the one for children, hoping he understands.
He doesn't.
By the way, I'll take the chance to let you guys know the character's stats. Strength 9 Perception 4 Endurance 8 Charisma 4 Intelligence 1 Agility 6 Luck 8. Tag skills: Unarmed, Survival, Explosives. Only trait I've picked is Wild Wasteland.
The Doc is now ready to let Bob go, but not before giving him stuff and advice.
As far as stuff goes, the Doc's pretty generous. He gives him a pair of golden boxing gloves, a vault suit, 8 sticks of dynamite and a Pip-boy 3000.
What's a Pip-boy, you ask me? It's a computer mounted on your wrist. It checks your vitals, acts a geiger counter, plays the radio, acts as a target assistant when you shoot and I presume, if you update the software, coffee machine. You name it? The Pip-boy can do that. Well, to be fair, its map system is terrible.
All that stuff is on top of what Bob had on himself while he was delivering his stolen package, a tribal armor he mysteriously decided to not use when delivering the chip, opting for some crappy courier clothes the Doc forgot to give him back, a broad (Bob likes the word, and repeats it every time he talks about it for some reason) machete, some venom, ten tribal spears he mysteriously managed to keep on himself despite lacking a backpack and a delivery order for a platinum chip to the New Vegas strip, his last job so far.
As far as advice goes, it's rather simple. Doc suggests to talk with Sunny Smiles as she can teach him how to survive in a desert She? Mate her. Maybe. and to Victor, the robot who pulled Bob out of his grave and brought him to Goodsprings.
He also tells Bob he can come back to him when he's injured to be healed.
Now Bob is really ready to go. Except for the little detail that he has forgot what he has to do. He wanders, aimlessly, in Doc Mitchell's place, randomly grabbing what he finds on the shelves. Foodstuff! Dakka-stuff! Pew-stuff! A pew! Headstuff! Eye-stuff!
Bob examines the fedora intently and has a brilliant idea. Since this is his story, I'll leave the stage to him.
Headstuff! Headstuff goes on head. Nice headstuff! Oh! I forgot! Me has to think! I forgot.. I remember! Bad man dakkadakka me. Me dakkadakka bad man. Find bad man. Where bad man? Find bad man!
Ehr, yeah, I guess that from now I won't let him talk unless it's really necessary. Not that I can't stop him from doing anything, it's not like I'm directing him and deciding what he does, I'm just narrating this story. Anyway.
Bob is ready to leave Doc Mitchell's house. Finally.
Next installment will be the tutorial + Goodspring's section.
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