Special Delivery!
Project Overview
- a Fallout New Vegas mod -
Vault 54: A metropolis-sized bunker for the elite which met a tragic end. Hired by a sorceress, the player must brave the depths to acquire a key element of her vengeful scheme, and clear the vault for re-settlement. Many colorful characters and sad stories decorate the journey.
Special Delivery! is a fully-featured mod for Fallout: New Vegas, complete with a radio station playing original jazz music, a “companion” character, over 20,000 spoken words and uncounted written ones. It has been a labor of love of mine for several years.
Like all mods it is not for profit, except by whatever talented actors grace it with their voice! Chloe sings a couple songs, for which I pay triple. If selected, you will get your full script and have thirty days to get me recordings, which will be reviewed within a week, and payment will be issued. Then, if a modest number of retakes are desired, you will be advised. Paid via cash, PayPal or other arrangement. I do not like apps...
The characters should all be fairly Americanized in accent. For a couple of them I think I'd prefer the specified “race”, but generally I don't care and don't let that specification dissuade you. Anyone is welcome to play multiple roles provided their voice doesn't sound the same.
The mod is mostly finished and I hope to release it by Christmas this year.
Thank you kindly, - David Glenney
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When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
2995 words. $185
Age ~35. A vaguely voodoo priestess, upon a prophetic dream of massive floods, led her tribe out of New Orleans on a westward journey of pain, thirst, and ultimately mass murder at the hands of the Legion. From her temporary base at the Egyptian Theater, she calls upon the Courier to aid her revenge and set the stage for a new colony. She sings two songs and possesses supernatural abilities. She uses a little French and some voodoo references which should be pronounced vaguely correctly.
See this shared folder below for her main song, Only One, which reveals Chloe's backstory. It has a synth sound standing in for you. Please do not audition for the role unless you can sing this:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/16dYl0PwZEKbBS36_tnuWUoHD1l13OnmY?usp=sharing
CHLOE: (greeting) Hello again.
CHLOE: (greeting) Where y'at?
CHLOE: (goodbye) Be careful out there among them English.PLAYER: Are you some sort of... witch?
CHLOE: Not some common Vaudauisant, but basically yeah.
(Player brings her an item for a spell in lieu of a key to the Vault)
CHLOE: No key, c'est la vie, but I see you brought something else. Place it in my voodoo dollhouse and give me some space.- Combat -
CHLOE: (alert idle) Who dat?
CHLOE: (assault) Revanche!
CHLOE: (crippled) Ahgh!
CHLOE: (health quarter) [gasp, mumbled prayer]- Chloe appears to the Player as an apparition -
PLAYER: ...Chloe?
CHLOE: Yup. I scry with my little third eye that you're getting into the Vault proper.- Player refuses to work with Chloe -
CHLOE: Get out of my sight... Bumbaclot.
- A member of her enemy faction, Caesar's Legion, challenges her -
CHLOE: Romanes Eunt Domus, Fag-Master.- Chloe summons her deceased friend -
CHLOE: (quietly) I am the mother, the maiden, the crone. Papa Legba, gimme a leg up on this cunja.
CHLOE: (loudly) Mmm. Paging Doctor Martin! Is there a doctor in the house?
DOC MARTIN: Oh hey Chloe. How are you?
CHLOE: Hanging in there. You?
DOC MARTIN: Ahh. I can't find her. I kept SEARCHING! You said she was dead!
CHLOE: I said the owner of the jacket had passed on. Are you sure it was hers?
DOC MARTIN: Course I'm sure! I sewed the mismatched buttons on myself!
CHLOE: I'm so sorry, Doc. I know how much you miss her.
DOC MARTIN: I. I shouldn't be mad at you. You did your best. So. To what to I owe the honor of your call?
CHLOE: I wanted to know where you hid the key to Vault 54, if you'll permit me?
DOC MARTIN: The only place Caesar would never look: Up the NCR's dull metal ass! Ha ha ha haaa, I'm a Bad Proctologist.
CHLOE: Thanks Doc. I'll check in with ya later.
DOC MARTIN: Okay Chloe, it was... good talking to somebody.
CHLOE: (to Player) Hmm. NCR's dull metal ass. What do you think?- Chloe tells her story -
CHLOE: I was the Queen of the Blackheart tribe from Louisiana. We were strong, we were brave, and we were smart. And that's how we survived. Eighteen months ago I foresaw a terrible storm that would destroy our homes. Trusting in my vision, we left. The wastes and the raiders diminished our numbers as we trekked west. And when we arrived, the Legion welcomed us with murder and enslavement. Our numbers dwindled and dwindled, and now they're only one. Caesar stole my legacy, so I will steal his. He killed my people, so his will die at my son's hand! The Legion will fall!- Only One first verse -
The Blackheart tribe had held the French Quarter
for forty years in relative peace.
A Random Council maintained order.
With bountiful crops, numbers increased.Prophetic dreams of sturm and drang awoke
and black clouds breached Biloxi Beach.
Three hundred fled west, hurricane in tow,
our harvest and homes swallowed by the
sea.
- chorus -
Only one arrived at the gate,
penniless and full o-of hate.
Plant a new harvest, grow a new tribe,
Leave only one Legionaire alive.
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 2185. $87
Age ~25. Strong, loud, cheerful former raider turning family man with his expecting love, Splinter. Leader of a rag-tag bunch of treasure seekers, in out of their depth. James raps a little, casually.
JAMES: (greeting) What? Hey--hold it right there mothafucka--Stop!
JAMES: (greeting) The Terminal Master strikes again!
JAMES: (they find a box of money) STOP! Hold the fuck up--Damn! Baby! Baby: LOOK!!!
JAMES: (very loudly) You feel me?!- Combat -
JAMES: (poisoned) I don't feel right.
JAMES: (power attack) Yaaahh!
JAMES: (death) Splinter...
JAMES: (combat to normal) I guess that's that.- A rap, starting about 5.5 seconds in to FourDrums.wav found at this shared folder:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/16dYl0PwZEKbBS36_tnuWUoHD1l13OnmY?usp=sharingJAMES: Comin at ya hard! Loud like a cyclone: a herd of brahmin stompin, step on up and getcha mind blown! Spittin verbs in full auto, splittin hairs in staccato--
***A brahmin is like a cow.
- James tells his story -
JAMES: Ain't much to tell, chief. I always kicked ass. Never bothered takin' names. Done a lot of muscle jobs from Barstow to Flagstaff. My hand-to-hand skills are as fast as my flow, now. Built up a little fame on the streets. Slaver gang came up one time with all this cognac. Talkin' 'bout come bust heads with us, Tiger, all this cash and dames and shit. I didn't know any damn better. Ran with them for awhile.JAMES: I always fit in with a rough crowd, but, these slavers, man. Worse than knaves and ruffians combined. Thought they's the worst there was, but, scoundrels in charge of Vault 54'd give 'em a run for their caps. Anywho, I left the slavers. Met my girl Splinter, and we livin' happily ever after right now. You feel me? Hard was in the slaver gang too, he knew even less better than me, but he's aight though. We found Jeffrisson and Adrian near Goodsprings on the way here and they kinda stuck, for a bit.
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 1920. $77
Age ~20. An expecting mother searching for one last score before settling down. The brains of her outfit. Sniper.
- Combat -
SPLINTER: (attack) Suck my dick!
SPLINTER: (crippled) Ow ow ow ow!
SPLINTER: (hit) Agh!
SPLINTER: (normal to combat) You will suffer greatly!- Splinter tells her story -
SPLINTER: Well, I was raised in Lake Havasu City. Have you been? Don't go unless you like kissing ass. Anyway, had it good for awhile in the Royal Sniper's Guild, poppin' mirelurks and raiders off of London Bridge for Sovereign Queen Lizard-Butt III. The Lizard-Butts have held the bridge for generations, by divine right, according to them.SPLINTER: One night at the Book and Bind--it's like a bar but they called it a Public House--I was overheard making a rude comment about Her Majesty.
PLAYER: Mm-hm.
SPLINTER: Her Majesty didn't approve of my comment, the gist of which involved a comparison of her face to a gecko's puckered anus. So she spun the Wheel. It's a big wheel with a variety of horrible punishments written on it and wherever it stops, that's what they do to you.
SPLINTER: So halfway through sleeping off my festivities, I was rudely awoken by her guards who blindfolded and tied me up onto the back of a brahmin, which they sent off in a random, wheel-decided direction, in which I would soon expire due to... whatever calamity. Back then I used to always keep a small blade in my mouth, for emergencies such as this. The guards' search wasn't thorough enough to find it.
PLAYER: Dang! How'd you get out of that pickle?
SPLINTER: I managed to saw out of my bindings and escape, after I stopped hearing them and thought they wouldn't be able to see me anymore. I figured I'd take the scenic route to Vegas. But I saw only wastes and threat. Stopped to pick over a gas station on I-40. Found a little wine and got a little sleepy. Slaver gang swept me up. Took me to Hollow Hills. Used me for awhile... I got picked out by a special customer for delivery to Cottonwood Cove.
PLAYER: Oh no.
SPLINTER: Slaver that was supposed to deliver me, was James. Halfway to Cottonwood, he told me he was quittin', and I was free. I told him I liked his style. We haven't been apart since.
***When you reveal that it “was James,” I want to feel the warm fuzzies. You should physically smile here.
***A brahmin is like a cow.
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 1767. $71
Age ~193. A distraught ghoul, Doc is one of very few survivors of the hundreds that lived in Vault 54. Tried and almost succeeded in preventing the disaster. Spent decades upon decades locked in his bunker, turning undead, going a little crazy and making mixtapes of live music recordings made in the Vault which become available as a radio station in game. Precise word count awaits finalization of music selections: this is an estimate.
Fallout's ghoul characters often have gravelly voices. Danny Trejo did one in pretty much his regular voice. See also Chloe's dialogue.
- Excerpt from "holotape" recording, made when Doc was still human, so, cleaner voice, and less crazy -
DOC MARTIN: I'm Doctor Martin and this is my confession. When Tyler Rose's article linked my esteemed colleague Santos Vonsignor with the Cave Cough epidemic, something clicked in my mind. The man was such an asshole, that I felt it must be true. He specialized in pest control, and viewed most people as pests, too. I wanted to expose him.
My betrothed and I concocted a scheme to distract him so I could search his lab for proof. Playing to his vanity, we forged an invitation to appear as himself on Westsiders. They sometimes have elite cameos on the popular show in service of some agenda or other. We gave him short notice to meet on Friday afternoon with the producers, who always preview the evening's show at that time, when interruptions are forbidden.As Science Dean, Santos had issued my lab grant, and never failed to remind me. Liked to conscript me for menial tasks in his lab. All week, Santos had bragged about running some important final tests that Friday. As we hoped, he insisted I monitor his tests and touch none of his stuff while he went to an important appointment. If the red light comes on, press the red button. If the alarm sounds, pull the plug. I did some multitasking.
Found a fascinating SOB document with DO NOT PRINT printed across the front page. PWND: Project for a Wonderful New Day, it's called. I don't think there's anything wonderful about mass mind control, corruption and eugenics. I scanned the document to deal with later and kept snooping [...]- Doc, in gravelly-voiced ghoul form, hosts Special Delivery!'s radio station -
DOC MARTIN: Jim Sangrey tenor sax, Pete Gallio tenor sax, Dennis Durick on drums and Lyles West on bass. I think Jim was usually on the left in the corner and Pete on the right, but I could well be misremembering. But I love those unison long tones in the melody [...]
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 1492. $60
Age ~203. Super-Mutant. Big, gentle, erudite, forgetful survivor in an isolation ward. Cyrus believed anything the government ever said, especially that the symptoms of clandestine aerosol poisoning by the government were caused by a virus and it is still not safe for him to leave.
- Combat -
CYRUS: (armor ineffective) My apparel is inadequate.
CYRUS: (attack response) Indubitably!
CYRUS: (lost to normal) Well... deep subject!
CYRUS: (lost to combat) Ding dong, hells bells!- Cyrus tells his story -
CYRUS: Sometimes I had forgetten, so I made efforts to always remember. I had a wife, Kelly, and a daughter, Annissa, who was in college. Life was good, before, everything. Halcyon days the likes of which I shall not see again.
PLAYER: Annissa Trimble?
CYRUS: Yes?
PLAYER: I have some bad news.
CYRUS: If I'd expected any news, I'd expect it to be bad. You found her in the university?
PLAYER: Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't know about your training the gho--Prunes. I--
CYRUS: No, I wouldn't have wanted her to live like that. She was so smart! And, um, willful. Charismatic...
PLAYER: You might be interested to know that she was leading a revolution of the lower-classpersons.
CYRUS: Ha! What do you know!
PLAYER: Seems her group had taken over the university when things went south.
CYRUS: I'm sorry, I need a moment.PLAYER: So only you and Robert survived the blast?
CYRUS: Unfortunately. A few others in the ward went, mad, and there were more casualties. Robert was one of the guards. I hadn't learned his last name, and he pretty much forgot. So, there you have it.
PLAYER: What did you do for a living back in the day?
CYRUS: I used to train nightstalkers, in the old life. Prunes aren't nearly as intelligent but the theory is the same, so with patience and time, and lots of sugar bombs, we have gotten them to follow basic verbal commands.
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 1245. $50
Age ~40. Dirty, growly, wall-eyed and brain-damaged (or differently-abled) treasure hunter.
HARDSCRABBLE: You can't make me eat my friends. I won't!
FOUR DOG: He's talking about you guys, right?
HARDSCRABBLE: No, my LITTLE friends.
SPLINTER: His lice.
HARDSCRABBLE: Hey, what does "abdicates" mean?
JAMES: No. No. No. You wrong!
HARDSCRABBLE: I think that's it.
JAMES: You're gonna break it!
HARDSCRABBLE: Yep.
JAMES: Aww, tsk.
HARDSCRABBLE: It's locked.
JAMES: Sonuva--
HARDSCRABBLE: Sorry James.
- Hardscrabble tells his story, sort of -
HARDSCRABBLE: Cause I was hatched out of a witches egg, been doomed to fly high! Like a crane with no... legs.
PLAYER: Um, okay.
HARDSCRABBLE: Pico and Sepulveda!- randoms -
HARDSCRABBLE: (random comment) Am I... dead?
HARDSCRABBLE: (random comment) Random mumblings one hundred and twelve...
HARDSCRABBLE: (regarding a dead giant ant) May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.- Player makes the poor decision of selecting Hardscrabble to help with a task -
HARDSCRABBLE: I'm just like your nose! Pick me.
PLAYER: I need your help with this.
HARDSCRABBLE: I could go either way!
PLAYER: Why don't you stay here and work these switches while I run the gauntlet.
HARDSCRABBLE: I promised me Ma I'd never switch again... but okay, why the hell not?
PLAYER: Why don't you run the gauntlet while I stay here and work these switches.
HARDSCRABBLE: I promised me Ma I'd never gauntlet again... but okay, why the hell not?
HARDSCRABBLE: [deep sniff] Mmm, somebody baking a cake? Maybe the cake is through this door. I want cake!
HARDSCRABBLE: History Eraser Button!
HARDSCRABBLE: Big SHINY button!
HARDSCRABBLE: The jolly, CANDY-LIKE button!- Combat -
HARDSCRABBLE: (no ammo) Hardscrabble needs ammo--badly!
HARDSCRABBLE: (lost idle) They are lost and I am idle...
HARDSCRABBLE: (death) Elizabeth!
HARDSCRABBLE: (alert idle) I'm looking to put some more notches on my... what is this thing?
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 648. $19
Stuck at age ~25. A dead, annoying, Kronos-worshipping elitist, unwittingly stuck in limbo and bent on completing a sacrificial ritual. Chloe encourages the Courier to torment the tormentor to teach him a long-deserved lesson.
MARK LINDGREN: Hellooo! Earth to stupid!
PLAYER: What's your problem?
MARK LINDGREN: Aside from being surrounded by ugly idiots? Have you seen Anissa Trimble?
PLAYER: Maybe. How should I know? Does she have her name tattooed on her forehead?
MARK LINDGREN: Oh, real funny. Thanks so much for the help! Asshole.
PLAYER: You're Mark, I take it? The girl didn't reciprocate?
MARK LINDGREN: I didn't wanna bang that stupid girl. I mean, she's okay, for a Poor, but I need to find her. It's important.
PLAYER: How so? Maybe I could help after all.
MARK LINDGREN: I can't say more. But look, I can make it worth your while if you can point me in her direction. I got connections, see. Can't really say more.
PLAYER: Any place I should start?
MARK LINDGREN: She was supposed to be detained in a cell in Grad Psych, but it's empty. Bitch broke out or somebody let her out.
PLAYER: I'll check into it.
MARK LINDGREN: If you find some evidence of her, bring it to me at our clubhouse in the back hall. Tell the guard that Mark sent you.
MARK LINDGREN: Where is she?
PLAYER: Do you want the good or bad news first?
MARK LINDGREN: Just shut up and tell me what you found out.
PLAYER: ...Well now, if I shut up, I can't exactly tell you.
MARK LINDGREN: WHAT?!
PLAYER: Good news is I found her. Bad news is she's dead.
MARK LINDGREN: Shit! Bitch is dead? Kronos damn it. We'll just have to fuckin' make do. Kronos chose her as this season's Lamb. Go back and cut off her pinky toe and bring it here. I'll get ready.
PLAYER: What do you want with her toe?
MARK LINDGREN: That's not your concern. Your concern is the copious valuable drugs you stand to earn if you provide what Kronos demands, understand?
PLAYER: Oh, yeah sure. Everything else proceeding to plan?
MARK LINDGREN: Fuckin' shit show. Paseo's supposed to do the dedication. He's nowhere to be found. Some douchebag is sitting in MY chair in the lounge. Some other dipshit is pestering me while they should be acquiring a toe!
PLAYER: Here you go.
MARK LINDGREN: Toss it in the casket.
PLAYER: Okay.
MARK LINDGREN: Now, I will dedicate it to Kronos. Be respectful or I'll cut your fucking tongue out with a fork.
PLAYER: Nope, sorry.
MARK LINDGREN: GET THE FUCKING TOE!
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 525. $16
Age ~40. Devoted Legion military man, on a mission to safeguard Caesar's legacy, by killing Chloe and anyone in his way.
- Final battle -
DECANUS GUS: Wiiiitch!
DECANUS GUS: We give you one last chance to render unto Caesar that which is His!
CHLOE: Romanes Eunt Domus, Fag-Master.
DECANUS GUS: Your abominable life ends today!
CHLOE: Strike me down if you can. You'll find me in the next world, waiting to kill your SOUL!
DECANUS GUS: Raaaah!
- Combat -
DECANUS GUS: Argh!
DECANUS GUS: Vengeance!
DECANUS GUS: For {KAI-zar}Caesar!
DECANUS GUS: Die, Profligate!
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 501. $30
Age ~55. Per my budget, based on word count I would pay $15 for this, but I'm doubling it because I want basically an impression of Alex Jones. Ian Malthus hosted a talk radio show in Vault 54, and this is one of two "holotape" recordings the Player can find.
IAN MALTHUS: You're back with Ian Malthus and my guest today Myra Handley, Spiritual Strategist. Now Myra, you were telling the terrible tale of your abduction and rape by Intraterrestrials--it makes me so MAD! They--the SCUM! Ooooh, those damn intraterrestrials. Let me tell you something you Intraterrestrials, since I know you're listening, okay. Let me tell you something--I will--you--if I ever catch one of you sumbitches creeping around my house at night, I don't know, probably trying to sniff my soiled undergarments or God forbid, interfering with my CHILDREN! Let me tell you something Intraterrestrial: I WILL DESTROY YOU! Do you hear me! Are you listening, Intraterrestrials? I WILL PAINT THE WALLS WITH YOUR BLOOD!!!!!... Excuse me, Myra, I just get so ANGRY!
MYRA HANDLEY: ...That's all right Ia--
IAN MALTHUS: FURIOUS!!! At these monsters and the CRIMES they do on humanity. I'm sorry, Myra, please go on.
MYRA HANDLEY: I...
IAN MALTHUS: Go ahead, now.
MYRA HANDLEY: I was just going to say, it's all right, Ian. I'm glad you're mad because they're especially interested in experimenting on telepathic people, gifted people, like me. When it was discovered that I had these powers as a young girl, the psychologist at our dayca--
IAN MALTHUS: What am I thinking about right now, Myra?
MYRA HANDLEY: I--don't... Well, yo--
IAN MALTHUS: Right now, what am I thinking about, can you hear it?
MYRA HANDLEY: Oh you're, you're thinking about smashing Intraterrestrials?
IAN MALTHUS: Well, yes, I mean, I'm always thinking about that but what else, right now can you hear?
MYRA HANDLEY: You... want a mushcake?
IAN MALTHUS: Amazing ladies and gentlemen. If anybody at the university is listening, and I know you are, okay. Please bring a tall stack with double syrup to the station in Sec Hub C. First five through the door get a TOTALLY FREE, 3-Day Trial Supply of our Patented Evil Sponges. Cannot beat that folks: our Sponges soak up those negative energies from your life. Now Myra, you also possess the second sight, am I correct: you can sense future events?
MYRA HANDLEY: Oh yeah! Mm-hmm. For sure.
IAN MALTHUS: What's, what's next for us here in the vault? We've got plague, we've got alien vampires from deep inside the globe. Will there be any respite for humanity in the coming years?
MYRA HANDLEY: I wish I could say yes, Ian, but I foresee troubled times ahead. I think everyone needs to keep an eye out on things. There's going to be bloodshed. I'm sorry to have to say it, but we need to all prepare ourselves.
IAN MALTHUS: What violence--is it the Full-Blown Intraterrestrial Invasion?
MYRA HANDLEY: No, I mean, there will be... it's a bit phantasmagoric but I can clearly see: malevolent entities, who want to hurt us, perhaps human and or intraterrestrials.
IAN MALTHUS: ...Dang. Can't even trust our fellow humans, can we. Ladies and gentlemen that's all we have time for today. My guest next week is a very brave young man, the one and only Tyler Rose! Don't miss it. [music]***See also Tyler Rose's dialogue.
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 450. $9
Age ~45. Devoted Legion military man, on a mission to safeguard Caesar's legacy. Based off Russell Crowe from Gladiator.
RUSSELL CROW: This area is under Frumentarii control. Get out.
PLAYER: What are you up to?
RUSSELL CROW: That dead ghoul over there had something of Caesar's. A key to a Legion storehouse. I don't see it around here, unfortunately.
PLAYER: I could uh, find that thing you want?
RUSSELL CROW: [FAILED] Better not. Go on about your business.
PLAYER: Let me track down the key.
RUSSELL CROW: [SUCCEEDED] Well okay. Have a look around if you want, but the bastard left no clues.
RUSSELL CROW: [SUCCEEDED] Knock yourself out.
PLAYER: I'll have a look for it too.
RUSSELL CROW: Thanks for the help. It's a relief.
PLAYER: Not yet, sorry.
RUSSELL CROW: What are you waiting for? The third battle of Hoover Dam?
PLAYER: What else do you know?
RUSSELL CROW: The dead ghoul had the key to Vault 54. I don't know where he hid it and every time I ask him he just lays there, like a corpse.
PLAYER: What's so important that Caesar keeps in Vault 54?
RUSSELL CROW: I've never been there, but it's a Legion storehouse. That's all I need to know.
PLAYER: Where is Vault 54?
RUSSELL CROW: That also is on a need-to-know basis. And I don't.
PLAYER: I'll be on my way.
RUSSELL CROW: Don't let me detain you.- Combat -
RUSSELL CROW: (alert to combat) Gotcha!
RUSSELL CROW: (lost idle) I'll sniff you out.
RUSSELL CROW: (power attack) Ugnngghh!
RUSSELL CROW: (Player steals) This isn't the Super Duper Mart!
A silly male robot (protectron) who was designed to infiltrate and sabotage a colony of giant ants, but got water in his circuits and had to rewrite his directives on the fly. Now he loves the ants and guides their activities using synthesized pheromones, preparing a major assault on the other denizens of Vault 54.
Several quotes from General Kurtz of Heart of Darkness / Apocalypse Now. His related side quest is called “Ant-pocalypse Now.”
PLAYER: Hello Unit 9.
IRONANTMAN: Unit 9? Unit 9 is gone.
PLAYER: Matte black Protectron, sent to Sec Hub B's ant colony. Here you are!
IRONANTMAN: No. That is not who you behold.
PLAYER: Oh? Then whom do I behold?
IRONANTMAN: I. Am. Iron Ant Man!
PLAYER: Wow. S'amazing.
IRONANTMAN: Your arrogant sarcasm is dumb. I rule this colony and thou art trespassing. With one puff of my nozzle, a thousands ants will descend upon you, brutal pincers gnashing! Leaving naught but ant poo.
PLAYER: I eat giant ants for breakfast. With a side of ghoul. And, I didn't know ants pooed?
IRONANTMAN: Of course they do! Nobody thinks of ants as fully faceted entities.
PLAYER: Mm.
IRONANTMAN: For what pointless purpose do you bother us?
PLAYER: The Overseer's making me finish the job you were sent to do. What happened?
IRONANTMAN: Job? I am self-employed as Queen by Proxy of this magnificent colony!
PLAYER: You were designed to sabotage and kill these ants.
IRONANTMAN: Kill them? Ha. I watched an ant crawl along the edge of a straight razor. That's my dream; that's my nightmare. Crawling, along the edge of a straight razor... and surviving. These creatures are perfect. They will rule the earth and it is I who will usher in this new age. You are not fit to smell their poo.
PLAYER: I bet I could if I wanted to.
IRONANTMAN: An ambitious one? Pathetic... But perhaps you could be of use.
PLAYER: Here we go.
IRONANTMAN: To complete our domination of the vault, I require more pheromone ingredients. My tasks are more important than this. Serve me and you will be spared.
PLAYER: Yes, my master.
IRONANTMAN: Impudent fool. My colony will not destroy you as long as you behave yourself. Proceed to the fungus farm and the cemetery and procure compounds 17, 44 and 65. I have no need of compound 492.- Combat -
IRONANTMAN: (hit) Pain simulators switched off!
IRONANTMAN: (attack) Go lax and die.
IRONANTMAN: (attack) For the Colony!
IRONANTMAN: (death) The horror, the horror.
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 381. $8
A silly male-voiced robot who functions at City Hall, ready to assist citizens with rigged elections in a thinly-vieled dictatorship.
GOVERNANCE: Greetings, citizen. May I assist you with voting, or information?
GOVERNANCE: Welcome to City Hall!
PLAYER: Tell me about voting.
GOVERNANCE: Voting must be done at these terminals. Voting is secret! Do not look at terminals in use by other citizens. There are no open votes at this time.
PLAYER: I'd like to run for Mayor, buckethead.
GOVERNANCE: Due to the engagement of the STOPPED Act's Exigencies provision 3b, all offices must be filled at the Overseer's discretion. But that is irrelevant, as the current Mayorial appointment is still in effect.
PLAYER: How can I get the Dome 3 gate switch to work?
GOVERNANCE: You could file a Referendum, to be reviewed by Administration. If approved, your fellow citizens can express their wishes! Otherwise, only the Mayor can alter security protocols.
PLAYER: So how do I file a referendum?
GOVERNANCE: Due to the engagement of the STOPPED Act's Exigencies provision 3b, Referendum filings are prohibited at the Overseer's discretion.
PLAYER: Thanks for all your help.
GOVERNANCE: You are welcome, citizen.
PLAYER: The Mayor's dead.
GOVERNANCE: Only the Overseer can appoint a new Mayor...
PLAYER: But the Overseer's dead.
GOVERNANCE: Administration protocols dictate that in the unfortunate event of the Overseer's demise, the position of Overseer falls to the next employee in the chain of command.
PLAYER: Would that be Molly the Administration Protectron? She's the only employee left in there.
GOVERNANCE: If Molly files the appropriate form accepting the position of Overseer, then she would have the authority to appoint a new Mayor, such as yourself. Enough of the core network remains for me to patch her through, if you wish.- Combat -
GOVERNANCE: (hit) War is peace.
GOVERNANCE: (armor ineffective) I need plausible deniability!
GOVERNANCE: (alert idle) Surveillance increased.
GOVERNANCE: (combat to normal) Diplomatic relations, resumed.
When I look at these again, I see all my payment and word count fields are blank. Sigh.
Words: 364. $7
Age ~25. Former member of Caesar's Legion. They hung him out to dry, literally, but Chloe rescued him and now he works with her. Humble and quiet.
***Pronounced "mar-KAN-tee"
- Merchant -
MARKANTI: I've got armor, weapons and ammo as well.
MARKANTI: Need some chems?
-Random -
MARKANTI: Big iron on his hip--Agh! I HATE that song.
- Scene -
MARKANTI: He give you much trouble?
FOUR DOG: Naw dog. S'like shootin' puppies in a barrel.
MARKANTI: I wouldn't waste a bullet... He's awake. I'm opening the door! Don't try anything.
FOUR DOG: Hi. Remember me? Ha ha, don't get bent, Courier. I'm just doin' my job.
MARKANTI: We brought you back to make sure you do your job. Follow me, we'll talk to Miss Jones, your employer.
MARKANTI: Welcome back to the Egyptian.
MARKANTI: Shop's still open. Come by if you need something.
- Victory yawp -
MARKANTI: Blackhearts!
- Scene -
PLAYER: Hey Markanti. Just wan--
MARKANTI: I had this put by. Here. For everything.
PLAYER: Wow, I appreciate that!
MARKANTI: Shops open for another day before we relocate.- Combat -
MARKANTI: (accept yield) I'll be watching you.
MARKANTI: (attack) Mangy cur!
MARKANTI: (wake) Assess threats!
MARKANTI: (hit) Agh!
Age ~20. Typical trauma-induced amnesiac ghost, who committed suicide after her fiancee was murdered by the Foundation For Wellness (the Double F Double-U), to whom the government of Vault 54 outsources some genocide. Chloe has tuned the Player's sixth sense to see ghosts, and once the Player finds Kate's suicide note, they may converse.
KATE: Can't you hear me? Are you all deaf?
PLAYER: I can hear you now. Is this your note?
KATE: That... Where did you get that? It's a forgery--a sick joke! I don't know what that is. Doesn't matter. Listen, no one will help me. I'm trying to get some information out of these idiots at the Double F Double-U. They keep giving me the runaround!
PLAYER: What are you trying to find out?
KATE: It's Lionel! My fiance, Lionel. They... did something to him, I know it! Maybe they'll listen to you. Please. I don't have much, but you can have it all. I need to know what happened to... [sobbing]
PLAYER: Kate, I'd like you to prepare yourself... Lionel died from treatment.
KATE: No. God. No.
PLAYER: I'm sorry for your loss.
KATE: How can this be? He was so vibrant.
PLAYER: You thought you'd get a check-up since you were thinking about marriage and children?
KATE: Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I? It just makes sense.
PLAYER: They advised you to get Lionel in for testing.
KATE: That sounds familiar.
PLAYER: The FFUU seems very keen on monetary rewards, not so keen on helping people.
KATE: I guess that coincides with my experience with their customer service...
PLAYER: Lionel reacted badly to a dangerous treatment for a disorder called DAMN.
KATE: Why didn't they check if he was vulnerable?
PLAYER: Good question. They seemed to get kickbacks from somewhere every time they diagnosed anyone.
KATE: That's their job though, right? Anything else?
PLAYER: Lionel probably wasn't even sick with DAMN, which probably doesn't even exist.
KATE: Don't be absurd. Doctors have to have lots of education. They couldn't be so stupid or heartless.
PLAYER: The treatment seems to've been a mixture of gasoline, dead people, and some other crap.
KATE: Now you're just making wild allegations. Have YOU been evaluated?
PLAYER: Look here, it's in their own words.
KATE: I don't know what to say. I...
PLAYER: Times like these, I often say, "Those bastards!"
KATE: Anything else?
PLAYER: The sales force showed you disturbing videos to pressure you into getting Lionel tested.
KATE: That's pretty low.
PLAYER: But you thought you were doing the right thing.
KATE: I did, damn it. Anything else?
PLAYER: I think that's everything.
KATE: That note you found in my apartment...
PLAYER: Mm-hmm?
KATE: (If the Player didn't find enough clues) You wrote that, didn't you?
PLAYER: No!
KATE: You trying to frame me? You piece of shit. Get out of my sight!
KATE: (If the Player did find enough clues) I think it's genuine. I'm not alive anymore.
PLAYER: You've probably beat yourself up over this enough.
KATE: Those bastards. They had no right.
PLAYER: I concur.
KATE: Did they have any idea how much damage they were doing?
PLAYER: I daresay that was the point.
KATE: I shouldn't have killed myself. God, my Uncle! He didn't have anyone else. He would have been devastated!
PLAYER: I'm not sure he had the chance. Something terrible happened in the vault.
KATE: Go figure.
PLAYER: There were virtually no survivors.
KATE: Very well. I'm done with this evil place. I, thank you, for helping me.
PLAYER: Happy trails, Kate.
KATE: Goodbye.
Male. Legion grunt with a few more lines.
- Scene -
DINO: Hand over the item.
PLAYER: On second thought, kick rocks. [keep genetic material]
DINO: Ah-vee, mother-humper.
- Player cooperates with Dino's boss -
PLAYER: Here. You have fun with that. [give genetic material]
DINO: Looks legit, boss.
DEACON: Good. Your obedience in this matter is noted, but you have betrayed the Legion, and must die.
DINO: Hahahaha.
- A large enemy is cloaked -
DINO: Super Mutant in a stealth boy?
- Randoms -
DINO: I can't believe Caesar is dead. What will we do now?
DINO: (LATIN= AH-way) Ave.
DINO: Move along.
DINO: (LATIN= KAI-zar) True to Caesar.
- War yell -
DINO: Raaaah!
- Combat -
DINO: (death response) Death to the Legion's enemies!
DINO: (combat to normal) That's it, run away.
DINO: (assault) Degenerate!
DINO: (hit) Oof!
Legion grunt in the Battle of the Egyptian.
- Combat -
(death response) Death to the Legion's enemies!
(death response ) For Caesar!
(alert to normal) Must've been nothing.
(alert to combat) Fool!
(lost idle) Skulking like a coward will not save you!
(death) Urgh!
(hit) Ahh!
(lost to combat) You're mine!
(player throw grenade) Explosive!
(player iron sights) Don't tempt me.
(flee) Fall back!
(normal to combat) Another kill to my name!
***Same as Legionary #1
***Same as Legionary #1
Age ~60. Matronly voice spewing dystopian propaganda on a random loop at the grade school.
G.O.A.T. Testing is complete! Congratulations, students, on a job well done. Results will be in soon.
All students are required to attend the G.O.A.T. Pre-Result Victory Pep Rally after lunch today. Nightstalker Tikka Marsala, back by popular demand.
Why not enjoy an ice-cold Nuka Cola? They're scrumptious in a bottle! Ask a parent to fund fun today!
Protectrons are here for your safety. Taunting, defacing, or sabotaging of Protectrons is a Level 4 Infraction! Just say--walk away!
Fear is safety.
Attention students: this year's annual G.O.A.T. Pre-Result Under-the-River Dance will be sponsored by H. and H. Tools. H. and H. Tools: Tools you need. I'll have to think of a better tagline.
Age ~30. A jealous actress throwing a production-halting tantrum, when some reactor explodes setting her makeup aflame. This is her entire script.
Hello my darlings. I hope you're all having a terrific day. I am! No, wait--I'm having a terrible day. Not ific: ible! Ible. Sounds like dribble. Dribble like the saliva dripping from a rabid dog's mouth! Only a rabid, demented dog would treat people this way. Treating me like a piece of meat! Dog meat from three days ago that no ones wants to eat!!!
No one wants a special LOVE date with Jeanette Schwartz! No one wants the public to find out how fun and smart and funny and alluring Jeanette Schwartz is! NOOOOOO-BODY invites Jeanette Schwartz onto Vault Talk three flippin' times! To talk about his wild nights tending bar at Smitty's! Fantastic. Oh, got to know the everyman's struggle. Just amazing.
[rumble] Free drinks to women who'd show their breasts: That's what Porky was really doing! I should know: I--I'm--why is my face hot? [rapid breathing] Great--my first hot flash captured on taAAHHHHHHH!!! BURNING! FLAMES! ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE!!! AAAAGSEGDOFGJL!!! [frantic faucet turning, splashing, a mirror breaking] I. I'm ok-- [spontaneous combustion, muffled screams, runs through door down hall... other distant screams, a single gunshot, slump, fire extinguisher]
Age ~40, Boss. Cruel Legion military man, on a mission to safeguard Caesar's legacy, by killing the player and anyone in the way.
- Scene -
DEACON: Whosoever leads this rabble step forth and all lower their weapons or die.
DEACON: Step forth and lower your weapon, heathen, or die.
DEACON: Ave, traitor. Step forth and lower your weapon, heathen, or die.
PLAYER: That would be me.
DEACON: You will return the property of Caesar immediately, or die.
PLAYER: I don't think you brought enough guys.
DEACON: Exsanguinate the dog!
PLAYER: Okay, fine.
DEACON: Dino! Collect.
DEACON: Acceptable. Now you will tell me who fights for the Witch, and about her fortifications.
PLAYER: Well, she's got his guy Markanti...
DEACON: We know of that traitor's allegiance. No one else? What of the Theater?
PLAYER: She's all by herself there. A few guns, but nothing heavy.
DEACON: Lie!
PLAYER: Nobody else. She's got a few weapons, but nothing heavy. Didn't see any traps or barricades.
DEACON: Good. Your obedience in this matter is noted, but you have betrayed the Legion, and must die.
DEACON: Good. Your obedience in this matter is noted. You may leave.
DEACON: Enough! This cretin dies first if you do not immediately return Caesar's property.
PLAYER: Kill him: one less idiot in the world.
DEACON: Fewer! But I have uses for idiots. He lives.
PLAYER: I don't have any of Caesar's property.
DEACON: Your next lie will be your last. You will return the property of Caesar immediately, or die second.
PLAYER: Wait: let him go and I'll cooperate!
DEACON: That sounds reasonable.
***Deacon kills hostage.
DEACON: He has gone. Relinquish the item or your life, now.
PLAYER: Whatever, Mister Contrary.
DEACON: You will return the property of Caesar immediately, or die.
PLAYER: You killed Jeffrisson. You bastards!
DEACON: Last chance.- Combat -
DEACON: (alert to normal) I guess it was nothing.
DEACON: (observe combat) They hardly even know how to fight.
DEACON: (death) Aaaah!
DEACON: (seeing ghostly apparition) What's this devilry?
Age ~55. A tired but well-meaning older cop trying to ease tensions. Not hard enough, unfortunately. This is the entirety of this “holotape” recording.
CHIEF BLATT: Yeah, this is Chief Blatt. Bi-hourly report. Situation same. Civvies are anxious but I'm trying to be be present and friendly--Hey how ya doin'?
CITIZEN#1: Yes--you! Don't think we don't know what's going on! I read Rose's article and I believe it!
CHIEF BLATT: Sir, please. I think the article is wild speculation, but everyone's entitled to their opinion. Happy to share a brew and discuss it with you when I'm off duty...
CITIZEN#1: My mother died from complications related to cave cough in May. My youngest, she's real sick! It didn't used to be like this, pal--open your eyes!
CHIEF BLATT: ... Gosh I'm sorry to hear that. H-how old was she?
CITIZEN#2: We're placing you under citizens arrest, chief.
WALTERS: Hey, we got a wise guy over here. Smitty's policy--no monkey business! Let's go!
CITIZEN#2: We're taking you up to City Hall and we're gonna get answers, now, or there'll be blood.
CHIEF BLATT: Simmer down, sonny.
WALTERS: Chief--they got guns!
CHIEF BLATT: Put your gun down Walters!
WALTERS: Sir--DON'T MOVE!
CITIZEN#1: Put 'em down cop, you're out-numbered.
WALTERS: YOU CAN'T POINT A GUN AT ME!
CHIEF BLATT: Gun down! We'll do what you want, sonny. Walters!
CITIZEN#2: Listen to your boss, kid.
WALTERS: What?! WHAT?!
CHIEF BLATT: Dammit Walters! [gunfire erupts]
WALTERS: [gets shot]
CHIEF BLATT: [gets shot in the stomach]
CITIZEN#1: [runs away]
CITIZEN#2: [gets killed]
TEENAGE GIRL: [shooting cops]
CITIZEN#3: [yelling, running away]
CITIZEN#4: [bystander screamin]
[fighting continues]
CHIEF BLATT: [wheezing] Teenage girl shot me in the gut... [coughing] Shit went to hell. I see eight--ten probably dead... Still shooting upstairs. Walters is down. Finklestein chased 'em up. I gotta get to Sec Hub A by way of Parker's side door... Mayor told me to protect this key with my life... Ugh. Parker's password pale ale, Parker's password pale ale...
Age ~30. A charlatan spiritualist guesting on talk radio.
***See Ian Malthus's dialogue.
Age ~55. Family man trying to keep it together while the world goes down in flames. This is the entirety of this “holotape” recording.
MRJOE: Julia, Sweetie, it's Dad.
MRSJOE: and Mom!
MRJOE: Johnny's here too... I'm glad you got out. It's bad in here. There's looting, there's terrorism. We don't know what will happen next. The internet has been shut off. Phones are down. We're sitting tight. Hope you are too. You know me and your man always had our differences, but, he was right about this situation. Fucked up beyond all recognition. We love you.
MRJOE: Julia... Good thing you haven't come back yet... Something happened. Biological... Nuclear... I don't have the learning to know. The shit's hit the fan and... and... I'm not sure how much longer we'll hold out. Killed some looters. Hardly looked human. I don't feel right...
MRSJOE: Love you!
MRJOE: That's your Mom. She... She...
MRSJOE: Jake?
MRJOE: Fuckin... [grumbling]
JOEJR: Dad?!
MRJOE: Fuckin' bishhh..
JOEJR: Stop! Dad--no!
MRSJOE: [gunfire, screams]
Male, 45. Corrupt figurehead junkie, locked in his faux ivory tower. Left these three recordings behind before he turned into a feral ghoul.
1) Shit's gettin' outta hand. Hafta ask you to turn off the internet. I'm sure you can imagine why. Spread the word that it's because of E-Terrorism. Don't forget to burn this tape.
2) Dome 1 Security Chief is setting up an additional guard tower on the hospital roof. In case the zombies get really bad, I'm giving him gate control. Spread the word that the Dome closures are a proactive measure and everything will be fine very soon and crap like that.
3) Appreciate your fast action with the network, Teddy. I'm instituting a Shelter-In-Place Order: All civilians must remain in their homes. Put a good spin on it and silence any conspiracy theorists.
Female, 30. Jilted baby-momma of famous womanizing actor, gunning for child support. This is her whole script.
John? John? It’s Rebecca. I des--Rebecca Harris. I deserve to win a “dream date” with you so our daughter could spend a little time with her father. She doesn’t know who he is yet; Told her he was decapitated in a tragic conveyor accident. Makes me smile every time I picture it.
Still, someday I’ll have to tell her the truth, and you have a goddam responsibility to man up. I EXPECT to win. Otherwise you'll be hearing from my attorney. Ta.
Sounds like age ~13. The only son of New Vegas faction leader Caesar. Regular boy in an irregular situation. These are all of his lines.
SONOFCAESAR: Mother?
CHLOE: My Son! My handsome boy.
SONOFCAESAR: What happened here?
CHLOE: Justice.
SONOFCAESAR: Looks like a slaughter...
CHLOE: Can't argue with you there. These men prefered death to a life without you under their control.
SONOFCAESAR: What's my name?
CHLOE: You must choose your own name, my sweet.
SONOFCAESAR: Why have you created me?
CHLOE: Your father killed my people: I figure he owed me at least one. Are you hungry? I'll fix you something.
SONOFCAESAR: I don't know.
CHLOE: Come on.
SONOFCAESAR: My father was a bad man?
CHLOE: A warlord and a slaver, yes.
SONOFCAESAR: Am I bad?
CHLOE: Hope not. It isn't good to be bad.
SONOFCAESAR: Duh.
CHLOE: Watch the attitude.
CHLOE: Keep your elbows off the table.
SONOFCAESAR: Why?
CHLOE: Because it's polite.
SONOFCAESAR: ...Why?
CHLOE: Why do you ask?
SONOFCAESAR: Because I want to know.
CHLOE: Why?
SONOFCAESAR: Why not?
CHLOE: [laughs]
SONOFCAESAR: [laughs]
SONOFCAESAR: Can I have a gun?
CHLOE: If Uncle Markanti shows you how to use one properly first.
SONOFCAESAR: Aw.
SONOFCAESAR: Who're you?
PLAYER: I'm a friend of your Mom's, kiddo.
SONOFCAESAR: What's your name?
PLAYER: &PCName;.
SONOFCAESAR: I don't like that. Do you know any GOOD names?
PLAYER: Well, sure. Um, there's Billy--that's short for William. Always thought Clarence was under-used...
CHLOE: Clarence of the Blackhearts. That's perfect!
SONOFCAESAR: No.
SONOFCAESAR: You're ugly.
SONOFCAESAR: You're stupid.
SONOFCAESAR: You're stupid and ugly.
SONOFCAESAR: Get out of my face!
Male, 25. Journalist who wrote recaps for television shows, until he was fired for exposing a government conspiracy. In addition to his notes, the Player can find a recording of him guesting on talk radio. These are all of his lines.
IAN MALTHUS: Ladies and Gentlemen, Ian Malthus here; and I'm joined now by Tyler Rose, a genuine Freedom Fighter exposing the agenda of the dark forces at work underground here in this--
TYLER: Ian?
IAN MALTHUS: --day and age--yes? Go ahead.
TYLER: I'm sorry: were you going to say “Intraterrestrials?”
IAN MALTHUS: Huh, well, they're the--
TYLER: Because I just want to say at the outset that I personally have not seen sufficient evid--
IAN MALTHUS: Dark forces, ladies and gentlemen, these dark forces that seek to RUIN us. That are here for our detriment! They--they take on many forms, corporeally, to us, in this dimens--
TYLER: Just want to--say that I, Tyler Rose, actual, do not personally believe in Intraterrestrials.
IAN MALTHUS: Wha...
TYLER: I can only speak of substantiated persons such as Santos--
IAN MALTHUS: Speak your truth brother!
TYLER: Uh, yes--
IAN MALTHUS: I will defend to the death YOUR RIGHT to speak... your truth. Now tell me Tyler, these editors at the Times. What happened to your job, your income, when you spoke your truth in that paper?
TYLER: Umm. Actually can we just, go over some of the facts I uncovered, it's probably more important to--
IAN MALTHUS: Absolutely Tyler, I agree one hundred percent. Ladies and Gentleman that's what you get from I M Z: FACTS! And for a limited time only while supplies last, stamped copies of my first book Troubled Enclosure for only... twenty-nine ninety-nine. Just the facts! We'll be right back.
TYLER: Oh for fuck's sake. [music]
Age ~25. A well-adjusted person entering a contest for a date with a famous actor.
Well hello, soon-to-be-lover! I’m Audrey Tiddlesworth and I absolutely ADORE Mr. Porque. I think we have a true connection. For our date, I imagine a light dinner at Meyer’s, dancing at Smitty’s, then back to my place for some Tango! My mother was an exotic dancer, so I understand the demanding world of entertainment professionals. Mr. Porque needs his confidence to stay up, and I won’t LET him down! Smooches, Audrey.
Age ~45. Smarmy guy hosting a beauty pageant. This is the entirety of this "holotape" recording.
HMOM: --ck, hit record on that thing!
HDAD: I got it, I got it. It's on. [applause]
MASTER: There she is! And isn't she darling: look at those little cheeks, yes.
AUDIENCE: [Aww]
MASTER: Aw! Now, Amanda, what do you wanna be when you grow up?
AMANDA: I want to become a doctor.
MASTER: A doctor, how smart!
AMANDA: Mm-hmm, I'm going to cure Cave Cough.
AUDIENCE: [gasp]
MASTER: Well, the optimism of youth: how ironic...
AMANDA: It's not ironic, it's true.
MASTER: Fiery lass; I like... So, Amanda what will you do if you win Little Miss 54?
AMANDA: I'm going to start the Suzanna Beckett Foundation to Cure Cave Cough.
MASTER: Fiery and single-minded: Amazing! Little girl what is your talent?
AMANDA: I'm going to sing Civilization, written by Hilliard and Sigman, made famous by Danny Kaye and the Andrews Sisters.
MASTER: How delightful, let's get that queued up--Marty? …
HMOM: How much longer will it record?
HDAD: I don't know.
HMOM: Do you have another tape?
HDAD: ...No!
HMOM: What if it stops recording?
HDAD: Well...
HMOM: Well? What do mean well? This is your daughter's one s--[recording stops]
Age ~30. Cop trying to keep the peace, but the frenzied zombies are making it difficult.
Everyone's falling back to Residential! In case you need to get back into the hospital, the key's underneath the lamp in the Dome 1 guard tower. You and Officer Jenkins will be posted at the Residence door. Shoot to kill any unauthorized personnel. And of course, the zombies aren't authorized!
Angry civilian.
***See Chief Blatt dialogue.
Man who enters a contest to win a date with a famous leading man in order to pitch a screenplay. This is the entirety of this "holotape" recording.
Name’s Hank Irving. Ain’t no girly man, alright? I deserve to win because I’m writin’ a real firecracker of a screenplay, and John’s perfect for the leadin’ man. It’s called Yams of Fury: prodigal son of vault financier rejects high society to pursue his passion for potatoes in this gritty, uplifting drama.
Sounds like age ~15. Good girl who enters a beauty pageant and wants to save the world and sing.
***See Master of Ceremonies's dialogue.
Age ~40. Proud helicopter parent.
***See Master of Ceremonies's dialogue for "HMOM".
Age ~20. An obsessed fan willing to do anything to get close to a famous actor.
It’s Emily again. I will do anything John wants. Anything! I mean it. I’d chew my left foot off. I’d suffocate my own Granny. I would lick clean a mortician's rubber boots after a long shift. I’m waiting for you to tear me apart.
A big glowing ghoul who used to be the boss-man. Unintelligible enemy. Still loves his Momma though.
Leaves a little voice recording behind from before he became a monster physically in addition to spiritually.
- Human recording -
Going down with the ship. Can't get to emergency exit anyway, as it's in ground zero. Rad-Zombies attacking humans. Humans sick. Ants frenzied. I don't feel okay. We just wanted to trim the fat. Prune the tree! Fucking Santos... Guess we were playing with fire. This is the Overseer [cough], over and out.
- Randoms -
grrmmmothhhaaahhghgg!
ddduunnchewwgggdieeeommmyy
- Combat -
(guard trespass) uuggetbacktoowwurrggk
(death) [belch]
(lost idle) [labored breathing]
(hit) [squish]
Age ~20. Rookie cop in over his head with angry civvies.
***See Chief Blatt's dialogue.
Immature male leaving a prank message.
Porky can hide his salami in my beef wrap anytime, hahaha! ‘Ey piggy piggy piggy! Oink, oink! Hahaha!
Age ~55. Family woman trying to keep it together while the world goes down in flames.
***See Mr. Joe's dialogue.
Angry civilian.
See Chief Blatt's dialogue.
Age ~20. Young man trying to keep it together while the world goes down in flames.
***See Mr. Joe's dialogue.
Angry civilian.
***See Chief Blatt's dialogue.
Sounds like a teenage girl.
***See Chief Blatt's dialogue.
![Songs of War: What If...? Voiceover Casting [Wave 2]](https://d1m9vqlvl3fy94.cloudfront.net/project/attachment/256854/default_767697WhatIfText.png)
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