TAPE REEL STATIC. REVERSE CYMBAL SOUND. SOUND OF RECORD SKIP.

CHEERY 1950S MUSIC FADES IN.

JIM:                       Honey! I’m home!

SUSAN:                Oh rats!

JIM:                       Why Susan, whatever is the matter?

SUSAN:                We’ve been invited to the Whitespring for the grand opening of their new store promenade.

JIM:                       Gee that sound swell!

SUSAN:                Oh, but Jim, I’m terrible at these kind of social gatherings. I’ll foul it all up with my blubbering. And I’m terrible at haggling fair prices from those robots.

JIM:                       Well Susan, have you heard of new Grape Mentats?

SUSAN:                Grape Mentats? You mean by those same swell folks who brought us original Mentats?

JIM:                       The very same! New Grape Mentats will offer an instant boost to your nature. It gives you more pep, vim, vigor. But that’s not all…it fully restores your vitality and youthful aura, making you more charismatic at any gathering. Why you’ll be able to charm the bees off the honeysuckle.

SUSAN:                Why that’s just nifty!

JIM:                       Natch Susan, natch! Now pop one of these babies and get back in the kitchen. I’m in the mood for some pie.

SUSAN:                Oh Jim….

JIM:                       Yes Susan?

SUSAN:                Not now…I have a headache.

CHEERY 1950S MUSIC OUTRO.

SUSAN:                And ladies…if you love Grape Mentats, you’ll just love the new multi-flavor combo pack from Med-Tek. Ask your friendly Arktos Pharmacist today.

MUSIC & INTRO SEQUENCE

TAPE PLAYING NOISE, SLOW FADE IN.

SIMON (VO):      I intend to find tactical nuclear devices as soon as possible and turn this place to glass.

SIMON:                Stop playback.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Resume recording.

TAPE REEL BEGINS TRANSCRIBING.

SIMON:                In those early days I was so much more dramatic. That first time…that very first time I died…but didn’t die haunted me. It’s what led to all of this. The Vault-Tec lie…the REAL story behind who the 500 in Vault 76 where. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First you need to know what happened next…what I became…and more of the mistakes I made.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Vault 76, 1 Day to Reclamation: Done! I completed my final G.O.A.T.s today. I almost messed up on the final question. That tool Chad from sublevel 3 just drew a straight line down the multiple choices, announced, “DONE!”, told me to eat a dick and took a nap. I met up with Jake and Amata for some frosty Nuka-Colas at the cafeteria to talk more about our plans together once that Vault door FINALLY opens. There’s going to be a massive party tonight! The Overseer dropped by our table for a quick pep talk. Man, I can’t wait for that door to open. A clean slate…we have the potential to remake the world BETTER than it was before. Jake, Amata and I all agreed to head out together first thing in the morning and scout out the perfect plot of land for our farming community. A nice wide, flat plot, close to some running water. We’re going to build our farmhouse aligned to the compass points like they did in the old days to maximize the heat of the sun which will help in the cold months. It’s kind of amazing. Out there we can do anything, be anything. Be the best we can be. The Three 76ers! Tomorrow…it begins.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Yeah…right. Seek Entry: Day 65.

KEY TYPING. TAPE REVERSES, STOPS AND THEN ENGAGES.

NATURE SOUNDS. WIND BLOWING.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 65: 54F, windy.

Whatever bountiful gods had bestowed upon me an endless supply of dog food whenever I strolled past Mama Dolce’s have forsaken me. Life in the wastes has become increasingly lonely and desperate. I have been living a meager existence off mole rat chunks, which have a textural taste of moist socks and the odor of unwashed raider corpse. I had cornered a party of scorched near Morgantown in hope of loot, however Chad materialized out of nowhere, took all the loot and then shot me in the testicles with a railway rifle. Must find family and community…to have people to talk with, to build with would be everything. We can be more…it’ll be Christmas soon…but I couldn’t feel any less charitable.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 66: 48F, freezing rain.

A slim chance at redemption! It’s only been a few months since I first set foot out of the warmth of the Vault. For whatever reason, Jake and Amata did not wait for me that morning. I never found out why. Our plan had always been to build a farming and trade community to offer care, food and warmth for passersby. Maybe begin a farmer’s market for other Vault Dwellers to share, sell and exchange all kind of fresh grown food. Back in the Vault, I had a bit of a green thumb, nurturing a small plot of razorgrain in the community garden. But they abandoned me…and I haven’t seen either one of them since. Until this morning. As I was Scouting for food to the northwest, I spotted Jake dashing across the bridge on the outskirts of Point Pleasant. Before I had a chance to call out, he simply vanished. Since then I’ve been trying to track him down, but this is complicated by the fact that he no longer goes by the name Jake. My PipBoy indicted his transponder now reads and “GeneralPen1s”…with a 1 where the should be. “GeneralPen1s”…having seen it, it’s not exactly 5 star.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 66 continued. My hunger grows…I am starving. I had some sugar, salt and some irradiated plants for lunch…making a kind of gross paste. The sugar helped cut some of the bitterness of whatever weird plant this is. I consulted my Vault-Tec plantlife guide, but none of these new species appear anywhere in it. I headed north out of Point Pleasant along the old route 81. As I was passing a bombed out car wreck, I heard a cheerful tune rising to the north and getting closer. Arming my pipe pistol, I crouched behind the wreck and spotted a Mr. Handy leading a prancing pack of radrats. I think my invented lunch has caused some mild hallucinations…

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 66 continued. I decided to make camp for the evening and resume my search for Jake in the morning. I was utterly exposed on the roadway, but I spotted an old rowboat and a nearby island that would offer me some isolation and protection for the evening from trigger happy Vault Dwellers. Finished setting up a pleasant little fire and my tent. I found an old picnic spot nearby with a dogeared by still legible recipe for some Iguana Soup. It sounds absolutely disgusting but I’m giving it a go. Let’s see…2 parts boiled water…2 parts silt bean…2 teaspoons of Mrs. Rash Spice mix…and at least 2 cups of squirrel bits. Damn…the only thing I’m missing. I saw some squirrels running out around towards the center of the island earlier. I’m Vault Tec certified in Animal Calls…it was an elective…so this shouldn’t be too difficult.

SOUNDS OF HUNTER’S RIFLE BEING LOADED. WALKING AWAY.

SIMON:                CHICKA-DEE-CHEE! CHICKA-DEE-CHEE! CHUCK CHUCK CHUCK!

SOUNDS OF AN ANGRY SQUIRREL.

 

SIMON:                Gotcha…hold very still…yeah you’re a fat little guy aren’t yah? You’re gonna go in my belly...Wha? Where you go?

SOUNDS OF AN ANGRY SQUIRREL ATTACKING.

SIMON:                Ah! Get of me you little bastard!

SOUNDS OF SHOTS BEING FIRED RAPIDLY. SOUNDS OF A STRUGGLE. POT IS KNOCKED OVER, FIRE SIZZLES AND GOES OUT.

SIMON:                He stole my hat. Right…dinner…ruined. Fire is out. Get it together Simon…tomorrow’s a new day. You know…all things considered, it’s really a quaint little island...the stars out here are breathtaking.  Despite everything, it’s these little moments…this serenity that give me hope that everything will work out alright.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                What….what is that? Something outside the tent. It better not be that god damned squirrel again. Wait…I can see its shadow…that’s not a squirrel…

ANGRY GROWL. RIPPING FABRIC.

SIMON:                OH SHIT! WHAT IS THAT? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?!

SOUNDS OF RUNNING.

SIMON:                Oh Jesus! Help! Somebody! God and Baby Jesus! The boat!

SOUNDS GETTING INTO BOAT. FURIOUS ROWING. SUDDENLY A HUGE SPLASH. LOUD ROAR.

SIMON:                No! NO!

SOUND OF FALLING INTO WATER. BUBBLES. MUFFLED SOUND AND SCREAMS.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 67, 50F overcast. Last night was a disaster. My clothes are still damp…it’s hard trying to stay warm. I lost my tent, my supplies and my sleeping bag. Whatever that monstrosity is…it is 12 feet of teeth, claws and is 100% pissed off. It’s still stalking the beach over there glaring in my direction…so I have no hope of reclaiming my goods. Even if…oh…that’s nice. It’s wearing my hat. Cute…and I think it just gave me the middle claw…

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                I have been venturing north on Jake…err…”GeneralPen1s”’s trail and stumbled upon something amazing: the ruins of the old Tyler County Dirt Track. Dad used to tell me stories of what it was like pre-war, when he and Mom would spend evenings out here at the fair grounds and then catch the Demolition Detonation 500 race at the track. In the old days they used to use gas powered cars to race each other around the track. Eventually after a few decades people got bored watching that and only started attending to see car wrecks and blood baths…then stopped coming at all. Then the gas ran out and the first Atomic V-8 powered cars rolled off the assembly line. The racetracks were saved! With the possibility of two colliding into a pleasing mushroom cloud, everyone showed up to watch. Heading inside now…oh! A 2062 Chryslus Corvega…the seats are still in great shape…and even still has the limited edition Radiation King 15 speaker Holotape system! You know…with a little work…I’m sure I could get this baby…

GUNSHOT AND RICOCHET. SOUND OF SCUFFLING FEED.

SIMON:                Shooting at me. Someone’s shooting at me!

MORE GUNSHOTS RING OUT.

SIMON:                Hey! Are you crazy fella? What’s your problem?

DWELLER:            Suck my dick raider! This here is my workshop!

SIMON:                What the hell are you talking about?

DWELLER:            It’s mine. I tell yah! You can just GIT out!

SIMON:                Relax buddy I’m just checking out the cars…geez I don’t want your stupid workshop.

DWELLER:            No…you came here to contest my claim on this property, steal it…take all the resources for yourself until someone else comes along to steal it from you!

SIMON:                Why…why would I want to do that? That sounds terrible. I mean…what are you mining over there? Screws and gears? Maybe some concrete? I can find all that in 15 minutes scavving buildings.

DWELLER:            No…no. It’s you versus me. Oh it’s go time you summabitch!

MORE GUNSHOTS RING OUT.

SIMON:                Ah! Jesus…fine. You want the smoke…you got the smoke.

MORE GUNSHOTS RING OUT. PINGING OFF THE CAR.

SIMON:                Wait…stop…you’re going to hit the…

MASSIVE EXPLOSION. SIMON THROWN TO THE GROUND.

SIMON:                Ah…(coughing)…my legs…

FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING

DWELLER:            You lose pal. I told you…this here is my…

JAKE:                     Not anymore it isn’t. Next time git gud. Simon?

SIMON:                General…penis….?

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SOUNDS OF FIRE CRACKLING. LIGHT RAIN. SOUNDS OF COOKING, CHOPPING, THINGS BEING STEWED.

SIMON:                Appalachia, day…

JAKE:                     Don’t…don’t do that. Why are you recording us?

SIMON:                I’ve been recording everything out there. It’s what she told us to do.

JAKE:                     Yeah…our “leader”. She did a bang-up job. Rode us, cultivated us…pushed us in competition, contests, athletic and academic events. Then what did she do? Throw a party and walked out the door. 500 people given a handful of items and no plan. We went from a warm, dry, safe and modernized home to a living hell. Of course it only took people a few days to start murdering each other.

SIMON:               Yeah…speaking of walking out the door. Where the hell were you guys? WE had a plan. A promise and a pact.

JAKE:                     Yeah I know…I’m sorry about that. I was only following orders.

SIMON:                What are you talking about?

JAKE:                     After you headed off to bed, the Overseer dropped by and talked to Amata and I. She didn’t want anyone going out the door together. She ordered the bots to keep people separated…no one allowed to go out in pairs.

SIMON:                Why would she do that?

JAKE:                     Do I look like I have answers? I’ve just been trying to survive out here. Same as anybody else.

SIMON:                What about Amata?

JAKE:                     What about her?

SIMON:                Well…where is she?

JAKE:                     No idea. I had no idea where I was going, so I headed right and found a corpse with a pipe pistol and some rations. Headed down that road, but I think I should’ve turned left. That road was hell. Ran into Chad at one point. Son of a bitch stole my clothes while I was trying to clean up in a stream. You haven’t seen him around have you?

SIMON:                Uh no…not as such.

JAKE:                     Have you seen a Supermutant yet?

SIMON:                A what?

JAKE:                     Oh…you’re in for a treat. Have you eaten?

SIMON:                Nothing since day before yesterday. I camped out on an island downstream…it…it didn’t go well. Lost all my gear, ingredients…tent…everything

JAKE:                     I’ve an extra bedroll I nicked off Jan from sublevel 6. Remember her? Tits McGee?

SIMON:                Oh yeah…

JAKE:                     You’re welcome to it. It’s the least I could do for bailing on you.

LADLE SOUNDS. STEW BEING POURED INTO A BOWL.

SIMON:                I mean…that’s…thanks. That’s the first nice thing anyone has done for me out here.

JAKE:                     Here…

SIMON:                What is this?

JAKE:                     What’s it look like? It’s stew.

SIMON:                What’s in it?

JAKE (LOW):       …Jan…

SIMON:                What?

JAKE:                     Cram. Eat up.

SOUNDS OF SPOON IN BOWL. EATING.

SIMON:                This…this is delicious. The Cram has a weird texture though…it’s not as squishy…more like chicken.

JAKE:                     Yeah yeah…everything tastes like chicken. Hey…have you shuffled your deck yet?

SIMON:                No…no…look man, I was really drunk that night and I don’t think of you that way.

JAKE:                     No, you moron…your deck. Up here?

SIMON:                My what?

JAKE:                     3 months out here and you’re like a babe in the woods. Those weren’t just collectable trading cards you grabbed on your way out the door. They’re genetic manipulators. The paper they are printed on has a thin enteric coating that dissolves instantly on contact. The bubblegum is a catalyst.

SIMON:                I…I hate bubblegum. I kept it in my wallet in case I needed to trade it for something and traded it 3 weeks ago for 5 Stimpacks.

JAKE:                     No wonder you’re struggling. Don’t worry…you’ll find more card packs out here. This time…chew the damn gum.

SIMON:                I don’t understand…

JAKE:                     Look…put that down for a second. Close your eyes…I’m going to share something with you…

SIMON:                No homo…

JAKE:                     Would you kindly shut up and do it.

SIMON:                Fine fine…what…what the hell is…

HEARBEAT INCREASES AND BREATHING.

JAKE:                     Just relax…my genetic code has been fiddled with a bit. I’m sharing something with you that’ll help you out here.

SIMON:                No…no this is fine, my skin’s tingling and I can taste cinnamon and metal in my mouth. I’m sure everything just fine.

JAKE:                     There. Done. Now turn that stupid thing off so we can get some sleep. There’s something I need your help with tomorrow.

SIMON:                Yes yes. You know I just ate…but I’m hungry again.

JAKE:                     Go to sleep Simon. Turn that damned thing off.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 68: Sunny and bright. Jake…

JAKE:                     Generalpenis…with a number 1.

SIMON:                No, I’m not calling you that anymore. It’s ridiculous. I might as well call myself CorporalBallz with a Z. Shut up so I can finish this.

SIMON:                …I slept the most soundly I have since setting out here. Woke up famished…so we finished off what was left of the stew and are headed north. It seems a fellow Vault Dweller…no one we knew has an encampment near here and a few weeks back had murdered Jake in cold blood.

JAKE:                     …yeah, but I didn’t die.

SIMON:                Dude…shut up. The guy’s camp is surrounded with turrets, so we intend on approaching from a copse of trees and brush in the northwest corner and sneak in through a window. Our PipBoy indicates that guy spends most of his time on the second floor…so we should be able to get the drop on him.

JAKE:                     Yeah yeah…saddle up. Let’s go.

SIMON:                That’s all for now…fingers crossed.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 68 continued. I…I don’t know where to start. Food will no longer be a problem it seems. So much happened today…let me start at the beginning. Everything was going according to plan. We approached the shack, with shadow and brush obscuring us as we crept along the ground. The window couldn’t be opened, but I believe it was some sort of optical illusion…we were able to jump right through…as if it wasn’t really there. The downstairs was unfinished and relatively empty. As we approached the stairs, a board creaked and before we had a chance to react…the Dweller was upon us in a hair of gunfire. I was able to take shelter behind a stash chest, Jake lunged at the guy, slashing with his combat knife. He was able to quickly disarm him and they began grappling to the death. Seeing my opportunity, I surged forward and we tackled him to the ground. What happened next is a blur…

JAKE:                     You were an animal dude.

SIMON:                …I…some kind of red fury filled my vision. I wasn’t myself. This…hunger overtook me. I…

JAKE:                     You ate his face.

SIMON:                Yes…I ate him. I can’t believe I did that…but it tasted good. Familiar somehow.

JAKE:                     Yeah it did. You ate leftover Jan last night.

SIMON:                …what?

JAKE:                     It was JAN stew…not Cram stew.

SIMON:                You fed me Tits McGee?

JAKE:                     And you licked the bowl clean. Once you get over the horror of it, you’re good to go. What I shared with you amplifies everything…takes your genetic clock back to a true survival state. Ancient…reflexes, jaw strength, dexterity and strength…all amplified. You don’t have to worry about going hungry again. If it moves, you can eat it raw.

SIMON:                …You fed me a person…

JAKE:                     Look it’s not a big deal. That guy has no head left. You weren’t complaining when you were the buffet table dude. It was an experiment. Wasn’t sure if I could pass on genetic trait.

SIMON:                An experiment. No, I get it. You tricked me. It’s the way things are out here. You…Chad…it’s just the way it goes. I get it now.

JAKE:                     Hey…the first 48 hours are when you are most hungry…you have to be careful. You may not have all your marbles straight. You want any leftovers?

SIMON:                No…no I’m good…for now.

JAKE:                     You’re not mad are you?

SIMON:                No…not at all. Why don’t you turn in, I’ll keep an eye out. Just in case we were followed back to camp.

JAKE:                     Fair enough…good night.

SIMON:                Hungry. Time to run an experiment of my own.

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

SIMON:                Appalachia, Day 69. I ate Jake. I did it to prove a point, fueled by rage and misdirected anger. I assumed he’d simply come back as we all do. But something’s wrong. It’s been 14 hours and his body is still here…along with a paper bag filled with springs, screws and broken glass. If he hasn’t returned by nightfall, I’ll have to bury him. I…I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. But this hunger…I can’t control it. The rules of this place make no sense. But I’m beginning to learn that out here you can’t trust anyone. …I’m getting hungry again…

TAPE REEL DISENGAGES.

OUTRO MUSIC RISES.

Ken:                       This is Kenneth Vigue, before we close this episode, I wanted to give you a bit of news on the podcast. Firstly, I continue to be blown away and humbled by the support. I had the great pleasure of being interview by the Vault Boy West Virginia podcast, who also aired the first episode for their listeners. If you haven’t had a chance to listen to their show, do so. I’ve also joined up with the Robots Radio Network, an “enclave” if you will of fellow podcasters headed by Tom who runs the Fallout Lorecast. Another excellent listen if you want more story behind our favorite game series. We also have a brand new website: fallout76podcast.com Hazzah! There you can find links to all of the podcasts on your favorite apps: iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify and more. If I could beg, borrow and plead for you to do one thing: if you LOVE this podcast, please please take a moment to review us on iTunes and /or Stitcher. It really and truly helps me get this show out there more. I also have to tell you that there will be a 3 week hiatus between this episode and episode 4…but the reason is a great one. We now have a full cast of talent who will be voicing characters this season, creating for more dynamic stories. I’ll be spending the next weeks writing out our entire season of scripts so we can get working on stories that will carry you right into the fall. Follow us on Facebook and please show your love with likes, shares and comments. Please remember to review this podcast on iTunes and Stitcher…it makes ALL the difference. I’ll see you in the Wasteland.