F.U.B.A.R.

Got great hand-eye coordination? Here's the place to show it off. You can also upload your work (images, audio, and video) and view our fan art gallery (currently defunct, bug forum management to fix it).
This is also the forum for all of you blossoming Camus' to exercise your brain power by writing and posting fan fiction.
Tommy
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F.U.B.A.R.

Post by Tommy »

This is an excerpt from a small story I'm working on that's based in the Fallout setting. It's about an insane pre-war Ghoul (named 'Tommy') with the mindset of a sociopathic child who grew up in an incomplete Vault largely populated by Chinese Imperialists, and his life outside of that Vault after a squad of Enclave soldiers attempted a reclamation. I'm looking for constructive criticism and ideas, here. The excerpt is as follows:

Now, McClaine wasn't an evil man; when he saw a child in trouble, he just couldn't help but bring himself to try and get the kid the attention he needed. Approaching the whimpering figure with a calm, soothing voice, he found himself surprised when he saw *exactly* how the boy looked; like a fucking *zombie.* The Private drew back in horror at the sight of this thing's mangled face, it's lack of a nose, of eyelids, of discernible ears or lips, of how fetid it smelled at this distance despite the rebreathers of his helmet. His first instinct was to kill it. Kill it with fire. McClaine leveled his arm and opened up with his laser rifle.

The Ghoul ran screaming in to the squad of Commonwealth soldiers. McClaine - the unfortunate bastard - dropped to the ground after his hamstring was cut by the scalpel the boy had hidden in the loose skin of his wrist. With a yelp he hit the ground on his back and watched in horror as the creature threw caution to the wind and dove headlong in to his fellow soldiers; two had already dropped to the ground by the time he craned his head back to see.

Captain Price was standing with his arms flailing about, firing off random shots and hitting nothing but air. Whatever the boy was, it wasn't anything close to human; he moved so blindingly fast that even concentrating from where he was McClaine couldn't guess where he was going next. But he could hear just fine. And that gurgling mosh of rage-filled screaming...it was actually *laughter.*

The boy was laughing as he cut and jabbed at the nooks and crannies of the Captain's Tesla power armor, cutting the joints of the suit to ribbons and stripping it away from his frame. The Captain tried his best to fend the demon child off, but to no avail; he finally got through the chest plate and had started digging at the meat he found inside. Gore spilled from Price's sides as he fumbled about wildly, finally dropping to his knees before slumping over dead. The child didn't seem to notice. He was too busy trying to sever the Captain's exposed spinal column with his bare hands, frothing at the mouth from the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

McClaine finally got his bearings straight after nearly throwing up inside of his helmet, rolling over while simultaneously firing without aiming. He heard several mixed yelps as he blindly emptied his entire microfusion cell in the thing's general direction, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape with a roar of anger. After several long seconds, the dull hiss of an empty pack meant he had to reload. The Private finally took the time to look at what he had done.

Captain Price - or, well, what was left of him - was reduced to a sizzling heap from the sudden hail of laser fire. His three comrades were strewn about the ruined Vault corridor; two weren't moving, another squirmed and groaned in pain for several seconds before finally gurgling and slumping over. Silence. He didn't want to move.

But he managed to, after a few brief seconds. Using the Vault wall as leverage he pulled himself up to a stand and started hobbling as quickly as he possibly could back the way he and his squad had come. The mission to retrieve the Vault survivors was botched; everyone had become monsters. The Commonwealth wasn't going to be happy to hear of another lost Vault, but such things were the norm. He would get debriefed, likely hailed a hero for being the only survivor of what he would describe as 'a massive horde of overwhelming mutant zombies' and live a happy, comfortable life with his wife. The light of day from beyond the open Vault door reassured him of that.

Soil at his feet. The breeze from outside cleaned out his helmet's rebreather, and the musty smell of still water, dried blood, and corroded iron left his nostrils, as did the coppery taste on his tongue. The shuttle was just outside, still powered up, ready to go...

...but damn the higher powers for their lack of mercy.

McClaine hit the ground after a sharp pain at the back of his right knee made him jump and bring his legs to buckle out from beneath him. He heard that same gurgling screech of laughter come from behind him, and his first sense was to roll over and kill everything that moved. The Private swept his arm back and forth, squeezing the trigger as hard as he could...but it was nothing but a hiss. He'd forgotten to reload.

Yelling a string of curse words at the top of his lungs, he fumbled for another microfusion cell after expelling the empty one from its housing. A rubber cartridge entered his grasp. He slapped it in to the butt of the rifle and leveled his arm. The rifle flew from his hand, and pain spiked from his wrist all the way up his arm, making him reel back and clench his forearm in his free hand. The warm trickle of blood tickled him inside of his armor, and when he looked, he could see the rusty spoon - sharpened in to a cutting edge - lodged in the slit between his gauntlet and his pip boy. One of his arteries had been slashed. He was bleeding out.

His only other option was to crawl away, and so he tried. Whimpering and grunting, he clawed at the tightly packed, dry dirt beneath him in an attempt to get on to the shuttle. But as he neared it...the cockpit's windows. They had red splattered on them. Closer view showed the pilot had at least seven different bladed weapons lodged through the visor of his helmet. McClaine's jaw dropped in shock.

Then he heard screaming. Pure, uncompromising rage filled it. McClaine rolled over and held up his arms defensively, screaming as well though rather in terror. The zombie-like, lithe form of a monster descended upon him. McClaine tried his best to defend, to even fight back, but he could feel the blades scraping against the plates of his armor faster and harder than he could hope to keep up against. Pain shot through his torso. He whimpered and cried, tried clawing at the figure tearing in to him, tried pleading for his life through gurgling, but no response other than more pain was given.

McClaine squirmed, kicked his feet, thrashed his head. Blood began to fill his helmet, got in his eyes, clouded his vision, made it impossible for him to breathe. He saw the outline of his intestines as the creature tore them out of his gut. He had the reflex to take a breath, so he did; blood filled his lungs before they began to get cut apart. The Private's vision went black. He took his last five seconds of life to thank God for allowing it to stop.
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Post by Alister McFap II Esq. »

ban
Tommy
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Post by Tommy »

Uh. Ban? Why? I've read your rules. I don't think I've done anything that's ban-worthy.
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Post by Alister McFap II Esq. »

ban.
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Retlaw83
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Post by Retlaw83 »

I lost interest after "Chinese Imperialists" and stopped reading entirely after "reclamation." It's not a scenario that would exist in Fallout.
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Yonmanc
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Post by Yonmanc »

I lost interest when I clicked this thread.

ban
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I AM HELPING :dance:

Post by Blargh »

Constructive criticism : I suspect you are as horrid as your writing.
Idea : Get out.

:drunk:
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Post by SenisterDenister »

Jesus new guy, learn to lurk on forums before you post.
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Post by Stalagmite »

Giant wall of text with slashes?

Fucking spot on, mate!
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Yonmanc
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Post by Yonmanc »

I just skimmed it very fast, why the hell his Die Hard in Fallout?

GTFO BAN
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Post by Stalagmite »

You couldn't even glance at the post because my entire package ala cock and sack is dominating your entire view not to mention it's sweat running down your eyes.
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Yonmanc
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Post by Yonmanc »

*shoots self in foot*

HAH HOW'D YOU LIKE THOSE APPLES!

ban
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Post by Stalagmite »

Oh no looks like I gave him a short breathing respite and gave him a second to post more retarded bullshit better keep that cock wedged in there with your nose plugged with your head at a 45 degree angle from your torso so I can watch as you fight it at first than submit utterly.
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Yonmanc
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Post by Yonmanc »

[PERSONAL GAY FANTASY HERE] TAKE THAT OTHER GUY!!!
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Post by Stalagmite »

Bullshit faggot the only way it appears to keep you quiet and stop bitching like a cunt constantly is for you have something to suck on like a fucking infant so I'm taking one for the team.
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Yonmanc
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Post by Yonmanc »

You fuck infants? again, how is this supposed to work in your favour? I really don't understand why you keep insulting yourself to get at me.
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Post by Stalagmite »

Your mum fucks infants, hence "Yonmanc".
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Yonmanc
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Post by Yonmanc »

That one didn't even make sense.

My name means Yonner and Mancunian.
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Retlaw83
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Post by Retlaw83 »

Seriously, you two should make out already.
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Yonmanc
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Post by Yonmanc »

For your viewing pleasure?
Our Host!
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