1838: Fallout Tetris – OneshotPosted: August 23, 2017
Today I have a very special treat for you, A Fallout x Tetris crossover! Now don’t get excited, it’s not as crazy as you think. Personally I was hoping for the adventures of L-block in Fallout: NV or something, but the reality turned out to be far more mundane than expected. I could get into that, but the summary covers it pretty well:
A Wastelander accidentally finds a game of Tetris after falling down a flight of stairs, she soon takes it and heads over to an nearby town to get it cashed in. Oneshot.
Now, you might notice that the fic is also sporting the coveted “drama” tag. If you’re wondering how that summary could lead to something dramatic, then you’re not alone. So strap in while we find the answer to that question.
Spoilers: it doesn’t.
Anyway, on with the show!
Angela Reznov was your average 14 year old wastelander.
No, seriously, it’s stupid hard to stay alive in the wasteland. It’s never really mentioned in the game, but one has to assume that the average life expectancy is pretty low for anyone who isn’t born into one of the nicer vaults.
She has brown shag haircut and is wearing a pair of Eyeglasses and a Wastelander Settler’s Outfit, traveling through the Mohave Wasteland is no fun if you are in dire need of water.
Because it’s being thirsty that makes being attacked by bandits, radscorpions, or deathclaws unfun!
Even though Angie is a softie, her will isn’t broken that easily.
I love informed attributes. They’re the best kind of attributes! Mostly because it means I have to read through less badfiction to get to the end.
She manages to survive by living off the land, usual gathering for food from the local plants and manages to recycle her own urine using a portable still.
That’s sorta fair, but also not really long-term planning. I’m not thinking you’d be able to gather much useful food from the Mojave for very long, seeing as it’s about as fertile as a gravel quarry. And recycling your urine only works a couple of times, beyond that there isn’t much actual water left in it.
Due to commitment to survivalism, she has a healthy appetite that is difficult to satisfy.
I… wha? What is that supposed to mean, exactly? Does committing to the craft of survival normally increase your appetite? That seems like it would make it more difficult to survive.
This resulted in her growing a small pot belly, a little fat might help since she is in the middle of nowhere.
And that’s what we call a “steaming pile of bullshit” in the biz. There’s barely enough food in the wasteland for most people to stave off starvation without resorting to some pretty extreme measures. The only thing there seems to be a plethora of in the wasteland is bandits, so unless this fic is trying to insinuate that our little Sue here is a cannibal, there’s just no way she’d be able to scrape together enough food to get chubby just by “living off the land.”
With the high noon sun beating down on her, she manages to get on top of a really high hill in order to get her bearings.
I’m not sure why they keep the bearings up there, but when you really need a thrust roller bearing, it’s good to know where it is.
“Let’s see,” she said as she reads a pre-war map, “I must be 120 kilometers away from Vegas, what a long haul.”
What is the importance of the era of the map here, author? Why not just say “she reads a map” and leave it at that? Adding pre-war to things unnecessarily is going to get as cheesy as a fifties sci-fi serial where everything is prefixed by the word “space.”
Doing some mental math, she manages to calculate that it would take her almost 2 days to reach New Vegas.
True, it is actually possible to walk that distance in two days. You’d have to be in pretty good shape to keep up a constant pace for at least ten hours a day, but it is definitely doable to walk that distance. But not in the Mojave wasteland. Even if we ignore how many times you’d get attacked on that little trek, there’s still a pretty huge problem in the way: walking that long through a desert would require you to consume quite a bit of water. Water that you aren’t getting from a portable urine-o-matic.
She groans at her answer, after walking for days without rest her muscles are starting to cramp up on her.
The two things that really promote muscle cramping is exertion in hot weather and being dehydrated; you should avoid those.
She lays on the mountain and stares up at the sky as vultures circle overhead, she sat up and pushed her glasses up her tiny nose before packing the pre-war map into her backpack.
Let me fix that for you!
She lays on the pre-war mountain and stares up at the pre-war sky as pre-war vultures circle overhead, she sat up and pushed her pre-war glasses up her tiny pre-war nose before packing the pre-war map into her pre-war backpack.
Apologies to anyone who thought I was going to fix the tense problems.
From a distance, she manages to make out what looks like a town.
Does she ever just do a thing, or must she always manage to squeak by?
She put her backpack back on and slides down the mountain.
Either she just tore up her ass, or somebody installed a super-fun happy slide on that mountain.
Wait, where the fuck did that mountain come from!?
After getting back onto the main road, she ran straight for the town.
Might want to pace yourself, kiddo. You’ve still got over a hundred kilometers to go after you get to that little town.
When she got there, she noticed it’s abandoned.
Her horrible tense changes scared off all the villagers.
It’s a ghost town, it looks like a pre-war suburb.
She was able to tell this because of her pre-war almanac that had lots of pre-war pictures of pre-war buildings and pre-war vehicles.
Abandoned homes line up in orderly fashion, looking like they’re deteriorating at the same time.
Probably because they are. Funny how things next to each other both deteriorate. So unexpected.
I quiver to think what some of these stories would be like if all the effort put into cooking up word padding went into writing interesting things instead.
Angie walked up to one of the homes and opened it.
Apparently splitting open a home like a ripe melon is just something Angie can do.
The whole place was empty, it looks like what’s left of an average family household.
If you’re having trouble picturing that, just imagine something average and then superimpose a family household on that. Basically the same.
Her first instinct is to find food in the kitchen, opening up all the cupboards revealed no Sugar Bombs and Pork N’ Beans.
Sugar Bombs and Pork N’ Beans is my favorite dinner cereal! Though I also like to have a tall glass of Refried Cinnamon Toast N’ Franks.
The fridge of course contained what looked like rotten meat, but their was a Sunset Sarsaparilla bottle inside.
Apparently it’s a given that Average Family would be connoisseurs of rotten meat.
She reached in and pulled the bottle out, the root beer was warm to the touch.
Pedantic mode activate!
Root beer and sarsaparilla are two different things. Closely related, yet historically distinct in that they were made from two different plants.
She puts it in her backpack and heads to check out the basement
The last time I put a glass bottle of soda in my backpack, things did not end well. I highly recommend at least wrapping a shirt around it or sticking a few pairs of socks over the top.
You know, in case you don’t want the entire contents of your pre-war backpack coated in pre-war sugar drink.
she opened the door and was about to descend when she tripped at the first step.
SEE!? Put a fragile bottle of soda in your backpack and you’re just taunting fate!
Angie fell down the stairs hard, her thick skull managed to protect her from serious injury as she flopped into a large pile of scrap metal and scrap electronics.
Apparently having a think skull protects you from suffering severe lacerations. Who knew!?
Groaning in pain and frustration, she sat up and pushed the junk aside.
Anyone else suddenly want to go outside and make junk angels in the pile? Just me?
“Ow,” she mumbled as she places her hand on the ground to support herself. Angie soon felt something plastic, then picked up whatever her hand is holding.
*Crunchy stalks into the Riffing Chamber*
“Would you happen to be working on something with inconsistent tense today?”
Uh, yes, yes I am. Why?
“Some of the Darkwraiths have been phasing in and out of existence as the rules of causality are rewritten at random. Eliza wanted me to make sure it was just a fic and not one of Bifocal’s little… gadgets.”
It looked like an expensive pre-war calculator, she removes the cover and noticed the screen is well intact.
Something that should not really be interesting since most people would rather rock a Pip-Boy than an ancient, likely non-functioning, calculator.
There were a few buttons, nothing indicated that this is a calculator.
This is why I have trust issues.
She soon noticed the print painted on the service of the small electronic device, it read: Tetris.
Fuck me, this is supposed to be a Gameboy. I guess that whole “World of Tomorrow” divergence happened in the OTHER Fallout canon.
You know, the interesting one that I wish I were reading right now.
“Tetris?” Angie asked herself, “What’s tetris?”
Something that shouldn’t exist in your world. Surprise!
She manages to find the switch to the game and turns it on, she fiddles around with it and realized it was a game.
I just have to say, those are some fucking amazing batteries in that thing.
It took her awhile to figure out how to play Tetris, she fell in love with the game and began playing for four hours straight.
And the pack of raiders that had been tracking her across the Mojave took her by surprise while she was distracted, the end.
With that, she turns it off and places it in her backpack before leaving the ghost town.
Unfortunately, with only a bottle of cola in her backpack for sustenance, she quickly starves, the end.
Still worth it.
She continues her trip to New Vegas, still thinking of food.
She approaches a small town that is inhabited, and eventually finds a library within that town.
Let me get this straight. Suevivor here finds a random, small town that has a library in it. In the Mojave wasteland.
Inside the library, she skims through the bookshelves looking for a book to find.
I… wha? She’s looking for a book to find? Does that mean she’s going to find a book, hide it from herself, then go find it? Dude, that’s not how reading works!
She manages to find a book about Tetris and pulls it out of the shelf, then Angie went to a chair where she sat down to read it.
This is getting so outlandishly ridiculous that I had to go back and look and double check the genre. Yup, still listed as “drama.”
Also, I ended up checking and seeing if there actually were any books written on Tetris. To my surprise, there are several, and one in particular actually looks interesting. I’m just going to take a few days and read it starting right no-
The book talks about the history of Tetris, and the song Korobeiniki.
Tetris was made by a Russian programmer and the song Korobeiniki was put into it. The end.
Dammit, Carlos! I was making fun of the vague prose!
Realizing that the game she found could make her a fortune of caps, she places the tetris book into her backpack, grabs the game, and rushes out of the library.
I think the fact that she has an artifact from an alternate timeline would be far more valuable than having a modestly interesting game on an ancient game device.
Then again, the batteries in that thing would be worth their weight in platinum.
She heads for the town mechanic, the mechanic was sitting behind the counter of the workshop when Angie walked in.
So, she’s going to make a fortune off this thing… by selling it to a mechanic in a small town.
*Looks around for the hidden camera*
Okay, who’s putting me on, here?
“Looks like another nerd walking through,” he comment
As a nerd, I resent being compared to this moronic Sue. The closest she’ll ever come to being a nerd is by being dweeb.
“We’ve been getting those a lot lately.”
Must be August, the nerds get particularly thick in the Midwest around then. You can spray for them, but usually it’s better to just limit their food sources around your house.
“Have you heard of a game called Tetris?” asked Angie.
“Game? Girl, most of us are far to absorbed with trying to find food while not getting killed by raiders.”
“Sounds like an Urban Legend to me,” said mechanic
I agree. For most of the folk in the wasteland, the idea of games would be rather far-fetched. You know, aside from all the casinos.
“A pre-war treasure waiting to be found.”
All you’ll need is a pre-war treasure pre-war map so you can find the pre-war X that marks the pre-war spot!
“I found the pre-war treasure,” said Angie as she pulls out the game and shows it to the mechanic.
“Oh, nice. Well, you can’t eat it and you can’t really use it as a weapon, so I’ll give you two caps for it. And most of that is so you’ll leave my store. I’ll throw in another two caps if you promise not to come back.”
“Your kidding?” he asked when he saw the game for himself, “I thought it was a myth but… it’s for real!”
“Okay, three caps. Seven if you leave town.”
“You think you can make copies of it?” asked Angie.
What part of “mechanic” broadcasts the ability to reverse-engineer ancient, extra-dimensional technology far enough to make copies of it.
No, for that you need a geek.
“Well, I don’t have such equipment here.” said the mechanic, “But I’ll might have the Crimson Caravan Company to look into the matter, this Tetris game will might have a change to rise in fame once more.”
Okay, while that whole thing is just a hot mess that makes me want to remove my eyes and dance on them, there’s only one part of it that really drew my attention:
But I’ll might have
This strikes me as an impressively Southern turn of phrase to show up in Nevada.
“I found a book explaining the history of tetris,” said Angie as he showed him the book, “At the nearby library.”
Dude, you’re a fic that’s under two-thousand words! Stop regurgitating your own plot.
“I never knew we had books like these,” said the mechanic
It’s like a small town having a library doesn’t make sense or something.
“This is going to make us a whole lot of caps once we start mass production of this game once more, you know of anyone who can help?”
That’s why she brought it to you, moron!
“I got several contacts in Colorado,” said Angie, “South of Denver, they are great experts on Pre-war and Post-war technology.”
But war-era technology, nope, they got nothing. They’re all, “This grenade, can we eat it?”
“By god,” said the mechanic, “I’ve been wanting such a game since I was a child, I grew up in one of those vaults you know.”
Depending on which vault you were raised in, you’d have access to far more immersive games than Tetris.
Also, he hasn’t even played the game yet. I feel a big let down in his future. Don’t get me wrong, Tetris is a solid game, but it’s not something to spend your life waiting for.
“Me too,” said Angie.
Because why not!? Everyone is from vaults in Fallout, dontcha know.
“What’s your name by the way?” asked the mechanic.
“Angela Reznov,” answered Angie, “What’s your name?”
“Rick,” said the mechanic, “I think we’ll be great partners for this momentary find of yours.”
Pretty sure “momentary” doesn’t mean what you think it means, author.
“Of course we would,” said Angie.
That’s a new one. Incorrect tense IN the dialogue.
And with that, the fic ends. Now, mind you, this was a one-shot by design. Knowing that, I bet everyone here is wondering the same thing:
AUTHOR, WHAT IN THE NAME OF CRAP WAS THE POINT OF THIS THING!?
I’ve read some pointless stuff for the Library, The Eighth Spirit being a prime example of something written simply to waste everyone’s time, but this, this is a different level of pointless!
But, for all that it was, it was also harmless, so I guess we can all be grateful of that.
Until next week patrons!
For some reason I now have an overwhelming, nostalgic urge to play Frogger.