BARTENDER

You wanna try your hand at something? There’s no rules here. Just a mic and a line.

What’s the story with this place?
Well, it started out as just a couple of the fellas letting off some steam.
Pretty soon it was a full on karaoke bar. Not everyone can sing though, so we started letting all types on stage.
‘Cause at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter whether you can sing, dance, or make people laugh. It’s all about getting your inner peace.

Peace? What do you mean?
In the Commonwealth, everything’s a war. Work, family…hell, it’s a war just to get up in the morning.
But when you’re on that stage, nothing else matters except saying your piece.
And when you say your piece, you get peace, if you get my meanin’.

Life can be harsh.
Yeah. I always say life’s a bottle of moonshine. It’s got plenty of bark, and plenty of bite. But it’s worth it in the end, just for the buzz.
That’s what going on stage is for some of these folks. It’s their drink of choice.

Sounds fun.
Don’t it? Sometimes it feels like the very concept has gone extinct.
But not here, not on that stage. For four minutes at a time, you get to have all the fun in the world.

Well hell, sign me up.
Ha, doesn’t work that way, although to be honest, I’m not sure how it works.
We don’t really make a lot of rules. It’d go against the spirit of things.

Barter
Sure. What can I get for you?
Always good to wet that whistle before you blow it.
Everything you see here.
Coming right up.

Maybe
All right. You know where to find me.

Nothing right now.
No problem. You get thirsty, you come see me.

Hellos

You’re back. If you need a drink, lemme know.

How’s it going? Good to see a friendly face.

That ghoul isn’t half bad. Any old horn can blow if they got the pipes. But it takes a real singer to make music with a rusty spigot.

The world is hard. The work is hard to do, the food is hard to chew, and even the beds are hard to sleep on. Here, things are good and soft.

STAND-UP COMIC

Hellos

Hope you like the show!

I was working in Vegas for a while. Didn’t really pan out.

I wouldn’t say the Commonwealth is bad. That would be too nice a description.
But you know what they say. Comedy is just tragedy plus time.

Combat Zone

Ever been to The Combat Zone?
It’s just an old family establishment where people beat each other to death for money.
I guess what I don’t get is, why would I go there when I can look out the window and see people shoot each other for free?
And what’s even better, sometimes I’ll even get a few stray souvenirs.
That’s what we call bullets around here in the Commonwealth. Foul balls.
In fact, after the shootout was over, I asked the raider who shot me to sign my wound, but apparently he doesn’t do autographs.

Institute

When I first got here, the first thing everyone told me was “Beware of the Institute.”
That’s the big boogeyman around here. The Institute. They’re gonna snatch you up in the middle of the night and replace you with a synth.
And you know what my first thought was? Hell, sign me up.
Now, I don’t know what life is like in the Institute. Maybe they probe you all day. Maybe that’s their thing.
But I do know what life is like in the Commonwealth. Those mole rats digging up your crops? Well, that’s the Institute’s problem now. And that ripe fart smell I can’t get out of my shack? Sorry Synth me, that’s on you to figure it out.
And of course, let’s not forget, this job right here, doing stand-up? That’s yours too.
And I don’t know about you guys, but I’d like nothing more than to sit back and get probed all day while my replacement tells you jokes.

Vault Dweller

So there was big news on the radio the other day, I don’t know if you heard. A Vault Dweller made it out.
People have this weird fascination with vault dwellers.
It’s almost like they’re ancient artifacts. Like you can’t touch them or they might lose their value.
Which is kind of true in a way. You can make an argument Vault people are more pure. They haven’t been out here looting bodies and eating radroaches like the rest of us.
But you know what else they haven’t been doing? Breeding with someone who isn’t their cousin.
Yeah, I imagine in most vaults, “doing whatever it takes to survive” takes on a whole different meaning, if you catch my drift.

Brotherhood of Steel

So the Brotherhood of Steel’s in town. Anybody else catch that huge, penis shaped airship flying over downtown? Or was it just me?
That’s how you know they mean business. If it was another body part, like say, a thumbs up, you might think they were here to make friends.
But nope, big giant phallus, here to screw everything in the Commonwealth.

Bloodbug

So can we like, have a serious talk about all the bugs in the Commonwealth? I’d say a heart to heart, but I’m pretty sure a bloodbug ate mine.
The worst part is they like to spit it back in your face. That’s literally adding insult to injury.
It’s like, “Not only are you below a mosquito on the food chain, but you taste bad too.”
Okay, actually, that’s not the worst part. The worst part is when that same bloodbug bit my friend, wiped its mouth tube, then went on its merry way.
And of course I was completely offended. Like “Geez, what’s so tasty about him, huh?”
And you know he went back to all his Bloodbug buddies and told them, “Don’t bite the girl, she tastes awful.”
But I’ll tell you something guys, I’ve been working out. Drinking lots of fluids, getting the circulation up. So next time a bloodbug puts a straw in me, I guarantee you he’s not gonna spit.

(male comic)
And you know he went back to all his Bloodbug buddies and told them, “Don’t bite that guy, he tastes awful.”

Minutemen

You know, this might be an unpopular opinion, but I like Gunners. They’re easy to figure out. They like guns. They like shooting stuff. End of story.
Makes a whole lot more sense than the Institute. Or the Railroad. Or the “Brotherhood of Steel.” Try and figure that one out.
The Minutemen, okay, I get that reference. If you’re in trouble, they’ll be there in a minute. When I first heard it, I thought to myself, “Now that’s a name I can get behind.”
But then the other day I heard that song on the radio, “60 minute man.” Now I’m not so sure.

Graffiti

I feel like if there’s one thing that needs to be cleaned up in the Commonwealth, it’s all the graffiti.
And no, I don’t mean some crude drawing a raider scribbled on your wall while high on Jet.
I’m talking about the kind licensed and paid for by Pre-War ad companies.
You’ve seen ’em. Super Duper Mart. Red Rocket. Slocum’s Joe. $30 for a coffee and a jelly donut my butt.
You know what the sign should say, right. “Slocum’s Joe. The donuts cost money. The ghouls are free.”
But on the other hand, I’m sure the service is more or less the same.

 

GHOUL CROONER(FILLED)

My dream is to be a big time Vegas crooner like Tony Bennett or Nat King Cole.

Some might say turning ghoul was the end of my career. Personally, I think it’s just a bump in the road.

The comic is just the warm-up act. I’m pretty sure everyone’s here to see me.

One of the audience members told me my singing was like rubbing sandpaper in his ears. I don’t know what sandpaper is, but I’m sure it feels incredible.

 

SAD SINGER

when the player talks to her, she just coughs or sniffles or makes noises. Kind of like if a stranger talked to a shy person, she’d ignore him. However, some noise or reaction needs to be made for gaming purposes so that the player is aware the NPC is voiced and doesn’t go to the subtitles.

(Cough)

(Sniffle)

Errrr….

Nnnnnnn…

Please leave me alone.

sad old songs to sing

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJz9OOkd04w

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjxMtPLoxvo

 

MAMA MABEL

A lot of people give me crap about my weight. But honey, it’s not my fault their skinny asses can’t afford to eat.

When I get on stage I become a different person. You think I got sass now? You ain’t seen nothing yet.

If you got the blues, then baby, I’m your stimpak.

Hope you brought your rocking shoes, honey.

I first heard about this place from my cousin Jenny. She told my sister Sally, who told my Uncle Roddy, who told me. I’ve been here ever since.

Don’t even think about chatting away when I’m on stage. That won’t fly with me.

 

Scene 3

Sonja, you can’t be singing those sad, sappy songs all the time. You got a voice, doncha? Use it!

(Grumble)

Here’s the song type, but any song in this vein works:

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xp6szq1ewLo&spfreload=10

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HNnFpBnKV2I&list=PLy6GUHzBvIuIotL6BEIlWaP3VtO7emzXY

 

 

Tavern NPCs

You ever hear those old programs on the radio, the ones they play late at night?

You mean like the Atomic Hour?

No, you’re thinking of late night. I’m talking late, late night. After midnight. Real “night owl” stuff.

Huh, that reminds me of a joke. Why does an owl shit in the woods? Cause he don’t give a hoot! Ha-ha-ha!

Enough with the amateur comedy hour, okay? I’m trying to tell a story.

All right, all right. Go on. Tell your story.

Okay, so like I was saying, shows on that late get a little weird, on account of no one listening. People just don’t give a shit, you know? So they got Deano on, and he’s wasted, spinning some old yarn about the time him and blue eyes were heading down Route 66 when they see some greaser on the corner. You know who old blue eyes is, doncha?

Yeah. Sinatra. Rat Pack. Vegas crooner.

Right. So Frank taps him on the shoulder and says, “Pull over! That son of a bitch owes me money.” He jumps out of the car, and when this cat sees him, well, I swear on Jesus, Joseph, and Mary that you ain’t ever seen a man run that fast. But old Frankie caught him.

Sinatra? Ain’t he like forty years old?

Yeah. But you try outrunning a guy hopped up on whiskey and coke.

I guess that’s what they call it “hitting the high notes.”

Yeah, so anyways, Sinatra tackles the mope, and then starts beating the shit out of him. I’m talking teeth and blood and crushing noises, the kind that’ll make a grown man wince. Beat him to within an inch of his life. Probably even took out a ruler just to make sure.

Sounds like ol’ blue eyes all right. What does Deano do?

Dean just hangs back and lights up. No getting between a man and his money. Half a pack later and Sinatra gets back in the car. They go out to the local diner, order some breakfast. Frank orders the sausage and eggs, Dean opts for the pancakes. And that’s when Sinatra reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out this bloody wallet, looks at the license, and tosses it on the table.

Dean asks, “So did you get your money back?”

And Frank goes, “Nope. It was the wrong guy.”

Story 2

I got a story for you.

All right, let’s hear it.

So there’s this doctor right, and he finds a time machine.

He just found it lying around, huh? A bonafide time machine, just sitting in the basement next to the lawnmower and the beat up Chevy?

Look, if you wanna hear this story, you’re gonna need to suspend that disbelief of yours.

All right, all right, so the doc has a time machine. What does he do next, kill Hitler?

Well, yes and no. See a doc ain’t the killing type. Can’t break the whatchmacallit, hippocratic oath. So he goes to Hitler’s father, asks him if he wants his tubes snipped. Guy says no. So he goes to Hitler’s mother, asks if she wants the pill. She ain’t having it.

The pill, or the baby?

The pill, numbnuts.

I know, I’m just screwing with you. Go on.

Okay, so Plan A and Plan B didn’t work, so he goes to Plan C.

What’s Plan C?

He tries to seduce her. And it works. Problem is, the kid looks just like Hitler. Got the mustache and everything.

Ha, then what happens?

Well, now he’s got even more stake in this kid’s future. So he decides to join the Nazis himself, see if he can’t change their tune. Even changes his name to Adolf H., just to make sure the timeline doesn’t get screwy.

So does he fix the Nazis?

Nope. Doc gets brainwashed, ends up invading Poland, rounding up the Jews, the whole shebang. Funny thing is, he ends up in a bunker, blowing his brains out.

So in the end…

Yup. Son of a bitch got to kill Hitler after all. Just not in the way he thought.

Hellos

Yeah?
Just having a drink.
Something I can do for you?
What can I do for you?
Need something?
If you got a story to share, be my guest.

TAVERN NPCS 2

Scene 1

I feel like this town has a lot going for it.

Really? I feel like it’s doomed. Just like every other town in the Commonwealth.

Jesus, why do you have to be such a pessimist?

I prefer to call it being realistic.

You can be an optimist and a realist. You just gotta see the glass as half full.

Yeah. Problem is, all the glasses around here are bone dry.

Scene 2

I think I’m gonna start writing a journal.

I tried that once. Thought it might help with the boredom.

Really? Why’d you stop?

Because every day it’s the same shit. You might as well just take mine and change the dates.

Scene 3

You wanna change a few things around here, you need to take some initiative.

Who said I wanna change anything?

But you’re always complaining.

Yeah, and if things got fixed, we’d have nothing to talk about.

Scene 4

You like any of the girls in town?

Not really. Not my type.

What’s your type, anyway?

I like my women like I like my beer. Smooth, dark, with a little bit of attitude.

I’d say there’s plenty of women who fit that description.

None that’d put up with a guy like me.

Hellos

Got a problem?
Whatcha lookin at?
Yeah?
What can I do for you?
Need something?
Hey there.