Mutated Fat Hairy Ass
Seattle 89 you just had to be there
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[Ratio + didn’t ask + I did ur mother + Haram + fell off + #canceled + you’re white 😳 + you vented (sus) + Dominik + no life + not Wholesome 💯 + anime pfp + ur cringe + furry + Racist + Homophobic + Sexist + I have ur IP + bruh moment + Nazi + Pedo + incompatible ♋ + ur mama dead + what da dog doin + NFT screenshotted 📸 + ur a trump supporter + Top 10 anime betrayals + shut up liberal + I have better kills than you + skill issue + Not funny, didn’t laugh + No u + quote tweet + Checkmate + More text + capitalist + I’m bad at chess + chess is racist + change my mind + I know Joe + dont care didnt ask + skill issue + ratio + cope + cancelled + quote tweet + i bet yo are transphobic + you are homophobic + counterratio + ratio to end all ratios + This message is un-ratioable]\

Three Dog irritates me. A lot. So much that the first thing I did when I found him was rip him to shreds with a minigun. Of course, I then reloaded because I hate missing out on quests.

When he talked to me, it irked me even more. For some reason, his sound file is loud. Booming, I would say. If the volume for everyone else's voice was 7, then his sounds like it was 20. It's as if the VA was recording his lines with his mouth a hair's width away from the mic. If it was an actual conversation, I imagine Three Dog's spit would be splattered all over me. I blew his head off with a shotgun when he was done talking. I reloaded.

Once I was done with his quest, GNR can now be heard all over the Wasteland. Yippee~! Now I have (modded) music~! However, while I was minding my business torching raiders and disintegrating slavers, whenever Three Dog yammered on the radio, I became irritated. The way he constantly refers to everyone as 'children', his 'flair' as he talks and his ridiculous obsession with the Good Fight got on my nerves. It was aggravating.

So I trekked back from the middle of the nowhere all the way to GNR, and introduced Three Dog to The Tenderizer. I then took out Jack and I chopped him into little pieces. Then I piled up his pieces on to the broadcasting terminal and made a barbeque. Before I left, I plopped dozens of frag mines inside GNR, after an aggressive conversation took place between his thugs and the Fat Man.

Now, this old codger comes on the radio every once in a while to tell me that she's going to play a song. She says her name is Margaret and that if Three Dog were alive, he'd say something witty. She's tolerable for now, because she only stays on the air for a few seconds, but I can hear the accusatory tone whenever she opens her mouth.

Eventually, I might decide to pay another visit to GNR.

War. War never changes. Since the dawn of human kind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything: from God to justice to simple, psychotic rage.

In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflict, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. The world was plunged into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation.

But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter of human history. For man had succeeded in destroying the world - but war, war never changes.

In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters, known as vaults. But when they emerged, they had only the hell of the wastes to greet them - all except those in Vault 101. For on that fateful day, when fire rained from the sky, the giant steel door of Vault 101 slid closed... and never reopened. It was here you were born. It is here you will die.

Because, in Vault 101: no one ever enters, and no one ever leaves.