Howdy y'all! Wanted to see who else has been painting up the miniatures for any of Fallout's tabletop games. I recently got into putting together a Survivors list for Wasteland Warfare. Finished Joshua Graham the other day, and next up will be Courier Six.

Has anyone else been working on their own minis?

As much fun as it is to do these, I shouldn't have to be the only one. To quote Plankton: "Don't let the flame die out!"

Anywho, here's the memes:

Henry beat the fucking fuckity fuck out of Paul. I wanted to do his quest so I can sell all of the drugs from the rich kid's deal.

Audio Log – Daniel Wintergreen Reclamation Day +7

It’s been a few days since my last log. Apologies for the radio silence—I’ve been busy. And alive, which at this point feels like a miracle worth noting every morning.

After leaving Morgantown, I took the long way to Charleston—stuck to the rail lines running south out of the railyard. It wasn’t fast, but the armor made me feel safer, even if the trek drained my fusion core faster than I liked. Had to stop halfway and swap it out. Burning through cores like candy wrappers now. Protection has its price.

Stopped for the night at what I think was Sutton Station. Hard to tell with the condition the place was in. Looked like a tornado hit it, then the tornado took a nap and decided to stay. Trash everywhere, busted furniture, broken signs—whoever lived there either didn’t care or loved living in filth. Still, the vendor bot was somehow still operational. Little glitchy—muttered something about a “five-finger discount” like it was trying to accuse me of theft and offer me a deal at the same time. Bought a decent haul: ammo, meds, and traded in my old shotgun for a combat sniper rifle. Felt good to carry something with range for once. Shotguns are fine—until you have to reload while something’s gnawing on your leg.

The next day I kept moving southwest, still hugging the rails. Things were quiet until midday, when I ran into a group of super mutants. Tall, ugly, and mean. They must’ve spotted the glint off my armor and decided I looked like a challenge. Took more rounds than I liked to drop them. Burned through most of my ammo and a stimpack or two, but I came out of it standing. Mostly.

That night I bunked at Camp McClintock—an old military training site. Surprisingly intact. Even more surprising was the Mr. Gutsy drill instructor still operating like it was boot camp circa 2076. Spent half the night yelling at me for “lacking discipline.” Guess I missed the deadline for basic training by a couple hundred years. Still, it was safe enough to catch some sleep… eventually.

Woke up this morning—still in one piece, still un-roasted by angry military bots—and had a can of dog food for breakfast. Don’t laugh. Cooked right, it’s almost decent. Made a few field repairs to the armor—some of the plating was starting to separate around the joints. Then I packed up and followed the tracks into Charleston.

Midmorning, I arrived at AVR Medical. The place was crawling with Scorched. No surprise. Seems like every ruin with even a hint of science draws them like moths to a radioactive flame. Cleared them out room by room—standard operating procedure by now—and finally reached the basement lab. That’s where I found it. The machine. The vaccine.

Well—almost.

Turns out the project wasn’t finished. The system needed a replacement Type-T fuse and a fresh blood sample from a feral ghoul. Why anyone in their right mind would base a vaccine on ghoul blood is beyond me—but then again, I’m an engineer, not a biologist. I fix things. I don’t explain them.

Side note: Found a Vault 76 jumpsuit stashed in a locker nearby. Someone else made it here before me. No sign of them, no spare vaccine, just the suit. Hope they got what they came for… or at least died quick.

I headed back out to find what I needed. First stop: Charleston Trainyard. Figured it made sense—if the fuse was ever delivered, it likely came by rail. And I was right. Found one tucked away in an old shipping crate. What I didn’t expect was a squad of Communist robots patrolling the site. Red Menace in metal form. Little guys packed a mean punch—left some dents in the armor that I’ll need to buff out later.

Next up: feral ghouls. You’d think they’d be easy to find out here, but apparently they’re camera shy when you actually need them. Ended up tracking a few near the Capitol building. Nasty little swarm—one of them nearly took my eye out. Reminder: still no helmet for this damn armor. Add that to the shopping list.

With both items in hand, I made my way back to AVR. Replaced the fuse, loaded the blood into the analyzer, flipped the switch, and let the machine work its magic. Lights flickered. Machines buzzed. I stood there like a moron pretending I understood what it was doing. And then… it was ready.

I stepped into the Sympto-Matic. It hissed, jabbed something into my neck, and just like that—I was vaccinated. According to the logs, it’s supposed to prevent the Scorched infection. If it works, I may have bought myself some real time out here. If it doesn’t… Well, I guess I’ll find out the hard way.

I’m staying the night here. Found an old cot in the lab—probably belonged to the doctor who ran this place before everything fell apart. Seems fitting. I burned the Scorched corpses out front, same as always. Wore my gas mask. I’m learning.

Tomorrow, I’m heading up to the old Charleston Fire Department. Word is, the Responders had their own way of dealing with the Scorched—fire, mostly. It’s not subtle, but it works. I want to learn what they knew, see what they left behind. If there's a way to fight this plague beyond just surviving it… I want in.

This is Wintergreen. Signing off—maybe for the last time. Or maybe just until this storm settles.

Out here, it's one day at a time.

Day 5: Morgantown Airport Audio Log – Daniel Wintergreen Reclamation Day +4

Short entry tonight… or at least I’ll try to keep it short. I’m exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually, maybe. Today pushed every limit I thought I had left.

Around midday, I finally made my move on the Morgantown Airport. I'd spent yesterday scouting it out, and even with all I saw, I still underestimated just how bad it would be. Slipped into my partially restored T-45B suit—no helmet still, but it runs well enough. Grabbed the new shotgun I’d picked up and headed in. First stop: the front parking area.

It was crawling with Scorched. Maybe a dozen, maybe more. I didn’t bother counting. I don’t want to count anymore. The armor held up beautifully, and the shotgun… damn, it barked like thunder. Took them down in waves, but it wasn’t clean. Not fast either. Just... brutal.

Once the lot was clear, I moved inside the terminal. That’s when things got worse. A lot worse.

The interior was a nightmare—dark, moldy, silent in that suffocating way. And then I heard them. Their movements. Their voices—if you can call that screeching a voice. I swept through hallway after hallway, room after room, floor after floor, and the Scorched just kept coming. Most of them still wearing the faded, melted remnants of Responder uniforms.

That realization hit me harder than the recoil. These weren’t just Scorched—they were the Responders. The very people who stayed behind when everyone else ran. Doctors. Medics. Volunteers. I don’t know how long they’ve been like that… days, months? But whatever they used to be, it was gone. Killing them wasn’t just survival today—it was mercy.

There’s something else I noticed. Some of the Scorched I didn’t even have to fight. They were frozen in place—completely still, bodies petrified and twisted into grotesque, statue-like forms. Almost like whatever infected them just… shut down. Like their own bodies gave up. No breath. No movement. Just brittle, crystal-ridden husks left to rot standing.

After nearly an hour of this, I stumbled across another holotape from the Overseer. How she got this deep into the airport without getting torn apart is beyond me, but the message was clear—urgent, even. The Scorched plague isn’t just a mutation or a side effect of radiation. It’s something else. Something worse. It spreads like a virus—transmitted by creatures that sound more myth than science.

And just as I was thinking that… I saw one.

Out by the runway.

A massive, winged silhouette gliding through the clouds, backlit by the sun—except it wasn’t sunlight. It glowed green, the same sickening glow that clings to every Scorched I’ve fought. It looked like a bat, but twisted and wrong, bones stretched where they shouldn’t be, limbs too long, movements too fast. My first thought was: this can’t be real. But it was. The Overseer was right. There’s something flying around that’s spreading this plague—and I don’t think it’s alone.

I nearly lost it there. Almost dropped my weapon. Took everything I had to breathe, steady my hands, and press forward.

On the far side of the airstrip, I came across what looked like a makeshift research lab—Responder-built, barely holding together. Dust-covered terminals, shattered beakers, burned notebooks. They were studying the plague here. And they were close to something. A vaccine. A cure, maybe. But the work didn’t start here. According to the terminal logs, the research was moved to Charleston. Figures. Nothing is ever simple.

So now I’ve got a new lead and a new destination. But not tonight.

I stayed behind at the airport. Found a relatively secure building, cleaned it out, reinforced the doors. Before I settled in, I piled the Scorched bodies out back and burned them—same as at the rail yard. Wore a gas mask this time; the smoke from those things stings like hell if you’re not careful. I think the airport’s clear now, at least for the moment.

It’s late. I’m running on fumes, and the adrenaline crash is hitting me hard. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but for now, I’m alive, I have a path forward, and I’m not giving up.

This is Wintergreen, signing off.

Guys idk why but the enemies in fallout 4 are feeling like they are level 50 instead of the correct level (which is scaling to my level of which im level 34 or 33) and im playing on very easy / easy difficulty. i did visit nuka-world, far harbor and finish the automatron dlc very early so im unsure if its because of that, it caused the game to get harder faster and not do its level-scaling properly. im just asking im not saying it's fact. also im running a really low-luck build so im not sure if its causing anything. i did another run with a build with just enough luck to get me the bloody mess perk and the enemies weren't as difficult.

After all, autumn grew up on the oil rig, and his father ranked high within the Enclave. I can only imagine that a young autumn would be scared shitless at the sight of Horrigan. Do you guys think they ever met?

Day 4: Morgantown Rail Yard Audio Log – Daniel Wintergreen Reclamation Day +3

Yeah, I missed yesterday’s log. Can’t say I’m sorry about it. I was stuck in a damn mine for most of the day, and let me tell you, the things that happened down there… well, I’m still catching my breath. But alright, alright, let me rewind and start from the beginning.

Yesterday, I made my way out of Flatwoods, stopped off at the Overseer’s camp to grab some supplies—again, reminder to myself: set up your own C.A.M.P. soon. Got everything packed, made sure I was topped off on ammo, food, and the few meds I have left, and hit the road toward Morgantown. The air was heavy with that same quiet I’ve been getting used to. That sort of silence you can feel in your bones, like the world’s holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

I made it to an old Slocum’s Joe coffee shop—figured I’d rest there a bit. It looked mostly abandoned, but maybe I’d find something useful. Big mistake. Right when I thought it was safe, those damn things showed up—the Scorched. Or at least, I’m pretty sure they were. They had that glowing green crystal stuff growing out of them, their eyes were bright with malice, and they sure as hell weren’t human anymore.

I was trying to sneak around the back of the shop when they spotted me. It all went to hell in seconds. I ran for my life, but not before I dropped a few of them with Old Faithful—my trusty hunting rifle. Damn, I’m gonna miss her when she finally breaks for good. Managed to get to an old mine—I think it was the Gauley Mine—didn’t really have time to check the sign. All I knew was, it was shelter. I blocked the entrance door as best I could, and it seemed to slow them down for a bit.

No idea how long I was holed up in that mine, but with nowhere else to go, I started poking around. Found some explosives, which… I’m not sure if I should be proud of that or worried. Either way, I was about to find out just how handy they’d be.

But of course, my luck’s never good. I was minding my business when I heard the ground shake, and there they were—giant mole rats. I’m talking huge. Those things were massive, and they came at me in a swarm. I barely had time to react, but I used some of those explosives I found to blow a whole pack to hell. Nearly caused a damn cave-in, but I guess it worked. Managed to survive, somehow.

Anyway, I pushed deeper into the mine, and that’s when I found something... strange. There were signs all over that a pre-war company—Robco—had bought out the mine. Wasted money, as far as I could tell. But they were building something in there. Maybe a fallout shelter? I didn’t stick around long enough to figure it out, but I found a few things that were worth the trouble—fusion cores. Hell, if I’d known what I was walking into, I might’ve thought I hit the jackpot. Those things are going to be a godsend, no doubt.

With the fusion cores in hand and a map I found, I made my way out of the mine. Followed the map’s trail, and it led me right to an old rail line. Took it straight to Morgantown, and sure enough, I found myself in the middle of the old rail yard.

Now, this place? Blessing and a curse, like I said. It’s crawling with Scorched—at least ten of them, maybe more. I thought I could sneak in, but that didn’t happen. Those bastards swarmed me like insects. The only reason I’m still breathing is that I managed to scramble up onto one of the old train cars. It wasn’t easy, and once I got up there, it was a waiting game. Old Faithful died on me right then, and that was a blow. But I kept my head, switched to my 10mm, and picked off what I could.

It wasn’t as easy as it sounds. Those things are relentless. But eventually, they were all down, and I piled their bodies up, lit them on fire. If I’m going to die out here, I don’t want it to be in some random wasteland ambush. I made sure they were ashes by the time I was done.

After that near-death experience, I scavenged the yard. Found some decent stuff—meds, stimpaks, radaway, rad-X—and even scored a new shotgun. The best part? I found a suit of T-45B power armor. It’s missing the helmet, but it’s still a damn sight better than the leather armor I’ve been wearing, which is falling apart. I got it mostly fixed up, though it could use more work. Still, it’s better than nothing.

I spent the night in the rail yard, catching some sleep. Felt good to not have to worry about every noise in the night. This morning, I scavenged some more from the train cars, grabbed some shotgun ammo, and a few parts to keep the power armor in working order. After that, I took the day to do a little recon on Morgantown Airport. God, I don’t know why I keep volunteering for these things. I’m not a soldier. I’m an engineer. But I thought I’d give it a shot.

What I found wasn’t good. The airport’s swarming with Scorched, all of them armed. Looks like it’s going to be a real fight to clear the place out. But that’s tomorrow’s problem, and tomorrow I’ll have power armor to crush them with.

This is Wintergreen, signing off.

I downloaded fallout 3 :|

HELP.

my dad said he dabbled in fallout 3 so i wanted to give it a try but i took notes from my experience with fallout new vegas and decided to ask for help. please though i really do need help could anyone respond soon/quickly?

I

I’ve never seen this power armor.

I know it’s problaby T-45 or T-60, and if that’s the case, it looks… weird. The helmet is similar, the shoulder pads, there’s another shoulder protection thing (Sorry I don’t know the words ❤️➗2️⃣), a part for the elbows, and the torso is very different.

I’m not a FO76 fan, but I’ve seen the armors, known some of them, but I’ve never seen it before.

I’m just asking in case this is from some freaky Fallout media I don’t know.

Day 2: Flatwoods Audio Log – Daniel Wintergreen Reclamation Day +1

Wintergreen again. Still breathing. Still out here. That’s two wins in a row, far as I’m concerned.

Started this morning groggy, but alive. Woke up by the fire I built near the Overseer’s camp, half-expecting to be a late-night snack for some mutated wildlife. But nope—no claw marks, no fang holes. Just stiff joints and a cold breeze. I’ll take it.

I packed up what I could carry in my rucksack—ammo, meds, a couple cans of food, and that hunting rifle I’m starting to get more comfortable with. Left behind what didn’t fit—tools, scrap, even a spare canteen. Note to self: set up my own C.A.M.P. soon. Can’t keep relying on others, even dead ones.

Followed the signs east toward Flatwoods. Looked like a decent hike on the map, but it felt longer. The air’s fresher than I’m used to, but it carries this… stillness. Like the whole forest is holding its breath. Appalachia has a way of reminding you it’s watching, even if it doesn’t speak.

Made it to Flatwoods by mid-morning. First impression? Ghost town. Houses gutted, doors hanging open, streets cracked and overgrown. There was life here, once—normal, suburban life. Now it’s just echoes and rot. No people, not really. Just shadows and what's left behind.

I did find another holotape from the Overseer. She’d come through here too—kept moving west. Left instructions to register with something called the Responder training program. Guess they were some kind of civilian aid group before everything went sideways.

Went through the motions. Boiled some water, cooked up some brahmin meat over a fire pit—surprisingly tender, actually. Might be the best thing I’ve eaten since leaving the Vault, not that the bar's very high. Then I accessed a nearby terminal and officially registered as a Responder Volunteer. Got my name in their system and everything. Guess I’m part of something now.

That’s when I picked up a signal—an SOS out of Morgantown. Broken transmission, but clear enough: something called the Scorched attacked. No full details, just panic, screaming, then static. If it weren’t for the Overseer heading that way, I’d probably steer clear. Horror vids taught me one thing—it’s don’t walk into places where people were just screaming for their lives. But orders are orders, and I owe her. She believed in this mission, and maybe I still do too.

Didn’t make it far, though. Ghouls hit me just past the town's edge. Fast, twitchy, aggressive. One of them tackled me hard into a downed mailbox. Felt something twist—my ankle. Thought I was screwed. Managed to finish the ghoul off with a combat knife. Up close, they smell like death left out in the sun. Used a stimpack and some Med-X—got me back on my feet, but I wasn’t gonna push my luck. Spent the rest of the day scavenging instead.

Found some ammo in the police station, a bit of food in what’s left of a grocery, and a handful of caps. Yeah—bottle caps. That’s the currency now. One of the Protectron vendors near the church explained it in that cheerful, robotic monotone like it wasn’t insane. “Legal tender certified by the Appalachian Trading Authority,” or some nonsense like that.

I’m holed up for the night in an old bar across the street from the Responder church. Boarded the door, cleared a few corners, and got a fire going in an old drum. It’s not cozy, but it's a shelter. Outside, I swear I keep hearing things move, but every time I check, there’s nothing. Could be the wind. Could be worse.

Tomorrow, if the ankle holds, I’ll make for Morgantown. If the Scorched are real—and if they’re anything like those things at Wixon Homestead—I’m gonna need more firepower.

End log. Wintergreen, signing off.

One thing I noticed is that whenever I try to start a playthrough for FNV and decide to do an energy weapon build, Chet will just never have the recharger rifle, but whenever I do a sneak build, he always has the recharger rifle. is it because I'm taking the wild wasteland perk or is it smth else? also what are the best starting traits for sneak builds and gun builds and energy builds, and melee builds? (I don't have any of the DLC for FNV so I can't use any of the starting traits from DLC's like Lonesome Road and Old-World Blues and Dead Money) Also, i restarted my fallout 4 playthrough cuz i hadn't liked what i did with my previous save, but all the enemies are suddenly a lot harder than they were before even though im playing on the exact same difficulty and im nearly the same level as my first character. is it because i downloaded the DLC's? on my first character i didn't have any of the DLC's downloaded and I only got them a few weeks ago cuz my dad had them previously when he wasp laying fallout 4 so they had been shared to the xbox-one and i could download all the settlement and story DLC's like Automatron and Far Harbor and Nuka-World. Can anyone tell me why all these things keep happening?

Sorry for making this so long, thanks for taking the time for reading this if you did ^_^

Audio Log Transcript

This is Daniel Wintergreen, Vault 76. Day one in the wasteland. Recording this at the end of... what I can only describe as the longest damn day of my life.

We were trained. Prepped for it. Warned about the dangers. Mutants, ferals, radiation zones—they drilled that into us. But stepping outside that Vault door… nothing could’ve really prepared me for this. The world isn’t just broken. It’s wrong—quiet in a way that feels like it's waiting to strike.

I was the last one out. Couldn’t tell if that was by design or just bad luck. When I finally stepped through the Vault door, the view hit me like a gut punch. Appalachia... it was beautiful, in a haunting, post-apocalyptic kind of way. The air was clearer than I expected, and the sunlight felt real for the first time in years—but it didn’t feel safe. More like a memory of something that used to be alive.

One of the Mr. Handy greeters intercepted me as I came through. Gave me a holotape from the Overseer. She was already gone, left behind a message asking for help. I hadn’t even set foot on the surface for ten minutes and I was already pulled into a new mission. I guess... I needed the direction.

Before heading out, I checked the nearby lot—probably used as a staging area before the bombs dropped. Military vehicles, rusted containers, and... bodies. So many bodies. They weren’t even buried. Just left there, like they were waiting for someone to open the door and save them. I scavenged what I could: ammo, meds, even a hunting rifle. Figured I’d need it soon.

I didn’t have to wait long. Not even an hour into the trek, I ran into my first ghoul. Thing came out of nowhere—skin charred, eyes hollow. I unloaded half a mag from my 10mm before it stopped moving. The stench alone nearly made me puke. Actually... I did puke.

Kept moving through the woods, trying to stay focused. Passed an old lumber mill—robot workers still doing their jobs like the world didn’t end. It was surreal. But that wasn’t what stopped me. What stopped me was Wixon Homestead.

I saw figures moving around and thought they might be survivors. I was wrong. Real wrong. Their skin was fused with glowing green crystal—like it was growing out of them. Their eyes… bright green, unnatural. They weren’t human anymore. I don’t know what they were, but they were fast, aggressive. Took almost everything I had to put them down. Five in total. I counted. I always count.

Inside the farmhouse, it was worse. Looked like a massacre happened there. No signs of life… except for a damn cat, somehow still alive. Guess some things are harder to kill.

Eventually, I found the Overseer’s camp. Small setup, efficient—exactly what we were trained to build. She left another holotape explaining the C.A.M.P. system, and that she was heading to the nearest settlement. Flatwoods, probably. Signs pointed that way.

I stayed at the camp for a bit. Used the workbench to piece together some leather armor—nothing fancy, but enough to stop a knife or a weak round. Upgraded my pistol and hunting rifle with what scrap I had. Then I sat down and ate… well, what I think was deer. Tough, but edible. Probably radstag.

Now I’m sitting by the fire, finishing this log. First day out, and I already feel like I’ve aged a decade. The silence out here isn’t peace—it’s the sound of a world rebuilding itself from the bones up. And I guess I’m part of that now.

Here’s hoping I make it through the night without something sniffing around my camp.

End log. Wintergreen, signing off—for now.

So as an Australian we kinda have a cazador

I'm having a weird thought today so i wanted to ask what the real-life versions of chems are. Idk why but it crossed through my head at some point. Starting from the easiest ones to figure out like buffout then to more complex ones

What is this a reference to?

Probably a dark and controversial topic. Could the events of the Sino-American war and the Great War nuclear holocaust truly occur in our real-world 2077 or no?

SIDENOTE: If this topic is too hot for discussion and if it gets locked by moderators, I won't protest against it.