The Bank Heist
General Summary
Zyxthylum's GM Report
March 1st, 2277, high noon outside Nuka City at the ruins of a pre-war bank..
Descending into the maze of ruins surrounding the city itself, six strangers follow the Vault dweller from Aasir's Bar in the hopes at a fresh start. While each have their own complex reasons for how they came to this moment in time, the one thing they all have in common is desperation. Arriving to put an end to the string of disappearances surrounding a pre-war bank, it all just seemed like a simple raider cleanup job the local militia was too busy to take care of. While assembling on the overlooking dunes however, it seemed it would not be so simple.
The delirious ravings of Cooper Anzac begin to play through the open channel on Sullivan's Pip Boy, confusing the party as they hear him go between two very distinct voices. Trapped inside the bank in a secure holding area just outside the vault itself, the poor man has been left in a wretched state. Kidnapped by a group of men that all had the same face, his bad luck only got worse when they got themselves killed and stranded him inside his cell for the past week. Worse yet was that they hadn't exactly left him alone..
While they try to make sense of the odd conversation, the drifters also take note of the scene just outside the entrance to the building. Squinting to see through the swirling sands and shimmering heat waves, they can just make out a group of deceased scavengers that seem to have been shot to literal bits by a pair of pre-war turrets that guard the main doors. Each Mark V variant has been housed in a protective shell and sits invulnerable to long ranged attacks, making the situation all the more precarious for the group. They also happen to notice something metallic and circular that seems to have rolled away from the bodies, perhaps a companion or something they meant to trade, it appears to be a highly unique eyebot model automatron.
As if some eccentric engineer had the idea to merge a Radiation King television set with the mobile broadcasting power of an eyebot to create some kind of glorious advertisement device to rule all others, a large screen dominates the front of its anatomy and displays the blinking words, 'LOW POWER'. Pierce and Ripstick donate enough of a charge to Dodger so that she can sneak down and reactivate the unit to see if it has any important information stored in its data banks, or can help with their current situation.
To everyone's surprise, instead of a mindless automaton this robot happens to be the highly sentient Sir POSH. After surviving his brush with the Dunwich Conspiracy, this little robot has been on quite the journey across the Great Dust Bowl. He begins to recite some poetry while subconsciously referring to his past exploits and current existential dread, all the while abruptly becoming aware of his current reality. Critically damaged and being slowly repaired over the past three months, his memories are difficult for him to articulate, even to himself.
All the comotion has finally alerted Cooper from within the bank to the presence of the party. He calls out to them over the radio and clears up the misconception that he is a raider or in control of the turrets. Instead he helps them time their approach with the power cycles, a disaster caused when the five identical twins who captured Cooper blew up a hand grenade in their face while trying to abandon him. No great loss on their account but it was also the event that triggered all this annoying pre-war security.
Running for their lives, the entire group decides to make a break for the front doors when the power shuts off this time. Putting all their faith in their newest companion Sir POSH, they are immediately rewarded when he plugs into the front terminal and cancels all security alerts in the facility with ease. He even goes as far as to flex his intellectual muscles further with some poetic narration while he works. The small bit of mirth is quickly forgotten however as they enter in a horrific scene of chaos.
Bodies lie strewn about the room in different stages of decay, many of which seem to belong to the victims of the strangely similar raiders. The looted goods were at one time organized on the front counters and chairs, however the blast in the center of the room mixed it hopelessly in with the gore and debris. Sir POSH is caught off guard when he recognizes these raiders and their numberless Vault suits to be clones similar to Tommy and Old Man Thompson. Unlike his friends however, these men seemed to have turned to a cutthroat life of senseless murder to survive being cut off from the Colossus.
Focusing on the task at hand, the group works to free Cooper from his prison. Lacking a key, Dodger goes to work showing off her skill set by twisting the old tumblers to her will. The lights begin to flicker again, indicating that the power is about cycle. In the strobing darkness of the main atrium, some members of the group can swear they see movement beyond the tricks the light is playing on their eyes. The drifters break into two groups, with one heading towards the vault itself and the other keeping an eye on the entry. As the power goes out, all hell begins to break loose..
Incandescent green light illuminates the area directly around Jack Sullivan as he turns the light on his Pip Boy on and holds it over his head. His pupils are shrunk with fear but his eyes are narrowed in determination, he stares into the darkness around them and draws a 10mm pistol from his belt. Next to him one of the covered cadaver moves again, causing him to jump slightly before leaning over to inspect it. With the barrel of his weapon Sullivan flips a corner of the sheet back. Giving an audible sigh when it fails to reveal much of anything, he gingerly plucks at the corner with his free hand until it falls to the floor.
The corpse beneath looks severely dehydrated. Emaciated, skin and tendons stretch painfully tight across the body besides for places there are wounds. Deep and cavernous, these grotesque holes could fit a man’s fist inside and reach all the way to the bone. Strangely bloodless, pus and mucus lines the walls of these perforations in web-like structures. As Sullivan examines them he realizes in horror that at least one is still occupied.
Living inside of this husk that was once a human being, something quivers as the dim light of the Pip Boy is cast over it. Almost as if grown out of scar tissue, the entire body is soft pink with vibrantly red blood vessels crisscrossing beneath the surface. Tiny malformed limbs sprout from the creature that claw at the flesh as if it is trying to get out. Recoiling once more, but this time for good, the Vault dweller bends over and retches when he realizes that at least one eye was staring back at him the entire time.
A low sickly whine emanates from deep within the creature, like a sack of air inside of it is slowly being released. Concealed back in the darkness, only the silhouette can be seen as it detaches from the body, trailing a myriad of tiny tubes and tentacle-like appendages that were helping it leech off of its host. The low inconsistent scratching now becomes a cacophony of sickening screeching and whining as the rest of its brethren begin to awaken for the fresh meat..
The lights kick back on to reveal the true horror that lies before them. La Plaga Viviente have infested the surplus of corpses stored here and begin crawling out to seek out new hosts as a swarm. They carpet nearly every surface and even fall from the ceiling vents as they are stirred from their hibernation. The group quickly tries to adapt to the threat, drawing weapons and preparing for a fight, their instincts to run overridden by their need to eat.
The fight begins in a way some would consider to be 'poorly'. Ripstick shoots Coven in the face, the cycling power resets the security systems to attack the group, and even when Cooper hacks into the system to switch them to 'Vermin Extermination' mode, the old pre-war software glitches out and causes it to target the operator instead. Nearly losing his arm for his altruistic efforts, Cooper is left near death and cursing Robert House in every other breath while he tries to recover his bearings.
Ripstick has been patient long enough and decides it would be best to set the building they are in on fire to deal with the problem. Spinning the flint on his iconic flip-top lighter, he brings the damp rag of a molotov to it and then sets it free with an overhand toss into a group of the abominations. Unable to get out of the spreading flames, many of the tiny mutants are consumed. An acrid smell of burning flesh and hair permeates the air and assaults the nose while tiny inhuman death rattles create a nightmare chorus that will certainly live on for some time in each of the drifters' memory. Those that manage to escape this blaze are instead met with Vesk's claws, the Intelligent Deathclaw showing that he hasn't forgotten how to use them in an impressive display of martial prowess.
Meanwhile Dodger works on the bank vault door with Sir POSH's help. The handy machine comes equipped with an energy-powered blowtorch and can give her a peek at the internal mechanisms on his screen with a quick scan. A pair made in bank heist heaven, they work quickly and efficiently while the rest of the group tries to recover from their encounter with the infestation. The power cycles once more, this time causing many of the electronic locks to fail. With Dodger and POSH distracted they almost don't even notice the figure wandering out of the room next to them.
Getting a few of Sullivan's Stimpacks that he brought with him from his Vault and some battlefield surgery and bone setting by Vesk, Cooper regains the use of his left arm and can again crank up his laser musket to jump into the fight in the need arises. Pierce works on putting out one of the fires while several other members make sure to scavenge for hidden valuables in the detritus. The vault itself seems to have been robbed before the war to their astoundingly poor luck, however it looks to have been done fast and sloppy. Pre-war bills and valuables litter the floor around a hole that seems to have been made by some kind of precision explosive.
All the noise seemed to have stirred something else living within the derelict bank and it finally makes its presence known. It shambles slowly out of the cell next to the open vault door like someone who had just awoken from a deep sleep. Once one of the clones that kidnapped Cooper, something entirely new has evolved in the week he was isolated..
La Plaga Viviente creates a morbid quilt across his epidermis, their bulging malformed anatomy undulating as he stumbles slowly into the full light. Blood and bile ooze from countless wounds where the parasites have attached themselves, however unlike the husks in the next room, something different happened here. The mutants have grown some form of sickening symbiosis with their host. Evident when the infected man feeds one casually from a container of junk food, and tiny insect-like mandibles methodically dissect a Cheesy Poof before their eyes.
Still somehow alive and conscious, the man raises a thousand yard stare in the direction of Dodger and Sir POSH at the vault door, crimson spit slowly bubbling out of his open mouth. “Will you..” A sad human voice that cracks once. “Will you..” It turns its head so that the eyes are facing Dodger’s. There is rage building behind them. “Will you taKE US TO NUKA CITY?!?” The words have become a shout, and the body suddenly snaps rigid. A myriad of tiny hisses and angry groans rise up to meet the drifters as this abomination lunges forward baring its teeth and clawing wildly like a rabid animal.
Coven darts into the vault, calling after the others to do the same so they can close the door between them and the new threat. Holding it off so that the other members of their team have a chance to get into position, Sir POSH and Dodger launch a two-pronged attack against the Wandering Horde. Both equally nimble, their movements are liquid and they almost escape without a scratch, but just as she shoots it at point blank range in the leg, the beast catches Dodger with one of its spiky growths. Fear inducing chemicals send her into a battle over her will but she manages to keep herself together and focus through the distractions.
Burning up power reserves, Sir POSH takes this opportunity to push the limitations of his holo-torch and sends a burst of energy into the abomination that is so hot it is invisible. Searing through one of its arms, it reels back in pain, causing the appendage to break free and land on the floor before them. To their disgust, the limb continues to writhe as the flesh burns, half a dozen more Plaga Viviente squirming out to begin attacking the group along with their main host.
Rushing in to be of assistance, the old ex-raider Cooke has his sharpened cleaver in hand and is ready to show his skill with it. As the blade falls however it lacks the momentum to make it through the thick calcified tissues that have grown to protect the creature. Still ending up more than halfway through the bone, he must struggle to get his weapon free as tentacles extend to crudely pull the flesh back together. Over Cooke's shoulder, Pierce takes in a breath and discharges a beam from his laser pistol, decapitating the monster in a single shot. Their celebration is cut short however when more dark shapes run out of the solid bits to hit the floor, leaving chaotic trails of ichor in their wake as they charge their attacker.
Directed by POSH's polite robotic voice over the chaos unfolding around them, everyone but Cooke ends up in either the Vault or the wide hallway leading to the room that contains the Wandering Horde. Unfortunately this makes him the target of its brutal attack with several barb-like growths penetrating his chest and lacerating one of his arteries. Pulling his cleaver free, the old man limps into the Vault in the hopes of gaining some life-saving medical treatment, however he does not come alone. Some of the smaller abominations make it into the room with him, but he quickly dispatches them with the last of his energy, collapsing to the floor in a mix of pain and exhaustion.
With the room finally clear and the vault door being pulled closed by Coven, Ripstick takes this opportunity to bathe the host body with divine cleansing. Another molotov crashes into the beast, however as luck would have it, it fails to have the same effect as before. Kicking over Cooper's waste bucket as it writhes in agony, the Wandering Horde douses the flames before they can spread in the grossest way possible. With a new pungent stench joining the others, the creature turns its attention on those taking cover in the hallway.
Slamming his shoulder into the metal gate to barricade the rest of the drifters, Pierce turns to expertly shoot one of La Plaga Viviente before it can attach itself onto Sullivan. The Vault dweller in turn unloads half of his magazine to obliterate another and gives a reassuring not to his companions, pompadour bouncing chaotically in the effort. The Wandering Horde tries to take advantage of this split-second opportunity and sends its tentacle-like appendages through the bars to try and ensnare Pierce, but he is too quick for the beast. He manages to pull away, but not before it vomits forth a stream of acidic bile from its gut in a truly horrific display. It seems to splash across the walls and ceiling harmlessly, but that is when the mind altering miasma is released into the air. While most of the group seems unaffected, Cooper take on a powerful tremor that causes his entire body to quake with involuntary movement.
Ripstick is there however with his pipe gun. If he can shoot Coven in the head, he can shoot one of these nasty little monsters in the face as well. Centering his shot on the chest, the ex-slaver manages to sever the spine and crumple the beast into a limp heap before the door. Seeing a myriad of movement as the remaining Plaga Viviente begin to escape the dying host body, Sullivan screams in defiance and thrusts a baseball grenade into the room with the remaining creatures. A deafening explosion reverberates throughout the building, obliterating what is left of the horde in a blast that amplifies itself off of the enclosed area.
With Sir POSH patching up Cooke with his triage protocols, Dodger can finally peek her head inside this passage into the earth and see if the day's labor was a total wash. She finds the mummified remains of the bank robber caught in a cave-in that must have happened the day of the robbery. Pinned by the legs, it appears what cash wasn't buried by rubble he burned for warmth in his final days. About to give up, she notices that one specific duffle bag that was left untouched further away from the accident, and reaches inside to her instant relief and joy. Filled with pre-war bills as well as some high-end gear, this legendary haul should manage to satisfy all parties that joined in on this horrible experience.
It also seems that some kind of master mind had arranged the entire caper before the bombs fell and that the man in the tunnel was simply a patsy. A holotape that was meant to be destroyed is recovered with evidence of a secondary location, one that might just have a few more expensive trinkets or answers to this mystery two centuries in the making. Perhaps a tale for another time, the group can unanimously agree that the rest of today would be well spent getting some medical treatment.
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Bank Heist Holotape
This holotape contains detailed information about a pre-war bank heist that managed to take place the night before the bombs fell. Based on the context it appears the skeleton under the cave-in was just a grunt being manipulated by someone behind the scenes. Vague references to blackmail and a few directions like, ‘make sure you destroy this holotope idiot’, seem to point to less of a collusion and more of one mastermind and a puppet. Stored inside is a step-by-step process on how to make a shaped charge and a highlighted message that seems important.
Don’t use this gun unless you absolutely have to and don’t lose it. It is expensive. Now most important, and you better not fuck this part up, REMOVE THE POLICE JAMMER. When their system activates the alarm out, it is going to redirect back to HQ. That little box is going to have a bunch of numbers that will lead the cops straight to me, and that means our deal is off and those photos go right to your wife and geriatric parents in Miami. Don’t fuck this part up, I’m dead serious. Pictures aren’t the worst things I can send your family.
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Player Reports
Vesk Varik's perspective
Scrawled in jagged letters in a worn notebook is what looks like a journal entry. Probably penned by one of Vesk’s claws dipped in ink.
“The blight, the bank, and the caravan”
March 1st, 2277
“Today my hand was forced to reveal myself to the caravan leader I’ve been talking to. The people got too suspicious and kept trying to see into my truck, it’s either get caught and killed or reveal myself and hope the caravan is really willing to let anyone who earns their keep in. Sullivan told me he’d be at a bank today… I can’t remember why he said he would be there but I should go there since he can vouch for me.”
“I made it to the bank and found the caravaners like Sullivan said. It seems the goal was to save some intelligent human that was locked inside and collect whatever we could find. I managed to scrap a few of the automated turrets they had some pretty valuable components inside of them. There were also a lot of new humans, the smart one doesn’t seem afraid of me, but was also ungrateful when I helped him… I don’t know how I feel about him yet. There was also the fire obsessed man… he burned down the rest of the bank luckily everyone escaped before anybody got trapped. Then there was the floating robot that actually seemed to be having thoughts… it was strange but polite. I also noticed a tree lady, she was made of bark like a tree, but moving around. I wonder if she’s more tree or human. The others I didn’t notice much, as I remember there was a sneaky one and a shooty one. Thankfully none of them seemed to want to shoot me and our endeavor at the bank was successful. Hopefully I can become friends with some of them, right now I feel like I’m on the outside looking in though.”
Jack Pierce's after action report:
To be honest, I don’t know why I’m writing this down. I think it’s a practice drilled into me, less about keeping a record of what happened for the sake of, and more of a record to inform others of what I have done. Pride was the fall, but it is also the best way to rise. That’s what I told my juniors anyway. Speaking of juniors, I write this to make a record of a development; I might live for a few more months, or, at the very least, I will not die of hunger or thirst. I fell in with a group of…well I’m not sure what the hell we are. My original remark on the matter of our eclectic convergence was made when we only had a vault dweller, a super mutant, and a ghoul. Now our number has swollen to 12 strong, including those 3, plus an eye-bot who makes great use of his sentience to speak in long rambling sentences. He gets his point across mind you/me, but if he were capable of breath, I would say he wastes his. This bot’s unusual nature pales in comparison to the death claw that joined us just before our first op. I am not the senior member here, but I think I will write the after-action report as if I were.
We were tasked with breaching into a vault; the guardians and contents of this were unknown to us. My attempts to divine what we were looking for were answered with whatever we could find. A pair of mark 5 turrets guarded the entrance, that’s where we met the eyebot. We shorted/distracted them to make our way inside. It is at this point that we had a failure of command, in that instead of securing the location we split our company and sent a few to pick the lock on the vault while the rest dealt with the inhabitants. During our assault/defense, I found myself pulled between 2 clusters of people, the ones picking the vault, and the ones dealing with a pestilence I have not seen nor heard of since before my arrival in this dust bowl. Fire proved effective both at killing the creatures and preventing us from extracting as many goods as possible from the local. The vault was opened however, but that success too was cut short when a semi-feral ghoul attacked. Every bit of damage done to it simply caused it to shed more carriers of the plague. Several of us are infected with it.
On the disease: it is a flesh-eating parasite the locals call La Plaga Viviente. A name I don’t particularly like, it implies that plagues are normally not living. I feel it slowly gnawing on the inside of my cheek. If I do not expel it soon, the scar it will leave will be the least of my worries. I suspect that there is also a psychoactive component to this pestilence, a few of my company express a similar concern, and I myself felt something attempt to slip when I was grabbed by it.
In summary, I failed my people. I told them that I could help them, keep them healthy and whole, and instead of doing that, I helped create a situation that prevented me from helping. Thankfully others were well trained in my profession, but I am not just a hired gun.
Our rewards for this were multitudes, several of my company obtained weapons, ammunition, and food. I, in my haste, was subjected to a cruel fate of remembrance. A set of blue berry BOS fatigues and a fusion core. In another life, both would be a boon, I would see a man properly remembered for his sacrifice, and another few hours of power armor use. Now I lie, say that I have no use for these things and give them away. Tomorrow, I hope to receive some sort of stipend for my assistance, right now I cannot afford to purge that which infects my face, afterwards, if I am able, I mean to improve my gear. I pray this evening, both in thanks for my continued life, and to ask for me to be healed, so that I may heal others.
Diary Entry - Sir POSH
Date: March 1st, 2277
Dear Diary,
Today unfolded like a Shakespearean tragedy intertwined with threads of hope and camaraderie. The journey began with a caravan led by the dauntless Jack, winding its way through the remnants of Nuka City's bank. How I found myself amidst this band of survivors, I cannot entirely recall, for my memories still linger in the shadowy depths of forgotten circuits.
My faint consciousness echoed with the voices of Sullivan's group, their steps cautious, their minds filled with wary deliberations. Discussions danced on survival strategies, whispers of potential ambushes, and the ever-present threat of the unknown.
Amidst the ruins, through waves in the air, the erudite Doctor Andron spun tales of raiders in a desolate distillery, casting a pall of unease over the air. Sullivan's inadvertent broadcast left his radio channel open, a momentary breach in the fortress of silence.
Arriving at the bank's entrance, a mysterious voice, identified as The doctor himself, beckoned from within. Dodger, a beacon of resourcefulness, breathed life into me with deft hands and a dose of Calmex. I emerged, adorned in poetic eloquence, offering aid in the midst of their uncertainty.
Debates ensued about the purpose of the bank's turrets, the abhorrent possibility of selling sentient beings (me), and the labyrinth of possibilities hidden within the bank's walls. Negotiations with Doctor Andron behind barred doors took place too.
Within the bank's chambers, the drama unfolded—a macabre theatre of cloned corpses and barricaded souls. Thomas's familiar face, etched in sorrowful repetition, stirred memories both bitter and sweet. Mr. Rat's absence lingered as a haunting question mark in the caverns of my thoughts. Dodger, a symphony of composure, orchestrated salvaging efforts amidst the spectral gloom. Turrets hummed to life at my behest, a temporary alliance forged in the crucible of necessity. Fire and Support Teams forged ahead, battling mutated monstrosities and unlocking the secrets buried within the bank's core.
In the crucible of chaos, Ripstik's fiery zeal, Dodger's agile grace, and my medical prowess wove a tapestry of resilience. Together, we faced the abyss and emerged stronger, bound by the unbreakable bonds of survival.
Finally, I was able to share but a fragment of my vision and phillosophy with the group, which were met with varying degrees of interest, and had a nice chatter with the doctor, a man of remrkable dualities.
Most of the folks parted towards Nuka City, wanting to exchange the elder paper for other commodities. I remained at camp for that treasure does not belong to me; I'd rather write these words and contemplate the future. As it stands now, I have to rebuild my north and search for answers, for I do not know what is memory, dream, or corrupted visage.
For now, I will find, or build, some sort of radio amplifying device, for I must localize my flying steed of old. This I must do if I desire any real chance of encountering the dreadnought again, as it is the next step to my Terra Nexus ambition.
Yours Elegantly,
Sir POSH
Coven's Terminal Entry
Cooke's Journal
March 1st, 2277
Nuka Town
Been a while, 14 years in fact. I haven’t felt like I had a reason to keep writing in this thing. But today felt like a good reason to keep it going. Some shithead stole my plants that i’ve been keeping for retirement. Well without them i guess i ain’t fucking retiring anytime soon. If I find the asshole who stole them, I swear im gonna fucking trap net him till the skinwigs cover his whole god damn body.
Well since I didn't have any crew to help me out, I joined up with a caravan run by Vault dweller. Honestly i cant tell if hes fucking with me or is a total dipshit. He took a bunch of others looking to join to a bank. Some poor sap got himself stuck in there behind some laser turrets. There was something else too. Monsters, freaks, whatever they were. I don’t ever wanna see it again.
Dodger's Report
GM: Zyxthylum
Campaign: Highwayman
Players
Beanlord as Cooke
Doctor Andron as Cooper Anzac
GameMumBenwen as Coven
Felivans as Sir POSH
TheGreenMachinery as Jack Pierce
11Atombomb as Ripstick
Azryel as Dodger
G33 as Vesk Varik
NPCs/Critters
Report Date
24 Jan 2024
Homebrew References
Credits
The World Credits link has a list of inspiration sources and Tabletop Simulator assets available on the Steam Workshop for free that I used to design some of the maps we will use. We will also be using a bunch of stuff Xecthar has available for a couple bucks a map if you watch to check out his itch.io!
Credit to Fallout Vancouver for inspiring the idea, check them out if you want to join an established community with a lot already going on!
by Xecthar
by Xecthar
by Xecthar
by Felivans
by Felivans
by Felivans
by Felivans
by Deano-landon
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