Fallout 4: The Man, The Myth, THE MOHAWK!

Because sometimes, you have to wait for the good stuff.  Well, and die like a zillion times, but I’ve finally figured out part of why I’ve been dying so much is ’cause  I had it set to “normal” mode.  Ha Ha!  Silly accountant!  “Normal” mode is for people who aren’t me!

Not that this stopped me from dying, it’s just now I can occasionally survive long enough to find a new location, thus inching my way across the map, dragging trails of blood behind me.

All of which means I finally made it to Diamond City, which is, um, one of the very first locations you’re supposed to go to.  In my defense, Fallout does its level best to divert you, like occasionally by having the earth erupt beneath you in the form of gigantic radscorpions.

“Don’t go this way yet.”

Lesser Common Radscorpion
Beefus Gateus
Health: 5 gizillion hit points
Base move: 3.0×108 meters/second
Base attack: Automatic critical hit
Base damage: 1 million zillion hit points.  And it poisons you.  Also, you start to question your politics and your kids are born funny.

Of course, that was happening before the War, too.

but I didn’t let mutated babies stop me – I gamely1 reloaded at every super-mutant infested location, until at long long last I arrived at Diamond City, the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth, and there … there …the first thing you see (once you get past the mandatory cutscene with plucky report Piper)

Less “plucky reporter,” more “homeless ‘tater thief.”

… is a barber.

The REAL Savior of the Wasteland

It’s like they knew; they knew what we wanted, but they made us work for it.  We had to fight our way through the Wasteland, sweat mingling with hair grease in our funked-up pompadours, with only one burning flame of desire to keep us going, one desperate dream to guide us:

a decent haircut.

“Hey, you look like you could use a haircut.”


“Really, is it that obvious?”
Not combing gives me more time for my meth habit.
Professor Badass to you.
Can we make this quick?  I want to catch “Mad Men” on my Pip Boy.
Waster … wasted … same … what we were talking about?
Seriously?  I was a math teacher!

And … can it be … ?!?



It’s no Mr. T, but it’ll do.

But in the end, something just didn’t feel right … I’d seen too much … suffered too much … it was time for my hair to reflect my inner turmoil.  Red might have worked in New Vegas, but I needed to be serious if I was going to find my mutant larva son:


And it only cost me 15 caps – which, considering there is nothing to buy in this forsaken hellhole, was cheap at twice the price:

Lookin’ good!
  1. Pun intended

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