Boston Mayoral shitter!

When the bombs fell a lot of people lost their shit, and pretty much everyone lost their jobs except this shitter who was made interim Mayor of Boston while his predecessor gave up in a bathtub nearby. Remarkable. You can actually see the transfer of power in this historic photo, wherein the erstwhile mayor has pinned the official title on the shitter via the holotape left on the closed lid. In essence, the contents of the mayor’s final message to the Commonwealth was (spoiler alert) “Stay fresh, cheese bags!” This bitch was out of here. Good luck, everybody else, including his wife and children. Harsh, but just what you should expect from figureheads we hire to smile stiffly (and apologize weakly when they fail to avert tragedies). But this shitter is different. He followed through. Taxes DID get lower, the very minute he took office. However, hazardous emissions irrevocably increased - and that’s gonna sting at the debate!

Mass Pike Interchange shitter!

Anyone would be delighted to stumble across this survival bunker with everything you could need - a place to sleep, stow your gear, take a shit in near-privacy, and read comics. This is a hard-won sanctuary, as this shitter is being held hostage by notorious Winlock and Barnes, gunner commanders in power armor. I mean they don’t have to be in power armor. If you sneak enough, they will just be chilling in their regular human armor (potato-toned flesh!) which is much easier to puncture. I recommend that approach, since there will also be an Assaultron and other miscellaneous goons present at this overpass bullet rave.

Back to the shitter, who is being held hostage. After busting through the security and freeing her, you are rewarded with the shitter’s priceless heirloom: The last surviving copy of Grognak the Barbarian: Fatherless Cur!, which bestows an unarmed/melee +5% critical perk. Don’t be intimidated by the whole messy, complicated love triangle between MacCready, Winlock, and Barnes. Being a fatherless cur isn’t actually all that terrible, and both of those idiots have (tattooed on their damn foreheads) the most common blood types in the universe, so they’re really not all that special. Just average, angry meat.

SAY NO TO FREE REFILLS

Arasaka Penthouse shitter!

In Night City, the income dichotomy is vast. It is possibly best evidenced via this shitter, owned by the asscheeks of crime lord Yorinobu Arasaka, a Fred Armisen-looking Le Chiffre wannabe, decked out in polyester satin polo shirts from Land’s End and the kind of glasses Morpheus would wear if he needed readers. In this scene, I was tasked with stealing a biochip from that greasy millenial kingpin and, as you can see from the closed-captioned coms, my co-henchman was urging me to make haste. But NOT before I snapped a shot of the ultra-riche crapper, because when will I (a riff-raff street rat) ever be back here, in this LIFE?? And the world needs to see it.

Arasaka’s sleek-ass-sleek penthouse shitter has an open floor concept and club lighting. It might fetch a $410,000 Zestimate all by itself. It’s maybe the cleanest thing in all of Night City, and in the dark it has got to be a nightmare for your shins. And there’s a second shitter, with an actual red carpet, stylishly uncomfortable seating, and a jacuzzi tub. If you reverse image search Arasaka’s shitters you’ll see similar items are of opulence, grandeur, luxuriance, and sumptuous splendor, while antonyms include poor, poor, poor, poor, poor. Basically, if you want to pinch a loaf in this town, your choices are either grime-rusted 430-grade steel or tungsten carbide with oyster pearl veneer. There are no middle class shitters in Night City!

Cabot House shitter!

The Cabot family was one of the OG pirates who, back in the 1700s, took a liking to the shores of the new world and decided they weren’t ever going to leave. And in 2287, they’re still fucking here, but instead of leeching off the native land they’re leeching off their own grandpa, Lorenzo Cabot, who I guess can make a green immortality juice from his own blood?? Absolutely savage elder abuse. But their house is full of super nice stuff; a billiards room kitted out with bourbon and clean couches, a crazy lab with tons of working diagnostic displays, and archeological relics, such as a Hittite block. But mostly, it’s practically the only place other than a Vault that isn’t covered in radioactive crud. All this can be yours once you help Lorenzo retake his position as patriarch and eliminate the others. Damn, yet another family of veritable vampires. And the nicest thing they have is this shitter, which boasts fluffy white towels, a full roll of TP, shiny hardware, and a toilet with a push-button flush mechanism. It’s pretty nice, but if it was my place, I’d probably put up wallpaper. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could bring myself to touch that nasty old newspaper, even if reading while on the toilet helps things move along faster.

Reeb Marina shitter!

Ah, the shitty of brotherly love! This one is located at the Commonwealth’s Reeb Marina, where twin brothers Eugene and Malcolm died through a lethal dose of spite. Yeah, some say blood is thicker than irradiated water but whoever said that didn’t have a family that would kill each other out of merely being annoyed and irritated. In Eugene’s case, Malcolm was so fed up by him that he boobytrapped a birthday cake to trigger a trio of Mr. Handy to attack anything in the room.

We find some of the evidence of their strife in this shitter, where a scrawled toilet-themed note can be found. Hover the image to see Malcolm’s response. I wonder what finally did it for Malcolm? What sort of mistreatment could have been simmering over the decades to inspire him to finally snap? We already know Eugene hated the way Malcolm drank coffee, and would scream shrilly when Malcolm didn’t do just as he commanded. But perhaps Eugene also enjoyed pointing out that Malcolm was never Mother’s favorite. Perhaps Malcolm was always forced to wear Eugene’s old crappy, ripped hand-me-downs, just because his parents were “over it” by the time it was Malcolm’s turn to discover what it meant to be “cool.” Or perhaps Eugene just picked Malcolm apart at every turn, from his hobbyist interest in writing adventure stories, right down to his rather ordinary affection for kittycats.

Who can say. But in case you were wondering, the reason I’m so sure Eugene wasn’t some kind of misunderstood saint is because the nearby computer stores a diary entry proving he actually also tasked the Mr. Handies, but to kill Malcolm, five full days prior.

Water Main shitter!

Ever think about where your skeleton will be found in the nuclear apocalypse? Yes, it’s true that ofttimes they are oriented in goofy positions, acting out a play of sorts, especially in a rest room, but in the case of this shitter, situated right beside the water main valve in Novosibirsk, I think this death was incidental. Metro: Exodus takes place in 2035, but damn if that toilet wasn’t a popular item circa 1874 and the industrial handwheel valve might have been installed in the 1940s. So who can say when and why this skeleton ended up here? Maybe it had nothing to do with nuclear bombs at all.

Angel’s Throne shitter!

Boy does it feel good to wake up from getting your ass conned, drugged, and dragged back to that place where you did your first mission to fight for your life from a pack of TB-infested junkies and see the archangel of hotness smiling down at you from a futuristic shitter throne. My sole objective here was to escape these skavs, but before leaving through the front door, I set one of their own on them with a little cyberpsychosis and gave whoever was left standing the short circuit special. I know I’m to blame for this predicament. How I ended up here is a pretty garbage-picker in a denim vest named Stefan gave me some malware. Well, if you go around licking doorknobs, you’re gonna catch the flu. Simple as that. But it was a quest, and if I wanted to see this shitter I had to lick some damn doorknobs!

Coastal Bonescape shitters!

Another submission from bucket brigadier ILikeSocks! This scene comes to use from Borderlands 4. What would ordinarily sound like both the vacation destination of a lifetime and the afterlife, the Coastal Bonescape is really just a place where shitters sprawl like obese land iguanas, guzzling booze and family-size buckets of peanut butter pretzels. And good for them. None could be more deserving.

Nature’s Fiat shitter!

Submitted by bucket brigadier ILikeSocks with the words “take this”, this Borderlands 4 shitter is sourced from a place called the Fades District, where mankind’s interference fades but nature’s power only grows, by orders of magnitude! Nearly completely reclaimed by the wild, this shitter might, if it could speak, warble the intonations of the Northern Dusk cicada. This powerful imagery is further punctuated by the presence of a sniper rifle festooned in a vintage 1996 track suit. People are always trying to rewrite history to sell off whatever warehouse stock of these neoprene abominations remain, but don’t be fooled. These were never cool. They were all only ever worn as coveralls by PE teachers, all of whom were failing to out-vogue Jayne Trcka.