G.U.T.S. Closet shitter!

The most eerie thing about Prey is continually finding shit like this which makes you pause and say to yourself, “Now this doesn’t look like a Space Station.” This shitter in the G.U.T.S. (Gravitational Utility Tunnel System) of Talos I is little more than a closet, with an obvious water leak, stuff laying around on open metal shelving and a pouch of biohazard fluid in the sink. What the fuck, scientists? Why isn’t everything nailed to the damn floor? What happens if a catastrophic event occurs - much like the one we find ourselves in while playing Prey - and we enter Zero G? You’re telling me that pouch is going to be flying around the room and bean me in the face like a paint ball pellet? Who is in charge here?

Oh, right. It’s Alex Yu. The guy who spends more time on the phone than in the lab. The guy whose kitchen is so crammed full of snacks that he has crates of it stacked ON his exercise equipment and whose body mass exceeds the limit allowed by NASA.

Anyway this is a sad little cubby that someone plunked a toilet into and called it good. It’s very convincing. Now, please wake me up from this nightmare and show me where the real Outer Space bathrooms are? Documenting your shitters is the only reason I am here.

As you explore Talos I you are led to believe that Alex Yu is the most privileged entity on the Station. But you were utterly deceived. Because clearly Abigail Foy, GM of the tabletop roleplaying game Fatal Fortress, had the sweetest hookup of all when she was permitted to transform her apartment into a gaming paradise. When she’s just not feeling like uncovering the mysteries of the universe using Science, she just flops on the floor with her friends with some snacks or plays pinball with the actual pinball machine in her entryway. The last picture is the message you get when you hack into her computer. Whether this results in a buff or a virus in your suit interface depends on how much of her Fatal Fortress game you completed.

Alpine River Cabins shitter!

Having a small business wasn’t enough for the guy who used to run this vacation destination. In a bid for a spot on Haunted Tours of West Virginia, the cabins were wired so the paintings would rotate and the floors would shake. There are a number of buildings at this location, along with some outdoor cook areas, but just one outhouse.

Here’s the Most Haunted Shitter in Appalachia. Note the secondary bucket inside the stall. There’s also a rocking chair outside. Maybe it creaks ominously when you approach, I don’t know. But there’s a water pump for washing your hands after, and the fact there’s a functioning door is enough for me; I’m sold.

Sunnytop Ski Lanes shitter!

This pure mood from Appalachia sums it all up pretty fast - “Slumped backwards over the shitter with some booze” is how we’re all feeling, sweetie. Don’t worry, there’s an unoccupied stump of a throne in the back so you can flop over, too. At least there’s plenty of toilet paper to go around.

Behold!!

Check out our new layout. You can preview some of the upcoming features on the far left. I’m very excited that we will soon be able to accept screenshot submissions! Take a minute to check out the link at the bottom, for our favorite charity, the World Toilet Organization. Also, look forward to an improved interface for mobile users that will be available in the near future.

Turtledove Detention Camp shitters!

How xenophobic do you have to be? This racist stockade has segregated bathrooms to protect the guards from whatever it is that makes a person Communist. Conditions here were so bad that part of the camp was used for a toxic waste dumping site.

A Birthday Poem

Gray walls, impenetrable steel.

Suffocation! Condemnation!

Little hands groping in subterranean uncertainty.

Mommy? Daddy? Am I dead?

Nay! Nay! Reborn into purifying fluorescence!

A face emerges, strong and male.

Father to me? Father to all!

Overseeing our lives, our eternities.

Harshness of discipline. Harshness of love.

Obedience my savior!

Larva to pupa, pupa to worker.

Buzz, buzz! One with the steel honeycomb.

10 lies within the 101, significant at last.

Till gray seeps from walls to hair, to soul.

Then, eternal slumber, the sweet sleep of incineration.