Not Me, Not Today shitter!

Yes, Disasterpiece is both the name of this quest and theme of this mess and we are all saying “Not Me.” Wilson!!!!!!!!! This shitter deserves the Last Friend in the World trophy for the work it is doing holding the entire room together. It’s situated as the lawgiver, counselor, and priest for the eight damned souls who would be sardined into this hokey. This shitter would score ESTJ on the Myers-Briggs. Incredible that there is also a sink, which brings the sanitation level of this prison shitter to ‘ultra-rare.’

V’s Apartment shitter!

Check out this Cyberpunk shitter submission from the newest member of our Bucket Brigade! This is a two-fer with spectacular observations by brigadier Eoino:

“CDPR’s developers have packed Night City and its surroundings with all kinds of allusions to films in the cyberpunk genre, one of which can be found inside V’s apartment. Step through the beaded curtain in the bathroom and you will see, to the right of the toilet, three seashells. These are a sly nod to “Demolition Man,” the 1993 sci-fi action film set in a future where violent crime is virtually nonexistent, every restaurant is a Taco Bell, and toilet paper has been replaced by a system whose design fails to offer any clues about how it’s meant to be used.

Contrasting the seashells’ user-hostility is the litter box for Nibbles, V’s hairless cat. With a design that hasn’t changed since its introduction in the 1940s, the litter box occupies the pinnacle of achievement in industrial design. A kitten presented with a litter box will, with no human prompting, immediately grasp its purpose and functionality. The juxtaposition of these two design philosophies — one human-centered yet enigmatic, the other feline-centered yet perspicacious — stands as a pointed critique of a consumer culture that privileges novelty over accessibility.”

Aldecaldos Camp shitter!

Even in the barren wastes of the Badlands, you can find beauty. This shitter is something special. It’s located in the Aldecaldos camp where squats Panam Palmer’s misfit family. This shitter is an example of how a little ingenuity and know-how can be the difference between living the high life and merely surviving. I’ll leave it to you to determine which one is happening here.

Notice the platform of plastic palettes that lift the shitters about 6 inches from the ground. This is an important step to constructing an outdoor shitter, because the scorpions, sand fleas, crickets, cockroaches, and other icky crawlers have a harder time getting near where you place your ass. Regardless, you’re gonna wanna lift and slam down that seat lid at least once before sitting, just in case. The spray left on the unit surfaces is a nice touch. The plastic curtain is okay, I guess, it at least gives the illusion of privacy and it’s better than anything opaque since you never know what kind of scum is lurking around taking pictures in the toilets. I’m going to guess the cartons are for holding various shitter sundries such as more pest control measures and toilet paper. The magazine on the ground is a No. That’s just more fuel for pests to use for nesting material, or to hide under. But let’s cut these folks some slack. At least they set this up, and that’s more than most would do in this situation. That’s saying a lot considering the average Aldecaldo education extends as far as “driving stick.”

Horrible Crime Against Humanity shitter!

IDEK what to call this bullshit. Let me set the stage for you here. Bradley Costigan was an “inside choom” at a Militech prison, but he decided he’s not into that choomery anymore and the Tyger Claws didn’t like hearing that. Unfortunately for his wife Lauren, that means she gets kidnapped and thrown into this absolute fucking travesty of a holding cell, and I have just one question - Where? Is? The Shitter? Taki Kazo, the United Nations wants to have a word with you because as the boss of this little band of criminally-violent street urchins, you are responsible for this shit!

Lauren is basically non-responsive when I find her in a filthy mess of cardboard and graffiti, but she perks right up when heroically rescued from this condemned concrete pit. Incredible how that works. I did this one as a stealth mission, but trust me when I say as soon as I completed it, I went back through here and taught each one of these Tyger Claw idiots a lesson in human decency.

Memorial Park Station shitter!

It’s another shitstorm of corruption, murder, and espionage in Night City. This time, some nobody on the Night City Council killed a journalist with computer magic. While sneaking around in the station that houses the CCTV footage you need, you find a man getting the shit beaten out of him in a bathroom. And the only real reason I’m here is to get snaps of the shitters, so when I shook him by the collar and demanded to know - “Are there any other shitters in the building?! Tell me!!” - he had the gall to say purely the most disgusting thing ever. Every shitter is unique and precious! Though this one has seen better days. What could compel someone to scrawl “No Future” on a substandard privacy barrier? I’m guessing it was the mystery meat kebabs.

Delamain HQ shitter!

Delamain is the AI taxi service with a whole mess of problems. The fastidious, tight-laced queen running the show in blue lipstick keeps losing its shit, and there’s a rambling treasure hunt you must complete if you ever want to see this shitter.

Throughout the game, the storyline keeps trying to convince you that computers are the wave of the future, but Delamain is run entirely by computers and machines, and its rather a troubled beast. If you’re anything like me, when you got a look at this you asked yourself, “Why?” Who even is using this shitter, as there are no humanoid employees with humanoid, shitter-using asses within this corporation? Peek around in the old email logs and you’ll find out there used to be a lot of human employees until they transferred all the power over to an AI, which soon took over the company and fired everyone.

Oddly enough, the AI controls helper-bots of all shapes and sizes and yet never bothered to clean this room. Creepy and barely usable, one stall is entirely inaccessible and the other is just a very big NO. Reminiscent of the shitters from Prey, a dank-ass area rug half soaked in what could be any kind of liquid lays crumpled beneath the bank of sinks. Nearby stands a trough of urinals. The green tint of it all makes you wonder which of the strewn trash items will turn out to be a mimic. And this is where I start to question the power of artificial intelligence. Even if robot asses have no use for this space, they could have scoured it of the former human filth and garbage and reallocated its purpose. Seems as though the human programmers never considered the necessity of cleanliness and sanitation as part of their day-to-day, and thus did not program a janitor function. That “hacker stink” has roots in habitual negligence.

Fun fact! The book on the back of the toilet is a smut mag called “Sex and Chrome.”

José Luis’ Shitter!

You have been tasked with some detective work to find out how a Valentino gangster named José Luis got away with homicide. After tiptoeing into a Heywood car depot, easily bypass the many chauffeurs and sentries to locate José Luis, who looks like he emits the combined odors of Drakkar Noir, rancid onions, and a pet shop that only sells lizards. Before you dump him and his shiny tattoos into the boot of an awaiting car, get a peak at his shitter!

This sight took my breath away and I found myself staring agape at the glaring brilliance of this shitter. This bathroom is fucking amazing. Trash and detritus all over the place. Particles of disintegrating insulation float through god rays that remind you that you ARE in the presence of something magnificent and sacred and tragically beautiful. There is a lone square, black candle by the toilet (off-camera) that I’m certain is Drakkar Noir-scented and is intended as a vigil to lost innocence. The “On A Roll” magazine strategically placed, yet barely any toilet paper, the bucket under the sink pipe, and that towel as if anyone is actually washing their hands here? José Luis! Your shitter is supposed to be your greatest ally in this life! How can he treat his bathroom in this way, with impunity? Did the shitter itself spraypaint that graffiti because I’m starting to think when Marissa sang “She’s Broken, He’s OK” she was talking about THIS shitter and JOSE LUIS! The things monsters do to the ones that care about them the most! José Luis deserves everything that’s coming to him!

Cyberpunk 2077 Shitter from Somewhere!

Brought to you by ヴァニーニャ from GameSpark, who says the following: “汚いトイレもありました!” I love the gritty atmosphere of this shitter. Very punk indeed, and mysterious! Where is this shitter? Is it in a slum? Or in a high-end, exclusive, jet-setting dance club? That tarp with the spray paint? Maybe it’s not a tarp at all. Maybe it’s an art piece, and it was expensive as shit.