This is at an unmarked location east of Evergreen Mills. But, we’ll call it the First Iconoclast Church of the Badlands shitter. Pretty nice actual throne, a sink, and a partition in tact enough for you to pretend you have some privacy. Of course, raiders seem to just regularly crash here, as evidenced by this team of jackoffs, who rolled up just as I was taking this picture. Check out the human corpse strung up over a burn barrel. We get it guys, you’re hardcore. Don’t mess with the Church Mice!
I guess there are certain levels of existance that people are willing to sink to when the shit hits the fan. Here’s the lifeless bunker of Calvert Labs, completely devoid of interior design. You got your cot, your shit bucket, and your harsh subway lighting. There’s a first aid kit outside in case your wittle soul aches for some art, or human contact! Boo hoo, you big baby.
Desmond Lockheart has a Panic Room under Calvert Mansion, and its full of goodies. There’s a bucket here. I don’t think it’s for shitting. It’s too close to the food items. But who knows? I’ve been wrong before.
Lastly, also in Calvert Labs, we have Bethesda serving up some Western Healthcare realness with a very distinct prop placement.
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.
Gray walls, impenetrable steel.
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.
Rivet Shitty. I have my doubts about this one. Though it may be possible that all these fixtures are actually hooked up to working plumbing, they never bothered to get around to tossing up some privacy curtains and the place is filthy. This is the one place they really should be cleaning. And I know for a fact that Abraxo exists in this town. Moreover, given there’s a makeshift bar littered with hooch, I’m wondering if this is where survivors of the Apocalypse go to cry. This room reminds me a lot of Skyrim’s Redwater Den. I’m surprised there aren’t pinch pots of moon sugar on that table.
This a store you can enter in Tacoma Park. It has a secluded ambiance, which is something you don’t really get in a lot of post-Apocalyptic shitters, but there’s no toilet seat. That’s okay, I’m sure there isn’t one for miles. Why they felt the need to put SALE signs over the tub, I will never know, because the staff of Nifty Thrifty have been dead for hundreds of years. Make sure you shoplift the Tacoma Park Little Leaguer baseball cap from the coat rack on the way out.
Arefu consists of four houses on a crumbling overpass that extends across the Potomac River. The only way to access this settlement is by approaching from the South, but it still comes under attack from Super Mutants and “The Family.” One thing Arefu definitely has going for it is a couple of really nice shitters. Might I suggest tipping the contents of the shitbins over the edge of the overpass? Make a nice, ripe perimeter that’s sure to keep foes away, and you could even change the settlement’s name to AREyouFUckingkiddingme Withthisgodawfulstenchrightnow.
This slaving compound is a hovel of horrors and I was justified in blasting a void in the skull of every raider there. On the way out to sweet freedom, I snapped shots of slaver hygiene standards (for evidence in the inevitable war crimes tribunal).
The top photo shows where they make the kids shit!! That’s not ok! Next, you can see Paradise Falls is heading for a hefty UN Sanction, if the UN ever gets its act together from out of the 200 years of nuclear rubble, in the bottom photo. These slavers continue to torture a deceased prisoner’s remains with a colorful party hat, while both his shitter AND his noodle bowl are j-j-just out of reach. I burned this entire place to the ground using only pure outrage.
There are no functioning shitters aboard Mothership Zeta (only that Toilet Museum in photo 2). However, when you complete all the quests and touch back down planetside you’ll be right next to this nice washroom (with scenic overlook). Good job, hero. Hope your victory shit is glorious.
PS Mothership Zeta is run by a shadowgovernment (gnomes!). Their reign of terror over Earth was not enough. They want to be in Space.
Something tells me that outhouse has been witness to numerous grisly Jurassic Park-like horrors and is probably praying a stiff gust blows a flaming tumbleweed into its open bowl.
Here’s a perfectly clean steel bucket waiting at the foot of this cot, and there’s even a footlocker and an ammo case you can use. Also some good lighting, since none of us can sleep with the lights off anymore. This looks like a great place to camp out for the night!
Oh yeah, and as you climb the stairs to tuck yourself in, take a gander over the hole in the floor across the hallway! Teddy… Noooooooooo!! And yes, there is a Heavily Damaged Gnome standing in the doorway where you first entered the building. Sleep tight, sweetie.
In a Drainage Chamber near the Radio Relay Tower KXB811, check out the dick cartoon that is revealed after you scout the entire area.
Note the waiting bench, in the event the very exposed, doorless outhouse is already in use. As I maneuvered into position to get this picture, Bob (Son of Dave), seen here peeping through a hole in the side of the Women’s Quarters, hollered at me, “Is that really necessary?” Isn’t it, Bob?
This restroom is located in the Officer’s bunker. Not very remarkable, in spite of the CUTE Psycho-Teddy Bear combo. The real reason I bothered documenting this location is because of the luxuriously lavish Jacuzzi tub found above-ground. Just look at that. After a long day of wasteland wandering, I can’t wait to dip my toes into the cool, stagnant water of a filthy cast iron trough, with empty liquor vessels floating beside me like calming bath candles. Take me away.
I found these Raiders engaged in the hazing of a new gang member via the baseball bat beatdown method. I watched them for a moment, and then decided to crank up the Friendliness to 11 by putting a live grenade in the one dude’s pocket. That’s all it took, and all five of them died at once.
What’s with the red velvet rope? VIP section?
In this deluxe underground bunker shitter, a Garden Gnome sentinel squats, all set with toys, snacks, drugs and David the Gnome on Netflix. Next to him is a toilet with a bottle of water in it, because all gnomes are sociopaths.
Elsewhere in the bunker, you’ll find a sleeping bungalow, a kitchenette, a drinkin’ fire and a drinkin’ sniper perch on top of some duct work (both are outfitted with liquor). A nice place to hide out and hunker down, if you can abide the gnome.
The inhabitants of the kids-only bunker of Little Lamplight are tough as nails, but do not underestimate their instinct for bathroom aesthetics. Just look at that ambiance! Nobody wants to get kicked out of Little Lamplight when they reach age 16, and no wonder. Do they even have a shitter in Big Town?
…Yes and no. Behold the shitters of Big Town. As you can see, they pretty much suck. Hope you don’t mind sharing the Common House bathroom with ten teenagers! Or, maybe you’re the type who can ignore the blood in the Clinic’s tub long enough to do your face for the day, pretend the mirror ain’t broken, and grin at the wall like an idiot.
Maybe something just happens to a person’s logic and reasoning when they leave the bunker, and take on low-level radiation from just being outside. Because if you take a look at the last picture in this photoset, you’ll see the residents of Big Town (visible in the distance) elected to leave this perfectly viable port-o-potty near the skeleton of an abandoned farmhouse.
Wow, were Quentin Tarantino and Guillermo del Toro both here having gay horror sex? These photos, which will surely be admitted into evidence, feature Room 1K as last visited by the Pintsized Slasher (see terrifying mask, photo 2). The third photo is the shitter in the motel office, as taken from within the women’s room, from which vantage point one has full view of the urinal. That’s the quality contracting and craftsmanship you can count on from the inbred mutant swamp that is Point Lookout!
Kenny has sweet digs in the abandoned Herzog Mine and his guest bunk has its own shitter! Tons of toys and games will keep you from thinking about that skeleton of Old Man Herzog hanging from a noose in the hallway below. Yes, Kenny is absolutely playing checkers with a Garden Gnome. Kenny IS the Pint-Sized Slasher and I’m pretty sure that Gnome is living vicariously through Kenny.
At the bottom of the adjoining zone called Blackdamp Shaft, you can find the unique plushie named Kenny-bear. Do NOT return him to Kenny unless you FIRST remove the psycho Gnome! How do you think Kenny-bear got down there to begin with? Just take Kenny-bear with you, and leave the Pint-Sized Slasher and the Gnome to their games. Kenny-bear should see the wide frontier of the Capitol Wasteland from the zipper-hole of your backpack, not be left the doom of dissolving in a puddle of nuclear goo dripping from a cracked pipe in the ceiling.
Now here’s a real chin-scratcher. There are plenty of objects here that look the part, but which is the legitimate shitter? I’m pretty sure one is a planter. The structural outhouse has a great deal of overgrowth and other indications of disuse (such as the ‘innocent’ gnome laying nearby who we all know is a vicious killer).
No, I am putting my money on the only shitter here Marguerite is gonna be sharing private moments with as being the lovely powder room the third photo. I’m sure that sink whiskey is mostly for mouthwash. So, is this where Marguerite nurses herself back to life every morning she has a hangover?
What say you, Marguerite?
She doesn’t seem to really be up for talking just now. Anyway, ‘round back as you’re heading out, there’s a bathtub full of empty whiskey bottles. I’m sure this moonshiner would say they’re being saved for ‘art projects.’
LOOK AT THIS. This is the collateral damage of war. In the darkness of the tunnel system under Old Olney you’ll find a grimy antechamber where a down-and-out Teddy sips his medicine and smokes his last cigarette. Teddy, no. Who hurt u? Come home with me. I will love you like you deserve, I will wash you in Aqua Pura. I will spritz you down with Abraxo and sew a new button for your eye. No more tears, Snuggle.
Soft-spoken GILF and violin virtuoso Agatha has lived alone in this cabin since her husband passed. What a lovely WC she has. Agatha is a lady, and this is where a lady shits.
PS She has submerged a plush bear in her toilet and that’s kind of dark tbh.
You might think, on first glance, that being in the Enclave is a pretty sweet hookup. I mean, check out those bathrooms. Nice industrial design theme going on here. But then, you look closer and get the fright of your life from some Damaged Garden Gnomes.
The first stall door opens to reveal a Gnome wielding a deathclaw hand and pressing a damn flashlight to his face. Next, some dude left a nasty log in one bowl, and another guy prefers to use a bathroom for an office.
Last two pics you see a Teddy who is going to lose his fucking life if he doesn’t play the right moves. Rollover that to see Snidely Gnomelash that got blasted in the face by me before I ran away with his captives. Look at those picket signs! Those are from the Chryslus building!
Tiptoe into this busted throneroom to take a piss while the Supermutants are preoccupied, and you’ll see a true mindfuck. That caution cone on the left of the room really needs to be in front of these two tricksters hiding in the stalls, holding signs that beg you to take them home. Do not pick up and cuddle a Shitter Gnome from Murdertown! Tell me this, Gnomes, if you’re so helpless on your own, how did you make those signs? I checked, but there really are no land mines or rigged shotguns or anything here. Since all Garden Gnomes carry a switchblade, don’t tell them where you live!!
The Fallout 3 Presidential Metro Train is actually a hat worn by an NPC hidden under the tracks who runs around at high speeds during the travel cut scene.
Allistair Tenpenny is a milk drinker with the voice of Herbert the Pervert, and skid marks on the bottom of his bathtub.
Also featured here is the Tenpenny Tower Men’s Room! This could well be the nicest public restroom in all of Washington DC in the year 2277. Electricity, working stall doors, urinals for tall and small, hand dryers, and that flooring. This is the way of life that we fight to protect daily on post-Government, post-Civilization, post-Hope Planet Earth. A posh locale where we may rest our haunches, and take a luxurious dump before succumbing to Radiation Sickness.
This is where Three Dog shits, Awrooo!! Let’s take inventory, shall we? First Aid Kit in case he gets a splinter stroking his ego. Radio so he can hear himself while he poops. And no mirror. He doesn’t have to see his beautiful face to know it’s there.
This is a miniscule gnome, within a safe deposit box, performing maintenance on a little-ass shitter with an itty bitty-ass plunger. “Have yourself a seat,” he gestures in his squeaky voice, at the mostly broken bowl. You politely wave your hand to indicate No, and he pulls out a switchblade. “I said. Have a seat.”
Freakish Abe Lincoln Love Shrine found in a house in Arlington Cemetery.
This chess game is played with tiny garden gnomes and sample bottles of hooch. What do you do when you get a second queen?
With a special guest speaker. This man, who would identify himself only as “Tribal,” offers sage wisdom from deep within. He speaks from experience, people.
Eat shit. (Personally I think this is a side-eye at GMO cereal!)
This fishing shanty from straight out of your nightmares has the works. Rusted slap-shod hut, boats sunken into radioactive muck, and a shitter that makes you hear phantom pipe organ music over the pounding of your heartbeat. As you’re backing away, careful not to trip over the pile of six dead bodies; some fresh, some merely bones.