This is a multi-occupant, gender-neutral shitter in a fucking hotel and check out what happens when you’re using the urinal and someone walks the fuck in. I would say this is merely a byproduct of The Things We All Must Deal With Since the Bombs, but this was obviously an existing pre-war structure. Again, I simply must bellow mine question to the universe: CAN NOBODY BUILD A DOOR?
Vault 76’s overseer looks like your non-binary 8th grade gym teacher/health class instructor and lives in an absolute château on the Appalachian cliffsides. It’s a two-story palace with the works: stash box, workbenches (armor, weapons, and tinkering), a chem station, and a projector that’s constantly showing a slideshow of local attractions available in Sutton (the town where this is). Quite a nice place and exactly what you’d expect from an overseer, which is utter denial of what the real world is like. Right down to the Vault-Tec approved shitter on the first floor. Gosh, how pretty. I don’t know how she keeps the towels so white, but good for her. Of course, I’d vastly prefer if that plunger was kept in some kind of cabinet because nobody wants to see that.
Here’s a shitter with some history, both because it has been in queue for like three years and also because it was first the home of a dude who survived the initial bombings, then was taken over by raiders, and finally is ‘now’ the home of the Cult of the Mothman! And apparently this is where a quest takes place where you have the option to rescue a radioactive Mole Rat named Noodles. I mean the guy doesn’t need to be rescued. If he wanted to, at any time Noodles could just leave. Let’s be real.
Anyway, let’s take a moment to appreciate how raiders and cultists are basically the equivalent of lesser primates who cannot even use tools. OK, this is the shitter that this place came with. You could not bring yourselves to pick up a hammer and repair or replace at least the DOOR on this thing? Honestly, fucking pathetic and I expect better out of religious folk. And before you admonish me to see the splinter in my own eye or whatever, just know that I care enough about my own shitter to fix it even if the slightest thing goes wrong with it because it is my greatest treasure in this world. Do better, cultists!
Bob Vila might say this three-story woodframe farmhouse has some excellent bones, because it’s still standing just fucking fine after all the bombing, raiding, and mutating occurring all around it since Shit Went Down. The squatters who claim this abode are incredibly verbally hostile, but they’re cool with you photographing the shitter. Just going to come out and say it… Caveman had better standards of cleanliness. And it’s bullshit to claim that in a world without Kroger, there’s no way to get your hands on some soap! Unless you want to end up like these guys, scrounging through the Libraries of Yesteryear for Soapmaking Lore, do yourself a favor and read up on making cleaning products from wood ash while the internet is still a thing.
While strolling around the township of Foundation, you’ll find these two basic-bitch wooden potty stalls. They’re identical, and even the toilet paper inside has been placed in the exact spot within each. But these no-nonsense shitters aren’t the only squats to spot here at Foundation. Within the underground part of the town, there’s this other rather gorgeous shitter, lit from above with the golden light of heaven a single bare bulb. The metal push-button toilet is very industrial-chic for sure, but here’s the awkward problem - according to US Patent #5291620A, this type of toilet wasn’t invented until 1993 - far outside the timeline in which the Fallout story takes place. It’s also not exactly functional because the lid doesn’t raise, but it’s a nice art piece.
Can you believe that Seneca Gang has even MORE shitters on their (abandoned) property? I was on a second trip to the camp to visit the best of the gondola shitters, and I was completely bowled over to find they also have these sweet shitters that are not exactly shitters? They’re the shells of outhouses but have been repurposed into.. stuff…. Here’s one, it’s some kind of hideout, a looky-loo if you will, with a little chair for upon which a CREEPER may perch, perfect for an evil gnome. How would you like to round the corner and see that?
And this one! Sick, dude! I would expect nothing less from my boys the Seneca Gang. Here’s a shitter that’s – OH, SHIT! The switcheroo! It’s really a shot gun that will blast your ass, if you don’t watch your ass! But honestly, by now we all know to walk around these things with EXTREME caution.
A fun obstacle course reminiscent of one of those late-70s wooden playgrounds, Bloody Frank’s is a gross raider restaurant with a health code rating that would make Gordon Ramsay scream like a spinto soprano. It’s a teetering pile of splintered garbage, stapled together with walkways, stairs, and booby traps, all leading up to a princess parapet in the sky - and here’s the princess suite. An employee’s restroom where you’ll find collectable loot, like Dishwasher Steve’s note: A passive-aggressive, limp-dicked grievance, and the content is what you’ve come to expect from a disgruntled post-Apocalyptic chef. Yeah, he’s irritated with life, and has the urge to chop up his comrades for the next meal. How’d you ever guess?
If you want to meet your new and intermittent best friend Beckett, you’ll have to make a stop at Rollins Labor Camp where he is imprisoned for mischief. Well, more specifically, he started dabbling in chems as part of his initiation into the Blood Eagles (sickguitarriff.wav) and got to thinking he could be boss. So they threw him in here and he wants YOU to get him out so he can go rescue his brother Frankie, who he abandoned in pursuit of his raider dreams (mutedsadtrombone.midi). Anyway, there’s his shitter! It’s legitimately a stock pot, which is huge, enormous and heavy and there’s actually a real bucket in the halway outside of his stall with some Abraxo in it, so I’m at a bit of a loss.
“Propping it up on cinderblocks was the smart.”
The long and rambling chain quest, Thicker Than Water, will take you deep into the bowels of the Watoga Underground where you’ll help Beckett work things out with his estranged brother Frankie. This is the men’s and the women’s rooms found in the Underground. Though basic in appearance, they sit like two sphinx guardians, flanking a hallway that leads down, down, down into the discovery of the terrible truth of what happened to Frankie! Did your naive mind think Frankie got hazed into serving The Claw (a shadowy leader of the raiding band the Blood Eagles)? Get ready for your eyes to pop right out of your skull when you learn that Frankie IS The Claw! How did it all go so wrong? Well, I’ll tell you one thing, it has a lot to do with Frankie’s childhood. Yeesh. I mean, Jesus, dude. When I opened the door to Frankie’s “shrine to my toddler years,” which is of course a time of blissful innocence that each of us remember with remarkable clarity, I discreetly snapped a screenshot and then quickly shut that shit back up.
And I gained a lot from this ordeal. Yeah, Beckett and I bonded tons during this very long quest. We laughed, we cringed, we never spoke of it again.
I could be wrong, but I think this was recently added! Because I have been hunting these shitters, let me tell you, and I did not see you here before, Gauley Mine outhouse! Look at the goodies inside. The colors are all fucky because it was night time when I found this, but I wasn’t going to hang around til morning because this place is crawling with icky bugs and crispy zombies. The exterior’s decoration - a crate of explosives - is a saucy wink enticing you to take a peek inside. And inside, there’s gangly little teddy bears, clumps of matted, fallen leaves and part of a butter churn: An addition that is both disgusting, and at the same time so very interesting. Thumbs up to this shitter.
Every now and then a game redeems itself with some top notch shitters. Say what you will about nearly everything having to do with Fallout 76, but the shitter safaris almost always bring home a trophy.
Here’s the men’s and women’s restrooms at The Rusty Pick, an odd little shoppe where you can exchange scrips for legendary items. The women’s room is completely blocked off as storage for arcade cabinets, because we know what a barrel of fun it is to be a chick during the apocalypse. It looks like the the shopkeeper (a molewoman?) has designated this as an employees-only lavatory. The men’s room is where all the action happens. I guess this is how molepeople think humans live. Mole Girl has collected dressmaker’s ephemera and nailed it along the walls for that “huh?” element. With two stalls conveniently separated by the unparalleled privacy of chainlink fencing, there is also a bank of urinals, and a tinker’s bench, in case you want to touch things and do fine craftwork while you’re in there. At least there are sinks.
In the future, when there’s no more society, nor indoor heat, and everything sucks, you’re gonna want to set up your junkyard commune in a way that really feels like home. The assholes at Crimson Prospect boast a certain Raider ingenuity with the variety of their shitters. They’ve got the traditional green sentinal, but it’s juxtaposed against an open-roof cousin with a concrete and repurposed wood palette surround. There’s something to be said about the exposed, vulnerable charm of this outhouse. It looks great, and I imagine it feels great too: Whether you’re watching cloud formations in the blistering heat of ambient irradiated fog, or getting pelted by irradiated rain, or contemplating nature while being attacked by mutated, irradiated flying insects.
It’s nice that Fallout 76 put some quests into their game, but personally, I found the Wild Appalachia shit to be “just okay,” or tedious. Seems very unlikely that a person who just popped out of the Vault into a brave and totally screwed new world would care enough about some pre-war drama that they’d spend more time searching for half-rotted paper notes and partially-corrupted holotape data than looting any freestanding structure for supplies and viable shelter.
Anyway, one of these quests takes you to a tumbledown farmhouse where Janelle and Raymond Priblo once peddled monstrous curiosities. Your job is to find out what happened to the Priblos, because it seems that some time circa Armageddon, they mysteriously disappeared. There’s a very good chance that both these chumps were instantly vaporized in a series of atomic blasts, but you’re invited to waste your precious bullets on an alternate hypothesis.
Here we see the outside of Priblos’ Curios decorated with innocent forest creatures that did not deserve this humiliation. All except one. We all know the true cryptid that lurks in Wild Appalachia ain’t Mothman, or Buckula, or any of that lame and unscary shit. It’s the common garden Gnome! I saw this decoration on the side of the farmhouse and I thought, “Yes, deserved.” But then I panned my peepers to the left oh so very slightly, and the lightness of my heart turned to nuclear sludge because look at the freak presiding over this parade of depravity. Just a country bumpkin gnome, relaxing on his porch rocking chair! There is no limit to his cruelty, his insanity. Oh god, I just had a terrifying thought: That gnome on the wall is probably fine and just waiting for some fool to rescue him. This is suddenly giving me strong vapors of Fallout 3’s Chryslus Building Shitter.
Mr. Calvin van Lowe was a taxidermist who decorated his place of business in Lewisburg with trussed animal corpses and their various bones. This is the restroom on the 3rd floor of the Taxidermy; note the inventive, however unsanitary, method of storing toilet paper.
Behold a trashed party house at Fraternity Row in Morgantown. I can’t say they didn’t have their priorities straight when they plunked a shitter down directly on the front sidewalk.
The other shitter is in the frat house basement. I’ve known people who live like this, and it’s impossible to interact with them. Since all the people from this frat house are skeletons, it’s almost the same experience, except less talking. Note the triangular anatomy chart on the shower wall. Get a shitty education with your brain damage!
This quaint, riverfront cottage looks like it practically built itself from sentient debris floating on the Kanawha River. It blends right in, which is why you might even miss the shitter that doubles as a lookout tower and a shelter from Super Mutant passersby. It’s a pretty great shack. In addition to the wooden potty stall, there’s a radio, a bed, and a perimeter of razor wire fencing. You can pretend it’s yours. A note left by Charleston’s former pastor (there’s a condemned chapel across the water) lays next to the radio. It indicates the previous owner was killed by a sniper from an office building overhead, but you won’t need to worry about such a fate, since you likely have a chameleon left leg, and are ambulating in a crab-like stealth crouch at all times.
Hey, sweet digs. This sprawling, three bedroom farmhouse (that’s debatable, but there are three beds, including a double bed, a little mattress on the floor, and the skeleton of a bed half-hidden under rubble) has every trimmin’ and fixin’ you could desire! You get a floor safe, two radios, a culinary cauldron, and one very large skylight. Note the tub propped against the wall like a coffin for a shitter vampire. This location is special because you can find a rare plushie here named “Pristine Teddy Bear”! The wikia describes it as a “junk item.” That’s rude.
Back before the bombs fell, people in Appalachia liked to reminisce about the Civil War a lot. There are a fair few monuments on the map dedicated to this purpose. One such landmark, Phillipi Battlefield Cemetery, has a gift shop in a rickety old house. If the infestation of mutated bugs doesn’t exactly bother you, there’s a bunch of dress-up clothes that you can rifle through and steal. In the parking lot you’ll find these shitters that double as planter boxes for majestic Freedom Corn! Wow!
This one is kind of a bummer, Brigade. It appears that rather than face the wrath of nuclear destruction, the affluent resident of this penthouse apartment paddled into the washroom in his blue bedroom slippers, boarded up the windows, and took his final bubble bath with a bottle of wine and some chems.
I’ve enhanced the lighting on the rollover so you can get a better look at this veritable Pharaoh’s tomb! The finely-appointed shitter has a shaving station, grimy towels, a ceiling fan, and an intact mirror on an extending arm, which is very neat. This shitter looks to be the depressed, emo twin of the shitter in Vault 76, which, by comparison, is cheerful, optimistic, and has no corpses.
Nyeehehe! Yes, yes! Do come in!
Here we see the Common Garden Gnome in his natural habitat: An acid-bath of humanity’s collective sorrow and regrets. Yes, do come closer! Partake in the hospitality of his beautiful home, this pastoral lakeside getaway! Where only scientifically-unknown bacteria, and Ghouls, can survive.
Kiddie Corner Cabins are a series of small wooden buildings that have seen some shit. The potty stall is still standing, but so is a crisp husk of a dead chump, right in the doorway, so that’s a no-go. There’s a dinner tray in there, and some TP, as if they’d ever see use again.
Despite the carnage, or perhaps especially because of it, this shitter is a role model and a champ. Everything else around it has given in to the pressure, and crumbled to crap, but this shitter is still upright and proud, because it has nothing to be ashamed of.
I climbed over splintered wood and rusty, exposed rebar to investigate this shithole. From the outside, any reasonable person would already know there is most likely a serial killer hiding in this poolside public shower. The building had a lot of nice fixtures originally, but it probably would have been a hideout for a killer even before the bombs. And you can bet from the picture of the innertube that there’s something terrible in the stall on the left. Even so, my blood ran cold when I opened it up to reveal this maniac, just laying in wait! Gnomes are all reverse-stalkers. They wait a long time for you to show up, just to scare the shit out of you.
“One for sorrow, two for joy! Three for a girl, four for a boy! Five for silver, six for gold! Seven for a secret, never to be told!
Answer me riddle, and the paper is yours! Otherwise, your fate is the same as Bubblegum Bear’s! Yeeehehehehee!”
This DIY urban campsite has a chair made from cement blocks, a weight bench improvised out of existing heating exhaust hardware, and a cute little shack right out of a post-Apocalyptic storybook. It also has a shitter! The bucket on the left sits next to a shitter’s best friend, a full roll of toilet paper. This camper preferred to sleep outside the existing structures in Morgantown, possibly because they are teeming with ghouls. The whole surface area is also doused with kerosene, which would have made for a certain exit from this mortal coil if the ghouls had attacked in the night.
The camper, no longer in residence at this property, was Alicia Parker. We know it’s her shitter, because a holotape labeled with her name and a message from her about the state of society has been left next to the bucket. That’s a very personal gesture.
Access to this shitter is restricted by a level 3 lock in the reception area of the Nuka-Cola Plant at Kanawha. Was it even worth locking? There’s only an empty fizzypop bottle in here.
If you’re a basic bitch who wants the most generic witch or clown outfit, you can find them littered about the ruins of this costume store. But if that’s all very 2077, and bores the shit out of you, just poke around a little more and you’ll find two shitters and a secret clubhouse!
Scurry up Freddy Fear’s fire escape, where this little shelter has been slapped together on the roof. There’s a disease-ridden floor bed, some supplies, a dead chump, and a shitter! Yuck!
Just behind you, a locked door requires a special key. Take a hike to a remote and barren hellscape (it’s marked by a cartoon butterfly on the map). The key is guarded by this legendary boss shitter, lurking in a pool of deadly sulfuric acid! Fish out the key (and an Alien Blaster gun) and use it to open Freddy’s awesome alien-themed clubhouse.
Halloween was just around the corner before the bombs dropped in 2077, so it’s no wonder you can continually find plastic pumpkin-shaped treat buckets all over the fucking place in any Fallout game. At the spooky Pumpkin House of West Virginia, there’s plastic pumpkins and glowing, irradiated, carved pumpkins! As well as this fantastic shitter, all decked out for Halloween.
It’s a nice little spot. You get an unbroken mirror, a full roll of toilet paper, a grimy towel for drying your hands after using the sink that actually works, and even some Shitter Soda. The trade-off is there are icky bugs, and you could maybe even twist your ankle on these rotted floorboards!
Better play it safe and cross the street to this little campsite shitter. If you sneak, you might not even have to shoot packs of wild dogs, ghouls, and a scorchbeast that all live there.
Since there are two skeletons already lining up to use this stall, why don’t you keep going and mosey to the other side of the property, where you can find a rare treat: Aside from the fragile husks of dead people that will crumble into toxic, airborne powder at the slightest touch, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with this bank of potties, which come with their own privacy fencing!
The raiders who lived at Skullbone Vantage (a name you can’t say without summoning a disembodied electric guitar riff accompaniment) were so badass! Their couches are made from sports cars, and skeletons riding tire swings dangle from twisted metal merlons. Another architectural triumph of this raider camp is these incredible shitters! Two lovely red gondolas have been repurposed. One appears to be occupied, but the other is probably completely safe.
On the roof of the Torrance House can be found this sappy scene of two skeletons propped in an embrace, alongside a bottle of Falmouth Winery Merlot, flowers, candles, and a helpful heart-tummy bear named Comrade Chubs. Also next to Comrade Chubs: Some children’s blocks that spell out HUBBA HUBBA. We can assume that some affection-starved Raider NPC set up this mockery, because Fuck Love, Man. Or, maybe they died that way, after setting up this entire scene, and watching the bombs drop together. How romantic.
This unmarked shitter appears to be camping here independent of any surrounding territory. I am guessing a Wastelander NPC constructed this from found objects. It seems a pleasant spot to squat. Enclosed in pieces of fencing, this doorless outhouse is accompanied by a whole bathtub and some Standard Shitter Goodies can be found within - A random assortment of beverage and first aid.
At Camden Park, you’ll find no lines at the rides, the games, nor the shitters! There’s also no working electricity and no First Aid Station, so watch out for broken glass. Here’s a little fella who is determined to enjoy himself no matter what. He’s all set with his cotton candy, his milkshake AND his beer hat, plus front-row seats to a parking lot full of explosive cars and ghouls, which makes for an exciting demolition derby.
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.
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.
This mysterious button is curious indeed. This is the end point from a shaft that shoots you up from deep within the earth and up through a crapper after you fuck around with a nuclear launch. Convenient and gross as all hell. Imagine if someone was in there when you arrived?
Some irony in the second picture. Vault Boy disapproves of reducing the gravity of nuclear war to a dance of bluffing and one-upmanship!
In the twisted, shifting landscape of dystopian Appalachia, things are not always as they seem! These potty stalls face away from the main attraction at Abandoned Mineshaft 4. So, imagine how, just as you round the corner, your expectation, curiosity and childlike wonder would quick turn to horror, shock, dismay, and confusion - - because where? Are? The shitters?! Who has abducted them? What do they want? Are they truly just cruel thieves? Or did someone forget? Maybe, whoever was in charge of installation simply ran out of time.
This scene is found in the shitter of a roadside cottage, south of Kanawha Nuka-Cola Plant. Loot the body of this very dapper gent to find a wearable wedding band that even shows up on your hand when you equip it!
While most of us are out there in the wasteland scrounging for water where we can, the clowns at Whitespring are living large with functioning plumbing that they flush in excess. Water is a precious resource! You’d think by now, the Enclave robots would dig us some decent composting toilets. But I guess they think that time is better spent seducing the few of us who remain into annihilating each other with nuclear bombs, using MODUS’ sexy Death Daddy voice.
Out of all the gondola shitters in Appalachia, this is the only one to provide privacy curtains. Such accomodations are normally a major improvement for any rest stop, however, the corpse begs the question. Perhaps this visual impairment is what caused the untimely demise of the raider, seen here seated on the throne?
Do you see this shit? This is somebody’s idea of “saving time.” Don’t put your mouth, or a toothbrush (which goes in your mouth), anywhere near a shitter! You may think you’re saving time now, but when you start getting canker sores, you’re going to feel like a real dummy.
Do you revere Mothman, but DESPISE doors on your shitters? This is the bathroom for you, my friend. The central worshipping temple of Mothman is accessed via this unisex restroom. Within this small room, turn left and you’ll see a second doorway, also missing a door (it’s busted down), and a stairway leading down to this picturesque country chapel. You bought Fallout 76 to fulfill your fantasy as the pastor of an imaginary, feathery insect with glowing eyes, didn’t you? Bethesda has a little something for everyone!
Not a true shitter, unless you are a savage freak, but it deserves a mention for the following reasons: The extraneous floral arrangement, the gnome Honor Guard, and the splashmat of mutated fungus make this a rest stop of note. Something else to make note of is that while all the residents of Hunter’s Ridge are corpses, this gnome remains on site, with his unnerving, emotionless grin. Shocking, I know.
This chart demonstrates the essential differences between vile, scheming gnomes and wonderful, morally-perfect teddybears. Behind every corpse is a gnome, and the teddies just want to make barbeque, benefit the world with ethical Science, and give each other spa treatments. Now, before you say anything, the particular model of Teddy in the first photo is called Teddy Fear, who obviously fell in with the wrong crowd. He’s just a little confused, and needs guidance, and love. Anyway, now you know the differences, so be safe out there, wastelanders.
Oh, look. Someone was making hot dogs over the crapper. Why does everyone in Appalachia seem to think this is such a great idea? I mean, you could always build a fire. Or, if you’re trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself, eat the hot dogs raw! It’s not even real meat! What harm could you really do eating it uncooked? Are you really improving this item by altering it in this manner? Actually, the better question is, Did you get a head injury out there? Because you are NOT cooking the item by doing what it shows in this picture.
Hey, little buddy, you’re far from home. This gondola shitter is oddly placed in an overgrown meadow of lush grasses and defunct appliances. A scorched wastelander extends an arm toward the bowl, as though expecting salvation. In another lifetime, perhaps.
Anyway, if you don’t like the looks of this restroom, that’s too bad, because there are no other toilets on the grounds of Bolton Greens. The closest you’re going to get is what you see in the second picture. How’d you like to freshen up in this powder room?
At Isolated Cabin’s wooden potty stall, you’ll find the finest of baleful magnetic fridge poetry. This ballad of malaise, torn from the Post-Nuclear Poetic Edda, succinctly delivers an acrimonious summary of the human condition in the year 2102, and says pretty much what we were all thinking about the spiced eggs. If civilization were still a thing, I’m sure this morose narrative would be crowned with all the Hugo Awards we could find.
Welcome to Autumn Acre Cabin, where you can finally write the Great American Novel in peace and solitude, because you’re one of the only people left alive in the country. All the comforts of home can be found here: A full kitchen, working fireplace, classical music on the radio, area rugs, and working electricity, somehow. There’s even a patio that looks out over a sheer drop and is definitely unsafe. Just look at that gorgeous shitter! Wow! Watch the stars while you take a nice hot irradiated bubble bath. You might want to board that window up.
Take me to the river and drop me in the water!
Dip me in the river, drop me in the water!
I don’t know why I love you like I do,
all the troubles you put me through.
My home is a toilet, my home is a bowl,
and here am I, the biggest fool of them all.
I call this Easter Egg, “Developer is Too Tired to Make Sense Anymore, Please Let me Go Home to My Family.”
They say imitation is a form of flattery, and they also say you cannot duplicate greatness, only imitate it. Somewhere in Appalachia, you will find a holotape called “Impromptu Raider Meeting.” The contents of this holotape consist of two rival raider factions bickering over whether they should team up or kill each other. I didn’t give it much thought until I saw this at South Cutthroat Camp. This.. this is just embarrassing. First they claim they don’t want to team up together, but to make an almost exact copy of the shitter at Seneca Gang Camp? I’m not trying to be mean, but look at this shit! Seneca Gang did it first, and they did it better! And it makes very little sense. At least Seneca Gang positioned their gondola car appropriately, on the edge of a cliff. I mean, it’s quite difficult to imagine oneself soaring high and free over the ski slopes in a gondola car when it is on the ground.
The Child of Frankenstein that you see before you now is what happens when my camera view is cramped into a tiny-ass corner of a shower trying to get a shot of the entire bathroom and Bethesda will not let me be great. Anyway, I clipped it together and you get the idea. The Enclave’s secret relaxation retreat, Whitespring Golf Club, boasts powder rooms with plenty of sparkly loots and fixtures that are not even broken. This is going to make the common people seethe from injustice and start singing Galavant’s Today We Rise.
So where do the proles shit? You can see that in the second photo! This is the “guest shitter” at Whitespring Resort, for use of plebes, with their adorable concept of Home Sweet Home in their narrow, tiny, myopic little skulls. The common, vulgar wastelander has never even dipped their toes into the excess and luxury of what the Enclave and Big Brother could offer them, but it’s better that they keep their teacups, and imagine themselves lucky to have even set foot on the grounds of Whitespring Resort!
You should probably read that paragraph in Senator Armstrong’s voice (from Metal Gear Solid).
Lastly, if you thought the robots were the governing body of Whitespring Resort, take a look at what lurks among the reeds at the kiddie pool, you utter bumbling fool.
This pristine, exemplary, spotless, sinless, blameless restroom is pure and innocent and has done nothing wrong. This is the shitter within Vault 76 that you observe briefly before setting out into the wide wild and crazy wasteland. It’s a reminder of what life could be like without the horror of nuclear war. I can’t say enough about what a clean bathroom, with functioning plumbing and fluffy towels, means to me. It’s the epitome of personal security and wellbeing! It’s something every person should experience and feel. That’s my New Year’s wish for all of you, Bucket Brigade! May you shit in comfort and peace for all of 2019!
Years of shitter hunting has hyper-attuned my senses! It was the pitch black of night when I snuck up on this place. When I suddenly found myself stumbling through a slap shod pile of broken metal sheeting, I paused a moment and thought, “I bet this is a shitter.” Sure enough, I circled around and voila, a broken toilet! I don’t think this object originated here. One of the metal signs on the outside depicts a swimmer.
So, I’m sensing a theme.
This shitter, located in the destroyed township of Welch, has been transformed by some plucky wastelander into a lovely kitchenette. But tell me this: If you were in possession of one of the last spring-loaded tp roll holders in existence, why would you not use the thing? There’s a shelf! Could it not hold the silverware? The superfluous oven mitt? It makes no sense, but I don’t know what I expect from someone who pulls the corpse of some dude across the floor like a damn rug.
With great care and trepidation, walk the plank to the edge of this cliff to take a pensive, meditative squat over a 600-meter drop. With scorchbeasts gliding majestically above, and legendary glowing alpha wolves prowling below, this may be the safest shitter on the map. Of note: The crate that you’d be depositing your life’s work into does not open to the valley below. Since it’s closed up on the bottom you’d have to actually empty the receptacle yourself which is a bit puzzling. There’s a crate of toilet paper nearby and some grubby comic books and snacks on the seat itself. Trapper’s Camp is a luxurious spa retreat, the best feature being that it doesn’t even have a map marker, so no one can bother you here!
“It only tells you to make friends with the Deathclaw.”
That is true, but I’m going for friends with benefits.
A tribute to Skyrim in the Appalachian Wasteland? This outhouse sports the classic combination - chair AND a bucket.
Reddit user akarian88 found this tribute to xenomorph facehuggers in a busted Appalachian medical facility.
Do you like getting stoned out of your mind, and shitting in a communal setting? Though you can do that pretty much anywhere in the Appalachian Wasteland, this former cult retreat is the only landmark exclusively dedicated to both. The swanky restroom has a gramophone that croons out the merits of giving all your stuff to the cult. Further down the hall, you’ll find a little alcove shrine devoted to their god.
This puzzling graffito was left in a trailer at Berkley Springs. Does the arcane scrawling on this filthy tiled cell indicate the presence of aliens, or are they perhaps sheriff hats? The chems can certainly only help you find the answer.
Just southeast of the boomtown of New Gad is an unlabeled landmark I like to call the Ye Gad Tavern. It’s really just a decrepit shack sporting a friendly welcome sign! Which is always an indicator of either an explosive floor trap or a Deathclaw spawn point.
Outside the tavern door are two cheerful can chimes! Enter to find a wholesome scene of naked mannequins and skeletons in the eternal throes of drunken buffoonery. Please, cavort in the merriment! Behind the bar, the secret ingredient to the mead is concealed: Cartons of rat poison! Enjoy.
Would you like to see an adorable wittle bear reading a paper and smoking a cig in a portapotty that looks so real, you hold your breath when you activate the door? If so, head to Morgantown - This little buddy is there waiting for you!
A short distance away, at the airport, you’ll see Men’s and the Women’s rooms delineated by not only signs, but by interior design elements such as liquor and a flower vase. In these trying times, women need beauty AND numbing agents to cope, but apparently NOT doors.
Stumble through the mucky mire of Appalachia long enough and you’ll come across Tanagra Town - a beanstalk-like growth protruding from the ground due to a malfunction of the GECK in Vault 94. A floating island of earth and rock rests at the top, with bits of broken houses. If you climb the beanstalk, these are the treasures which await you! Two gorgeous shitters! Other wonderful things about Tanagra Town: No gnomes, a unique basketball, and if you leap off the top from the tire swing, you won’t die, you will only break both your legs. Fantastic.
Another mysterious magnetic fridge poem left in a shitter, this time at Hillfolk Hotdogs. This one… a little less cohesive than the first. Don’t strain yourself too hard trying to find meaning in these verses. It’s clear that near the end, the author ran out of the good magnets.
I found this ART while exploring the wilderness. This is some deep shit right here. The plaintiff husk of a West Virginian who just couldn’t make it to the shelter of this port-a-john before the blast guards the door to this stall. An Untitled Poem of dank, nihilist prose in a beatnik, magnetic-fridge-poetry format is the only remaining witness to future shits. Aces Deuces.
What the shit? I am, frankly, so disgusted by this blatant rip-off of Sunnytop Station Shitter that I cannot even remember where in the Appalachian wasteland it was. You’re not tempting me with those spices, try as you might. I am loyal to Sunnytop.
Four gnomes are standing in line facing the same direction. They are all wearing hats, but know not the color of their own. The first gnome is blind and does not see the colors of the other hats. The second gnome is able to see the hats of the two gnomes in front of him. The third only sees the hat of the fourth, and the fourth does not see any hat at all.
The gnomes would like to know the colors of the hats they are all wearing without checking their own. So instead of figuring out this logic puzzle, they went to the Red Rocket Megastop and asked the Gnome Wizard, who said something like, “We gnomes are evil, riddle-telling gremlins that forebode tragedy! Beware! Go forth now and spread true fear! Yeeehehehehehhe!”
Behold. Nestled within the craggy slope behind Larry’s Toxic Meat ‘n Go is a winding, splintery staircase leading to HEAVEN!!!! The crown jewel of this abandoned restaurant-turned-snallygaster-den is a loot-encrusted treasure chest that happens to also be a shitter.
It explains itself.
But in case you wanted some lore on the subject, this is a two-story treehouse with many buildings spanning multiple trees. There are two doorless, bucketless, flooded port-a-potties standing erect in the swamp below, but you couldn’t use them, obviously, since the waters are teeming with anglers, giant glowing radtoads and various waterborne diseases. Thus, the durable janitor-green sentinel we see here. I like that they reinforced the back of it with boards. That’s totally not just a result of the designer half clipping the shitter into the wooden barricade.
While gnomes are out causing mischief, teddy is here solving problems. This plucky bear is plunging with the arm of the skeleton from the potty next door. Not that the performance of this task would actually do anything to the functioning capability of the shitter, but he’s trying, and therefore no one should criticize him.
Fort Defiance was an “insane asylum” (terminology not used for many a moon now) which was repurposed into a HQ for the defunct Brotherhood of Steel. At Fort Defiance, there’s nary a trace of doctors, nor soldiers, so who rules over this mound of concrete rubble now? A GNOME!! By far the most terrifying spectre in this ghost town.
High aloft the unnervingly tall oak tree of Treetops are numerous individual rooms decorated with a homey aesthetic. It wasn’t long however before I found this gnome, and began to sweat in terror for my very life.
I also located a curious chem lab, replete with crushed acetone containers, rat poison, and gasoline. Meth kitchen, or leatherworking workshop?
At long last, I rounded the very top and saw this freak smirking at me from the edge of a precipice. I yeeted him off the brink without hesitation, and to my surprise, received 110 exp. Ypa!
They named their camp Cutthroat Camp so you’d know they mean business, but these (deceased) Raiders have a sense of decency. The privacy curtain that enshrouds the commode at this once-proud outpost provides courtesy toward visitors, which is more than I can say for some of these other outhouses. I’m looking at you, Beckwith Farm shitter.
PS There’s a terrifying monkey playing cymbals on this toilet. I don’t think it actually is a booby trap but I couldn’t say for sure because instinct took over and I blew its head off before it had a chance.
There’s no door. Enjoy a creepy doll and a jug of Cranberry Moonshine to make up for there being no door.
At the site of this historic Civil War reenactment, you’ll learn that a shitter is NOT a viable hiding spot from robots.
Submitted by a Bucket Brigadier Swolito! An eternal game of Spin the Bottle takes place on a rooftop in Appalachia, complete with picnic basket of chems. Looks like Teddy gets the kiss! Skelebones here may appear to be delighted by the prospect, but I am told that originally there was a gun in his hand: “Did he shoot himself because he had to kiss the bear? Or was it because he realized he was playing spin the bottle with a bear.”
This gorgeous, top notch pitstop has all the fixings for a truly memorable, gross experience! Get your disgusting radiation-infused noms and dysentery all at once. Revolting.
You have to creep through this train tunnel looking for survivors, but all you’ll find is crispy corpses, mutated bugs, sad little notes left behind and off to the side there’s a glowing green tunnel with a special hidden surprise. “What’s the surprise?” you ask? It’s this wonderful Easter Egg.
Childrens blocks spelling I C U, and a magnifying glass with a Nuka Cola Girl postage stamp.
Here’s a great example of the care and detail that goes into Bethesda Easter Eggs. This port-a-potty is on the grounds of the X3 Quarry in Appalachia. From the outside, it looks like any ordinary shmoe, without a story to tell. But crack that baby open and you’ll find ambiance and gifts! Such as a motivational poster, a Mister Fuzzy hard hat, a cat bowl, and an irradiated fizzy drink. Enjoy.
This crashed gondola car has been repurposed by these inventive [dead] raiders into a really fancy piss pot! They hauled it all the way up to this rock outcropping for a high-art, high-altitude shitter. This was well worth their trouble, even if they are all dead now and their camp is occupied by Super Mutants, because they left something their descendants could have been proud of. Stephen Hawking said that the only thing that lingers after your death is what you were able to contribute to the world, and this is Seneca Gang’s legacy!
This helpful sign is found outside Top of the World. Fun Fact: Since radscorpions and rocket-launching Mole Men live there, you don’t even have to leave. You can die right at the Ski Resort.
