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!
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.
How would you like to camp out at this unmarked location in Far Harbor? There’s a super spooky shitter for you to use, and the Stachybotrys is absolutely free.
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.
This unexpected, private bathroom is in an unmarked location near a shack north of Ten Pines Bluff. It’s right on the shores of a super-irradiated pond of runoff water, which will kill you pretty quickly if you stray too close. Inside is a shitter and a creepy mannequin who will watch you. The newspaper is serving double duty. First you can read about the moronic dramas of times gone way by, then you can use the paper for the only real purpose it has left. Finally, you may wonder how they wired a lamp to work all the way out here, but your wonders will be replaced with the sads when you find the corpse of some guy in this here tub. Marvelous.
Fallout 4’s Settlement functions allow the player to add many fun, creative structures to claimed towns. Here’s a shitter I made in Sanctuary Hills. Now I know that the plumbing wouldn’t really work, but if you pretend that it would, you’d probably use that enamel bucket to bring water to the bowl to make it flush. The boxes and stuff are for all kinds of supplies you’ll need in an open-air shitter such as this (tp, antibacterial soap, and a .44 to fend off the radroaches). There’s some lovely decor, including a rug that ought to keep down the radioactive vines and stuff. The ash tray is handy for burning some incense after you’re done to keep it smelling OK. Building this for my settlers gave me a feeling of satisfaction, however, I felt that it was total bullshit that that crafting a custom shitter, with love, did nothing to improve their overall happiness.
Valentine’s Day is approaching, so rev your romance engines with this prose from Griswold, Poet Laureate in the year 2287. If this doesn’t convince you that nuclear decimation of the human race is a really bad thing, I don’t know what will, but this is what’s left in humanity’s Talent Coffer once everyone else has been blown to cinders.
The first pictures are selections from Griswold’s Poetry Journal. These detail a saga of Griswold’s reflections on his greatness, and contemplations of Sue.
The last picture here is Sue’s. Likely the only eligible female in this raider camp of Monsignor Plaza, she has her own thoughts on Griswold.
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.
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.
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!
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.
I have mixed feelings about this place, because even though they have four structurally-sound shitters, their privacy curtains consist of heaps of garbage, and they have a real bummer of a name for their town. Honestly, I feel like I’m getting splinters just looking at those things, but I guess it’s nice that they shoveled out a path in the trash so I could get to the door.
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!
It was never clear to me why Raiders were always harassing Abernathy Farm. I mean, aside from the fact that Raiders are simple-minded assholes who crush anything good, but Abernathy Farm doesn’t even have a decent shitter. This craptastic pile of broken porcelain is the only thing close to one, and it’s located just outside the boundaries of the farm.
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.
I found this shitty lie behind one of the computers while exploring Big Mountain.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
The winner of the coveted Brown Ribbon of the Year award in 2015 was this REALLY nice wooden outhouse at Sunshine Tidings Co-op. As you can see, this shitter is top-notch, with potential for a bright future. The elevated nature of this stall lends itself to superior protection against pests such as radroachs and molerats while you’re having a moment alone.
There is another notable shitter on the property that I have photographed and documented here, and which is a terrible sty. The metal shack features some splintery boards perched atop cinder blocks, and an accompanying rusted metal bucket. Creative, but a definite no-go. And are settlers expected to bathe here? My companion, Preston Garvey, obviously blurted out this non sequitur before he took a peek inside.
Alternate Title: “Are you actually staring me down? You, who gives hard drugs to old ladies, and body armor to dogs with the same hand?”
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 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.
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.