Skippy Roerich/Dialogue

__TOC__
==XPD_Dialogue_Skippy==
#	Dialog Topic	Form ID	Response Text 	Script Notes
 	 	 	And I'll tell you everything you wanna know. 	
 	 	 	And I'll tell you everything you wanna know. 	
 	 	 	Why naturally, I would be happy to share my wisdom with you. 	
 	 	 	Any time, my friend. 	
 	 	 	Heh, twist my arm, why don't ya? 	
 	 	 	Well, now that you mention it... 	
 	 	 	Oh, uh, well...okay then. 	
 	 	 	One good thing about making weapons of war for Uncle Sam is that they build those manufactories to last. 	
 	 	 	The plant I worked in may as well have been a bunker, like one of those Vault-Tec vaults the richies bought themselves. 	
 	 	 	When the bombs came down, enough stood standing to keep us lucky few alive. 	
 	 	 	What came after -- the rads, the ferals, the Fanatics -- that was the real test. 	
 	 	 	Can I? Of course. Will I? Also of course. 	
 	 	 	Tired of hearing about me, eh? 	
 	 	 	Only been good at one thing in my life, and that's building things, so that's what I do. 	
 	 	 	People call me our "mad scientist." I've built my fair share of oddities, but innovation takes risk! Parachutes sound crazy, too, but they work! 	
 	 	 	I'm lucky to have the time I have left, after what I've been through. I'm not going to waste it playing safe. 	
 	 	 	Oh, what am I saying? Of course you aren't, I invented the thing. 	
 	 	 	Sorry to put you on the spot, kid. I'm Skippy Roerich. But you can call me Skip, Ro, Skip-o, or whatever else you fancy. 	
 	 	 	I'm here on behalf of the Union. We're a band of loose-knit freedom fighters from the Pitt up north. 	
 	 	 	We're looking to get our home back from a group of raiders called the Fanatics. Hoping Appalachia has some help to offer in that. 	
 	 	 	The Pitt is... Well, it used to be Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Now it's something else entirely, overrun by all manner of nasty. 	
 	 	 	But it's our home, and we want to win it back, clean it up, and make it livable again. 	
 	 	 	Alright, I'm game. 	
 	 	 	It's horrible, but it's home. No matter how bad it is or gets, we believe we can turn it around. That's what we're fighting for. 	
 	 	 	Then you'll be happy to join us on our frequent sojourns there, I take it? 	
 	 	 	Before the War? Well, it wasn't a paradise, but still a sight to behold. 	
 	 	 	The Steel City, we called it. A center of industry, making anything you can imagine. 	
 	 	 	When the War rolled around, we built weapons, munitions, Vertibirds, power armor, robots... 	
 	 	 	I suppose that's what made us a target, and left us what we are now. 	
 	 	 	I'm the Union's inventor, quartermaster, and coordinator. I'm the brain guy. 	
 	 	 	I use the know-how in this dome here of mine to help the kids in the field in any way I can. 	
 	 	 	That old place was a major base of operations for us. Fanatics took it on Bloody Thursday, some years ago. Worst defeat we ever suffered... 	
 	 	 	We've been on the back foot ever since. 	
 	 	 	I think that's why Hex and the kiddos won't let it go. For us old folk, it was just another building. 	
 	 	 	For Hex, it was the start of this tragic new life she leads, and a symbol of what we used to be in Pittsburgh. 	
 	 	 	Whoa, alrighty then! Fair enough, ki-, er, friend. Fair enough. I'll watch my tongue from now on. 	
 	 	 	If the Fanatics unite the Pitt, they'll start marching elsewhere. That's trouble for Appalachia -- trouble for you. 	
 	 	 	If that ain't motivation enough... Well, I'll make it worth your while, don't you worry. 	
 	 	 	War breeds innovation. If there's one thing we have, it's that. 	
 	 	 	We can build you all manner of fightin' gear -- guns, grenades, armor, you name it. It'll be yours if you give us your aid. 	
 	 	 	Well, I'm a Pittsburgh man, through and through. Daddy worked the steel mills hard, but I took a different route, tinkering for an armaments firm. 	
 	 	 	This may surprise you, but I did everything by the book back then. Everything done to spec, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. 	
 	 	 	Life was stable, but boring as hell. I didn't really start living until after the bombs. They woke me up good. 	
 	 	 	The Fanatics are a bunch of sadists, is what they are. 	
 	 	 	They bill themselves as a "confederation," and say they take all comers for who or what they are. 	
 	 	 	That's nonsense, of course. Just an empty slogan, used to sucker in more labor for the mills. 	
 	 	 	Well, ya know, we used to be a trade union, before the war. A lot of us are holdovers from those days. Old factory hands, sticking together now like we did then.	
 	 	 	But we take all kinds, so long as they share the goal of winning back our foul city and making it fair again. 	
 	 	 	That mix makes us a rowdy bunch, but it's also our secret sauce. Our eclectic minds think of things our enemies wouldn't imagine. 	
 	 	 	So we stay one step ahead. Or even an inch ahead. But that's enough to keep us in the game. 	
 	 	 	It's hell, what else can I say? What the bombs didn't level, the Fanatics finished off. 	
 	 	 	The air is choked with soot, the water is undrinkable, and the rads sear your skin like the sun of the Sahara. 	
 	 	 	The Union is our grand experiment in human decency in the Pitt. All the people working together to rebuild a place that most say ain't worth rebuilding. 	
 	 	 	We fight the Fanatics, the ferals, and any other awful thing that stands to hold back progress in the Steel City. 	
 	 	 	And there are a lot of those. 	
 	 	 	Sure thing. 	
 	 	 	Oh, don't worry about that thing. Barely works anyway. Silly to bring it up. 	
 	 	 	We're past the electro-spanner. Consign it to the dustbin of history. 	
 	 	 	I'm moving on to the hydraulo-spanner. Much higher ceiling on that one. 	
 	 	 	Don't let me keep you. 	
 	 	 	Quite frankly, because the odds are stacked against us. 	
 	 	 	We represent civilization in the Pitt. Most folks up there have put that by the wayside, given in to their animal instincts. 	
 	 	 	We want our home back, but we can't do it alone. That's all there is to it. 	
 	 	 	Not at all. Ask away. 	
 	 	 	I've been working on an atomic plunger. Industrial strength, you could pick up a landmine from five feet away, if need be. 	
 	 	 	Of course, disarming the thing might still be a challenge... 	
 	 	 	You ever heard of a pterodactyl? Old creature, massive wingspan. 	
 	 	 	Big wingspans intrigue me. We won't be building new Vertibirds anytime soon, so I was thinking we need a replacement... 	
 	 	 	I had this idea for a rat-powered motorboat recently. Rats are big enough nowadays, I think it could work. 	
 	 	 	The problem is feeding them out on the water... 	
 	 	 	I tested a new Brahmin milker the other day. Help out the farmers around here, you know? 	
 	 	 	The problem is the cost. Maybe the fusion cell is overkill for the power source? 	
 	 	 	I made some fireworks for the kiddos yesterday. Big booming ones, in the shape of animals. 	
 	 	 	I expected the dragon to scare them, but the cave cricket shocked them much worse. 	
 	 	 	Ingenuity's our edge against the Fanatics. That, and mass-produced grenades. 	
 	 	 	We all get nuked to hell and back and we're still at each other's throats. Some things never change. 	
 	 	 	If I can't be there myself, I gotta do what I can from afar. 	
 	 	 	Hang in there Hex, I won't let you die on me. 	
 	 	 	Bombs destroyed Pittsburgh, and why? Because we were building bombs to destroy some other place. 	
 	 	 	We're lucky these "Responders" will have us. I won't do them the disservice of asking why. 	
 	 	 	The Foundation folk got out of the Pitt while the getting was good... Guess I shouldn't blame 'em for that. 	
 	 	 	Those "Raiders" fight like hell. Maybe they're crazy enough to join an expedition? 	
 	 	 	Maybe I should visit that "Retreat" place some time, though I'm liable to break my back climbing around in those trees... 	
 	 	 	Ugh, my bones are aching. Must be a radstorm on the way. *chuckles* 	
 	 	 	Think, Skippy, think! There has to be something you can build to win this war! Maybe some kind of... bomb-chucking gauntlet? 	
 	 	 	I bet those Brotherhood chuckleheads I heard about have all the good contraptions squirreled away in that fort of theirs. 	
 	 	 	Good don't always win, but damned if it don't fight. 	
 	 	 	Where on earth did I put that sparking electrolighter? 	
 	 	 	If I make this adjustment... I'm well beyond the blueprint on this one, going off script. 	
 	 	 	The Union uniforms need an overhaul, denim's very "last year." How about plaid? 	
 	 	 	Rolling hills, shady trees, clear water... Appalachia almost makes a guy want to retire. 	
 	 	 	How much more blood do we gotta spill before the end of all this? 	
 	 	 	Hey, sport. You wouldn't happen to be handy with an electro-compression spanner, would you? 	
 	 	 	Here to lend Skip a hand? A Fanatic took my third. 	
 	 	 	Pitt hasn't killed you yet. Want to roll the dice again? 	
 	 	 	Hey kid. Tell me what you know. 	
 	 	 	Hey ki-, uh, "buddy." Tell me what you know. 	
 	 	 	I'm all ears. Figuratively, that is. What's new? 	
 	 	 	Back for more of the Skipster's wisdom, eh? 	
 	 	 	Indecisive, huh? Well, I've still got it here. 	
 	 	 	Well that's a request I don't often hear! You take all the photos of ol' Skip that you want if it'll make you happy. 	
==XPD_Fuel_ARefugeesGuide==
#	Dialog Topic	Form ID	Response Text 	Script Notes
 	 	 	Understandable. If you ever have some free time and a little room in your heart, you know where to find me. 	He's smiling but trying not to show his disappointment.
 	 	 	I knew I could count on you. You have those honest, open eyes. 	He's very relieved the player agreed to help him.
 	 	 	It's hard to see if you travel with your eyes closed, but this is a tough world. 	A poetic response. He's serious now.
 	 	 	Sure, Appalachia's better than the Pitt, but it's no cake walk. 	He's sliding a joke into a serious conversation.
 	 	 	If I can make things a little easier for the folks who find their way here...well, that's something I can be proud of. 	He's proud to contribute to the greater good.
 	 	 	Go ahead. I'm all ears. 	He has no issue answering the player's questions.
 	 	 	We've got lots of folks pouring in from the Pitt. 	Skippy is trying to underly the severity of the situation.
 	 	 	They're confused and scared. This place ain't nothing like what they're used to. Which is a good thing! 	He's trying to reassure the player that it's a good thing that so many refugees are coming into Appalachia.
 	 	 	But we need a way to steer them in the right direction. Where to find medical supplies, food, other people... 	A serious explanation of what needs to be done.
 	 	 	I thought, why not whip up a survival guide for em? So they know exactly what to expect. 	Skippy is proud of his idea.
 	 	 	I've got tips on the best leads in Appalachia. But these old bones ain't what they used to be and there isn't enough Skippy to go around.	Skippy is a bit abashed of his inability to go scouting himself.
 	 	 	I need someone to be a diligent scout and go out and take photos and gather samples for me. 	This is where he asks for the player's help.
 	 	 	Maybe you could be that scout. Whaddaya say? 	He's really hoping the player will say yes.
 	 	 	Nothing too complex. My hands are just a little bit tied at the moment and I need someone to do some dirty work for me. 	He's a little unnerved that the player is asking this. That means they might not be willing to help him.
 	 	 	So you're one of those, are ya? There'll be caps in it for you if that's what it takes. 	He disapproves of the player's greed.
 	 	 	No harm done. The offer is always on the table if you change your mind. 	He's understanding and non-judgmental.
 	 	 	Sure thing, sport. You take care now. 	He has a fatherly way of speaking.
 	 	 	That's what I like to hear sport! I hope you're ready to explore, because you've got quite a bit of ground to cover today. 	He's excited for the player to be involved in his efforts.
 	 	 	Remember, just snap a few photos and gather a sample for me. Don't strain yourself over it. 	He's incredibly grateful that the player is helping him.
 	 	 	Like I said, you'll need to track down Ellison. 	He's simply repeating himself.
 	 	 	He's probably around here somewhere marveling at a lamp shade or something. 	Skippy finds Ellison's eagerness amusing.
 	 	 	He usually likes to hang around Giuseppe's shop in the main room. 	Another piece of simple directional aid.
 	 	 	That's the best news I've heard all day. 	He's ecstatic.
 	 	 	I hope you didn't run into too much trouble. 	He didn't want to inconvenience the player.
 	 	 	I'm sure Orlando won't make a fuss about giving you an Ultracell boost after all you've done for me today. 	He's perfectly happy to reward the player for their work.
 	 	 	You're an invaluable asset not only to me, but to the Union as a whole. 	He's very grateful for the player's help.
 	 	 	I think keeping people safe and well-cared for is braver than busting into the Pitt with a gun. But that's just me. 	He's sharing his personal opinions. He thinks very highly of the player.
 	 	 	You're alright in my book, sport. If you ever find yourself with a hankering to help the cause again, you know where to find me. 	He's grateful but would love more help.
 	 	 	Excellent work as always, sport. I knew I could count on you. 	Skippy is proud of the player for always helping him and doing the right thing.
 	 	 	Whenever you're ready and able, the Union could always use an extra hand on deck. 	Welcome and inviting, Skippy is a good-natured fellow.
 	 	 	If you need any pointers on where to find some of those plants, speak to Initiate Ellison. 	Skippy is giving simple directional aid.
 	 	 	Boy's over-eager, but he's spent his whole life in Appalachia. He'll know where to find anything. 	He finds Ellison's eagerness endearing.
 	 	 	No camera? No problem. Just come back to ol' Skippy. I might be able to scrounge something up for ya. 	Skippy is always happy to help.
 	 	 	If you've got any more questions, just swing back here. Good luck out there, scout! 	He sends the player off with a smile.
 	 	 	Ah, it's simple. I just need you to go out into ol'Appalachia and take a couple photos, gather a few plants, that sort of thing. 	He has no issue repeating himself.
 	 	 	It's just material for my survival guide. 	A casual statement.
 	 	 	Now that's a darn shame. Welp, if you change your mind, just holler my way. 	He's disappointed but trying not to complain or show it.
 	 	 	You don't have one on you? Hmm, I think I've got one to spare. 	He's thinking about whether he actually has one or not.
 	 	 	Here you are! One camera, served piping hot and...broken. 	He's jubilant that he actually found a camera, despite it being broken.
 	 	 	I'm sure you can get it up and running again, but right now you'd be lucky to get one picture out of it. 	He's a bit sheepish about the fact the camera doesn't actually work.
 	 	 	Now, uh...no need to get too curious or anything, but I maybe snagged this here camera off of a corpse. 	He doesn't want the player to be suspicious.
 	 	 	They had this list on their body of things to photograph. Maybe if you complete it their ghost won't haunt you forever. Just a thought. 	He's trying to make a joke.
 	 	 	Now that's the spirit! I bet there's a Union spark in you yet. 	He's incredibly grateful that the player said yes.
 	 	 	Now, I'll only be sending you to one region of Appalachia at a time so you don't need to tire your legs out runnin' around everywhere. 	He's trying to downplay the assignment so that the player doesn't get cold feet.
 	 	 	Take your time, friend. You know where to find me. 	He's genial and patient.
 	 	 	Ah, now look at what the cat dragged in. Hope you're holding up well, sport. Could use your help with something. 	Skippy is very friendly and genial.
 	 	 	The prodigal child returns. Ready to lend a hand? 	Skippy is very friendly, hoping the player will help him this time.
 	 	 	If you've got a spare moment, I could still use some help with that survival guide. 	Inviting and welcoming, Skippy never shows aggression towards the player.
 	 	 	Have you found everything yet? 	He's eager to learn of the player's progress.
 	 	 	Guess the ol' Skippy charm is still goin' strong. You go ahead and take all the photos you want. 	
==XPD_Hub_Responders==
#	Dialog Topic	Form ID 	Response Text 	Script Notes
 	 	 	Hey, there. Don't think we've met. I'm Skippy, Skippy Roerich. Something I or the Union can do for you? 	
 	 	Back, are you? Change your mind? 	 	
 	 	So, what's it gonna be? You ready to go to the Pitt?	 	
 	 	 	The Union is a sort of a...I guess you might call us a confederation, or a resistance. People banding together for defense. 	
 	 	 	See, there's a group in the Pitt, calls themselves Fanatics. All they care about is conquest - they want the whole Pitt for themselves. 	
 	 	 	They roll into your area, you either join them, they force you to labor for them, or they kill you. And they're coming for everybody. 	
 	 	 	The Union's the only thing standing between them and their total conquest of the Pitt. As much as we're able, anyway. 	
 	 	 	Hell, you've got raider gangs here, right? I've heard about your Blood Eagles. The Fanatics are something like them, but more organized. 	
 	 	 	Imagine every single raider gang you've ever heard got together and decided to make like Genghis Khan. 	
 	 	 	Sweep over everything, kill anyone who won't join, and put anyone too weak to fight into forced labor camps. Everything that's not theirs, they take. 	
 	 	 	That's the Fanatics, and be glad they're not here. 	
 	 	 	Hey there, sport. What brings you back my way? 	
 	 	 	I might have some other things I need help with here in Appalachia, too. I'll let you know. 	
 	 	 	Good luck up there. We're counting on you. 	
 	 	 	It doesn't hurt that we've got factories that can still make manufactured goods, either. 	
 	 	 	All right. All set? Got everything? 	
 	 	 	I prefer "volunteers" to "suckers". I'm not running some kind of scam here. 	
 	 	 	Well... 	
 	 	 	I know, I know. I get it. This ain't your fight. 	
 	 	 	Come on back if you decide otherwise. You know where to find me. 	
 	 	 	Well, why'd you say you're willing to help? 	
 	 	 	No can do, sport. I'll go back one day, but right now I'm more use here, rustling up support to send back there. 	
 	 	 	I'm not young enough to be much use on the frontlines anymore. 	
 	 	 	Well, we got two different Locals I know are in need of help. Locals are what we call Union groups that act independently. 	
 	 	 	Local 42's in the Industrial District. Hex, their leader, is struggling to keep her people alive and retake a foundry from the Fanatics. 	
 	 	 	We got another over in the Trench, working against a Fanatic forced labor camp. Danilo is your contact there. 	
 	 	 	Haven't heard from other Locals recently, but I'm sure we'll be hearing from them if they got trouble, too. 	
 	 	 	It's up to you who you want to help right now. Maybe you'll consider going back again later for the other. 	
 	 	 	Fair enough. What do you want to know? 	
 	 	 	Great! This means a lot to the Union. I'll make sure you're well-rewarded for it. 	
 	 	 	Figured you should be involved if we're gonna borrow your plane. 	
 	 	 	Thanks for coming by, Rucker. Looks like we've got a volunteer to take a trip out to the Pitt. 	
 	 	 	Suit yourself, sport. But come back if you change your mind. I'll be here. 	
 	 	 	Bad. Don't get me wrong. It's home, and I want us to keep it. But we got hit bad in the war, and we've never recovered. 	
 	 	 	Lots of radiation. Some areas are badly toxic, with all the junk that got blasted into the air or spread around from the factories. 	
 	 	 	People are sick a lot, from one thing or another, and food can be hard to come by. Hell, some of the city's still on fire, I think. 	
 	 	 	But some of the factories survived, and we've got them running. Gives us access to things you can't get anywhere else. 	
 	 	 	Might even be able to rebuild, if it weren't for the Fanatics. 	
 	 	 	The Union's back's against the wall. We're doing our best to hold off the Fanatics, keep them from taking everything. 	
 	 	 	Occasionally, we win some small victories, but not a lot. 	
 	 	 	Got a couple situations back there right now where an extra hand might tip things in our favor, at least for now. 	
 	 	 	I don't want to call it mercenary work, but I'm not gonna lie: you'll be going there to fight. 	
 	 	 	Fantastic! Let me just get Rucker in here. It's her bird, after all. 	
 	 	 	Hey, I didn't start this conversation. Don't mind me if you've got somewhere to be. 	
 	 	 	What's a Skippy look like, eh? Call me Skip if you like that better, or whatever you want. Just don't call me "Mr. Roerich". 	
 	 	 	Never felt right, that. Took me weeks to get that Orlando character to stop doing it, at least to my face. 	
 	 	 	That's right. Looking for someone to help us take the fight to the Fanatics. 	
 	 	 	Surprised we got a taker, actually. You are interested, right? 	
 	 	 	Because it's home, damn it! Mine, ours, all of us who were born and lived there, before and after the bombs! Ain't that enough? 	
 	 	 	If the Fanatics are out of the picture, we can rebuild. Make something out of it again. It doesn't have to stay like it is. 	
 	 	 	If that ain't enough for you, picture this: a horde of Fanatics, hundreds, thousands strong, setting their sights here. Sound like something you want?	
==XPD_HubRE_TakePhoto_CameraShy==
#	Dialog Topic	Form ID	Response Text 	Script Notes
 	 	 	Heh, guess I got myself a fan. Can't say I blame you, but that wasn't even my good side.	
 	 	 	Hope you got my good side! 	
Category:Expeditions: The Pitt dialogue files