We made it through the sand screamers unscathed, well Kai and I did. Besides his panic attack and me staring into the face of the geriatric death, nothing bad happened. After the sandstorm I fell asleep and woke up refreshed. Daamin however, had some issues. He basically trashed his van arguing and fighting with things that weren’t there. Unfortunately, he either destroyed or ate a good portion of our food supply. We were close to another small desert community so we all decided to split up and see what we could buy or trade for.
I haven’t had much luck, I was never into hunting for rare items or saving as much money as possible so I don’t have much that people want anymore. I’m actually pretty useless outside of quests, especially quests that don’t involve shooting things. The one thing I’ve managed to get is information. NPCs talk just like players do. Each has their own personalities, traits and relationships with other NPCs. They’re nervous when dealing with players now. They weren’t always like this but I hear whispers. Stories of players killing NPCs in hopes of getting the infinite items they seem to have access too. But that wasn’t working, so they resorted to robbing them. The entire thing has gotten really messy with entire NPC families being wiped off the map.
I give up on trading for the day and settle into a seat at a run-down restaurant attached to an even more run-down bar. There’s an old empty stage with a single microphone stand and a keyboard in front of a tattered yellow curtain. I’m drawn to it as I order a cheap meal.
“What’s with the stage,” I ask the waitress as she brings my lunch.
“That’s where Scrappy Davis Jr used to perform,” she sighs.
“Who is Scrappy Davis Jr,” a small ping lets me know I just activated a quest.
“He’s an old man with some crappy implants. A bad optic implant made him think he was Sammy Davis Jr.”
I ask the question I know I’m supposed to ask, “where’s he at now?”
“A few miles up the road, The Buzzards have him in their camp. He spilled a drink on their leader so they’ve kept him there for entertainment. There’s only four of them, but they’re really scary.”
I finish my meal knowing what I have to do. I stop at my car to read up on The Buzzards. They’re a cult of NPCs. Big guys with big beards, most of the speaking is done by one guy, the others follow orders. Lot of HP and DPS but they’re known for physical attacks instead of any weapons. Shotgun should take care of them no problem, but I’ll take a few healing items just in case. I hop in and start to head to the coordinates for The Buzzards ranch. It’s a quick drive and the place is unmissable. A run-down farmhouse on the hill with an old windmill next to it, probably powering the place. I drive up to the house and come to a stop when I spot a giant man wearing a panda mask.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I hop out of my car to speak with him, “I’m looking for Scrappy Davis Jr.”
The man doesn’t speak, instead he takes a huge swing for my head. I fall to the ground and stumble to equip my shotgun when he lands a massive kick to my stomach. My vision blurs for a moment after his big kick. These guys do pack a punch. He starts to run towards me as I finally equip my shot gun. I fire two shots that land but don’t seem to do much. The third drops him to his knees. I catch my breath and get to my feet. The last shot is straight to his head, a killing blow. But he’s an NPC so he’ll just respawn when I leave. I reload and head for the house.
Outside the front door I hear shouting, one man preaching. “Our brother has left us, claiming that he is the exalted one. Claiming he knows better than our dear sister. I wish him luck but he is lost to think he can find the truth beyond these walls. Sister has told us to follow the buzzards to our glory and that’s what we shall do.”
Another quest is added to my journal titled, “Find the Exalted One,” oh this is a series of cult missions I will not be following. At least I only have two of these monsters to fight. I slide the door open enough to get a peak. One man with a fedora and Hawaiian shirt stands arms out reached shouting as a bald man with a red beard kneels listening to his words, but no Scrappy. I can play this wild then. I call it my star sixty-nine. A flashbang, a smoke grenade and two shrapnel grenades back to back. The enemy is hurt and confused. I wait for the fourth explosion and rush through the door. Three quick shots and both of them can follow the buzzards forever.
“Wow, thanks,” I jump as Scrappy appears behind me. “You got me out of a real jam.”
Game goes rogue and they still can’t fix the companion AI. Scrappy is almost the splitting image of Sammy Davis Jr. The exception being a few straw screws and bolts, a metal hand and an eye that keeps switching colors. I make my way to my truck and he follows, occasionally stopping because I’ve moved too fast. The ride back isn’t eventful. Occasionally Scrappy spouts off some trivia about Sammy Davis Jr. Sammy was nominated for an Emmy because he kissed Archie Bunker on All in The Family. I’m thinking this guy is more of a Sammy impersonator than someone who thinks he is Sammy. If anything, it’s interesting how some of the NPCs have moved on and changed with the world while others have no clue what’s going on.
Back at the restaurant Scrappy instantly heads for the stage as the waitress approaches me, “you’ve saved our restaurant,” she goes into detail about how her family was losing business with no entertainment. She rewards me a small amount of cash, but more than I paid for lunch. “Not a lot of players are willing to still help NPCs,” is the one thing she said that stuck with me.
Scrappy starts to play on the keyboard before setting it to repeat and stepping away. Lighting focuses on him as he begins to hum a little tune. Slowly he starts to sing, “Mr. Bojangles,” getting better the longer he goes. By the second verse NPCs start to enter the restaurant alongside a few actual players. A quick popping sounds lets me know I finished the quest. It feels good to get a win.