Industrial District terminal entries are a series of entries found on terminals in the Industrial District of The Pitt in Fallout 76, introduced in the Expeditions: The Pitt update.
Manager's terminal[]
Terminal |
Header | |
|---|---|---|
| Welcome text |
| |
| Body |
Entry 00[]
Looks like I managed to get this thing working again. Ended up having to wipe the entire system though.
Wonder what was on it before?
Shipping records? Payroll slips? HR violations?
Evidence of a vast conspiracy that reaches the upper levels of the government?
Yea, probably. Not that any of that matters now.
Entry 01[]
Wow I forgot how satisfying it can be to type on one of these things. Really takes me back to when things were less... shit.
The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.
The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.
The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.
The effervescent brown fox lolloped over the liquescent dog.
Damn, still got it.
Oh man this stuff's really starting to kick in.
I bet I can get this thing to play Zeta Invaders.
Entry 02[]
My fingers are like the wind.
My thoughts, expanded infinitely.
The mind is a singularity and we are but minnows swimming upstream in that which we call time.
After all you can't have purple without blue AND red.
When all is one and one are all, we will all truly know The One.
Entry 03[]
Ugh what the hell happened last night? Who the hell is The One? Minnows?
Head hurts like hell, mouth is dry, and I'm pretty sure I threw up some sort of bug meat.
If you're reading this, take the rest of the stash. It's in the safe. I'm done. But don't say I didn't warn you.
For a moment though, everything glowed a just a little bit brighter. Very serene.
Hex's terminal[]
|
Foreman's terminal |
Header | Pittsburgh Union - Local 42 |
|---|---|---|
| Welcome text | Hex, Presiding Officer | |
| Body |
The plan[]
I don't care what anyone says, we're taking the Foundry back. The other Locals can say what they want about numbers and rations. The 42 ain't no pushovers. And besides that, we've got the brains, don't we? Don't they all say that's what keeps us in the game? The longer we let those bastards occupy the means of production, the more edge we lose in this fight.
I mean, a working foundry in our hands? Pumping out all the gear we could ever want? And meanwhile, the Fanatics are sitting on this goldmine brewing chems and sticking them in weapons... The thought of what our POWs are going through in there makes my blood boil.
So no more "staying on the defensive." If we're going out, we're going out with a bang.
Supplies[]
They hit us hard this time, right where it hurts - in the stomach. Somehow they found our food stores. We're only lucky they didn't have enough hands to haul off with all of it. Still, it's a big blow. Now we're scrambling to refill, hitting everywhere in town that might still have a crumb of unclaimed food left. Meanwhile, Wicker's got his head up his ass worrying about our steel supplies. Weapons and armor don't mean a damn thing if we're too hungry to use them.
The crew was already restless, worn down, and now we have starvation hanging over our heads. There's gotta be a way out of this...
Help is on its way[]
I was tough on Skippy when he left us. I knew he had good intentions, but I didn't think he'd keep his word, that he was just running away like the rest of them that went elsewhere over the years. Well, I was wrong. He's convinced some folks from Appalachia to come lend a helping hand. We've lost so many to the promise of that place; it's ironic to think they could save us.
Skip says they're battle hardened... I guess we'll see about that. Hard to think anyone from down there could be as tough as us, but from the stories he's told... Freaky red ghoul-like things, monster bats, and nukes going off all over. Sounds far-fetched, but if even half of that is true, maybe they'll have a fighting chance here in the Pitt.