Fallout Equestria: Sourpuss' Dossier

Forward: On ghouls and LSP
"The future. Survival anywhere. We surpass the norms."

Ghouls.

The necrotic post-equestrians, the zombies that stay alive long after death should have held them. The powerful creatures capable of fantastic feats due to strength given by radiation, those that have brains capable of rot and that all inevitably draw closer and closer to zombification, to pure mindlessness. I am a ghoul.

I am sourpuss, and before the war I was just another pony. I barely had a job, I barely had a life, I was just another grumpy Bucklyn stereotype. It was the only bit of personality I was given by celesta, and frankly that just pissed me off more. I guess I could have been glad, for it was the war that gave me a purpose beyond my editorial.

I was a member of a special division of the Ministry of Morale, presided over by Pinkie Pie herself. On the front we were merely high level officials, middle management as it were, and we simply ran our local branches. Hell, the branch I was tasked with running was far from special, it was only across the river from Manhattan itself. It was a small building, a former warehouse that had the MoM sign plastered in fading paint.

However, like I said, I was a member of a special division. And, in truth, we were presided over only by the ministry mare herself. We were given this special position due to a very rare earth-pony ability that the MAS called 'Limited Sensory Precognition', LSP for short. However, Pinkie liked to call it our 'sense.'

Each of our specific abilities which, to a certain degree, had a small amount of specialization were named after ourselves. My particular abilities, were known as my Sour Sense. Giving me limited precognition about horrible things, and a sense of where I stood. These Sense abilities came in the form of small physical reactions...

When I was younger, the only thing that my ability could sense was malcontent, and all I would get this itch in the back of my neck. And, seeing as to where I grew up, this was hard to deal with. As I would sense what someone was from how my neck itched around me, and I could sense how each pony contributed to the pain and suffering in my good city. There were crime lords, drug dealers, and foal-fiddlers... all of which I knew about since the moment I walked past them when I was just a little child.

Can you fucking imagine how hard it is to talk the world at face value, especially in those days of happy go lucky colorful ponies, when you can feel just how much pain someone who walks by you causes on a day to day basis? Can you imagine how hard it was to deal with that as a fucking Foal? Can you imagine how much pain I am in every moment now that the world has gone to shit?

Pinkie found me when she was on one of her benders. Her happy go lucky attitude still showed through, but she was hitting the party scene around town. She was high on dash and, I'm fairly certain, Mintals. This wasn't long after the war had started, and I had been annoyed by that fucking itching in my neck for months. Everyone was hurting, and it was just going to get worse. But then she saw me.

"Oh Celestia!" She called out, surprised for some reason. She had called this out from across the street, about to get into a sky carriage home after leaving a club. On a side note, you would not beleive how fucking painful the club scene was for me, especially with the import of those date rape drugs... never-mind. "You, Rusty pony. Come here, I need to talk to you."

It wasn't hard to deduce that she was trying to get my attention, she addressed me in particular in the mostly empty street. "What do you want you big-shot?" I asked, approaching her and waiting to feel the itch... But I felt nothing. "I... what would you like?" I asked, supprised as I actually felt slightly elated from sensing her. She was, well, unique.

"Step into the sky carriage, I have something to talk to you about. By order of the Ministry of Morale." I Recognized the Mare of MoM after a few seconds, I accepted whatever my fate would be and stepped inside. The door closed behind me, leaving me stuck in the carriage as it started to fly up. "How would you like a job?"

This question came so far out of left field that I wasn't sure how to respond. "What kind of job?" I asked, a questioning her closely. "Because, well, I have a job. I do editorials. I make enough money as it is." That wasn't entirely true. Sure, I did have a job and adequate pay, but I wasn't really satisfied with my editorial column.

"You are going to work for the ministry." She stated it with a sort of finality, as if it had been preordained, and I suppose in a way it had. "You have a special ability, a talent few possess, and I want you to use it! I want you to join a brand new division of the Ministry of morale, and report just under me."

"What?!" I asked in dis-belief. "How the hell do you know that I'm not a bad person? How do you know I'm not a spy from zebra, Sent to sow malcontent. To sew seeds of rebellion." Of course I wasn't, but it was a pretty good question. If she had read my column it wouldn't be hard to beleive, as just about every word of it was pure... grump.

"I just know... I have a feeling about you." She said, frowning in my direction. "And, well... Gah! Twilight already tried to get me to explain this, I'm not going to try again. Just take it at my word that I know your good. OK?" She looked at me, straight in the eyes, and despite being high I somehow beveled in her conviction.

"Fine, I beleive you. When do I start?"

Footnote
Sourpuss

S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
Strength - 4
Perception - 8
Endurance - 8
Charisma - 2
Intelligence - 6
Agility - 6
Luck - 8

Sour Sense: You have minor precognition, which allows you small incites into upcoming disaster and the maliciousness of someone's heart. These incites are not always reliable however, or always useful, and can turn people off if you react to them too much. Be warned.