where, apparently, Ms. Unfrozen Wasteland Lawyer is the only person who can manage telling Bitchy McCrabbypants to harvest wheat or Gypsy Drugbottoms to man the guard post because none of these retards can figure this out themselves? And, somehow, my law degree and six weeks of parenting have taught me how to lead Habitat for Humanity and build water filtration plants and weld bed frames? Without me, they'd all just mill around aimlessly until they succumb to hunger or irradiated raccoons? No wonder they went from twenty people to four -- they're all

ing morons.
I don't need complete "realism". I can accept, I guess, the fact that two hundred years in the cryochamber has apparently withered away my regard for human life (in my first two minutes out of the Vault, I casually shot some dude in the face and went through his pockets for loose change). It would be nice if the game world at least pretended that I'm not the only one who doesn't drink paint chip and mercury smoothies all day long. Or maybe laid a little groundwork making you seem plausible.
Anyway, I played for maybe 90 minutes last night and spent 90% of it building shit for hopelessly incompetent people who should, by all rights, be a thousand times more qualified than the woman who was a 1950s homemaker three days ago (not counting the two centuries spent frozen). It was less satisfying than I make it sound.