|The following is based on Fallout Shelter and some details might contradict canon.|
Egads! We've just received word that William Peabody III, Esq., has been found murdered in his bedchambers. We must send our brightest detective and his trusty sidekick to solve this gruesome mystery!”
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- "Strange, it was sunny before we walked in...
...and now it's dark outside, with rolling thunder in the distance.
- "This “manor” has seen better times..."
- "You just can't get good help these days."
|Opening message||Dweller response||Character response|
|I say, we were beginning to worry! I'm Reginald, the head butler.|
It happened right after the host and guests had retired for the night.
|The game is afoot! Let's proceed!||Okay, but just so you know, we tend to use metric around here.|
|Not so fast. Where were *you* on the night of the murder?||Eating Cram in the boudoir. I still have the tins if you want to see them.|
|Reginald, Reginald... Dutch, is it?||No sir, I don't think so.|
|You can't keep us cooped up in here, you know? We have rights!|
I'm Rod Murphy, rich but vulgar industrialist, and this is my trophy wife Priscilla.
|An industrialist? In this day and age?||We mostly just collect old junk and resell it... but we're very industrious about it!|
|What were you doing when Mr. Peabody was murdered?||Coincidentally enough, trying to find clever ways to murder Mr. Peabody.|
|I had a cat named Priscilla, once.||Don't get any funny ideas! It's bad enough Peabody tried to seduce my wife...|
|Hello! This is Lady Elizabeth Worthington, and I'm her attendant Agatha.|
Alas, the Lady can't hear too well, so you'll have to direct your questions to me.
|How did he ruin her family?||Got her son addicted to Rock-papers-scissors, then sucked him dry by always picking Rock.|
|Was that before or after she was Ghoulified?||Oh, she's not a Ghoul, she's just very, very old.|
|What were you doing at the time of the murder?||Resuscitating Lady Worthington after she tried to nibble on a blueberry scone.|
|Ah, the detective! I am Commodore Tramiel, and this is my niece Vicky.|
So someone finally did old Peabody in, huh? Well, can't say I'm surprised.
|Are you saying you wanted him dead?||I guess it would depend on how much suffering he'd go through first.|
|Turkish blade, huh? Did you know Peabody was stabbed to death?||Sixty-four times, if I recall correctly.|
|What about you, Vicky? Did you see anything?||I'm sorry, my niece has a poor memory. I'm sure she can't recall what happened last night.|
|Hello! I'm Alvin Peabody, sole heir to my father's baseball card fortune.|
I'm afraid I won't be of much help, I have no memory of last night.
|Do you often suffer such memory losses?||Only when I go on a violent rampage, so...every other week, maybe?|
|Did you get along well with your father?||Oh sure! He'd disown me, I'd thrust sharp objects at him... The usual.|
|You're the only heir?||All my siblings met grisly fates, usually when playing by the cliffside.|
|I must say I appreciate your candor.||I'll remember that next time I go on a violent, murderous rampage.|
|So, did you find out who did it?|
Was it the jealous industrialist, or the ruined matriarch?
|It was Rod Murphy, the industrialist.||Not surprised, you can never trust the “nouveau riche.”|
|Lady Worthington's attendant Agatha did it.||Huh. Who knew such a monster hid behind those thick nerdy glasses?|
|The Commodore is the murderer.||I guess it all adds up. Here, Mr. Peabody would have wanted you to have this.|
|It's obviously his son. You didn't need me for that.||Strangely enough, he's the one who sent for you. Guess he didn't think this through.|