Complete guide to all quests organized by traders. Grow your legacy through story-driven and daily quests!
Main Trader - Your primary source for general supplies and essential quests.
// INITIATING BOOT-UP SEQUENCE...
// BIOSIGNATURE CONFIRMED. NEW RECRUIT DETECTED.
Welcome, survivor. Your journey begins now. You have been delivered to the outskirts of the Sinfall Territory, a land of opportunity and extreme danger.
Your first and only priority is to reach safety. Located at the center of the coastal settlement is a compound protected by automated sentry guns. This is the Safe Zone. Inside, you will find a Trader who can provide you with essential supplies, missions, and a chance to survive.
Follow the worn paths and look for the flags marking the perimeter. Trust no one you meet on the road until you are within the compound's walls. Move quickly, stay alert, and do not linger.
Find the Trader. They are your first step toward becoming a legend in Sinfall.
// OBJECTIVE: LOCATE SAFE ZONE TRADER.
// DIRECTIVE: SURVIVE.
Let's talk about the basics. Out here, everyone's obsessed with guns, bullets, and canned beans. They forget that a body runs on more than just lead and preservatives. Scurvy is a silent, embarrassing killer that's thinning my clientele.
I'm launching a new health initiative for the settlement, and it starts with proper nutrition. I need apples. Lots of them. They're common, but gathering fifty without getting shot or eaten takes a special kind of patience and luck.
This isn't a glorious mission. You won't be storming a fortress. You'll be quietly combing orchards, gardens, and backyards under the threat of snipers and the infected. It's a test of perseverance. Bring me fifty pristine apples, and I'll make it worth your while. Trust me, a healthy operative is a profitable one.
The economy of survival never sleeps. To keep valuable resources circulating and to encourage... initiative, I have instituted a daily bounty. Each morning, one of my scouts hides a cache of supplies in a new location. The coordinates are fleeting, the landmarks transient.
Your task is simple: use the clue I provide, find the stash, and claim it. This is not just a test of your survival skills, but of your wit and awareness. The first capable soul to reach it reaps the reward. Will today be your day?
Listen up. You can live off canned spaghetti and stolen military rations, or you can eat like a king. The real protein on this island walks, flies, and charges on four legs. But to bag the big game, you need more than just a rifle; you need knowledge. And that knowledge comes from one man: Jimbo 'Hawg' Johnson.
He's a mountain of a man, smells of pine, gunpowder, and smoked meat. He doesn't come to the safe zones; the wilderness is his home. He's the best tracker and hunter I've ever known, but he's paranoid. Doesn't deal with anyone he hasn't personally vetted.
Your first hunt isn't for an animal—it's for the hunter. His cabin is hidden deep in the old growth forests, likely near game trails and fresh water. Follow the trophy racks and the scent of woodsmoke. Find him, and tell him I sent you. If he doesn't shoot you on sight, he might just teach you how to survive out here for real.
You look like you're handy with a rifle, but can you handle a fishing rod? The sea and the rivers of this island hold riches that no military convoy ever carried. But to learn those secrets, you need to find the one man who knows them.
They call him Old Man Finnigan. He's a ghost who lives off the grid, trading his unique catches for things he can't make himself. He doesn't trust my type, or anyone who smells of gunpowder and desperation. But he might trust someone I send his way.
Your job is to find him. Listen for the sound of calm water and maybe a muttered curse line. Find him, earn his trust, and a whole new way of surviving on this island will open up for you. Don't scare him off.
You've proven you can handle yourself on land. Now it's time to conquer the sea. The coastlines and rivers are the only true highways left, and controlling them is the key to true power on this island. But to do that, you need a captain.
There's a man in Stonington they call 'Moby Dick.' Don't ask if it's his name or a callsign; the answer is probably a tall tale involving a harpoon and a very angry whale. He's the only soul who can secure you a proper vessel and the gear to sail it.
Your mission is to find his operation. He operates from a fortified dock in Stonington, but he doesn't advertise. Look for the pier littered with fishing nets, buoys, and the skeleton of a large boat. Find him, and you'll unlock the entire archipelago. Just watch your back—the coast is fraught with new dangers you can't outrun on foot.
Progress in this city is often halted by... inconvenient obstacles. The chemical fogs in the industrial sectors are one such obstacle. I have need of someone to venture into those zones. To do that, you require specialized filtration—the kind not available in any store.
He is a former chemical engineer who now trades in survival. He has gone to ground in Westbrook, paranoid that his former employers are looking for him. Find him. His expertise is the key that will unlock those toxic doors for us. Do not be seen by the corporate patrols. Soot will bolt if he feels cornered.
Everyone knows what I sell. My business is legitimate, my walls are strong, and my rules are clear. But I'd be a fool to think I provide... everything. For the things that are too hot, too rare, or too illegal to move in the open, you need a different kind of specialist.
There's a man who operates out of the old prison on Alcatraz Island. He calls himself 'Al Capone,' and the name fits. He controls a black market from a cellblock, trading in contraband that would get you shot on sight anywhere else. Getting to him means crossing water patrolled by bandits and infiltrating a fortress he controls.
This is your test. Get to Alcatraz. Get past his guards. Find him. If you can do that, you'll have access to the kind of firepower and gear that myths are made of. Don't disappoint me, and whatever you do, don't try to cheat him.
Let's be clear. The goods I move keep people alive. But in this world, some folks don't want to be sober. They want to forget, to feel nothing, or to feel everything at once. That kind of business... requires a different touch.
Deep in the southern jungles, a man they call 'Pablo Escobar' operates a compound hidden from the sky and surrounded by loyalists and landmines. He controls the flow of every chemical comfort and nightmare imaginable. I don't deal in his products, but I deal in information. And knowing him is a form of power.
Your task is to find him. Follow the overgrown dirt roads south, past the abandoned villages. Look for the signs others miss—a stray wrapper, a guarded path. Get to his compound without getting shot by his lookouts. If you can make it to him, you'll have access to a different kind of currency. Remember: in his world, loyalty is bought, and trust is a bullet away.
Bullets, bandages, beans... these are the currencies of the desperate. But for the true players, the ones planning for a world after this one, there is only one currency that matters: information, encrypted and untraceable. And that means Bitcoin.
There's a ghost in the machine out there, a coder who survived the collapse and kept the blockchain alive. He calls himself 'Satoshi Nakamoto.' He doesn't trade in physical goods; he trades in power—digital wealth, encrypted data, and the locations of automated pre-war caches only he can unlock.
Finding him is the challenge. His operation is buried in a hardened server farm. You won't find it on any map. Look for the places where the old world's tech still hums. Follow the wires.
Find Satoshi. Gain his trust. And you'll learn that in this new world, the most valuable loot isn't in a military bunker... it's in the blockchain."
This isn't a cleanup mission. This is a war. Your name will be a legend whispered among survivors. Your actions will be a beacon. Complete this, and you will be the one who truly started to win our world back. This is your World War Z.
A hostile sniper is pinning down our supply route. They're hidden somewhere in the old forest. Find them and take them out—silently. Every shot you hear is another one of our people not coming home.
This is a one-shot deal. You either come back a legend, or you don't come back at all. Eliminate the Fire Demon, and I'll give you a reward pulled from the deepest, most secure locker I have. The wastes will remember your name.
This isn't just about killing; it's about flawless execution. It's about proving that in this cutthroat world, you are the apex predator. Show them what happens when they cross our kind. String together five kills in one relentless, uninterrupted streak. Be the Punisher.
Alright, listen up. I deal with a lot of cowards and loot-goblins who only venture a kilometer from the coast. They have no concept of this island's true scope, its beauty, or its absolute, concentrated horror.
I need someone who knows the land. Someone with a strong heart and faster legs. I'm commissioning a grand tour—a pilgrimage to the rotting heart of our old world.
Your task is simple in word, but lethal in deed: you must journey to the central square, main street, or defining monument of every major settlement on Deerisle.
Succeed, and you will have proven yourself the master of this terrain. I will reward you as such. Fail, and you'll become just another nameless corpse on the long, bloody road.
Intel just came in from my scouts. They've spotted fresh chutes in the sky—not ours. A lost squad from the old 101st is drifting down, loaded with gear that hasn't been seen since the world went quiet. Among their kit is the crown jewel: the M1918 B.A.R.
That weapon is a piece of history, a force of nature. It's the kind of firepower that can turn a man into a king in these lands. But those paratroopers are no easy mark; they're hardened, well-armed, and they don't take kindly to visitors.
The problem is, they're dropping blind. No fixed location. You'll have to listen for gunfire, check the skies, and scour the entire map for their landing zone. Find them, outfight them, and bring that rifle back to me.
This isn't a guarantee, mind you. It's a chance. You have to earn it. So get out there, and don't let that prize slip through your fingers.
See that static on the horizon? That's Cannibal Island. A wretched place, even by our standards. The locals are... unfriendly. They don't trade bullets or bandages; they trade in bones. But they're not the reason I'm sending you.
Rising from the heart of that nightmare is a colossal radio tower. The old-timers say the signal that poured from it could be heard across the globe. They also say that anyone mad enough to climb it and survive gets a view of this broken world that changes them.
I need someone with a steady hand and a stronger stomach. Your mission is to get to that island, fight your way through the horrors that call it home, and climb that godforsaken tower. Plant your feet on the very top platform and see what's there.
Is it a powerful radio? A hidden stash? Just the satisfaction of conquering it? I don't know. But what I do know is that the only people who come back from that climb are the ones I want working for me. Don't look down.
Before the infection, before the collapse, there was another war. One fought with honor, for king and country. Men and women from this very island gave their lives for a cause they believed was just. Their monuments still stand, weathered but enduring, in town squares and on lonely hillsides.
In our struggle to survive, we have become selfish. We look only to the future, or we are mired in the immediate horror of the present. We have forgotten the sacrifices that paved the way for the world we lost.
I will not let their memory fade. Your task is to become a pilgrim. Journey to every major war memorial on Deerisle. Stand before them. Remember the fallen. It is a quiet quest, but a profound one. In honoring their past, you may yet find a shred of the dignity we have all but surrendered.
This untamed land is ours to claim, but it needs a symbol to call its own. The first step is to build the flag itself.
A flag must be secured to withstand the wind. Before our colours can fly, we need something to tie them fast.
A grand flag needs a strong pole to stand on and trusty rope to hold on tight! They're the best friends a flag could have. Can you help make them?
Every great settlement starts with a solid foundation. Before we can raise walls or a roof, we need the planks to build upon.
A territory cannot be built on dreams alone. It needs a foundation that will endure. Gather the materials and construct the base foundations. This is the first, most crucial step in transforming this wild land into our stronghold.
The night brings threats that our foundation cannot stop. We need a door, now. This isn't about comfort; it's about survival. Craft a strong door to seal the entrance and secure our shelter before darkness falls.
Our base is secure, but it is a tomb without light or a view. A stronghold needs more than strong walls; it needs a connection to the world it commands. Craft and install windows to let in the light and complete our command of this territory.
A foundation defines our space, but walls define our strength. We are exposed until we can build a barrier against the wilds. Gather the materials and erect the walls that will transform this site into a true stronghold.
Our walls are high and our roof is strong, but we lack control of the highest point. A secure roof hatch is our final defensive priority, granting access for maintenance and a tactical advantage. Forge and install the seal to our fortress's crown.
Walls provide security, but a roof provides shelter. Without it, we are exposed to the elements and the sky. Raise the roof overhead to complete our stronghold's shell and declare this territory truly under cover.
The cities and towns are overrun with the former populace. They're slow and stupid, but they travel in hordes. We need to clear our immediate vicinity. Start with 100. It's grunt work, but it's the foundation of safety. Every one you put down is one less at our walls.
We're looking to expand our scavenging operations. That means clearing entire blocks. The hordes are dense. 500 kills. This is about reclaiming territory, one body at a time. It's a dirty, relentless job.
This is it. The big one. A thousand of the common infected. This isn't just about survival or scavenging; it's about sending a message. We are taking this world back. You will be the instrument of that culling. It's a grim title, but someone has to bear it.
Those soldier boys didn't stand a chance when the outbreak hit, and now their infected corpses are the best-armed hostiles out there. They're a priority target. Thin their numbers. Bring me confirmation of 100 kills. The gear on 'em might be useful, too.
The old military bases are fortified death traps, crawling with the toughest infected we've seen. We can't establish safe zones until they're cleared. This is a major operation. 500 confirmed kills. This isn't just cleanup anymore; it's a war.
You've proven yourself against the worst of them. Now it's time to break their back for good. A thousand kills. Wipe out the last vestiges of that infected battalion. Do this, and we can finally start salvaging their hardware in earnest. You'll be a legend among survivors.
The regular infected are a manageable threat. The Specials are what wipe settlements off the map. We need someone who can handle these high-value targets. 100 confirmed kills. Learn their behaviors, or you'll become another cautionary tale.
You've shown you can handle the aberrations. Good. But intel suggests their mutation rate is increasing. They're becoming more common. I need you on dedicated pest control. 500 Specials. This is about proactively saving lives, not just reacting.
A thousand Specials. Think about that number. You will have faced down every nightmare this plague can concoct and survived. You'll be the Apex Predator. Do this, and you'll have the respect—and the fear—of every soul left breathing.
I have a proposal. A final solution to the Special Infected problem. You. We've tracked horde movements, and there's a critical mass of these monsters out there. Wipe out ten thousand of them. It's a number so large most would call it suicide. But if you do it... you'll have earned more than caps or commendations. You'll have earned access. Every locked door, every military bunker, every high-tech cache—they'll all be open to you. I'll give you a full set of every keycard we've ever recovered. You'll hold the keys to what's left of the world.
Most survivors here rely on loud guns and crude axes. They are effective, but they lack... artistry. There is an elegance to the old ways, a discipline that turns survival into an art form. I have come into possession of a rare blade, a Katana. It is a weapon of precision, not brute force.
Ten kills showed you the weight of the blade. Fifty will make it a part of your arm. You have learned the basic cut, but now you must learn the flow of combat—how to move between targets, to control your breathing, to make every swing count when you are surrounded.
You have proven your skill and your endurance. Now, you must transcend them. The final step before true mastery is not about counting kills, but about achieving a state of mind. One hundred is not a number; it is a meditation.
All your training has led to this moment. The ten, the fifty, the hundred—they were but preludes. Now, you must perform a feat that will etch your name into the very history of this broken land. One thousand kills. A number so vast it seems impossible.
We've got a problem. A squad of hostile soldiers has moved into the old industrial yard. They're well-armed, disciplined, and they're not friendly. I need you to thin their numbers. Take out ten of them. Consider it a forceful introduction to our neighborhood.
You've got their attention. Now they've called in reinforcements, and what was a squad is now a full platoon. This is becoming a significant threat to our operations. I need you to hit them hard. Twenty-five confirmed kills. Make them regret setting up shop here.
This is no longer a skirmish; it's a war. Their numbers are approaching company strength, and they're starting to launch patrols. We need to break their back before they decide to assault us directly. Fifty kills. This will be a serious fight, but you've proven you can handle it.
Their presence is a cancer, and it's spreading. You've cut them down, but they keep coming. It's time to end this. Seventy-five kills. Wipe out the core of their battalion. Leave their command structure in tatters. Our survival depends on it.
A hundred soldiers. That's the mark of an army, and you will have single-handedly dismantled it. This is the final push. Eliminate one hundred hostiles, and you will have secured this region for the foreseeable future. You'll be more than a survivor; you'll be the reason we can finally breathe easy. Now go. Finish it.
Out in the wastes, it's not just the infected you need to worry about. Other survivors... they're often the biggest threat. They'll take your gear, your supplies, and your life without a second thought. I need to know you can handle yourself. Go out there. Prove your mettle against the living. 25 kills. That'll separate the prey from the predators.
You've made a name for yourself, and whispers are starting to circulate. Good. Fear is a powerful deterrent. But now it's time to turn those whispers into a warning. 50 kills. I need you to become a known quantity, a force that makes other survivors think twice about crossing us. Make every one of them count.
A hundred kills. That's not just a number; it's a reputation. It means you're not just lucky—you're a consistent, deadly force. At this point, they're not just random encounters; they'll be gunning for you specifically, hoping to take down the legend. Don't let them. 100. Secure your place in the hierarchy of this hellscape.
Two hundred. When you reach that number, you won't just have a reputation—you'll be a myth. 'Born to Slay' won't be a quest title; it'll be a simple statement of fact. You will have carved a path through the competition so decisively that your very name will clear a server. Do this, and you'll have earned the ultimate mark of a slayer. The wastes will belong to you.
The foundation of any great enterprise is solid construction. My... project requires a secure facility. These tools are the first step. Procure them. Do not ask what we are building. Just know that it will change everything.
The skeleton of our future is wood and steel. 100 planks. Not a single one less. We are building a clean room, a place where miracles can be engineered away from the filth of this world. Do not disappoint me.
Mr. Sinfall's got a new toy that needs testing. He's too clean to get his own hands dirty, so he pays me to find guys like you. Take this 'Aug,' take out fifty of some other corp's private army, and prove his hardware works. I'll be watching.
Mr. Sinfall's happy with the test. Now he needs a more... thorough cleaning. A rival team is sniffing around. Use this AR15. Make it loud. Make it clear that this territory is off-limits. 100 kills. I want a message sent in brass and blood.
R&D ain't cheap. Mr. Sinfall's funding is getting scrutinized. We need untraceable capital. Hit five ATMs. Old-world money still has its uses. Don't get caught on camera.
We've identified a potential... 'source' material in the crater. But the place is crawling with twisted freaks. Suit up in that NBC gear I gave you, go down there, and clear out 50 of them. We need the area secure for our eggheads.
The data from the crater is encrypted with some next-gen stuff. Our guy can't crack it. You're to take this drive to the ghost in the machine, Satoshi Nakamoto. No one else. If you're intercepted, destroy it. Your life is less important than this package.
The decrypted data points to a unique bacterial strain found only in specific fish. The sample is fragile and must be kept in a stable aquatic environment. Finnigan is the only one who can handle this. Get it to him. The environmental data must be pristine.
So, the big-money boys need my fish, eh? For their science project... Well, if they want a proper genetic baseline, they'll need a large sample size. 50 fish. From these waters. Don't care what kind, I just need the raw biological matter. Get to it.
I've done my part. But I'm a fisherman, not a butcher. Hawg's the man for large-scale processing and analysis. He's got the gear to grind, test, and isolate whatever these fools are looking for in these fish. Take my cooler to him.
The fish had a marker... a pollutant or somethin' that ain't from around here. Traced it back to an old temple deep in Pablo's territory. Rumor is his boys use it as a lab. You need to get inside, and you'll need his blessing to walk out alive. This is mighty dangerous.
So, you survived the jungle. The data you found points north. To a place even my men fear. An Arctic Temple, built over a geological anomaly. I have a contact who can get you in, but you'll be on your own. Get what's inside and bring it directly to Capone. Do not open it.
The laptop's encryption is military-grade. Pre-collapse. The key isn't digital; it's a physical key. A punched card, buried in the most secure bunker on the island. Area 42. Get in, find the marked spot, dig it up. This is the final key.
Use the card on the terminal in the bunker's command center. It'll unlock the final dig site. What you find there... that's for Sinfall's eyes only. Don't get any ideas. This is the end of the road. Now, go complete your contract.
Hunting Trader - Specializes in hunting gear, weapons, and wildlife tracking quests.
There's a hunt, and then there's the Hunt. To bag one of every major creature in this land, from the common stag to the... well, the uncommon bear. This is a test of everything you are. One life, no second chances. Do this, and you'll have earned this. You'll be a legend. The Hunter who never fell.
Think you're tough enough to stare down a grizzly? Talk is cheap. Bring me a single bear pelt. Let's see if you've got the guts before we talk about a real hunt.
That first pelt got you hooked, eh? Demand for thick bear hide is always high. I need a steady supply. Go bag five more. Don't get sloppy—a cornered bear is a deadlier hunter than you.
You've made a name for yourself in these woods. Now, let's make it a legend. Ten bear pelts. That'll mark you as the true Ursine Slayer. Just make sure it's the bears getting skinned, not you.
Every hunter starts with the deer. They're skittish, smart, and a good test of your aim. Bring me a pelt from a mature stag. Let's see if you can track without sounding like a drunken ogre.
Good, you can hit a stationary target. Now let's see you manage a herd. The population's getting thick in the valley. Thin it out. Bring me five pelts. And try not to waste the meat.
The herds are growing bold, eating crops and causing trouble. It's time for a proper cull. Ten deer should send a message. This is pest control with a profit.
Hear that howlin'? The wolves are gettin' brave. They hunt in packs, and they're smart. Pick off a lone wolf. Bring me its pelt. It's a warning to the rest.
The pack leaders are the problem. Take out five of their hunters. Show 'em this isn't their territory anymore. It's dangerous work—they'll be hunting you right back.
You've wounded their numbers. Now it's time to break them for good. Ten pelts, including an Alpha if you can find it. Clear these woods of their menace once and for all.
Don't let their size fool ya. A boar will gut you with its tusks and not think twice. I need a tough hide for leather. Go get one. And watch your legs.
Boars travel in sounders, and a big one's been rootin' up the trails. Take out five of the big ones. Their hides are like armor, so aim true.
This sounder's a full-blown infestation. It's time for a wipeout. Ten razorback pelts. This is for the safety of everyone on the road. Be their reckoning.
Foxes are all cunning and quick. They're not a threat, but their pelts make fine trim. Bring me one. If you can even spot the sly thing, that is.
A noble up at the keep wants a foxfur cloak. Means I need five pristine pelts. No arrow holes in the good parts. This requires a delicate touch... and a sharp eye.
They say foxes with the finest pelts come out only by the light of the foxfire fungus. A midnight hunt. Bring me ten, and make sure they're the quality the nobility expects.
Up north, the ice breathes. And it breathes white death. A polar bear makes a grizzly look like a teddy. Only a fool or a legendary hunter goes after one. Which are you? Bring me a pelt.
Survived the first? Impressive. The frost-folk pay a king's ransom for white cloaks. Five polar bear pelts. Don't get lost in the blizzard... or become a popsicle.
Ten pelts. That's not a hunt; it's a war against the ice itself. Do this, and the northern tribes will call you 'Ice-Walker.' If you live.
They call 'em ghost packs. White wolves on white snow. You'll never see 'em coming. Bag one of these phantoms for me. If you can find it.
The phantom pack is more than a legend; they're a menace to my northern traps. Hunt the hunters. Bring me five of their ghostly pelts.
Silence their howling for good. Ten pelts. This will cleanse the tundra of their pack. It'll be the quietest hunt you'll ever know... until they're on you.
Okay, listen. There's a rumor... a bear that got into a smuggler's stash. It's fast, it's angry, and it don't sleep. It's a twitchy, unnatural beast. I need proof. Bring me its pelt. And for goodness' sake, don't get bitten. I don't know what that'd do to you.
It wasn't a rumor. There's a whole... group of 'em. They're organizing, I swear it! This is a public safety hazard of the weirdest kind. I need five of those pelts. Try to ambush 'em. They've got the attention span of a gnat on a hotplate.
This is it. We need to eradicate this... problem. Ten pelts. This will require a strategy, pure firepower, and maybe a few prayers. End their bender for good. The forest will thank you.
Fishing Trader - Master of aquatic resources and fishing expeditions.
There's one final challenge. A legend. To catch every fish that swims in these waters, from the common river minnow to the legendary Spectral Koi of the Whispering Falls. But heed this warning: the most elusive ones are guarded by peril. A single mistake could be your last. Do this, and do it without perishin', and you'll have more than my gratitude... you'll have my old hat. It's seen a thing or two, and it'd be right on the head of a true master.
Alright, let's start with something that won't pull you overboard. Shrimp are quick and like to hide in the mud. Scoop one up for my stew pot, will ya?
That one shrimp was tasty! Now I need a proper batch for a paella. Five should do it. They're sneaky little things, so keep your net ready.
The market's demand for shrimp is booming! I need a massive haul—ten of 'em! This will test your patience, but a full basket means a full purse.
Time to feel something slippery! Eels hide in the weeds and fight like serpents. Bring me one, and mind your fingers—they've a nasty bite.
So you've danced with an eel. Now let's see you lead the ball. I need five for a smoker down the lane. They're tough to find, tougher to land.
Ten eels! This is a task that would make most anglers quit. It'll take grit and a strong line. Do this, and you'll be the master of the murky depths.
The Bocachico is a sturdy little fella, common but reliable. Perfect for a beginner's fry-up. Go on, land your first one.
Good eatin' on those Bocachico. A family's put in an order for a feast. Gather five for me, would you? They're bitin' near the riverbank.
The town's storehouse is looking bare. We need a reliable hand to bring in a solid supply. Ten Bocachico will keep folks fed for days. A noble task!
Feel like a real fight? The Carp is a bottom-feeding brute that doesn't know when to quit. Hook one and feel the strength in your line.
Ha! You felt that power, didn't ya? Now I need five. Their scales are tough, and their will is tougher. Don't let them wear you down.
Ten Carp is a conquest of patience and power. You'll be sore for a week, but the stories you'll tell! This is the mark of a true freshwater angler.
For a taste of the deep, you need a Snapper. They lurk near the reefs and snap your line if you're careless. Bring me a red one, if you can!
That's a fine fish! Their flavor is famous, and I've got customers lined up. I need five more from that school you found.
A full slam of ten Snapper! This is an order for a king's banquet. It'll take all your skill to haul in this many without losing a one.
Tiny, but oh so flavorful! The Anchovy is the soul of a good sauce. Scoop one up with a fine net. Don't blink, or you'll miss 'em!
One's a taste, five are a meal! I'm putting up jars of salted anchovies. Bring me a small school. They shine like silver in the water.
I need an army of them! Ten anchovies for a massive batch of paste. It's fiddly work, but the reward is worth its weight in gold.
Some fish are for the pan, others for the eyes. The Angel Fish is a living jewel. Catch one carefully for a noble's garden pond.
The noble was so pleased, he wants a whole collection! I need five more, each perfectly intact. Use a small hook and a gentle hand.
Ten Angel Fish! You will be the premier collector for the aristocracy. This requires a calm heart and the patience of a saint.
See the fluttering shapes in the coral? That's the Butterfly Fish. It's a delicate beauty. Catch one alive for an aquarium.
Their colors are a marvel! A painter wants to study them. I need five, each with vibrant patterns. They're easily spooked, so be slow.
A bloom of ten Butterfly Fish! This will stock the grandest aquarium in the capital. A true test of your delicate touch.
The Scalar is a tall, graceful swimmer. It's a prize for any collector. See if you can find one in the still, vegetated waters.
You've found their habitat! Now I need a selection for a dedicated breeder. Five should start his tank nicely. Keep them in clean water.
A full spectrum of ten Scalar! This will supply every fancy fishmonger in the region. You'll need a big tank to keep them healthy on the journey.
Don't let the name fool you, these little fellas are serious business. They hide in the stinging anemones. Catch one if you're clever!
They're popular with the kids, they are! I need a whole caravan of five for a traveling menagerie. Mind the anemones!
A carnival of clowns! Ten of them! This is a massive order for a new public aquarium. You'll be the star of the show.
Ready for danger? The Barracuda is a living missile with razor teeth. Catching one is a badge of honor. Don't get your line cut!
You've got the nerve. Now I need a pack of five. Their jaws are used for tools and trophies. This is high-risk, high-reward fishing.
A barrage of ten Barracuda! You'll be cleansing the waters of a top predator. This is the ultimate test of strength and steel nerves.
Careful now! The Blowfish is a delicate matter. One wrong cut, and your dinner is your last. A skilled chef pays handsomely for one.
You're still breathing! Good. The demand for this risky delicacy is high. I need five, handled with extreme care. No pricked fingers!
Ten Blowfish! This is a task that walks the line between fortune and folly. You must be the most careful angler alive to manage this.
Ever see a fish that looks like it lost a fight with a pancake? That's the Sunfish! It's a gentle, bizarre giant. Just one is a challenge to land.
Believe it or not, a biologist wants to study them. I need a squadron of five. They're slow, but hauling them in is a mighty task.
Ten Sunfish! This is a monumental effort. You'll need a big boat and a stronger back. It's the pinnacle of oddball fishing.
The Mojarra is a common but tasty silver fish in these coastal waters. Perfect for a quick grill. Go on, get your first one.
Nothing beats a medley of fried Mojarra! I need five for the tavern's lunch special. They're bitin' well at high tide.
The festival is coming, and we need fish for the masses! A multitude of ten Mojarra will help feed the crowd. A true service to the town!
Ooh, a fancy one! The Pearlscale is a gem of a fish, with scales like pearls. A collector will pay a pretty penny for a single perfect specimen.
You found a prime spot! Now I need a handful of these living pearls. Five, each one round and flawless. Handle them with care.
Ten perfect Pearlscales! This is an order for a royal garden. It will take an expert eye to select only the very best. Your reputation will be made.
Venture into the jungle rivers if you dare. The Piranha swims there. Catch one, but for goodness' sake, don't fall in. I just need one to prove you've seen the frenzy.
You've felt their bite on the line. Now I need five. Their teeth make fine tools for detailed work. Use a wire leader, or you'll lose your whole tackle!
A frenzy of ten Piranha. This is a task for the brave and the clever. Empty that river of its sharp-toothed scourge and you'll earn a reward that'll make your buddies jealous.
The Pleco is the river's janitor, a sucker-mouthed oddity. They're tough to hook, as they just cling to rocks. Pluck one out for me.
Turns out they're great for keeping tanks clean. I've got an order for a patrol of five. Look for them on submerged logs.
Some folks think they're a nuisance! A pond owner wants a plague of ten to clear his water. It's a strange request, but coin is coin.
Ah, the Catfish. A bottom-dweller with a face only a mother could love. But the meat is sweet! Land one from the murky depths.
That's a fine whiskered beast! I need a crew of five for a big fish fry. They fight dirty, so be ready for a tussle.
The culling of ten Catfish! This will supply the smokehouse for a month. It's a smelly, muddy, and utterly rewarding job.
They say the Demon Fish lurks where the light dies. It's an ugly, twisted thing from the deepest trenches. I don't know what it's good for, but I need to see one. Bring me a single, horrifying specimen.
You've been to the abyss and returned... I can see it in your eyes. Now, a mad alchemist seeks their essence. I need five. Don't ask me what for. Just... be careful.
Ten Demon Fish. When you stare into the abyss, it stares back. You will have faced that gaze ten times over. This is the ultimate test of a deep-sea angler. Survive this, and you will have conquered the deep's greatest terror.
The Forel is a sleek, silvery fish from cold, fast-moving rivers. It's a jumper! Catching your first one is a rite of passage.
They're bitin'! I need a family of five for a gourmet customer who loves their delicate flavor. Use a light fly and a quick wrist.
A feast of ten Forel! This is for a grand banquet. You'll need to find the best current in the river to land this many.
The Swordfish! A noble warrior of the open ocean. Its bill can pierce hulls. To hook one is to challenge the sea itself. Are you worthy?
Incredible! You've landed a legend. Now, I need a swarm of five for a trophy hunt. This is the stuff of epic poems. Don't get speared!
A slaughter of ten Swordfish. This is a task for a god of the sea. You will be exhausted, but your name will be remembered forever.
The waters are sick near the old waste-dumps, and so are the fish. The Corrupted Shark is a horror, with oozing sores and a mad rage. Bring me proof it's real.
By the depths... it's worse than I thought. We need to cull their numbers before they spread. A pack of five. Don't touch the flesh, it's poisonous.
Ten of these blighted predators. You will be purging a poison from the ocean. This is a vile, dangerous, but necessary crusade.
Look at that head! The Hammerhead is a bizarre and ancient predator. They're clever and powerful. Hooking one is just the start of the battle.
You've faced the strange! Now I need a small herd for a research vessel. They want to study their unique senses. Five should do it.
An onslaught of ten Hammerheads! This is a monumental task that will take you to the deepest migration routes. You will be the master of sharks.
It's like a shark that decided to be a saw! The Sawshark is a rare and dangerous beast. That snout can slash and stun. Snag one if you dare.
A school of these living saws? It's a terrifying thought. A museum needs skeletons for a new exhibit. Five will make a impressive display.
Ten Sawsharks! You'll be venturing into the most dangerous breeding grounds. This is the final word in shark fishing. Glory awaits.
The Whale Shark is the ocean's gentle giant. It doesn't bite, but catching one is a feat of sheer strength and endurance. It's like hauling in a island.
To catch one is a miracle. To catch five is to command the leviathans themselves. This is for a documentary crew filming the impossible.
Ten Whale Sharks. There are no words for the scale of this. You will be a titan among anglers, a true master of the deep.
The White Shark. The king of the open ocean. It's not a fish, it's a myth made of muscle and teeth. To hook one is to challenge the sea itself. Bring me proof you faced the pale shadow, and you'll be a legend in my book.
I can scarcely believe it. You've done the impossible. Now, a museum of natural history wants skeletons for display. Five White Sharks. This is a task that will be sung about in sailor's tales for generations.
Ten. White. Sharks. There are no words for the scale of this undertaking. You will be hunting the apex predator, not once, but ten times. Do this, and the title 'Master Angler' will be too small for you. You will be the Apex.
Gliding like a ghost on the sandy bottom, the Stingray hides a venomous barb. Catch one, but watch your step when you pull it in!
Their wings are a delicacy! I need a flock of five for a seaside restaurant. Drag the sandy flats, you'll find them.
A swarm of ten Stingrays! This will supply the market for a week. It's a tricky, dangerous, but profitable venture.
The Angelfish is a classic beauty, with long, flowing fins. They're shy and dart into coral caves. Catch one for a collector's tank.
Such vibrant colors! I need an array of five for a garden pond. They need clean, warm water, so find a healthy reef.
The ascendancy of the Angelfish! Ten to create a breathtaking display. You will be the supplier of beauty to the wealthy and powerful.
The Bluegill is a small, feisty panfish, a classic for a young angler. Catch one on a simple worm and hook. It's the taste of summer.
Nothing beats a bunch of Bluegill for a family dinner. I need five for a regular who loves them fried crisp. They're bitin' off the dock.
A bonanza of ten Bluegill! The kids' fishing tournament is coming up, and we need prizes. A simple, joyful task for a true angler.
The Roach is a tough, adaptable fish found everywhere. Not glamorous, but it'll put food on the table. Round up your first one.
I need a regiment of five Roach for a fisherman who uses them as bait for bigger prey. They're easy to find, but a bit bony.
Establish your reign over the Roach! Ten of them. It's not a glorious quest, but it's honest work that keeps the bellies full.
A flash of gold in the pond! These are fanciful cousins of the carp. Catch one for a child's first pet. It'll bring a smile to their face.
A gathering of gold! I need five for a fairground, for the classic 'win a goldfish' game. They're lively little things.
A bowl full of golden glory! Ten Goldfish to supply a pet shop. A simple, pleasant task that spreads a little joy.
The Perch is a stripy predator with a sharp dorsal fin. They hunt in schools. Pinch one for me, but mind the spines!
Their meat is white and flaky. I need a platoon of five for the fishmonger's stall. Look for them near weed beds.
Plunder a school of ten Perch! This is a reliable haul that always sells. The work of a steady, dependable angler.
A hardy hybrid, the PerchBass has the fight of a bass and the look of a perch. A fun challenge for any angler. Get your hook in one!
They're a popular sport fish! I need a band of five for a fishing lodge's wall of fame. They put up a great fight.
A bounty of ten PerchBass! This will be the highlight of the season's catch. You'll be the talk of the lodge.
The Red Perch is a vibrant, deep-water beauty. They're trickier to find than their cousins. Use a bright lure to lure one out.
That color is stunning! I need a rally of five for a special gourmet event. Their flavor is said to be superior.
Raid the deep holes for ten Red Perch! This is a premium order that commands a premium price. A true test of your deep-water skill.
The Pike is the freshwater wolf, all teeth and aggression. It'll ambush anything that moves. Poke the beast and see what happens!
You've felt those teeth! Now I need a pack of five. They're a threat to other fish stocks, so this is a helpful culling.
Plunder the weed beds for ten Pike! This will make the lake safer for other species and fill your coin purse. A win-win.
The Sturgeon is a living fossil, a prehistoric giant that roams the river bottom. Snagging one is a lifetime achievement. They are protected, so handle with care and release.
A school of Sturgeon! This is for a sanctioned research and tagging program. Five, to help us understand these ancient creatures.
A siege of ten Sturgeon! This is a monumental conservation effort. You will be a hero to the river, ensuring these giants survive.
The Pikeperch, or Zander, is a elusive predator with eyes like glass. It hunts in dim light. Feel the pull of a strong, smart fish.
A party of Pikeperch! I need five for a European chef who craves their delicate, white flesh. Fish at dawn or dusk for the best chance.
A plague of ten Pikeperch! This will satisfy the demand from the finest restaurants in the city. You will be their master supplier.
Black Market Trader - Deals in illicit goods and high-risk operations.
Look, in my line of work, you gotta keep product movin'. Sometimes that means makin' a few side deals, stashing goods in neutral territory, or making a drop before the heat shows up. Point is, I've always got a package that needs a courier with the guts to go get it.
Every day, I hide a new one. Could be in an old wreck, a dead drop, or under the noses of some rival gang. I'll give you a little nudge in the right direction. The rest is on you. Get to it, grab the package, and bring it straight back to me. Don't get spotted, don't get greedy, and for my sake, don't get dead. The first one back gets paid.
Listen, see? I had a little... misunderstanding with some former associates. A trio of two-bit punks named Big Pipe, Bird Eye, and Knight. They thought they could muscle in on my territory, and to add insult to injury, they lifted my favorite paperweight—a solid gold lion. I hear they're holed up in a hideout on the mountain, thinking the altitude keeps 'em safe.
You go up there. You remind them who they're dealing with. You make an example of them, and you bring my lion back. Do this clean, and there's a wad of cash with your name on it.
Some deal in weapons, others in contraband. I deal in moments. A client with... impeccable taste... is seeking a lost portfolio. Not just any photos. These are Polaroids, test shots from the legendary Annie Leibovitz herself. Raw, intimate, priceless.
They're scattered out there—in abandoned studios, forgotten storage lockers, the collections of those who don't know what they truly hold. Find them. Their value is incalculable.
Some people think my business is all guns and jewels. They're wrong. True value is nostalgia. I have a buyer—a very private, very wealthy collector—who is one game away from a complete N64 set.
He's missing the big ones. The classics. Find them. No emulators, no fakes. I need the original cartridges, the ones that still smell like someone's basement and have save files from 1998.
Most of my clients want things that shoot, cut, or sparkle. But my most discerning client? They want to plug in and play. They're building a museum of digital antiquity, and the crown jewels are the complete lineage of Nintendo.
Not the junk you find at a flea market. I need mint condition, first-run consoles. The ones that still have the original packaging smell. Find them. This isn't a child's game; it's a serious excavation of history.
Power and prestige aren't always measured in gold or lead. For a new class of collector, it's measured in teraflops and nostalgia. A certain tech-baron is building a monument to his youth, and he needs the complete evolution of a dynasty.
Not just any PlayStations. I need units in pristine condition—original controllers, un-yellowed plastic, systems that still hum with the ghosts of a million virtual victories. Find them. This is a pilgrimage through digital history.
Forget jewels and guns. The most valuable commodities are childhood dreams. I have a client, an eccentric billionaire, who doesn't want to catch Pokémon. He wants to own the very concept of catching them.
He's after the ultimate collection: the original Pokédex, the digital blueprint of every known species, and a complete set of every specialized Ball ever engineered. These aren't toys. They're relics of a simpler time, and their value is... astronomical. Find them. This is the most important hunt of your life.
The tides of war have receded, but the tools they left behind... they hold a certain power. A value. I have clients with very specific, very expensive tastes for authentic steel.
I need you to scour the old battlefields, bunkers, and forgotten caches. Bring me a collection of the war's most iconic arms. Do this, and you will be handsomely rewarded from my... private stock.
The tools of the West are predictable, But Soviet-era engineering? That is where you find true character. Brutal, reliable, and with a history you can feel in the weight of the steel.
A certain client of mine is... modernizing their security force. They require a specific aesthetic. One of overwhelming force. Get me these icons of Eastern Bloc firepower. Do not disappoint me. The payment will be as substantial as the weapons themselves.
Listen, see? There's a fly in the ointment. A Private Military Company, think they own the streets. Their bird went down in their own backyard, and on it is a little hard drive. My guys say it's got their whole payroll, their security layouts, everything. I want it.
They've got the place locked down tight. Guards, fences, the works. That's your problem. My problem is I don't have that drive. Get into their stronghold, get to the crash site, and bring me that HDD. No mistakes. This is a milk run that pays like a bank job.
Turns out those PMC boys were naughtier than I thought. The real score isn't digital. It's cold, hard, and tangible. Their commander's been skimming off the top for years—weapons, gold, bearer bonds—and he's got it all buried in a lockbox deep under the stronghold itself. They think their little bunker is impenetrable. I think it's a vault waiting to be cracked. Get back in there. Find the entrance to the underground, and bring me that stash.
Drug Dealer - Specializes in chemical substances and underground operations.
The demand never stops. To keep my clients happy and my enemies nervous, I make sure a fresh supply is always in circulation. Every day, I arrange a new drop—a sample of my finest product, hidden where only the cleverest or most desperate might think to look.
Your task is to find it. I will provide a clue: a description of the area, a nearby landmark. The rest is up to you. Be swift, be discreet, and do not attempt to open the package. My product is pure, and my punishment for thieves is pure as well. Bring it to me, and you'll be compensated in a way that makes the risk... worthwhile.
A storm, a clumsy captain... a significant investment now sleeps with the fish. The authorities think they have it all. They have nothing. The real shipment—the one that matters—was in containers they don't even know exist. Waterproof, shielded.
It's all there, off the coast of Portland. I want you to go. Find my property. Do not be seen. Do not be followed. Bring it back to me, and you will be rewarded like a king. Fail, and you will find out what happens to a man who costs me money.
This 'Nomad' strain... it's for the wanderers, the ones who can't sit still. Good, steady demand. Bring me a single brick. Let's see if you can even find your way to a reliable client.
You've proven you can handle a small-time deal. Now, let's scale up. Five bricks. This supply should keep the restless masses pacified for a while. Don't get lost on the way.
Ten bricks! You are now the primary supplier for every drifter on the coast. This is a major operation. Your cut will reflect the risks you've taken. Do not disappoint me.
This 'Blue' is a classic. Smooth, reliable. A good starter product. Bring me one brick. Consider it your introduction to the finer things.
The market for Blue is always thirsty. Five bricks will cause a ripple effect of calm across my territories. Handle this quietly and efficiently.
Ten bricks of Blue? You will flood the market. You'll be a kingmaker. This is the kind of move that builds an empire. Get it done.
Kush. The name itself implies quality from the high places. A premium product. A single brick will find a very eager, wealthy buyer. No mistakes.
You're moving up in the world. Five bricks of Kush means you're dealing with my top-tier clients. This is where the real profit begins. Guard it with your life.
Ten bricks of the finest Kush. You are not just a runner anymore; you are a master of supply. This shipment will cement your legacy in my organization.
Skunk... pungent, potent. You can smell its quality from a mile away. One brick is all it takes to get people talking. Make sure they're saying the right things.
The demand for Skunk is... aggressive. Five bricks will make a lot of people very happy, and a few rivals very jealous. Watch your back.
An operation of this size, with this strain, is a statement. It says we control the market. It says we are fearless. Deliver this, and you will be untouchable.
Stardawg. A cosmic name for a powerful experience. One brick is like capturing a shooting star—brilliant and fleeting. Don't let it burn out.
You've got a network now. Five bricks of Stardawg will light up the night for my most discerning customers. This is how you build a constellation of loyalty.
Ten bricks. You are now supplying a galaxy of users. This is interstellar commerce. The profit will be astronomical. Do not fail.
Future'... a bold name. This strain is engineered, not grown. It's the next evolution. One brick is a sample of what's to come. Handle the future with care.
We are no longer waiting for the future; we are delivering it. Five bricks will change the chemical landscape of this island. Be the catalyst.
With ten bricks, we don't just predict the future—we control it. This is the pinnacle of my work. You are now the gatekeeper of tomorrow.
S1. The first of its kind. The original. Pure genetics. There's a nostalgia market for this. One brick for the purists. They pay well for memory.
You're now dealing in bulk nostalgia. Five bricks of the original recipe. It's a taste of the old world, and everyone is hungry for it.
Ten bricks of S1. You are not just moving product; you are preserving a legacy. This is history in your hands. Make it count.
Black Frost. The name alone should tell you this is not for the faint of heart. It's a cold, powerful high. One brick will send a chill through the market. Be careful.
Five bricks of Black Frost? You're not just dealing; you're issuing a warning. This kind of power freezes the competition. Let them feel the cold.
This is it. The pinnacle. Ten bricks of Black Frost. You will bring the market to a standstill. You will be known as the one who brought the ice. This is your final test. Do not freeze under pressure.
Bitcoin Trader - Deals in cryptocurrency and digital asset recovery.
A single Bitcoin. The first block in the chain. Consider it a test. A transaction fee for my attention. Bring it to me, and we will begin.
Five. You are no longer a casual miner. You are becoming a node in a new network. This contribution strengthens the system. It demonstrates commitment.
Ten. A significant fork in your path. You are now investing not just currency, but faith. This level of commitment separates the users from the believers.
Fifteen. You are now a 'whale.' Your actions can cause ripples in this micro-economy. With this capital, we can initiate more complex operations. Do not falter.
They used to measure value against gold. Now, they will measure it against this. Twenty-five. You are helping to redefine the standard. The network recognizes your contribution.
Fifty. You hold enough of the network's value to influence its future. This is no longer mere trade; it is stewardship. You are helping to build a system that cannot be corrupted.
Seventy-five. You are approaching a majority share of the circulating supply I monitor. Your faith is... notable. The old world's banks would have feared you. Here, you are building what they could not.
One hundred. The final block. You have amassed a fortune that proves you understand the only truth that remains: in a world of chaos, code is law, and mathematics is the only king. You have not just collected currency; you have validated the entire system. The chain is complete.
The first law of the new world: energy must be regulated. Capacitors are the bedrock. They control the flow, prevent surges, and ensure stability. A system without them is chaos. Bring me ten. We begin with control.
The foundation is set. Now, we scale. We need raw materials, the lifeblood of circuitry. More critically, we need cooling. An overheated system is a dead system. And the GPUs... they are the heart of the operation. Find them. The processing power of the old world is scattered in its ruins; reclaim it.
Now we build the mind. The CPUs are the thinkers, the RAM is the short-term memory, and the SSDs are the knowledge. Together, they form the core logic—the ability to calculate truth. Without this, we are merely storing data, not creating it. Procure the finest you can find. Speed is efficiency.
The mind needs a body. The HDDs are the long-term memory, the archives. The Microboards are the skeleton, the framework upon which everything is built. The Circuit Boards are the nervous system, connecting it all. This is the architecture of our new reality. Do not bring me damaged goods.
The hardware is nothing without the soul. The algorithm. I have written the core, but I require a specific piece of code, lost in a military-intelligence server. An optimization protocol. This 'Intelligence Folder' contains it. This is the most delicate step. Retrieve it. Do not be detected.
The final step. We must amplify our efforts to an industrial scale. I need a massive parallel processing array—ten GPUs. And to power this beast, we need stable, high-wattage Power Supply Units. This is the final hash. The final calculation. Bring me these, and we will ignite the engine that will secure the network for decades.