I still remember the first time I stumbled across a Hunting Brainsquid on Kumasi II. There I was, scanning rocks in a rocky desert biome, minding my own business, when this thing scuttled out from behind a boulder. Four fleshy tentacles propelling a pulsating, exposed brain. No eyes, yet I swear it was staring directly into my soul. My Va’ruun Inflictor was out before I could scream. And in that moment of pure panic, between frantic trigger pulls, a weirdly familiar image popped into my head: Bud’s cheery little brain-in-a-jar trundling around the Fallout TV show on his RC car base. Bethesda, you magnificent, terrifying weirdos — you’ve done it again.

The Creature That Crawled Out of My Nightmares

Let me paint you a clearer picture. The Hunting Brainsquid isn’t just some procedurally generated blip on your scanner. It’s a deliberate nightmare fuel dispenser. Picture a wrinkly, oversized cerebral cortex, complete with distinct lobes, hoisted about a meter off the ground on four muscular, squid-like legs. Horns? Check. A general aura that screams “I’m going to suck out your brain stem and use it as a toothpick”? Double check.

What makes it worse is the scarcity. This thing doesn’t infest every corner of the Settled Systems like some pesky Heatleech. Oh no, it chooses its hangouts with the precision of a serial killer. You’ll only find variants in a handful of very specific, very desolate spots. My first encounter was in the rocky deserts of Kumasi II, but the galactic grapevine tells me they also enjoy frozen plains on Bara III, wetlands on Boilvar I, and the frozen volcanic craters of Feynman IV. If you spot one, you’re either a dedicated xenobiologist or you’ve made a terrible life choice in your landing coordinates.

Meanwhile, Back in the Wasteland…

Now, fast-forward 300 years (or rewind, Fallout chronology is a pretzel) and drop yourself in the irradiated ruins of America. Specifically, rewatch that moment in the Fallout TV show when the cheery, disembodied head of Bud Askins appears, his brain gently bobbing inside a preservation jar mounted on a tiny, wheeled robot chassis. He was a Vault-Tec executive who literally gave his mind to the company store. The result? A Robobrain prototype that looks like a rejected Roomba with a PhD.

When I first saw Bud zip across the floor, dispensing corporate loyalty programs with that too-wholesome voice, I laughed. When I later saw a Brainsquid charging at me with murder in its…lobes, I realized the two are basically cousins in the Bethesda Extended Universe of Body Horror (B.E.U.B.H.). One is a marketing gimmick gone wrong. The other is an apex predator that decided a skull is too mainstream.

A Side-by-Side That Keeps Me Up at Night

Let’s break down this family tree that nobody asked for:

Feature	Hunting Brainsquid (Starfield)	Bud’s Robobrain (Fallout)
Brain Exposure	Fully exposed, veins and all	Exposed but neatly jarred
Mobility	Four muscular tentacles	Four tiny RC car wheels
Primary Directive	Latch onto your face and feast	Calculate insurance premiums
Personality	Silent, malevolent	Chirpy, helpful, deeply unsettling
Encounter Odds	High chance of death	High chance of second-hand embarrassment

See the resemblance? It’s like someone in Bethesda’s creature design pit glanced at the Fallout team’s whiteboard and thought, “What if that, but angrier and without the jar?” The Brainsquid essentially feels like the radioactive evolution of Bud’s design had Vault-Tec’s experiments been left to cook for a few more centuries in deep space. If the Wasteland can make a salamander grow a second head, it can definitely make a corporate brain sprout some horns and a bad attitude.

A Loving Nod, Not a Literal Link

Let’s be clear: there is no canonical portal between the Fallout universe and Starfield. Bud’s brain-jar is a product of Vault-Tec’s limitless unethical ambition, while the Brainsquid is a naturally occurring alien that proves Darwin was a galaxy-wide optimist. But you can’t tell me Bethesda’s artists didn’t share a knowing glance over coffee. This is the same studio that loves stuffing Easter eggs into every level. Finding a creature that looks like a horribly repulsive evolution of a fan-favorite Fallout prop is the highest form of inter-franchise flattery.

In my headcanon, though, if you dropped Bud on Kumasi II, he’d probably try to sell the Brainsquid an extended warranty before getting his jar smashed. The Brainsquid wouldn’t even buy.

Should You Embrace the Squid?

If you’re hunting achievements or simply want bragging rights, the Brainsquid is worth tracking down. Just come prepared with high-powered ballistic weapons, a medpack surplus, and maybe a spare pair of pants. As a proud ship captain in 2026, I can confirm that even with the Shattered Space DLC adding a host of new horrors, the Brainsquid remains a classic. The DLC may have introduced reality-warping anomalies that gave me existential dread, but nothing beats the primal terror of a brain with legs.

I’ve learned to appreciate the twisted creativity. In a game with hundreds of alien species, the Brainsquid stands out precisely because it triggers a memory of Bud’s weird little smile. It’s a wink from the devs, a message that says: “We know what makes you uncomfortable, and we’re putting it on two (four) legs.” Next time I see one, I’ll probably still scream like a rookie, but I’ll do so while appreciating the artistic lineage. Then I’ll reload my magshear and reduce that exposed brain to a puddle. Vault-Tech approved? Not likely. Satisfying? Absolutely.