Posts Tagged ‘Diary’

Your Chance To Star/Die In Our XCOM 2 Diary

Supporters! Hello! Love you! I’m going to start writing an XCOM 2 diary in the not-to-distant, which will initially star recreations of the great and good staff of RPS, and also me. I’ll be playing on a relatively high difficulty and in Ironman perma-death mode, so basically Adam, Alice, Graham, John, Pip and I are all doomed to die within the first mission. I’ll need reinforcements pronto.

Would you like to be one of them?
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Fallout 4: The Lighthouse Family

Continuing a perma-death diary in Fallout 4, in which I begin with absolutely nothing other than a plan to to voyage around only the outermost periphery of the world.

You voted that I swim out into the poison sea, to find out what lies beyond the water. I’m afraid I can’t honour that.

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The Boston Bastard: Being A Dick In Fallout 4 – Part 3

In the third and final part (parts one and two here) of my attempt to be as arbitrarily cruel and murderous in Fallout 4 as I can, I – well – fail. Am I a person who can’t be a dick in this game, or is this a game that just won’t allow me to be a dick? My concluding thoughts are below. Clearly there are ample spoilers throughout.

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The Boston Bastard: Being A Dick In Fallout 4 – Part Two

I’ve decided to play Fallout 4 [official site] as a complete prick. Just killing indiscriminately, to see what might happen. Knowing Bethesda’s propensity for adjusting to a player’s approach, I wondered if this might bring out aspects of the game missed by the goodie-two-shoes reviewers before me. As you might imagine, that means this contains spoilers from the off.

In part one I successfully took out the Brotherhood Of Steel’s small enclave in Cambridge. This time, things start to get a bit… weirder.

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Fallout 4: Michael Radiatin’, Day 2

Continuing a perma-death Fallout 4 diary, in which I begin with absolutely nothing other than a plan to to voyage around only the outermost periphery of the world.

Eastward ho, then. I crawl along the edge of the Fallout 4 [official site] world, some unknown force preventing me from heading any further North, but despite this strangeness it’s quite pleasant. It’s not obvious from here that the apocalypse ever happened. Here, it’s just quiet woodland. No leaves, admittedly, but it could be Autumn. A November ramble through the outer wilds of New England. No guns, no radiation, no factional warfare, no stuffing backpacks with old tableware and electronics. Just me, my bare-ass and the land.

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