RPS Feature A Fallout 4 perma-death diary, day 11
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.
Michael Radiatin’? More like Michael Radiated.
RPS Feature A Fallout 4 perma-death diary, day 10
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.
Oh great, now I’m addicted to booze. And in the game, etc.
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RPS Feature A Fallout 4 perma-death diary, day 9
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.
RPS Feature A Fallout 4 perma-death diary, day 8
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.
I’m very close to ‘home’ now, with the only remaining event of note being an encounter with a roaming trader whose Brahmin is stuck in some trees. She doesn’t realise it’s stuck in some trees, however, and as she acts like quite the badass I quietly decide not to prick her pomp. And then, astoundingly, I’m back. Home, sweet never even remotely my home. But it is where I left my power armour and a few of my lesser spare weapons, so the meaning is there even if the comfort is not.
I clamber back inside my battered suit, and an immediate angry beeping reminds me that, unless I find another Fusion Core extremely soon, its time is almost up.
RPS Feature A Fallout 4 perma-death diary, day 7
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.
Heading back towards the Deathclaws isn’t actually any kind of problem, as I can stay in the water and hug the coastline until they’re out of sight. As soon as I emerge onto the shoreline, the temptation to get into more trouble appears: a huge asylum, replete with unnecessarily sinister statues stuck to its walls.
RPS Feature A Fallout 4 perma-death diary, day 6
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.
Guess I’m paying a visit to Chez Deathclaw, then.
RPS Feature A Fallout 4 perma-death diary, day 5
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.
I awaken on a filthy mattress in the back of a rusting lorry. Staggering to my feet, I recoil in terror from a looming shape.
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RPS Feature A Fallout 4 perma-death diary, day 4
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.
You’re all a bunch of WEAKLINGS.
RPS Feature Around The World With Michael Radiatin', Day 3
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.
The first test of my extremely rusty Power Armour is just a few steps away. There are dismembered bodies scattered messily across the ground, in boxes, in an old bath tub, as though some cannibalistic toddler was recently playing here. There’s even a leg in a bin. A LEG IN A BIN.
#leginabin
RPS Feature A permadeath diary.
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.
RPS Feature A Fallout 4 diary, day 1
Beginning a new diary series, which will end upon my character’s first death.
I have already played through Fallout 4 [official site]’s campaign, which led me through a great many places in the central area of its large Massachusetts map, but only a handful on its periphery. There is so much more still to see, but I’m increasingly finding that my level 30 character suffers from usual Bethesda game curse of premature godliness, and fear that further exploration would simply mean routine clean-up. So, time to start anew, and add fresh spanners into otherwise over-familiar works.
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