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.
