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.
