The Fog comes and goes. Sometimes, on a good year, it hangs thinly around the mountains, or concentrates itself somewhere avoidable. It s a hassle, but folks manage. Other years, it reaches out and drapes itself thickly across the whole island, swallowing villages and ruins and marinas. Folks manage a lot less. There are things in The Fog, you see. Old things, all twisted up by radiation and ill will. Sometimes The Fog carries poison. Sometimes it just drives you mad. Welcome to Fallout 4‘s Far Harbour. This is a bad year.
