This is followed by a strange sense of relief.
Nothing is happening - more to the point, what if nothing happens? What if the entire edge of the world is like this, and my entire orbital plan is doomed to consequence-free tedium? After approximately six minutes of hiking, I first become bored and then panicked. Naturally, I am not, in fact, anything like that patient. No guns, no radiation, no factional warfare, no stuffing backpacks with old tableware and electronics. A November ramble through the outer wilds of New England.
No leaves, admittedly, but it could be Autumn. It's not obvious from here that the apocalypse ever happened. I crawl along the edge of the Fallout 4 world, some unknown force preventing me from heading any further North, but despite this strangeness it's quite pleasant.
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.Įastward ho, then.
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