Somebody’s lost their dad. Again.
He’s wandered off into the wasteland, beyond the safety of the vault. He’s left one place trapped in its own little time bubble, and walked into another which – in the case of a lot of the Fallout things we’ve gotten over the past decade or so – feels like it’s also stuck largely in the same state.
Even now, a full 219 years after the bombs dropped and the world burned, it’s still largely the same scorched mess, sparsely scarred with small pockets of struggling civilisation, that it was back in 2161, when a dweller emerged from Vault 13. It’s still just as haunted by the spectre of doom as the capital was in 2277. That same sense of desperation that existed around Boston back in 2287, before that superhuman DIY nut was unfrozen, lives on.
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