Fallout 4 Survival Diary #1

May 19, 2016


When Fallout 4 came out, I jumped all over it. Despite playing it for 80 hours, I never “beat” it and I had this nagging feeling that something was missing. For me, that something was survival mode. I played through New Vegas in “hardcore” mode, and missed a lot of the features  it included, such as needing to eat, hydrate, and sleep.With the inclusion of Survival Mode I’ve decided to return to Fallout 4 and complete it, while chronicling my adventures.  Hopefully it will be entertaining. A word of note, I’m playing on PC and do have some mods enabled to make things easier on me. For instance I have a mod which lets me create a tent to sleep in to help with saving as recovery in survival mode only happens when you rest. Also, I’m running Classic VATS, which will freeze time when VATs is used like in Fallout 3, which I prefer to Fallout 4’s VATS. Other mods are largely cosmetic, but I’m not running Vanilla Fallout. All that being said, enjoy.

Survival Diary of Sandra Storm #1


The following is the diary of Sandra Storm, survivor of Vault 111. Before the bomb dropped, Sandra was an intimidating woman that was not afraid of a fight. She acquired several facial scars from local brawls and fights. After the bombs dropped, she was force to be reckoned with. Freed from society’s norms of being polite and holding back. Perhaps the post apocalypse was the world she was meant to live in…


I awake in the Vault. I’m alone, but physically fine other than some chills from Cryosleep. There is nothing left for me here. I find a baton and prepare to make my escape. The Vault is littered with Rad Roaches and skeletons of the past. I dispatch a small horde of them with the baton and take gooey pieces of them for later. It might not be the most delicious meal, but I don’t know what food abundance will be like once I get out of the Vault.


Outside the Vault, the sun is bright and the world seems scarred and harsh. I jog to my home to find it a derelict along with all the other homes in the neighborhood. These places are now just a shell to be searched and scoured. Their only usefulness is what I find within them. After searching all the homes, I find a small stash of pistols and ammo. This I’m sure will be useful in my journey ahead. I discover my old domestic robot still sputtering around. I never much liked the thing, but I task him with searching the town. The robot takes out bloat flies while I continue to search home by myself. I decide to leave the depressed robot in town. He’ll only slow me down as I journey further.

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Behind the Morrison house, I find an underground shelter. They always were a paranoid bunch. I’m thankful for their paranoia now. I suppose they are long gone. I’m tired from scavenging and feeling a bit parched. The shelter doesn’t have any water, but it does have a bed. I flop down and doze off for a few hours to give my muscles time to relax


The nap seemed to help, but I still feel tired. I push that feeling aside and get up. It’s time to leave town. On my way out of town I find a small cooking pot. The rad roaches would go down easier if I cooked them. I grill up the batch I’ve recovered so far before crossing the bridge out of town. From what I remember there was gas station before the town of Concord. Both places would be a good place to search for supplies. I find a dog at the Red Rocket gas station. He seems friendly, and useful at taking out a small family of Mole Rats that were inhabiting the station. He might be useful. I whistle at him to take him along on my way to Concord. I’ll call him Dogmeat, because if anything he’ll be useful for a meal down the road.


Concord is a mess. I rummage through some houses and find a makeshift rifle and some ammo. Gunfire seems to be coming from somewhere in the town. Creeping through the shadows I find a small party of raiders attacking a building. I start to pick them off while they are distracted. It isn’t long before I’ve wiped the street clean of them. The raiders didn’t seem to notice the danger from behind until it was too late.  I scavenge armor off the recently deceased and enter the building they were assaulting.


Creeping through the building I make light work of any raiders I encounter. One raider drops a shotgun which I grab and switch to for close encounters. A raider turns a corner. I fire and my heart stops as it clicks. I forgot to load my newly acquired shotgun. The raider has me dead to rights. I know I’m about to die. Dogmeat quickly jumps to the attack, grabbing the raider by the arm. I take the distraction as an opportunity to reload my shotgun. After the shells click in I unload them into the head of the raider. Dogmeat saved my life… maybe I won’t eat the dog after all.

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I move to the second floor of the building, and hear the final two raiders mumbling to themselves about all the commotion I’ve made in my attack. I think to myself, what a bunch of fools. They might have got the drop on me if they weren’t talking. I grab a Molotov cocktail I’ve picked off of a body. A door opens, and I toss the Molotov into the opening. I hear screams, then silence. The fools dropped before they crossed the threshold. The building is clear, but the survivors want me to make sure the street is safe, and tell me about some power armor on top of the building. Power armor might be useful so I agree to help. Clearing the streets of raiders while wearing power armor is like shooting fish in a barrel, but a roar coming from the sewers chills my blood.


A creature know as a Death Claw jumps out from a hole in the street and focuses on me. It’s massive and deadly. Even in the Power Armor I know I’ll be no match for it. I run for cover in a nearby building. Luckily the creature is too big to fit through the broken windows to get at me and runs around the corner. I leave the building to tease it out before blasting away at it.  I continue this battle for what seems like hours, running low on what little ammo I have.


I’m down to just a few rounds of ammo when the beast falls to the ground. Relieved I head back to the survivors. Frankly, I don’t care much about what they say, but they give me a some caps for my troubles, which apparently is the currency now days. They encourage me to head back to my hometown, which they call Sanctuary. Knowing I’ve picked it clean, I decline, but follow them back to the gas station where I deposit my Power Armor on a rack. Walking back to Concord, I pitch a tent on the roof of a building thinking it to be the safest place to stay the night while I dine on Grilled Radroach and water. The survivors I saved spoke of a place called Diamond City. It looks like that will be my next destination. But for now, I crawl into my sleeping bag and pass out.

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