Autumn's Tale, My attempt to put to "paper" the story of my FO4 character Options

[ArtemisNoir]

OK...*deep breath* here goes.
I've thought about actually writing down this story for several years, but, for one reason, or another, I've never quite managed beyond a sentence or two. Right now, my life is topsy turvy, but, ironically enough, it's also a good time to begin. Both encouraged by, and inspired by, Renee and Treydog, I've mustered the courage to finally post. Some notes first, though:

* Anyone familiar with the game will observe I'm using mods. I don't go overboard, or anything, but there are changes.
* This fiction is based on the main events of the game, but, sometimes, there will be differences in the details.
* I have tried to strike a balance between enough exposition so that anyone who doesn't know the game won't feel lost, while those that do won't be overly bored. I'm not sure how well I'm succeeding, but it's something that will evolve as it progresses.
* I'm hoping to post an installment once per week, each entry consisting of somewhere between 600 and 900 words. So... not huge chapters, but they're manageable. Right now, I'm not having any trouble getting out the words, so perhaps I'll eventually increase the schedule. As I wrote though, I'm also distracted by RL, so I'll see how it goes.

~ ~ ~

Entry 1: Awoken



Her first sensation was one of light. Searing and brilliant, it was nearly an assault after her struggle through Vault 111’s dimly lit passageways. Long moments passed, and then, perhaps jolted by realisation, as well as the view before her, Autumn gasped, reeling.

The Vault had been constructed on a small hill, and from her relative vantage point, she took in the wreckage of her home, and the small suburban neighbourhood in which she….no… they… had lived. The urge to scream and flail wildly almost overwhelmed her; somehow, maybe it was instinct, she repressed it.

Trying to steady her breathing, Autumn attempted some level of coherent thought. Time blurred, only the sun’s high position in that blazing, cerulean sky told her that no more than a few minutes had elapsed. Grappling with the stark certainty of her circumstances, and for want of a more obvious plan, Autumn slowly began to make her way down the hill, noting, despite herself, the dappled display of sunlight that glittered through the verdant canopy overhead. This, though, made her pause. The trees surrounding her towered high, their trunks gnarled and witness to countless seasons. Although she remained on the edge of hysterical panic, walking had calmed her somewhat, and it was impossible to ignore the onslaught of her thoughts.

“Those trees were hardly more than saplings..... how much time has passed?” she muttered. Her only answer was a strident caw somewhere deep within the leafy branches. “A crow?” she queried. Autumn shook her head, recalling the giant cockroaches that had impeded her progress through the vault. She, no doubt, needed to worry about whatever wildlife existed in this surreal new reality, but crows represented the least of her concerns. Another thing of note was that the path she followed, familiar, yet not, appeared oddly clear of debris, and an obvious attempt had been made to prune the bushes that sprawled alongside it. Autumn found herself unsure whether these observations provided comfort or unease.

A few steps further brought her to a small wooden bridge that traversed a glittering stream.
Miraculously, both were much as she remembered. Memories…. Autumn closed her eyes, flicking them open again as a surge of nausea threatened. Shaking, she lowered herself to the bridge, sitting down, her legs dangling just above the burbling water. Had she not seen her husband shot at point-blank range as he attempted to protect Shaun, their infant son, from kidnappers, mere hours before, and were it not for the grimy pastel-coloured rubble she could glimpse through the trees, it would have been almost idyllic.



Aware that she could not rest for long, Autumn attempted to stand. She swayed, light-headed; a sudden growling made her tense, but at a second wave of nausea she realised that it was her stomach, and she remembered her last meal, a bowl of Sugar Bombs and the coffee that had been prepared by Codsworth, their ever buoyant Mr. Handy Robot. The day had seemed normal, even finally opening the door to that persistent Vault-Tec salesman and securing their spots in the nearby underground facility, did little to indicate the turn their lives were about to take. After that, her recollections became a tumble… cuddling Shaun, discussing their plans for the day, then, Codsworth urgently calling them to the TV. They arrived in time to hear the anchorman announcing that bombs, nuclear bombs, had dropped. Panic. Horror. Disbelief. Their rush to the vault. Fragmented images flashed through her head. Autumn lurched, and vomited the contents of her stomach. Sugar Bombs did not taste sweet the second time around.

All too mindful, after voiding her stomach, that her body was now bereft of anything that might be considered food, Autumn willed herself to push forward. Up close, the jumbled, torn rubble, the homes her neighbours had lived in, and strewn human skeletons told the harrowing story of those who had not been on Vault-Tec’s list.

For possibly the first time, Autumn’s sentiments towards Sanctuary, the suburban community in which they’d lived, were without conflict, though she did reflect that its developers had likely never intended for the name to be ironic.

Walking up the gently winding road toward her old home felt strange; Autumn remembered all those times she’d ardently wished the place could be transformed into something different; she also remembered the never-ending fights with Nate as she argued that her apartment in Cambridge was a preferable location. Now, stumbling over rubble, fallen trees and the bones of her neighbours, she experienced a bleak, deep stab of remorse. A wave of memory engulfed her, and the impossible brightness of the day faded into black as Autumn teetered to the broken ground.



This post has been edited by ArtemisNoir: Apr 21 2023, 07:38 PM

[ArtemisNoir]

@Renee,
lol! Yeah.... I am using texture replacers for everything, but the buildings/streetscape definitely have a dusty, rundown look, while the much fresher deathclaws are far more vivid, which I think adds to the overall impression.

I think Autumn was around level three during that fight. The game has received quite a lot of criticism for throwing the player PA that early, and introducing deathclaws so quickly. I'm not really too fussed, personally (especially given I don't even use the PA), but I do see why some have raised objections.
Cods was indeed taking the claw head-on. I have the game set to "Very Difficult." In Skyrim, even companion NPCs scale to the game's difficulty, and I have the feeling it's the same here, because when Autumn was taking pot shots at that thing from her perch, Codsworth was doing an excellent job of reducing its health bar. He could have probably killed it all on his own, in fact.

Oh, and don't worry about the off topic post you made later on.. I don't like to spam my own thread, but all things considered, I'm not fussed about things like that.

@SubRosa

*grins* In my head, I like to imagine Autumn would have probably played games like Skyrim, Dragon Age etc. in her off time, so I couldn't resist adding that line.

Yikes! Though... had the deathclaw tried to climb the side of the building, that would have certainly made for an interesting battle scene. Damn.. missed opportunity there. Ah well...

Usually, I try to avoid deathclaws, as well. It's not always possible, of course, but most of the time, you can see them from a ways off, at least. Though, I agree, melee combat can definitely be entertaining at times.

@Acadian,
Indeed, that little robot is certainly courageous. I've always been fond of him, and that has only increased since I began writing; I've really enjoyed further developing his character.

@Minque,
Thank you so much, and I'm glad you like the pics! I actually remember you from when I was here before. During that time my visits were a lot more sporadic, but I always carried fond memories of the site, and only returned myself a month or so back. Acadian was wonderful in helping me to combat the hurdles of resetting my account.
I very much look forward to the continuation of any stories you post!

@Treydog,
Thank you, that means a lot. It is very much my intent to portray Autumn as somebody who isn't super-powerful right off the bat. That's something that has always bothered me a bit with the game. The male protagonist, Nate, has a military background, while the female protagonist is, of course, a lawyer.. So, it makes at least some sense that Nate has relatively little trouble with combat... With the female protagonist, though, we need to rely on imagination/head canon... Thankfully, I've never found that very difficult, but, even so, I absolutely wanted Autumn to be at least a bit vulnerable. After all, she's been frozen for over 200 years, on top of any other circumstances, she's going to be out of practice. Also... I just really loved the idea of Codsworth, Preston and Autumn working together in that scene. Plus, when I first got into gaming, I played party-based RPGs like Baldur's Gate 2 and Planescape: Torment. I enjoyed them (and still enjoy them) a great deal, and the party banter/dynamics left a lasting effect on me.

I actually had to look up the 'crossing streams' reference. Although that wasn't deliberate, now you mention it...there's a curious aptness to the whole thing.

~~~

Entry 8: Beginnings



“Um...” Before Autumn could continue, Marcy burst into the conversation.

“Sanctuary? You mean that place Mama Murphy saw in her ‘visions’ when she was stoned out of her gourd?!?”

Preston and Sturgis did their best to defuse the situation. Feeling that she should step in, Autumn spoke, “Actually, Sanctuary does exist, we’ve just come from there. It’s pretty destroyed though.”

“Well,” responded Preston, “I doubt it’s much more destroyed than everywhere else, so I guess the important thing is, do you think it can live up to its name? I sure hope so, because after everything we’ve been through, we need somewhere we can settle, build and feel safe.”

At that, Autumn paused, acknowledging that, beyond the immediate area, she still had no real knowledge of her new world. She had only been able to compare the community she’d known to the wreckage that existed now.

Codsworth interjected, “Oh, I think I can vouch for it being safe, in the two hundred years I’ve spent there, nary a raider has dared show their face!”

“Two hundred...,” began Preston. Autumn, realising, in that moment, just how exhausted she was, turned to him. “I... Look, can we talk about this later? I have a bullet in my leg, and I need to get back.”

“Do you think you can walk Ma’am?” asked Codsworth, concerned. “If necessary, I can fetch the old wheelbarrow, it’s what I used yest...”

Autumn flinched, and hurriedly responded. “I think I’ll be fine Codsworth, I just have to take it a bit slow. First, though, there’s something I need to do.”

Limping slightly, she walked into the alley where the deathclaw had consumed its final meal.

Gristle’s corpse lay mangled beyond recognition. She took the dead raider’s shotgun and fired. Then flinging the weapon back down, she turned and rejoined the small group that waited for her in silence.


Mama Murphy gave her an uncomfortably knowing glance; Autumn, though, just pointed her arm in the direction of Sanctuary.



The short trip passed without incident, and was only punctuated by Sturgis’ covetous excitement at seeing the Red Rocket. “Well, Lookee, I think I’ve just found my new vacation home!,” he exclaimed with glee.



Codsworth chuckled, “I’m afraid you may have to fight Miss Autumn for it, she was giving that place quite the proprietary look-over when we went by this morning.”

Scratching the back of his head awkwardly, Sturgis, turned to her. “Hey now, I don’t want to step on nobody’s toes or nothin’, it ain’t that big a deal.”

Autumn laughed; despite her earlier misgivings, she’d taken a liking to the easy-going mechanic. “We can fight about it later, Sturgis, right now I just want this bullet out of my leg.”

Preston spoke up. “I have a little experience in field surgery, I can help you out there, if you’d like.”

Codsworth interjected. “It’s a good idea. I’m very handy, but these metal appendages do have their limits.” Remembering the mole rats, Autumn hastily concurred.

Soon enough, they reached the small bridge that led into Sanctuary. Preston’s reaction, at seeing the statue that still stood there, was one of happy relief.

“Well, I'll be damned. It's the monument to the original Minutemen. I knew that was somewhere around Concord. That means this right here must be the Old North Bridge. Where the first shots of the American Revolution were fired. I'd call that the best omen I've seen since we left Quincy."



Quincy, the settlement that Preston and the others had been forced to escape… Autumn felt a sharp stab of sympathy and was reminded of casework she’d done...refugees fleeing unimaginable horrors in beloved homelands they’d never see again. She regarded the monument with new eyes, “It’s odd, I never really thought about it in that light before.”

“Before….” Preston murmured. “So what Codsworth was saying earlier….” Autumn nodded.

“Ma’am, if I may interrupt, your wound appears to have opened again,” motioned Codsworth, his concern apparent. Autumn glanced down at the bloody stain that decorated the leg of her jeans and grimaced.

“Yeah, let's get that dealt with,” asserted Preston. A few minutes later, Autumn was seated on the ancient couch in her former home. Codsworth hovered worriedly as Preston examined the bullet’s insertion point.

“It hasn’t gone in too deep, thankfully, but removing it will hurt. Codsworth, is there any kind of alcohol around, so we can sterilise the wound? Maybe a shot down the hatch would be an idea as well, I also have some Med-X here to help with the pain.”

“I do believe so, one moment,” responded the robot, retreating into the bedroom Autumn had once shared with Nate. Codsworth returned with a bottle of vodka.

Autumn’s jaw tightened; she then contemplated the Med-X. “Sterilise the wound, but I don’t want to drink that stuff, and I don’t want the Med-X either.”

Preston gave her a searching look, but only said, “OK, but we should at least find a bit of cloth or something that you can bite down on.”

She nodded her acceptance, and attempting to grin, turned to the robot. “Codsworth, maybe try one of those awful floral print blouses, if any have survived. They’d make for a perfect sacrifice.”

Codsworth soon returned with a garishly coloured garment, and Autumn viewed it with complete loathing. “Gods, I hated that thing, at least now it will serve a useful purpose.”

Preston, it transpired, was, in fact, a skilled field surgeon, though Autumn made good use of the material wedged between her teeth, yelping as he extracted the bullet with what were clearly forceps. The procedure itself, however, was mercifully quick. Autumn breathed her relief, and, feeling the effects of another stimpack wash over her, relaxed into the couch as Codsworth busied himself with mole rat meat and vegetables.

Through the broken window she overheard Marcy and Jun. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore Jun. I’m fine, just leave me alone.” Marcy’s voice was harsh, raw and painfully brittle. Autumn closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the memory….




“No, I can’t talk about this anymore... You can’t understand, and I want to stop remembering, I want to stop the dreams. I just want to sleep.

“Please, love.... you need help. If you won’t talk to me, at least think about seeing a doctor...”

“NO DAMMIT! Just leave me ALONE!”

Upon its impact against the wall, the bottle exploded into a shower of glittering shards. The caustic reek of spirits filled the room.

Shaun’s pitched wails followed...

Nate, spent, folded into the chair, weeping.




Autumn’s gaze landed on the vodka that remained on the table; swallowing back tears, she gingerly stood. Careful to avoid placing too much weight on her leg, she limped to the back window and poured the bottle’s contents into the dusty ground.

This post has been edited by ArtemisNoir: Apr 21 2023, 11:24 PM