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]

@Acadian,
It's actually odd... For a long time I really disliked Sanctuary, in part because of personal association, but mostly because it was so difficult to build in the place due to the way Bethesda "optimised" the game using previs and precombines. They also made the roofs a wreck, without providing a reasonable way to repair them. Then, a mod series called "Commonwealth Deep Clean and Remodel" came along, and did everything I've always wished for. So now... I genuinely do enjoy Sanctuary, and I love being able to make it live up to its name.

@SubRosa,
*chuckles* You have NO IDEA how tempted I was to actually have Codsworth push Autumn back to Sanctuary in that wheelbarrow.... (and had there been a way to screenshot it, I might have succumbed ) In the end, though, I decided Autumn still has enough dignity that no matter how sore her leg, she'd never consent to it.

@Renee,
FO4's difficulty varies, I find. Sometimes it can actually be quite challenging, but other times, less so. As I said, in this case I think it has something to do with companions scaling to the game's difficulty setting. Plus, given that most characters are pretty low level when they do that fight, the devs probably made it easier than they could have. Also, having Autumn on that balcony definitely helped, and laser muskets, though slow, pack a serious punch. In fact, the laser musket is actually one of my favourite stealth sniper weapons. My characters don't usually die that much (unless via explosives, in the beginning), but I do know the game fairly well by now, which makes a difference.
Glad you like the recollections.

@treydog,
*chuckles* I actually suspect we're of a similar generation, and I definitely remember Ghostbusters making waves when I was in high school. Just, for some reason, I never really checked it out. Now, I'm tempted, though!
Thank you. I do always find it can be challenging to navigate between not enough information and too much, so I'm glad this appears to be working.



On a general note, since you all commented on it, I do intend to further flesh out Autumn's flashback, and the events leading up to it, probably in a couple of installments from now.
Also, fewer screenies in this one, I'm afraid, it was just the nature of the content.



~~~


Entry 9: Small Talk

“Codsworth, mind if I ask you something?”

The robot spun around, shifting his attention from the dinner preparations that were now well underway. “Of course, Miss Autumn, do go ahead.”

“Why did you directly engage the deathclaw like that? I was so worried!”

“Miss Autumn, my first duty since you and the hubby connected my circuits, has always been to protect and serve. Laser muskets are powerful weapons, but they are also slow, and I was very concerned that the creature, enraged as it was, would make its way back to you, before Mr. Garvey had the chance to finish it off. The two of you needed something to distract it while cranking your muskets.”

“But Codsworth!,” Autumn exclaimed, “You could have been badly hurt, or ki… destroyed!”

The robot tutted. “Nonsense, Ma’am. One can’t simply destroy The Pride of General Atomics. Even if that beast had put me out of commission, I dare say Mr. Sturgis would have been able to repair me, good as new!”

“Are you saying it’s possible to easily fix robots, even now?,” Autumn enquired, surprised. Then she added, “And, I still find it odd that Sturgis couldn’t pick that lock, what does that say about his chances of repairing you?”

“Of course it’s possible to repair robots! In fact, the ability to do so is quite common. As to Mr. Sturgis’ trouble with the lock, perhaps he just doesn’t have your particular talent for such things, or perhaps he had other reasons.”

Unsure if she felt apprehensive or foolish, Autumn once more directed her gaze toward the window.

The small group, even Marcy and Jun, were beginning to gather around the fire that had been built by Preston and Sturgis. Numerous buckets and pots were placed beside it; Autumn had seen the two men carrying them to, and from, the river. They’d also managed to find an assortment of sleeping bags and blankets. These had been laid out beneath a makeshift shelter.

The old houses, in their present condition, represented more of a hazard than a safe place to sleep. It was only owing to Codsworth’s continued efforts that her old home did not appear to be in imminent danger of collapse.

A sorrowful whine distracted Autumn from her contemplation. Dogmeat had sidled his way over to Codsworth’s “kitchen.” Large, sad, brown eyes beseechingly stared up at the robot.

“Really Pup, I’ve already given you at least three pieces, and I still want to feed everyone else!,” he grumbled.



Autumn couldn’t help but snicker at the canine’s antics and the response of her fusspot companion. It seemed that even Codsworth, technically a personality driven by programming and circuits, was not immune to Dogmeat’s persuasive charms. For not the first time, she wondered if Codsworth’s AI had somehow evolved on its own over the course of those two hundred years.

Codsworth gave every impression of rolling his eyes. “Miss Autumn, perhaps, if your leg allows, you might deign to assist in carrying dinner over to our new friends.”

Given the many mole rats they’d killed, and the plentiful supply of vegetables that grew wild all over Sanctuary, dinner was an almost festive affair. It had been too long since Preston’s group had eaten anything even remotely decent, and they fell upon the repast with appreciation. Thanks to the mint Autumn had planted in her vegetable garden so long ago, tea rounded out the meal.

Sturgis regarded Codsworth appraisingly. “Well dang, now I want to build my own robot butler, you just cooked the best vittles I’ve ever had.”

Codsworth appeared unsure how to respond. “Why I’m glad you enjoyed your dinner, Mr. Sturgis, though I dare say, it would be difficult to build the Pride of General Atomics.”

Mama Murphy, eyes slightly glazed, emerged from her reverie, and piped up, “One time I killed a Mr. Gutsy all by myself, just a pipe pistol…and one bullet.”

“And just how much jet did you huff first, huh, Mama?,” enquired Marcy, openly sceptical.

“I must say, Mr. Gutsys are not to be trifled with, that would have been most impressive indeed.” Codsworth sounded dubious.

Coughing, Preston turned to Autumn. “So, you know Sanctuary pretty well…”

Autumn sighed, she’d been dreading this question.

“If you’d rather not talk about it…,” began Preston.

“No, it’s going to come out one way or another, so I may as well get this over with now,” responded Autumn.

Staring into the flames, Autumn recounted that horrifying day, how she’d been cryogenically frozen for over 200 years, and, without entering into detail, described Nate’s murder, and Shaun’s kidnapping.

“Wow… So, you’re kind of like one of those pre-war ghouls,” said Preston, his eyes widening in astonishment. Then, remembering the actual context of her story, he stopped himself. His tone soft, he continued, “All of this must be incredibly difficult… I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through.”

“I’m managing,” Autumn replied tiredly. “I have no other choice. I need to find out what happened to my son.”

“Your son is out there. I can feel his energy.”

“Mama, I don’t think she needs this right now,” interjected Marcy, her expression unexpectedly sympathetic.

Autumn inclined her head. “It’s OK, Marcy… thanks, though. Mama Murphy knew about the raiders and the deathclaw. I’ve always disbelieved things like fortune-telling, but…I’m not so sure now.”

“What else can you tell me, Mama?,” asked Autumn, trying to keep the sudden hope from her voice.

“I don’t know where he is, Kid, that’s not how this works, but he’s alive, I feel it. I don’t even need The Sight to tell you that you should start in The Great Green Jewel, Diamond City.”

Autumn nodded; if nothing else, Mama Murphy had added to her hunch. Something Preston had mentioned struck her, however. “Preston, you compared me to a pre-war ghoul earlier. What are ghouls, exactly?”

“Ghouls are… irradiated people. Most are just like you and me. They look pretty messed up, and live a long time, but they're still just… people.”

“There are also others,” Preston continued, “They’re different. The radiation's rotted their brains. Made them feral. They'll rip you apart, just as soon as look at you.”

Preston concluded, “There’s nothing left of the people ferals once were; I hear that eventually all ghouls go feral, but I’m not sure if it’s true. Some folks like to use that as an excuse to treat any ghoul badly.”

“Wait… So you’re telling me that at least some people from my time have survived?” Conflicting emotions crossed Autumn’s face as she considered the implications.

Preston confirmed her guesses, and also voiced a concern.

“You know, it’s not my place to say, and I realise you want to head off to Diamond City as soon as possible, but you should consider healing up a bit more first. We could scout the area around here while you regain your strength.”

“Quite right, Mr. Garvey!,” chimed Codsworth, bobbing in agreement. “We can’t hope to rescue Young Shaun without Miss Autumn at her best!”

Much as she would have preferred to begin the trek to Diamond City the following morning, Autumn reflected that Preston and Codsworth had reasonable cause for their worry. In the space of, at most, two days, she had: witnessed her husband’s murder, and the abduction of their son; she had, for the first time ever, taken multiple human lives; she’d narrowly escaped a depraved raider’s intent, and she’d fought a deathclaw alongside Preston and Codsworth. The wound to her leg seemed minor in comparison. Perhaps she did need a little time to process the last 48 hours.

The fire had started to burn low. Sturgis yawned. “Well, it’s been one Helluva day, and I gotta turn in.”

Dogmeat, who had spent most of the evening curled against Jun, yawned as well.

“Yeah,” added Preston, “I think we’re all pretty beat.”

Slowly, everyone began to make their way to sleeping bags, and Codsworth collected plates and utensils.

Autumn, lost in thought, stared into the darkness. She noticed that the night sky, bereft of light pollution, was beautiful.



This post has been edited by ArtemisNoir: Apr 23 2023, 04:05 AM