Editor’s Note: War Journal is a series written by Matthew Warriner. It will document his time playing Fallout 4.
18th of November – 2287
This city. It can be overwhelming at times. One street corner fortified by raiders or gunners. The next by mutants. Snipers perched up high. Ghouls or mole rats ambush from the ground. It’s too much for me at times.
Hired by some scientist – talks about aliens and whatnot – to find his sister. I feel like this work is better suited for Valentine. Through my investigation, I’m led to one of those “preacher” types. Didn’t like how he conducted himself. A .44 through his collarbone gave him a different state of mind. He’d locked her away in his bedroom, for who knows what. It didn’t seem as though she wanted to be home anyway.
21st of November – 2287
The Brotherhood. Looks like they’re making some kind of push against mutants. They’re close – the mutants. Vertibirds are all over the sky. Two crashed down the block. Checked the wreckage – only dead initiates. I’ll have to find a way around. I have other things to do than to deal with mutants.
22nd of November – 2287
I returned to the fort, get my mind back to what matters most: you. A storm rolled in off the ocean. One of the bad kinds. Bolts and flashes of radiation.
Found shelter in an old blood bank. Bloatflies and Bloodwings had the same idea. They were quick work. Held up in the blood lock up. Macready got left out. Hope he’ll be okay.
23rd of November – 2287
Found raider hideout. Old combat station. Found a dead soldier (pre-bombs) dead in the latrine. Bunch of Jet on the floor, with even more hidden in the tank. Haven’t touched that shit since my service days. Rots your brain. Hell of a way to go though, I guess.
4th of December – 2287
Hancock asked me to help clean up Goodneighbor. I agreed – he’s been a smart ally to have in this world. Scoured the Commonwealth, looking for a crime boss’ men.
One left. Sneaking through a nearby neighborhood, and we finally catch up to him, but it appears a gang of raiders wanted his pocket watch or something. As I lined up my shot with Peter, my customized, silenced .50 caliber (an impressive shoulder cannon if I do say so myself), Hell had broken loose on the ground below me. The Brotherhood is out hunting too, but of a different prey. A Deathclaw – this deep in the city?
Amongst the chaos Northy, the henchman, got away. In my aggravation, I lend a hand to The Brotherhood, and Peter separates the Deathclaw’s head from its spine. Crawling and scratching from the alleyways, always itching for a fight, mutants crawl from their holes, peaking from behind those sacks of mangled meat, and begin an assault on whoever is in their path, which is, unfortunately, me, but more unfortunate for them, as I’m accompanied by The Brotherhood. The Knights make quick work of the mutants – those gating lasers are savage machines – and without a word, continue on into the horizon. I really need to get a personal set of that armor.
Found Northy, cowering, in a nearby building. Serenity, my silenced PPK, executed him without prejudice.
7th of December – 2287
Some time ago, Preston had given me the prestigious title of General within the ranks of the Minutemen. I’d taken the role seriously, seeing the need for leadership within the nearly expired ranks of the remaining Minutemen.
Preston and I had achieved all the goals he’d wanted accomplished. We’d reestablished settlements across the Commonwealth, made the population feel there was hope – hope for a better future, and even taken back The Castle. I knew the time had finally come, to pass on the helm of General to the man that deserved it the most: Preston.
Preston and I scouted the streets, the same way we’d done dozens of times before. We cleared a mutant compound, for what seemed like the tenth time, and as we made the journey back to The Castle, Preston told me a story. His story. He confided in me the misery he’d been in, hiding with the last remnants of what was left of The Minutemen. He felt hopeless; that life was meaningless, and that he no longer had purpose. As he’d prepared the final stand for The Minutemen, he stared into the eyes of his comrades, only to see that same misery. He’d become ready to die, and really wanted to put forth little effort to survive.
Then the raiders attacked, and as the ammo dwindled, and the moral depleted entirely, a man came. An unknown savior, sprinting head-strong into battle, shredding apart the raiders, and even a Deathclaw that would have spelled certain doom for his group. He’d finally found hope again.
As we crested the hill, The Castle coming into view, I heard a sigh of relief escape Preston’s lungs. That’s when I knew, Preston had finally regained the pride he needed to lead The Minutemen. We reached the armory, and from a safe I’d built into the wall, I pulled The General’s uniform and presented it to Preston. I noticed a tear as our eyes met. Nothing was said, but everything was loud and clear. The Minutemen were back, and were better than ever, and had the best possible leader The Commonwealth could give them.
I left Preston to tend to his Castle, and his Minutemen. I know I’ll see him again one day. But until then, “Protecting the people, at a minute’s notice.”
9th of December – 2287
I was finally able to ride in one of those Vertibirds. I hope it’s something you’re able to experience one day. I would never have expected mutants got even bigger than they already were. The minigun on the side made short work of it, I just hope I never have to face one of those on the ground. The Commonwealth is different up here. The savagery, rust, death, and destruction disappears, and there’s a sort of majesty that shines over the city. The colors seem brighter, and it finally feels like change can happen. This is my favorite view of Diamond City. I miss the days when it was Fenway. I hope you get to see a game of baseball one day.
© 2015, Patrick Cossel. All rights reserved.