Note, I’ve deliberately taken some liberties with the storyline, so there will be some spoilers and me making some stuff up. This is a little bit of comedy intended to be read by people who have finished the game (just so they get the references, as well as not suffering spoilers).
This is the first time I’ve written something like this (well, apart from a Metal Gear Solid story I wrote about 15 years ago) so do let me know if you like it and I’ll write more of this and/or other games.
Date: 2077 October 23rd
I’m growing really tired of this suburban hell. Being married to the most stupid man alive doesn’t make it any easier. Nate’s idiocy does mean I’ve gotten away with a few close calls when anyone with half a brain would’ve noticed something amiss (my bosses back in Beijing really did pick out a prize-winning sucker for me), but this latest episode is just something else.
The baby’s black, Nate. And you’re not. Did you think he was born with a suntan?
It’s bloody annoying, but if this jester really is the calibre of a career soldier in the US then at least we’re going to win this war, and probably soon.
HQ sent over a muppet with a clipboard to get me signed into the local vault (a private enterprise shelter in case of nuclear devastation). Seems a little unnecessary, but does help me blend in with the local paranoid bed-wetters.
Halloween’s close. It’s this Western holiday which involves socially-sanctioned vandalism, harassing people in their own home for sweets, and dressing up like fools (or skanks. You wouldn’t believe the kind of thing Nate wanted me to wear). The sooner we crush these capitalist pigdogs the better.
Although I do like their sweet rolls.
Late addition: we’ve nuked most of the US! Got to run to the shelter, but we’ve won!
Late late addition: you know, some warning from Beijing would’ve been nice. I almost got swallowed by a nuclear storm. The shelter seems functional enough, although I think in the confined conditions I may end up murdering Nate. And the social etiquette is really intrusive. I had to strip down to my underwear and put on this blue catsuit in front of some pervy doctor. Just as soon as I’ve gone through decontamination and everything checks out I’m going to lay down the law to him.
Date: 2287 October 23rd
Decontamination was a con. I should’ve known better than to trust a dodgy Western corporation. I got frozen cryogenically. Briefly got thawed out to see some slaphead shoot Nate and steal the kid. When I woke up properly, everybody else was dead. A dozen cryo-chambers and every single one failed except mine (Nate’s seemed to be working but given he had a gaping hole in his skull it didn’t do him much good).
Found myself a new catsuit and a truncheon. Everything’s dead here except for some giant cockroaches. I must have been out for a while. Got hold of a gun and some glasses (I always did my best work as ‘sexy secretary’) and found a handy PipBoy. Time to go home, dig out the transmitter, and get in touch with Beijing.
Late addition: more roaches at home. Codsworth (damned silly name. Serves me right for letting the moron pick it) was the only thing still functioning but I think he’s suffered some sort of corrosion. Gave me a holotape of Nate being soppy.
Oh, and the war ended just over 200 years ago.
Everyone I know is dead. On the other hand, my backpay is going to be billions of yen, so swings and roundabouts.
Date: 2287 October 24th [Morning]
All the houses were absolutely ruined. Took a while, but I managed to salvage enough junk to build a half-decent home, and used my stash of weaponry (still serviceable) to create some machine-gun turrets. That’s the good news. The bad is that my radio transmitter was busted. Seems like vandals broke in, missed the guns but had a shooting match and turned the comms gear into Swiss cheese.
The US is an absolute mess of lawless decadence and social breakdown. And now it’s irradiated too. Still no idea how things are back home. Starting to worry Uncle Sam might have sent a missile or two Beijing’s way. But we’re resilient, I’m sure everything’s ok. That does leave the problem of contact, though. Only option is to wander into this apocalyptic mess and try to find someone who knows one end of a diode from another. What fun.
Oh, and Codsworth kept rambling on about Shaun (that’s the kid). Annoyed me at first, but “I’m looking for my son” is a much better excuse for wandering about than “I’m a Chinese spy. Any idea how to get in touch with Beijing?”, not least because I can’t imagine the locals (if there are any) will be fans of China given we nuked their country back to the Stone Age.