
So here’s Kasumi, with gaps in her memory, with a sense of unbelonging, with a fixed radio and a fishing boat. As you hear over and over in both the expansion and the main game, “there are no tests for synths that aren’t fatal”. Synths often bleed, they breathe, they sleep. Synths have memories of growing up, but they have gaps. Bethesda spun their most interesting stories around the fact that often it’s impossible to tell whether or not somebody is a human or a synth. Some of Fallout 4’s most memorable moments came from its stories about synths, sentient robots that run the gamut from “visibly robotic” to “indistinguishable from humans”. It described Acadia, a haven built and run by synths, where they can live apart from the danger and prejudice of the Commonwealth, and Kasumi, our missing person, set sail because she had a strange feeling at the back of her mind. She left, shortly after fixing a broken radio and receiving a transmission from an island to the north.

The girl wasn’t kidnapped, that’s for sure. This is when a spanner is thrown into the works. A girl has gone missing, vanished in the night, and you’re sent from Nick’s office to the north of the Commonwealth to get the full picture from her parents. “There’s a new case! Hey! Get back here!”. You pick up a radio signal (because you always pick up a radio signal) which, rather than presenting a new mystery or a strange voice, acts as a sort of pager from detective Nick Valentine’s assistant. This is a bad year.įar Harbour, Bethesda’s first large expansion to Fallout 4 begins simply enough.


Old things, all twisted up by radiation and ill will.

Other years, it reaches out and drapes itself thickly across the whole island, swallowing villages and ruins and marinas. Sometimes, on a good year, it hangs thinly around the mountains, or concentrates itself somewhere avoidable.
