We played a considerable amount of Fallout 76 and found it didn't improve drastically.
The closest comparison I can think of is having to buy store-brand cola because they’re all out of Coca-Cola - you’ll drink it if you must, but there’s no escaping the disappointment. It’s a staunch reminder that Fallout 76 seems to be in the shadow of the games which came before it, an empty shell. And I know these tracks, since many were featured in Fallout 4 - Atom Bomb Baby by The Five Stars and Crazy He Calls Me by Billie Holiday.
A gnome here, a pool ball there - this is the monotony I missed, exploring the abandoned homes of the dead and humming along to vintage tunes on the radio. My new personal mission becomes gathering knickknacks for the base I intend to build when I get to grips with the C.A.M.P. I put on Appalachia radio and fled, hoping to lose my new ‘friend’ to the grasp of a radiated beast. They did nothing except stand and stare at me - BigRed69, an intruder in my silent world with a desire to chase opossums in my direction. Quickly exiting, and expecting to see a rabid dog or ravaged ghoul, I was somewhat taken aback to see another player. It’s only when undertaking a mission to find the Vault Overseer’s camp that this illusion was shattered.Īs I crafted myself some new armor from an irradiated beaver I had encountered, I heard rummaging from beyond the crafting screen. Until this point everything seemed pretty much the same as the other Fallout titles, if not a little less guided. I knew Fallout 76 was an online multiplayer game but somehow I had blocked this fact (and the other figures on the map) from my brain. Rather than NPCs, you have the various Mr Handy’s dotted around wasteland as guides, and - of course - the other players. It’s a beautiful nightmare.īut what becomes quickly apparent is the lack of NPCs - the kooky characters with peculiar backstories which made the world of Fallout feel like its own entity. Mutated beavers roam the rivers, three-headed opossums hide in the singed grass, and six-legged Radstag bask in the rocky hills. Stepping into the wasteland feels like home - a desolate, radiation-ravaged home that I forgot I longed for.
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