☢️ Fallout Haunted Wasteland ☢️
The world of Fallout can be a spooky place for those caught unawares. Share the frightening journeys your OCs, companions and favorite NPCs experience with the world!
Everyone is invited to join and every game from the series is welcome! Whether you write, draw, screenshot, or cosplay, we want to see you participate.
Every other day has two prompts for inspiration, you can do either one or both, if you so choose! Use any medium you wish.
Then tag your post with #HauntedWasteland23 !
☢️Prompts☢️
Oct 2 - Wasteland wonders or Fog
Oct 4 - Nothing but radio static or Urban legend
Oct 6 - It came from the mountains or Museum
Oct 9 - The magical wanderer or Melody
Oct 11 - Tales around a campfire or Doppelganger
Oct 13 - Echoes out of time or Caves
Oct 16 - Bloody prints on Vault walls or Jinxed
Oct 18 - Atom divides all or Nightmares
Oct 20 - Carried into the night or Stormy
Oct 23 - Shadow in the subway or Road kill
Oct 25 - The hills have eyes or Neon lights
Oct 27 - Behind locked doors or Phantoms
Oct 30 - The edge of tomorrow or dark books
☢️ Happy creating!! ☢️
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Fallout Haunted Wasteland 2023 - Oct 2
Fog
So this ended up being a lot longer than I was expecting. Original prompts from @falloutfandomeventhub. Link to prompts here.
Word count: 1.6K
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The crisis in Far Harbor was dealt with. The Harbormen on the docks returned home to their settlements, the Children of Atom were pacified, and the synths in Acadia were safe and free. The island was at peace. A peaceful resolution was a rarity in the Wasteland. Even if that resolution was built on a foundation of lies. She tried not to think about how long the fragile state of peace would last. Especially now.
Today Jadis was supposed to return home to the Commonwealth. She couldn’t. There was one last matter for her to attend to and she needed to do it alone. So she left Nick on the dock with nothing but the promise that she’d come back later and disappeared into the island fog that seemed to swallow her whole with only her rifle and a gallon of gasoline.
The fog was thick. So thick she could barely see past her outstretched hand. Jadis’ only tools she had to guide her were blurry memories from her childhood, the cracked, overgrown pavement that crunched beneath her feet, and an outdated map on her pip-boy that didn’t account for collapsed buildings and rubble and Wasteland critters blocking her path as she hiked blindly through the island. Her island. Her home. The Harbormen may call it Far Harbor but this island will always be Bar Harbor.
In the fog around her memories played. Memories of a time before the bombs. A time when the island was truly alive and thick fog didn’t drive you mad or burn your lungs. Jadis remembers being small, long before her sister was born, sitting in the backseat of a motionless car while her parents complained about the summer traffic clogging up the island. Right here there was the general store where Dad always stopped to get bait for his boat. Here’s where the ice cream shop used to stand that Mom took her to every Friday. This road was the one she took to go to school. That field was where she played soccer every spring. The fog shielded her from seeing the worst of the rot and decay that became of all these spots.
Finally, she stops. The silhouette of the familiar cabin stands before her. For a moment she just stares at it. It felt like she was returning to a family member. In a way, she was. Jadis readjusts her gas mask and continues forward.
When Jadis was born the cabin was gifted to her parents by her grandparents so they could raise her. After her father was drafted to Anchorage and relocated her family to Massachusetts her grandparents held on to the cabin. In her mother’s words, it was in case they ever needed to come home.
Everything about the cabin felt so foreign and yet so familiar at the same time. Somehow, despite everything, despite two centuries of neglect and being picked over by scavengers and pests, the cabin still stood. The wood was rotted and the windows were shattered, but it still stood. Jadis steps through the doorway, the actual door having long since rusted off its hinges. The fog leaks inside the home making everything hazy, like she was walking through a dream. This place seemed so much bigger when she was little.
She paces through it, drifting through each and every room like a ghost. The living room, the kitchen, the laundry room, the storage closet, and everything downstairs had been picked apart for scraps by needy Wastelanders. Jadis climbs the stairs and the wood creaks under her weight. She walks slowly through the hall, taking in every little detail and trying to remember where everything used to be.
She enters her parent’s old room. She used to sleep in their bed every night until she was seven because she was so scared to sleep alone. Now that very bed is collapsed onto the floor, the mattress is rotted and moldy, blankets a pillows gone with whatever poor soul needed them to keep warm. She opens the drawer of the only remaining end table and finds her mother's compact mirror. Her mother would use it to check her makeup before going anywhere. Besides it was her father’s cologne bottle, his favorite from that time that once smelled of musky pine. The mirror is broken and faded and the cologne is empty and has no more smell. Jadis takes the two little treasures and holds them in her hand.
The next room she enters is her sister’s nursery. All that remained of the crib was the wheels. Metal letters that were once pink and spelled out her name ‘CARTER’ once hung on the wall, now only the paint chipped and rusted C and T remained. In a firm grip, Jadis pries the C off the wall and takes it with her too.
Her final stop is her room. The ceiling in this room, though damaged, still mostly holds, but holes have begun to form in the rotting wood. The old polka-dot wallpaper has peeled off over the years exposing the crumbling plaster beneath. The hardwood floor beneath her feet had warped with age becoming uneven. Her old bed was long gone and the shelves that once housed books and toys were empty. Jadis lingered in this room the longest, mulling over foggy memories that don’t feel two hundred years old and yet are two centuries decayed.
In the window, something catches her eye. Her teddy bear sits on the windowsill, threadbare and slouched and it’s color faded, but looks like it’s been waiting for her to find it. Careful not to cause any more damage she carefully picks it up and looks into its button eyes. Jadis remembers forgetting it when they moved to Boston. She cried for hours and begged for days for her parents to find some way to get it back. They never did. She was ten years old after all; far too old to be crying over a missing stuffed animal. And here it was. Like it was waiting for her to find it again.
In her hands, Jadis holds the four little trinkets. A broken compact mirror, an empty cologne bottle, a rusty letter C, and a teddy bear that’s one loose thread away from falling apart. Objects the people of the wasteland deemed little more than trash. She would have too at one point, but now these little trinkets are the only remnants she has from the short time her family was whole that she can take with her. The Wasteland can’t have what little is left of it. She won’t let it.
She shoves the items into her pack, uncaps the gas can, and douses her childhood bedroom in the noxious liquid. Gasoline drips down the walls, soaks the tattered curtains, and puddles on the floor. Then she moves to Carter’s nursery and repeats the process. Then in her parent’s room. Once again, Jadis moves through the house but she is no longer an aimless ghost. Now she’s firm, splattering the gasoline with fury and determination over what remains of her past. She moves through the hall, down the stairs, through the laundry room, the kitchen, and the living room, there was no space in the cabin untouched.
With was few little treasures she was able to save Jadis left the cabin and returned to the fog outside pouring the rest of the gasoline out behind her until she reached the end of what used to be the driveway. The gas can is tossed away. From her pocket, she takes out a lighter and flicks the wheel. It sparks but no flame comes. Again and again, she flicks the wheel but there are still only sparks. Tears sting at the corners of her eyes as her frustration grows.
“Need a light?” Nick’s voice sounds from the fog. He emerges from its tendrils with a warm smile on his face and hands in his pockets. Nick had followed her through the fog. He approaches her casually as if he didn’t see a thing but Jadis knows he saw enough.
She looks at the puddle of gasoline at her feet to avoid his gaze and doesn’t say a word. Her busted lighter stays firmly in her white-knuckled grip. Jadis expects him to ask questions but… he doesn’t. He fishes his own lighter out and with a single flick it holds the flame, and then he offers it to her, a look of understanding on his face. Slowly, she takes it and for a moment she just looks into the tiny flame as if it held the answer to every question she could ever ask.
She lowers the lighter to the ground and touches it to gasoline. In an instant, the flame grew and spread down the path she had left for it and sped into the cabin. One by one each room ignited in a burst of light she could see through the windows. In only minutes the whole cabin was consumed by fire. Black smoke billowed out, merging with the white fog in a dance while the flames licked at the sky.
As she watched her childhood home burn tears began to roll down her cheeks and pool at the rubber seal of her mask. Nick took off his coat and wrapped it around her then pulled her in, hugging her tightly while she sobbed. Her own arms found their way around his waist and gripped the back of his shirt in her fists. He held her the whole time while they watched the fire devour the cabin and the fog carry away the ashes until only smoldering cinders remained.
“Nicky…” she croaks.
“Yeah, kid?”
“Thank you…”
Nick just smiles again and pats her hair with his good hand. “Anytime.”
“I think I’m ready to go home now.”
“Sounds good to me.” He tucks Jadis under his arm and guides her back to the road to begin the hike back to the docks. She spares one last look over her shoulder at the glowing coals and watches as the cinders of her past disappear in the fog.
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It came from the mountains or Museum
All three of my girls prefer the Museums they come across through out their travels and will actively fight to defend them as all three believe that they knowledge and information they hold is key to the survival of the human race.
Kimi and Yuriko will even fight with the BOS to stop them from taking or damaging the museums while Azumi will have one or two synths or Minute Men stationed at the building for protection.
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Bit of a jump but felt this older work I made would fit better for this prompt and didn’t want to wait. HauntedWasteland23: Oct.13th:Echoes out of time.
Imagine you were a famous singer in the pre war. You had it all: your music, fanbase, money, looks, etc. then the nuclear apocalypse destroys all of that but rather than just perishing and only the music you made will be remembered. You ghoulify still losing all you held dear. You have no money that’s worth anything, your looks and voice are gone, all who adored you either died or wouldn’t even recognize you. Worst of all is the radio and publicity you had. Going around in the wasteland hearing your old voice on the radio. Seeing tour dates with your handsome face in view. I wish if we get a shortly after the Great War fallout we could see something like this. Like I love Raul and all but he’s the only character I remember that has that kind of story. I think a singer would be a great challenge for a character to help them find purpose or put him out of his misery
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