Arknights X Fallout New Vegas: A Man Chooses, a slave obeys

Game Was Rigged From The Start

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War. War never changes.

When the celestial fragments of the moon reshaped the earth, consuming the world and birthing out a new era, the remnants of the old world were preserved in great, underground vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants find themselves in the ruins of the planet they once called Earth, now named Terra from the new races of people, who have built new societies, establish new villages, formed new tribes, and created powerful empires over the ashes of a bygone era, but even then, some things never change.

Despite their inhuman features, behaviours, customs, and outlandish technology salvaged from the ruins and engineered to their liking, basic human nature remains. And you can't fight nature. Greed, ambition, jealousy—all of these basic human natures still plague even the new inhabitants. Wars are waged over petty reasons, monarchies are now reinstated, resources are limited, and innovation and creation of new ideas are stagnant, and if they aren't, they're usually done without the consideration of morals and ethics.

There is also this rock that provides almost everything a person would need to survive, and a government would need to exploit, at the cost of their wellbeing. Almost every new nation is reliant on this ore called 'Originium', that provides power and life and a fuel to their magical properties which they call 'Arts.'

Because of these, the inhabitants of the old world refuse to associate themselves with these generations of ancients that came to be after judgement day. Preferring to live life in the confines of the vaults that saved their lives, the lands of the city that's a relic of the world that was, or took their chances and live on the wasteland, where their skills and survival instincts are put to the test, essentially reducing themselves into tribals, or wanderers which are now called by the ancients as 'STALKERS.'

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Thousands of years have passed since then; generations upon generations have forgotten about the world that was, and due to the actions of one mysterious figure, whose name and actions touched the hearts, and impacted the lives of many people, for better or for worse, a nation rose, and prospered in the undisputed wasteland. The Confederate Republic of Wasteland Tribes, a country formed from a conglomerate of hundreds of communities in the wasteland, all united under one flag, creating a country made by Wastelanders, for Wastelanders. Dedicated to old-world values of liberal democracy and the rule of law.

Since the empires that live above in the new world they created for themselves on these gigantic locomotives never sought to expand into the sedentary wastes, the CRW find themselves free to expand, and take what limited resources the wasteland has to offer, with no fear of contest or competition from the other nations looking to take what they need. But as the Republic grew, so did its needs. Scouts spread out to their vast frontiers, seeking more territory and wealth in the dry and merciless expanse of no man's land.

They returned with tales of a city that was protected by powerful storms and guardians of steel, untouched by the cruel environment of the rest of the world, with its lights shining brighter than the stars, the real stars that can finally be seen, and a great wall spanning an untainted river. They discovered a safe passage amidst the ruins of Gaul, where the storms have lost their reach.