Playing through this piece of shit on veteran is one of the most joyless experiences I have ever had. There is nothing good here, the gameplay is some of the most bland stuff ever, the visuals are absolutely washed out and ugly, and not only is the narrative 100% uninteresting, the messaging and takeaway is as miserable as the rest of the experience.

Anti-war, but only in the way that the game is so mindnumbing, you would not want anything to do with the desensitized and distasteful garbage displayed.

     ‘The dead themselves have no regrets; how could they? They are dead and that is all. Only those remaining regret their passing.’
     – Natsuhiko Kyogoku, Ubume no natsu, 1994.

Played with BertKnot. The game and this review mention extremely difficult events related to crimes, violence and abuse.

Contemporary Japanese culture is fuelled by a cycle of moral panics generated by high-profile criminal cases. Some, though mysterious, do not escalate into the gruesome, such as the 300 million yen robbery (1968), but others take a far more horrific course. The murders of Tsutomu Miyazaki are an enduring trauma for the Japanese, who associate them with the figure of the otaku, who has sunk into deep madness to the point of committing monstrous acts of violence. Other individuals have followed in his footsteps and continue to fuel the hatred of marginalised groups. Such events are not unique to Japan, but its artistic production always flirts with these traumas without ever completely overcoming them.

     The shakai tradition in Japanese crime fiction

However, there is a long literary tradition built around these themes, and the detective genre is no stranger to them. Critics refer to these titles as shakai-ha, a literary trend that is primarily concerned with its social dimension. The mystery plays a fundamental role, not because of its complexity or brilliance – although these are not excluded – but because it reveals the malaise of a society whose social norms are no longer accepted by its members. The historical roots of this genre can be found in the works of Seichō Matsumoto. Suna no Utsuwa (1961), undoubtedly his most famous work, features a detective whose obsession with a criminal case disintegrates his personal life. Depicting a post-war Japan in the midst of hectic reconstruction, the novel describes a family in which the father is absent and the wife is in charge of the household and the children's education. Moreover, the reasons for the crimes underline the plight of Japanese women, caught between the ideal of yamato nadeshiko and rapid modernisation.

The prevalence of suicide in Matsumoto's works raises the question of its chronic nature in Japan. Masāki Kato has analysed a large sample of suicides and notes their anomic nature after World War II, to borrow Durkheim's terminology. [1] It is a feeling of general dissatisfaction with the inability to find one's place in society. For these individuals, it is necessary to adhere to particularly rigid social rules, and the slightest deviation from these idealised norms is grounds for suicide. Taking one's own life and that of others is the fundamental question that runs through the shakai genre. After Matsumoto, a tradition of female writers has emerged, especially since the 1990s. These stories focus on female characters who are confronted with a changing world. They face a socio-economic crisis that exacerbates the systemic sexism they experience. In Miyuki Miyabe's Kasha (1992), crime gives women a new independence after being denied by the social contract of Japanese society. As the losers of urbanisation and modernisation, they can escape from their low-paid jobs, fuelled by desperation and the desire for a better life – or to escape unbearable situations such as debt harassment.

     The paranormal to create a chilling horror

If Japanese video games were quick to adopt the detective genre and produce remarkable adventures, starting with Portopia renzoku satsujin jiken (1983), they were inspired above all by the honkaku and shin honkaku genres, which reject shakai realism. On the contrary, the murders have to be particularly complex and have an aura of impossibility, which creates an intellectual game between the author and the reader. Social themes are not completely absent, but they are relegated to the background in favour of the mystery itself. There is certainly a sense of tragedy in the murders, which can be explained by difficult circumstances or sociological trends, but they explain the mystery in retrospect rather than being the crux of the narrative. Famicom Tantei Club: Kieta Kōkeisha (1988) touches on the issue of the zaibatsu and their influence on the economy of certain regions, but it is a very secondary element in the plot.

Paranormasight: The Seven Mysteries of Honjo goes against this tradition, anchoring its story in the shakai style while incorporating elements of shin honkaku. At first glance, it appears to be a horror game inspired by Japanese mythology – the Honjo Nanafushigi are genuine legends and have been adapted in films by Shinko Kimura (Honjo Nanafushigi, 1937) and Katano Goro (Kaidan Honjo Nanafushigi, 1957). However, after the prologue, the tone shifts to become a long investigation depicting the malaise of Japanese society as the years of prosperity come to an end and the first signs of the bursting of the economic bubble in the early 1980s are felt. The player takes on the role of several characters caught up in a curse that has engulfed the Honjo district of Tokyo's Sumida. They are awakened by terrifying ghostly apparitions that urge them to commit murders in order to perform the Rite of Resurrection. This ritual would allow them to bring back to life a person of their choice, at the cost of the soul dregs collected from murdered people. Each protagonist is then able to use a curse to slaughter any person at night, as long as the conditions, inspired by urban legends circulating in Honjo, are met. The first protagonist, Shogo Okiie, meets Yoko Fukunaga in the prologue, who asks for his help in uncovering the truth behind the legend of the Whispering Canal; he is drawn into a series of violent deaths that the player must understand in order to unravel the Seven Mysteries of Honjo and the murders taking place in the neighbourhood.

The game is characterised by its atmosphere, which is supported by a unique art direction. The cold blue colours make Honjo's atmosphere frightening and underline the subtle tension between the various curse-bearers fighting for their survival. Gen Kobayashi's character design alternates between realistic softness and frightening expressions of terror. Dread is conveyed through wide eyes and plays with off-screen action. The player is frightened not so much by the jumpscares, but by the prospect of having to turn around to see them. The backgrounds, slightly distorted as if through a short focus lens, convey a sense of unease through the hollowness of their composition. Paranormasight brilliantly uses oblique shots and atypical staging of characters to emphasise the brooding nature of the discussions, while the architecture of the city overwhelms them.

     On social representation through cultural references

Komagata High School is thus a reference to Ushimitsu High School from Famicom Tantei Club Part II: Ushiro ni Tatsu Shōjo (1989), with identical shots, but the coldness of the colour palette in Paranormasight makes the high school very disturbing; it is less a place of education to prepare students for the future, but rather a place where social inequalities and violence are reproduced, something that Japan accepts without flinching. The inadequacy of the teaching staff and the prevalence of juvenile delinquency are signs of the failure of Japanese social policy. The various female characters suffer from this, condemning them to academic failure or worse. Paranormasight takes up the plot of Sukeban deka (1976), a pivotal shōjo manga of the 1980s: it features Saki Asamiya, a delinquent high school girl who ends up helping the police solve several investigations, notably the apparent suicide of one of her best friends, Junko Yuina. The game very explicitly recreates the character of Saki through Yakko Sakazaki, be it in personality, appearance or motives.

In general, the game takes familiar elements of Japanese culture to modernise and comment on them. This is particularly the case with the female characters, who regain a high degree of agency in the pure shakai tradition. At first glance, Harue Shigima seems to be the embodiment of the yamato nadeshiko, full of the ideals associated with a traditional Japan, but the death of her son and the curse give her the energy to fight against the weight of society. Despite her tired appearance, she displays a very subtle wit through her careful and respectful speech. Yakko is particularly proactive and confident, following the example of Sukeban deka, while her friend Mio, a specialist in occult matters, is presented as a voice of reason, contrary to the cliché of the mad witch. This complex nature of the female characters is echoed in a more fragile representation of masculinity. The various male characters are presented with characteristics that undermine the myth of traditional, honour-bound masculinity. They are generally cowardly or display marginal masculinity. If Tetsuo Tsutsumi represents the serious and unyielding inspector, he is often the comedic force of the group, with deadpan remarks that take the edge off the game's terrifying tension. Richter Kai portrays a more jovial and chaotic manliness through his love of childish things, which leads to Harue's amused comments.

Paranormasight quickly reveals itself to be a title with a sharp critique of all forms of authority. The police are portrayed as an institution incapable of preventing crime and serving the public. While officers like Hajime Yoshimi try to be more akin to a social worker for troubled teenage girls, he is generally unable to structurally solve their problems, offering only what he can, namely a shoulder to lean on. The characters lament the fact that Japanese law prohibits police officers from intervening in cases of domestic violence – a situation that only changed with the Act on the Prevention of Spousal Violence and the Protection of Victims (2001). Hierarchical frameworks dictate behaviour in Japanese suburbs. Paranormasight repeatedly emphasises the importance of the dichotomy between the public face (tatamae) and the private face (honne). Michiyo Shiraishi's neighbours are sympathetic until the Shiraishi family strays from the discretion expected in a neighbourhood. Even within the working class, solidarity is not taken for granted and depends on adherence to social rules, however rigid and conservative they may be. The title also insists on the hypocrisy of the family myth, with reference to the coin-operated locker babies, who, for various socio-economic reasons, were abandoned newborn babies in lockers and left to die. This phenomenon, which was widespread between the 1970s and 1990s, haunts the various characters in the game.

     Instantiating horror in a real setting: how to modernise a social representation?

It is precisely because these elements are central to Paranormasight's horror and mystery that the game works. The soundtrack is particularly effective in creating a strong atmosphere, alternating between dissonant tracks and music inspired by the emerging city pop of the time. The game is concerned with social modernity in its discourse: it is about representing 1980s Tokyo with respect to the social progress of 2023. The title is therefore against prison and in favour of rehabilitation, rejecting the idea that crimes are inherited through blood. Paranormasight, even though its plot is based on elements of Japanese mythology, stands out for its ability to tell a story whose social motives would remain the same even without the occult. In an eternal Buddhist cycle, the ills of society remain the same until structural measures are implemented by decision-makers, as illustrated by the chronic pollution of the Sumida River, the visual centre of the title.

In terms of gameplay, Paranormasight clearly borrows from recent adventure games, notably the Switch port of Famicom Detective Club (2021) and the second Ace Attorney trilogy. The grammar remains that of 1980s games, with the necessity to repeatedly bring up the same topic of conversation, but the game clearly indicates when all actions have been completed, or if further exploration and dialogue is required. The title uses the Story Chart system inherited from Kono Yo no Hate de Koi o Utau Shōjo YU-NO (1996) and Kotaro Uchikoshi's games, and tries to be as clear as possible about the branching paths the player needs to explore in order to follow the different narrative threads. It is only towards the end of the game that Paranormasight becomes more cryptic, although this does not cause any major problems. The title really tests the player's understanding of the case with relatively open-ended questions. These sequences are particularly effective because the player is always in a strong position compared to the protagonists. Having a transversal knowledge of the events, they are able to theorise in advance and identify the blind spots in the characters' deductions. This narrative style helps to create the impression that the protagonists are conducting a real investigation, with all the complexity this implies.

Paranormasight manages to modernise the adventure and detective genres with a believable story, despite the presence of supernatural elements. Carried by a deep and touching cast, the title presents an ingenious mystery rooted in the malaise of a society on the verge of collapse. Poverty, pollution, a crisis in education and a sense of alienation exacerbate a generational clash. The protagonists, although caught up in a curse that transcends them, are only individuals among others in Tokyo who harbour regrets, remorse and sadness. As the sun sets, the Sumida River turns bloody. The real killer is a city that is oversized and relentless. Paranormasight illustrates this unease with a unique horror texture, instantiating it in the physical reality of Honjo. If Japanese crime fiction has always insisted on the importance of locales while promoting mindful tourism – indeed, since 2001, this has been the function of the Mystery Tours in Meitantei Konan (1994) –, the game accomplishes an astonishing tour de force and establishes itself as a modern shakai staple for the video game medium.

__________
[1] Masāki Kato, ‘Self-Destruction in Japan: A Crosscultural, Epidemiological Analysis of Suicide’, in Folia Psychiatrica et Neurologica, vol. 23, no. 4, 1969, pp. 291-307.

Puts you in a trance from the beginning, where you’ll be under its spell till the end. Lingering even after that, begging you to come back and take flight once again. Electrosophere may not be as mechanically sound as the previous entry in the franchise, which is why it speaks volumes that it’s able to grip you tightly regardless, where you’ll dance to its tunes and fly through its skies. It’s more than just a pretty aesthetic, it’s more than just anti-war.

AC3’s view on war itself is that of a sick game played by sick old men and it treats it as such. What are you fighting for, really? Every mission feels like you’re nothing more than a pawn for powers greater than yourself, it's all a ploy. All of it. Every one wants a piece of the pie, a taste of power, a chance to reign supreme. Your actions are not your own, your decisions are not your own. It's all an illusion, a trick, and at the end of the day what are you fighting for, really? To maintain the status quo? The same one in which people live under corporations that only exist to suck them dry even further? What was it all for? Do you the connections you hold have any meaning?

The true ending which you unlock after having done all five routes is the ultimate showcase of this, showing why wars are really fought. Nothing noble, nothing special. Just a personal vendetta. Did it even matter? It's just a game at the end of the day.

𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗦𝗣𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘

One of the sadder things I’ve realised recently is that the original Fallout may not be as influential as much as it’s made it out to be, at least when it comes down to its mechanics. But I’m no real historian, and it may very well have changed the world of RPGs forever. Still, I don’t think it really matters because at the end of the day this is still a damn good game.

Four years ago I played this game for the first time and finished it in one sitting, and recently I ventured out to the wasteland once again. Shining blue spandex, bright hot sun, searching for a water chip; it all feels too familiar. Ah, that control scheme…it feels clunky but once you get the hang of its fits this game like a glove. Fast and snappy, perfect for that retro-future aesthetic. Still, I can’t deny I’ve ever particularly liked how this game’s combat is. Nothing horribly wrong with it, but often times it feels too static, like I’m playing a board game with a computer that’s determined to kill me. Probably what they were going for too.

Stopped by Shady Sands, and gave birth to a nation there. Went to Vault 15, and I saw ruins. Ran into the Khans, and slaughtered them all. Headed to Necropolis to give the mutants dirt naps, and saved my vault. Strolled into Junktown for the casino and killed the owner; I left as quietly as I came. Stopped by The Hub for the water, and stayed to help uncover the disgusting truth behind both the missing caravans and those delicious Iguana Bits. Ran into The Brotherhood of Steel; they told me to fuck off. I saved Los Angeles for last, and it was as much a shithole as I had expected.

After you get the water chip, the last half is really unsettling. You feel that there’s an imminent evil heading into this world as you encounter these monsters more and more. As you spend hours upon hours searching for a man you assume to be the devil himself, you grow accustomed to the hell that is this world. Despite being coddled at birth, you make this wasteland yours. And by the time meet the creator of this madness, it really just does feel like a Wednesday in this irradiated world. This game is absurdly funny, not only with its writing and critiques of American culture but right down to the game design itself with the funniest bit being that the thing you spent the last half searching for is just straight left. Haha, all that work for something so simple.

I hated the Overseer four years ago. Really thought of him as nothing more than an ungrateful speck of a man. But today, as I blew up that evil lair and saw everything that my actions wrought and how I changed this world forever, I stood in front of that cold metal door wearing dark green combat armor and a rocket launcher in hand. There, I saw myself. I saw a man in shining blue spandex walking up to someone he just doesn’t recognize anymore. He is confused now as I was in the beginning, he just doesn’t understand and I now realize where he’s coming from. I could hear the fear in his voice, fear of this horrible world that just sucks.


What if we ARE the only safe place in the world? You just gave us back all these lives…I can’t take the chance of losing them.

I’m sorry. You’re a hero…and you have to leave.


You walk alone. Into this heartless, cruel, unforgiving world. Shining blue spandex, bright hot sun, searching for a purpose. You found it one day, but long after your death, another evil arose. Don’t worry, another hero just like you saved us again.

I'm not mad. I have no anger. This is just fucking sad.

DmC: Devil May Cry is not a bad game, and that is its biggest downfall, as it remains far from a good game. I went into this hoping to at least get some ironic laughs while playing through it in a VC. And we absolutely did. It was great, making fun of Donte's models, the stale animations, some of the stupidest writing in a AAA game.

But then we stopped laughing. It stopped being fun.

This game is trying to push the envelope. It's trying to truly redefine what Devil May Cry will be. And yet it tries nothing. Absolutely nothing. There ARE original ideas, but the execution fails to create anything deep. Yeah, the Angel and Devil system is cool, but it hinders combo creativity when one of many angel/demon enemies appear and require you to use only one or two weapons. The grapple system is cool, but there is nothing else to them, nor is the areal combat interesting in the slightest.

Hell, I'll even go out on a whim and say that Vergil could have been an interesting character. He's always dealing with problems from the background, using others to achieve his greater goal while sitting in relative safety. Him being a coward deep down, culminating with him desiring to control others for his goals instead of joining them in freedom, could have been interesting. Hell, it could even justify his piss-easy boss, as he was never really fighting like Dante was. But not only is he, like every other major character, bland at best, but he also never establishes why he doesn't trust humans, or why he even wants to control them in the first place. He is a twist villain who exists solely to have an "equal" as the final boss. Because that's what Devil May Cry 3 did, and everyone liked it then, so why try to create something original when you can reuse ideas from older games without thinking about why those original ideas worked?

Dante is just lame in this game. It's not even that he makes jokes likely written by a 7th grader who just discovered porn, he's just so fucking dull. He has his very sparring funny lines, but that's it. He's not even cringy. He's just boring. Kat is just the token girl, and gets little characterization when she's not being useful. Mundus is probably the "best" character in this game, and only because he actually manages to have a fucking stage presence. He feels like an actual character instead of some college students the director found at the last minute.

The gameplay itself is... fine. Absolutely fine. Hell, I can consider it good or better than the other games in some areas. For example, I like having all weapons be available at all times without a menu. No need to only carry two at a time, just select a toggle, maybe press a direction on the D-pad, and bam. But what does this mean when the combat provides no new weapons in the second half? Or hell, no interesting challenges? The game has a really cool idea where the world itself shifts to impede Dante's quest, taunting him, and having the potential to create unique battle scenarios. But this game almost never takes any advantage of it. Nearly every battle is on flat, unmoving ground. Verticality doesn't exist, you will never find an enemy above you attacking from a range that you can grapple to because there is no land above to begin with. Wanna know what also doesn't exist? Enemy variety. The game rarely introduces a new minor enemy. Combine the repeats with the uncreative level design, and you have a recipe for battles blending in. The combat itself though is fine. It's just DMC3, but with slower, less fun enemies, and low challenge. I had my fun with it in the first half, but they never throw any fun new gimmicks into the game to keep the variety high. It is completely passable, and that's it.

The best part of this game is probably the soundtrack. It's not even that amazing, but it is at least a shining piece of bronze in the pile of tin foil. Not much I would listen to outside the game, but it's different from the mainline games in a way that provides genuine positive uniqueness instead of trying and failing to imitate the original.


This game is not bad. From an objective standpoint. A robot will give this game a 6/10. But I'm not a robot. I really started getting sick of this game by the 2/3rds point. I stopped caring about style or score because I realized I am never coming back to this game. The gameplay is fine. It can be mildly fun. But there is nothing else going for this game. The script fails to even be funny bad at its most tryhard, it's just one of the worst AAA scripts I've seen. I love games that try so hard and fail so hard. This game does neither. It barely tries and it barely fails. I feel like this game needed a sequel badly, something to cook on the few good ideas from here. But am I glad that we just got DMC5 instead? Absolutely. This game doesn't deserve heaven or hell. It deserves to rot in limbo.

4/10. There are some parts that are good, but the painful sub-mediocrity of everything else drags it down.

As a sidenote, a lot of people judge the game poorly on how it's an insult to the old games. Honestly, I don't care about how the old games relate to this. I didn't make any mind of Inafune because I didn't need to. This game is trying to be new, I'll judge it as if it's new.

Also thanks for the code, Josh

In 1997, a game called Fallout spilled out into the world. Under the guidance of a nerd named Tim Cain, it was initially a hobby project until more and more people latched onto it, adding their talents and thoughts to the potluck that would eventually spawn the most annoying group of cryptofascists this side of Warhammer 40,000.
Drawing on their love of pulp fiction, retrofuturism, XCOM, sci-fi movies and a tabletop system they liked (GURPS, which is absent from history for a very good reason), this vast pool of influences eventually calcified and become Fallout 1.

This story had already played out several times across modern culture by the time Fallout came into existence. It is the basis of Star Wars, modern western comics as a medium, Gundam, Warhammer... Really, you can pick any longrunning and influential franchise to find the same story of one passionate person and their team of equally passionate collaborators drawing on a huge pool of influences to make something unique.

Fallout 1 is a great game. If I ever made a list of games you should play before you die, it'd definitely be up there. Rather uniquely for the post-apocalyptic genre, it's more focused on humanity pulling itself out of the ruins of a long gone civilization than it is on the long gone civilization itself. Compared to what came after, it's a far more somber and reserved experience where the potential of combat occurring is more like a sword of damocles than a regular occurrence. Sure, it has every trope you likely expect from the genre (mutants, bandits, factions mimicking old world stuff like cowboys), but those tropes are more of a deconstruction than anything; they're portrayed as kind of pathetic for having an obsession on old iconography, because there is a now in front of you and it needs help to be built and maintained. There's a reason the BoS are assholes in this one.

Sadly, much like every example I gave two paragraphs ago, Fallout has succumbed to what I nowadays refer to as the Lucas Horizon. George Lucas combined his love of westerns, samurai, Kurosawa movies, WW2, Flash Gordon and sci-fi to make Star Wars.

The people making Star Wars after him are using their love of Star Wars to make more Star Wars.

Despite calling it the Lucas Horizon, however, I feel Fallout embodies it more than any other franchise. Even starting with Fallout 2, the series began to develop an obsession with itself. Rather than letting the influences and references form a foundation to build a work upon, they became the central part of the work. Now, Fallout 2 isn't as bad about this as every game that came after it, and indeed it at least bothers to expand on Fallout 1's themes, but at the end of the day it's ultimately more about pop culture and Fallout stuff than anything else.

Fallout 3 is where the series begins to veer off into the Lucas Horizon for good. After two games that were about the gradual rebuilding of civilization and the ways in which people built a new life from the wreckage of American civlization, 3 did a massive 180 and focused specifically on the wreckage, setting itself in a wasteland literally called The Capital Wasteland, with all of the progress from 1 and 2 seemingly undone.
The game opens with a hollow recreation of Fallout 1's intro, once again narrated by Ron Perlman and featuring shots of a ruined world set to a dissonant song by the Ink Spots as the first game did, before revealing yet another person in power armor. The difference, though, is that while Fallout 1 used it as a prelude to the story, Fallout 3 uses it to signal just how much it adores the wreckage and the retrofuturism and the distinct Fallout iconography that Bethesda yoinked at a garden sale. Fallout 3 rolls out its new power armor model to make you go "wow, cool!" while Fallout 1's intro prominently displays the T-51 being worn by American soldiers extrajudicially murdering prisoners of war.

If you've spent any amount of time in gaming circles, either directly or indirectly, you've likely heard the phrase:

"It's a good game, but a bad [franchise] game".

Personally, I hold this phrase in contempt as it's almost often deployed as a means to avoid any indepth examination of what it means to be a [franchise] game, and is often code for "it's not like the games I love".

Fallout 4 is my one exception. It is a good game, but an atrocious Fallout game. We'll be talking about the latter part exclusively, you can infer my thoughts on 4's gameplay from the Starfield review I did.

Why is it an atrocious Fallout game?

Because it's not about the rebuilding of society. It's not about the struggles faced by those seeking to carve new life out of the bones of the old. It's not even about kitschy pop culture references or the ways in which veneration of the past drives one straight into the past's sins.

It's about Fallout. It's about Vaults, Vault Suits, power armor, the Brotherhood, retrofuturist shit, dandy boy apples, whatever comes to mind when you think "Fallout", that's the core of Fallout 4.

Now, don't get me wrong, there are some themes present in Fallout 4, but they're superficial at best. Any talk of 'rebuilding' is just a pretext to shove the settlement mechanic on you, and this game treats a question as intense as "If artificial life possesses humanity, is that natural humanity or is it as artificial as its host?" with all the seriousness of The Room tackling breast cancer.

Discourse surrounding this game points to the voiced protagonist as the source for many of its woes, but I'd argue that the protagonist being a pre-war survivor does more harm than anything else. Intrinsically binding the player to the old world means everything encountered is filtered through the lens of that world. For all its faults, Fallout 2 having the player be an insulated tribal whose confusion at the world around them stemmed from their post-war experience was a much better angle than simply having the protagonist be a 200 year old.
In the non-Bethesda titles, the pre-war period is explicitly associated with the concept of rot and decay. The Brotherhood donning the armor and imagery of pre-war America led them to become just as paranoid, isolated and self-righteous as pre-war Americans did. Ghouls, ancient pre-war survivors, were rotting zombies in the most literal sense of the word. Shady Sands becoming the NCR was explicitly portrayed as a bad thing, because its citizens assumed a mantle of relative safety in exchange for shouldering the foolishness that led to the state of the world as it is now - to the point of recreating American jingoism and oil barons in the new world.
Most obviously, the Enclave were the last bastion of the US government and their very existence is seen as a virus purely because they wish for some inane ideological and biological purity. Fallout 3, despite having more flaws than I can count, at least got it right by involving a literal virus in the Enclave's plans just to make it obvious.

In New Vegas, the Enclave's power armor has been forgotten by almost everyone. Those that are aware of it consider it to be either a hate symbol or a bitter memory of a failed state. You have to go through a long and messy quest to get it, and it's given as a 'reward' once you're told that the Enclave was a dream doomed to die from the start. The game rubs your face in how pathetic its remnants are; sad old people who struggle to deal with the cognitive dissonance resulting from them missing the Enclave yet being fully aware it was just another death cult. Should you convince one of your party members to don it in support of the """best ending""", he's immediately identified as a war criminal and given a life sentence.

In Fallout 4, it starts spawning at level 28.

But really, it's the Brotherhood who embody this complaint more than anyone.

In part because they've become the Enclave, complete with vertibirds and racism.

In a better work, this would be remarked upon. Someone would point out that there's a bitter, harrowing irony to be found in the Enclave's biggest enemy stumbling into their ideology, or that a group that was once positioned to be the country's heroic saviours were now out enforcing curfews and killing people without trial. That something once considered a reassuring symbol to the wastes had now become something people dread.

Fallout 4 instead trips over its own feet, because it's more concerned with making you - the viewer - think the Brotherhood are cool. They debut in an epic, memorable cutscene where a fucking blimp flies into the map alongside a vertibird swarm and a dramatic announcement, potentially accompanied by Nick Valentine quoting a passage from The Raven in dismay. Your personal introduction is given an equal amount of weight, featuring a cool vertibird sequence up to the Prydwen which caps off with a rousing speech from a guy deliberately designed to look like modern neo nazis. Progress the story, and they bust out Liberty Prime - Fallout 3's giant death robot who rants about communists in a hammy voice and literally can't be killed.

Being a queer person who has several other characteristics that make me a target for fascists, I'm very sensitive and hypercritical of how they're portrayed. One of my most strongly held beliefs regarding the creative arts is that, much like suicide, a creative should be very considerate of how they depict fascism as I feel it can have very very very lasting real world harm.
See, the other thing Fallout has in common with those other IPs I listed up above is that all of them have had their iconography co-opted by fascists, because all of those IPs eventually doubled down and made their in-universe fascists seem cool to the average viewer. Star Wars doubled down on the Empire's cool visuals, Gundam gave tons of screentime to Zeon, Marvel keeps bringing back The Punisher uncritically, and Warhammer 40k continues to glorify the Imperium even as queer people are made to feel unsafe and ostracized within the community.
I'm only speaking from personal experience here, but the Fallout fanbase is rife with nazis. For a time, Enclave iconography and visuals were pretty much synonymous with the more rightwing elements of the fanbase. Despite New Vegas being popular among queers, the series as a whole doesn't get much discussion because said discussion is mostly driven by rightwingers. The reactions to The Frontier mod contain a lot of the word "degenerate", which I think speaks for itself.

For Bethesda to try so hard to make the openly and textually fascist Brotherhood seem cool and admirable feels irresponsible given the franchise's history. There is a very good reason most other videogames do not give you a "bad guys campaign" when they're approaching anything political, after all. Even Skyrim, this game's immediate predecessor, handled the subject with infinitely more grace.

Such problems are the natural consequence of Bethesda equating "good writing" with "there is a Fallout Thing present". The moral, social and political implications of The Institute being a 200 year old ancient conspiracy who rule an entire region from the shadows are glossed over in favour of "Look! Synths and pre-war aesthetics!". Almost nothing touches on the messy politics of the Railroad and their written goal, which is altruistic on paper but in practice has accidentally become a supremacy movement that carries out 'justified' violence for the sake of the violence itself. The Vaults are no longer horrific dungeons of suffering that represent the sheer moral decay, disregard for life and ruthless exploitation that occurred under Fallout's late stage capitalism, they're a thing you can build if you buy a DLC.

This game's intro, while not as egregious as Fallout 3's, is still a sign of what's to come. Slapped into a pre-war house filled with the worst of Bethesda's fixation on that god awful retrofuturism aesthetic they've concocted, you waddle around interacting with things for a few moments before you get to see the bomb drops in person, run past the military (clad in power armor, naturally) and get admitted to a Vault.
It's all very... theme park. "Look, you can SEE the bombs drop!" doesn't really work when the core of Fallout isn't specifically that the bombs dropped, but what caused them to drop. The erasure of context in favour of simple imagery is a rare moment of honestly from Bethesda, though perhaps an unintended one.

It is not, however, anywhere as honest as Nuka World, a DLC which turns the Fallout world into a more theme park by being set in a literal god damn theme park. Most people have already said it, but the DLC forces you to side with deeply evil raiders to even experience it which is a bad start. Not as bad as the rest of the content, though. Peeling off their mask to reveal their intent, Nuka World shoves you through a series of dungeons utterly caked in Fallout's iconography and original stuff, so much so that it feels like a self-parody from Bethesda at times.

The ultimate tragedy of Fallout as an IP, and specifically the Vault Boy, is that both were very heavily rooted in criticisms of the uniquely insidious ways in which capitalism will weaponize things for its own goals. The peppy and cutesy marketing in-universe was meant to cover up a deeply rotted hyperfascist surveilance state which was willing to annex its neighbours due to deeply rooted Sinophobia. The Vault Boy in particular is a goofy, cutesy cartoon mascot meant to encourage people to sign up for sickening, amoral experiments headed by a company so detached from humanity that it saw a nuclear war as an opportunity.

Bethesda sadly now own Fallout, so the Vault Boy is merchandise, used to entice people to sign up for sickening, amoral experiments headed by a company so detached from reality that they thought Starfield could stand on its own merits.

no amount of words could possibly do enough justice. pure unhinged teenage profoundness. a masterclass in the culmination of elements from its inspirations. almost a parody of its pop-culture and on-rails influences, using them as a basis for both its sci-fi-action foundation and exceeding the player’s initial expectations. its face filled with complacency in admitting “yeah, we added a fully fledged cinematic-robo-socio-political narrative on top of the enigmatic disproportionately beautiful gameplay.” a blood-pumping, sharply concentrated soundtrack follows suit to wrap everything together into a somewhat messy package, but it’s an incredibly attractive and addicting package. confidently puts the “mecha” in mechanics.

"Are you ready for the sexualising minors in your story lesson?"

Kazutaka Kodaka gulped.

Katsura Hashino nodded.

Nisio Isin blinked nervously.

"Yes, Gen Urobuchi" they said in unison.