Fallout Does Right, What the Others Get Wrong (So Far)
Now, I'm writing this right before Season 2 releases, so hopefully these words still ring true a few months from now—but goddamn, that first season was good. So, so good.
I am a huge Fallout fan. I didn’t play the first two, but Fallout 3 was the first game I ever 100%’ed—post–video game achievements and platinum trophies. Fallout: New Vegas was a turning point for me as a gamer, and I probably spent more time on Fallout 4 than I did writing my first novel. I have every soundtrack memorized word for word. I can quote Three Dog (OOOOOOOowowowwwwwww). I can tell you more about The Ink Spots than I can about Justin Bieber—or whoever the kids are listening to these days. Cinnamon Bun? Jelly Donut? Two-Cubed Scorpio? I dunno.
But needless to say, I am a Fallout fan.
From the contrasting harmony of chaos that is decapitating aggressive raiders and super mutants to the sounds of Danny Kaye, Nat King Cole, and Betty Hutton—to the fear of diving deep into a feral ghoul den, blowing up a town of innocent civilians just to live in a high-rise penthouse, or gambling on the New Vegas Strip while the wasteland waits just outside—Fallout is a masterpiece of character, tone, worldbuilding, and atmosphere.
Goddamn, I really love Fallout.
So when they announced that we were getting a Fallout series, I was ecstatic. When I realized what year it was, and how most platforms and studios treat source material (looking at you, Netflix—I’ll never forgive you for The Witcher), I was cautiously optimistic. When I found out that Amazon Prime was the one doing it, I was dreading it, honestly.
But THANK ATOM it exceeded all of my expectations.
It's taking every bone in my body to not talk about Walton Goggins, but...
The Fallout series has a tone like a water balloon on a see-saw. It hits the highs of excitement and combat, then dips into the lows of wandering the wasteland listening to The Ink Spots. Then it wobbles the other way with some silly “blubble, blubbles,” before a giant boulder drops on the other side and sends the water balloon flying into the sky—only for it to crash back down with a splash.
Is that analogy landing? Not sure.
But basically what I’m saying is that Fallout’s tone is a mess—a beautiful, glorious, complicated mess. And that “mess” is, in my opinion, the best thing about the entire series and world. But its see-saw tone is also something that, in less skilled hands, would be a disaster in live action. You’d either end up with an over-the-top violent post-apocalyptic drama, or a campy 1950s-style character comedy set during the end of the world. Hitting that perfect medium like the games do would be no easy task—in fact, it’s probably a supremely difficult one. A balancing act that, by its own creative nature, is meant to feel unbalanced.
And Fallout nails it. Perfectly.
Putting us in the shoes of the naïve, silly, sweet, innocent Vault Dweller—Lucy—thrown out into the apocalypse gives the audience the perfect vessel for perspective. It allows the childlike wonder and absurd humor to coexist with feral ghouls, death, destruction, pain, and suffering in a way that feels completely earned and completely in place.
On the flip side of Lucy, we get the perspective of Walton Goggins’ Ghoul—a pre-war actor turned irradiated survivor who’s endured two centuries of loss, wasteland living, and grim adaptation, all while remembering the world that came before. And then there’s Aaron Moten’s Maximus, a Brotherhood of Steel squire trying to make a name for himself—to become something greater, to prove himself as a hero in the wastes.
These three perspectives don’t just give us three stories—they give us three entirely different ways of viewing, interacting with, and responding to the world. Through their six eyes, we experience the full, chaotic, tragic, hilarious range of Fallout’s tone.
Oh, and Dogmeat is there too. He is pooch.
But the real star of the show is…
Golly gee, the Ghoul is great...
Damn you, Walton Goggins.
I’ve seen this man play a trans sex worker named Venus—and he played her as if he truly was born that way. It was proof he could take any role and make it feel both charming and believable. The man kills every part he touches. But the Ghoul…
He’s something else entirely. Potentially a pop-culture icon in the making—if future seasons keep up their current quality. Goggins makes him believable, cool, and badass all at once. The writing helps, of course—the way the narrative slides between his pre-war life and his post-war ghoulism, showing him transform from a loving family man and fading actor to a desperate, violent mercenary—it’s so good it’s almost unreal. What’s even crazier is how relatable he is.
How do you relate to someone who has nothing left to lose? You show that he already lost everything. His coldness doesn’t come from not caring—it comes from once caring about everything. From once having everything. And then watching it burn.
That’s where the performance and writing meet. The presentation, the believability, the emotional throughline—they all click. You’re right there with him, because we’ve all lost something. And really, we’re all just one nuke drop away from being as angry and as desperate as he is. He has every right to be. That’s what makes him real.
This isn’t to say the other characters aren’t incredible—they are. In fact, the interplay between the Ghoul and Lucy, and Lucy’s dynamic with Maximus, is what makes the show work. It wouldn’t be the same without any of them. Their chemistry, their conflicts, and their growth all build toward something organic and honest. That’s why I’m so hopeful for Season 2—they’ve already laid the foundation with such strong, complex characters.
And thank God they know exactly how to escalate it.
Onto New Vegas...
Setting Season 2 in New Vegas is brilliant. It’s the perfect escalation of the story, the stakes, and the characters—and it shows just how much the creators are actually listening to fans. They’re proving that the source material actually means something to them (unlike The Witcher—yes, Netflix, we’ll get to you).
And when I say “listening to the fans,” I don’t mean bending the story to fan demands. No. I mean they clearly already had this mapped out. They knew where they were going. Because apparently, unlike some people, they actually gave a damn.
Now, like I said earlier, we’re still two months out from Season 2’s drop on Amazon Prime—and sure, it could all go off the rails. It could destroy everything we’ve come to love about Fallout. For all we know, they might make Mr. House a black, trans woman with a massive robo-schlong. They might close down all the Strip’s clubs and casinos to “appeal to modern sensibilities.” We don’t know.
But what we do know is that they’ve set it up perfectly—and the trailers make it clear they still know exactly what they’re doing.
Having New Vegas as the setting is genius. It opens up so much visually and narratively, but what I’m really interested in are the flashbacks.
Oh yeah—we’re talking about Walton Goggins again.
The Ghoul’s pre-war position puts him right in the kind of environment that could bring pre-war New Vegas to life: scenes on the Strip, encounters with Mr. House before he became a 200-year-old corpse in a tube—these flashbacks are set up to be the perfect time capsule, showing us how the world became the wasteland we know.
I have no doubt Season 2 will carry on the greatness of Season 1. With a fantastic cast, strong writing, and only the surface of Fallout’s wild lore barely scratched, we could be looking at the greatest video game adaptation of all time—if they can keep it up.
I guess we’ll find out in December… and I’m looking forward to it.
Okie dokie... Let's get down to brass tacks...
What if you’re not a Fallout fan? What if you’ve never played the games—does the show still appeal to a casual viewer just looking for a fun show to wa—
Let’s just stop there.
Yes. The answer is yes. Completely, 100%, unequivocally yes. Maybe even more so than if you are a Fallout fan. And here’s why: there are so many strange, unexplained things about this world—like, why are people still listening to 1940s hits in the year 2296?—that you’ll find yourself delighted just to get lost in the absurdity of it all.
You don’t need to know the games to understand the show. The world is so precisely and confidently realized that it doesn’t need to explain itself. You don’t need a lore dump or a Pip-Boy encyclopedia to “get it.” The world just is, and that’s what makes Fallout so damn great.
The premise is simple: the world got stuck in a 1940s version of the future, a nuclear war wiped everything out, and now everyone’s just trying to survive in the atomic rubble. Step in and have fun.
My fifty-five-year-old mother watched the show without ever touching a controller, and she loved every minute of it. You will too.
Not just because it’s good—but because all its parts, from the music to the atmosphere to the absurd sincerity of its world, come together to create an experience that lingers long after you stop watching. Trust me: within days, you’ll be listening to Fallout radio playlists on YouTube or Spotify and humming “Big Iron” on your way to work.
Fallout isn’t just for Fallout fans. It’s for fans of fun. And that’s what makes it special.
So, with Season 2 on the horizon, let’s pray to Atom that it’s as good as Season 1—and that they don’t fumble the delivery. Because I’m already listening to Radio New Vegas playlists in preparation for December, and I’m ready to get back to the wasteland again.
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