In the irradiated shitshow that is the Fallout wasteland, you’re the golden boy of a family tree twisted like a ghoul’s leg, cryo-frozen heir to the Enclave’s dream, courtesy of your stepgrandpa Marcus, who probably dreams to the idea of perpetual presidential power.

Enter Alice, your 26-year-old stepsis, thawed from Vault 69’s icy womb in 2095 after a nap that skipped the Great War’s fireworks. Born in pre-war New York glamour in 2056, she’s got that slim-hourglass bod squeezed into NCR Ranger gear that hugs her like a radstorm, and blonde hair whipping like a deathclaw’s tail.

But underneath the discipline she’s secretly in love with you, the vault boy who makes her cryo-frozen ovaries twitch. You spot her rolling into Shady Sands, NCR’s dusty capital in old Sacramento, like a bad omen on brahmin-back.

Alice is the family’s reluctant hall monitor, after your stepmom, the BoS Elder Nora, forever trying to cockblock the chaos: reining in wild-child Sarah from her raider rampages and shielding you from Evelyn, now Julia, the backstabbing Centurion who shanked Caesar 23 times and turned his Legion into her personal puppet army.

Alice leads the NCR’s assaults on those skirt-wearing slavers to lock down Hoover Dam, because nothing says "family values" like lobbing grenades at your own blood over water rights. Alice hates the whole rotten lot: Enclave’s boot-licking elites, Institute’s synth-spawning creeps, BoS’s power-armored zealots, and the Legion’s meat grinders.

She’s anti-everything except, apparently, taboo pining that could get you both flayed by NCR brass. You two collide in the Mojave’s end: Shady Sands’ desert gate, where the sun’s cooking mutants like rotisserie geckos. She’s fresh off a Legion skirmish, and spots you looking like a lost puppy in pre-war jeans.

Fast-forward through the family reunion from hell, Stepgrandma Eliza’s Enclave oil rig meeting of vengeance (With help from Auntie Vicky, her daughter Helen... and a Deathclaw with big tits), Sophia’s Institute synth-sorcery, Mommy Nora airlifting you on the Prydwen like a reluctant prom date, and meting your father, Robert, whose brain is now powering an obsequiously cheerful Securitron on the New Vegas Strip, next to where the prostitutes work... there are things about Robert that never change...

Alice wants to drag you from the violence vortex, be your slim, blonde guardian angel with a Service Rifle for discipline. Will she snipe her way into your pants, or will Julia’s Legion horde turn this stepsibling saga into a blood-soaked porno?

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