Fallout: New Vegas & My Journey into the Unknown

Fallout: New Vegas is my favorite Fallout game of all time. And this is coming from someone who has poured hundreds of hours into both Fallout 3 and 4 combined, with all respective DLC’s included. I had certainly put 30-some hours into New Vegas closer to its initial release date in 2010, but due to the persistent amount of bugs and collective hatred against the game, I set it aside.

Fast forward to nearly a decade later in 2019, where I had just completed another playthrough of Fallout 3 and Skyrim. I was high on my love for Bethesda RPG’s, and needed something to fill the gap. And there it was:

Fallout: New Vegas.

The Ultimate Edition for Xbox 360 was sitting there on my shelf, tantalizing me to give it another chance. I dusted off the case, inserted the disk into the previous gen console, and before I knew it, over a hundred hours had whisked by. I’m absolutely loving the experience, and could go on for hours on why it had dethroned my previous favorite Bethesda title, Fallout 3. The world and story is so rich and rewarding, and almost all of the glitches and bugs that had plagued the title early on were nowhere to be seen.

But not all of them were absent.

One thing that Fallout: New Vegas has compared to other franchise installments is heavy use of “invisible walls,” or barriers preventing players from accessing regions of the map that are not meant for exploration. Skyrim, for example, was very generous in allowing me to go almost anywhere and everywhere, even on mountainous slopes that were almost completely vertical.

Fallout: New Vegas, on the other hand, is very proficient at keeping players in the main gameplay areas.

I don’t really see this as too big of a deal, but it can be jarring to the immersion if my character suddenly, inexplicably cannot move forward. It wasn’t too uncommon for me to come across a plateau or flatland that would simply prevent me from traversing the area by a literal invisible wall.

But in a hilarious turn of events, I encountered one of the strangest video game experiences in recent memory:

Going beyond the edge of the known map.

A quick Google search revealed that other players have accomplished similar feats within New Vegas. However, I’d like to think my anecdote was unique enough that it warranted a whole post to showcase the weirdness that ensued.

Join me on this intrepid journey into the unknown.

The Journey of a Lifetime

In the Northeast portion of the map is a location known as the “Devil’s Throat.” It’s not a particularly fun place for lower-level couriers, as the region is rife with Super Mutants and hideous Centaurs. And, if memory serves, it’s laden with radiation – so if you intend on scouting this sector, make sure to load up on Rad-X’s and Radaway’s, as well as some heavy weaponry to take on the aforementioned mutated denizens.

But like most of the map, the edge of the Devil’s Throat is lined with rolling hills and mountains. This effectively forms an impassible wall, preventing players from venturing into the Great Unknown outside the map. But somehow, just slightly northwest of the location, I found a small passageway between peaks — a crack in the dike, if you will. I curiously made my way through the opening, landing in a spot on the other side of the mountainous wall in the northeast.

It was there that I stopped and took a proverbial whiff of fresh air. I had done the unthinkable by penetrating the invisible wall that pervaded almost every edge of the Wasteland map. With a vast terrain of rolling hills and plains before me, I temporarily bade my companion Boone farewell.

This journey was one I had to embark on alone.

Before venturing too far into the forbidden landscape, I took a peek at the passageway behind me. From a distance, things looked fairly normal. But from my vantage point, I did notice some visual weirdness percolating in the form of clipping.

Never being one to turn down a look at in-game idiosyncrasies, I backtracked slightly to see if I had missed anything. It only took a few mere seconds for some great glitches to rear their ugly heads. A closer inspection revealed some fascinating developments.

Turning in place to look directly East further accentuated the oddities, helping set the stage for the journey I was about to embark on. In the stead of hills and knolls were jagged outlines of the topographical features. And yes, I did attempt to trudge through the jagged outlines, albeit to no avail. Even though the mountaintops were (mostly) transparent from a visual standpoint, they very much existed in the game as solid objects, prohibiting me from venturing East.

And that was fine.

I still had the broad, open landscape of the North to explore. I crossed my fingers and hoped that no invisible barricades would materialize, began to mosey northward.

After proceeding onward for a brief while, the strange conglomeration of jagged outlines and hills to my right (East) began receding into the ground. This gave way to yet another provocative sight. Essentially, there was wide flat area comprised of water, which suddenly dropped, resulting in a massive wall. The wall itself was a monolithic surface that was completely smooth, reminiscent of a vertical marble slab that persisted for hundreds of feet. At its base, the wall was adjoined to a broad floor devoid of any plant life or distinguishing characteristics.

If a virtual rave were to ever take place in the outdoors, this location would’ve been a prime candidate for consideration.

Just above the wall and the adjacent oceanic vista, I was greeted by the sight of what appeared to be a land bridge supported by three giant columns. This, like some of the earlier oddities I encountered, was supposed to be more mountains. But in keeping pace with the nature of my present circumstances, the mountains only partially appeared as a land bridge and columns. I took a mental note, and then continued northward in pursuit of more unusual landmarks.

The next ten minutes or so proved fairly uneventful, with nothing beyond rolling hills and flat plains to pepper my vision. But then, the distant land began to shift in coloration before my very eyes. At first, I thought it to be a mirage, but then recalled that the scenario was unlikely, as 1. This was a video game, and 2. I doubt the developers would have implemented mirages in an area not meant for intrepid adventurers such as myself.

As surmised, the ocular changes were not mirages, as they began to take on regular confirmed occurrences.

Different slices of the distant landscape would not only shift in color, but also pop in and out of view. It was as if some in-game sorcerer was experimenting with spells that resulted in land disappearance, but then regretted the manipulations, bringing the terrain back seconds after.

The cyclic disappearance and reappearance was dizzying to say the least, but I trekked onward, refusing the trifling distraction to deter my progress.

At this point, Flat-Earthers will rejoice. The flat plains I traversed descended into a bit of a valley, which ended abruptly at the literal edge of the known world.

I made my way to the edge and peered over, as one would do when presented with such a unique opportunity. A ways below the edge fanned out a watery area, not unlike what I had witnessed with the land bridge earlier.

After taking it all in for a minute or so, I determined that my journey had still not yet reached its end, as one question continued hounding me:

What is at the corner of the known world?

Knowing that I would find it difficult to rest until resolving this inquiry, I chose to head directly East, using the land’s Northern edge as my trail marker to light the way. My other flank was defined by one giant mountain ridge, ensuring that I would not deviate from the path set before me.

Although I was miles away from any known NPC’s or established locations, a strange new bug surfaced in the form of sound bites. Random audio effects centered around gunfire and war cries sprouted up in the distance. While I knew that these were unintentional happenings, I’d like to think that these sound effects were emblematic of an internal warfare going on — an internal struggle to keep pressing on or to simply give up.

This point of the escapade was the most extensive yet, with little to do aside from lots…of…walking. For nearly half an hour, I proceeded forward, surrounded by the steep drop-off on my left, and the colossal mountain range to my right. I had no idea what mysteries awaited me, if any, and was prepared to harbor intense disappointment.

I openly admit, at one point I actually pulled out my phone to catch up on some Parks & Rec. My mother would’ve been proud, seeing me multitask between watching the NBC series, and ensuring my Fallout: New Vegas character didn’t fall into the Northern abyss while he decisively sauntered eastward.

But then, slowly but surely, the terrain began to shift slightly. The ridge to my right gradually reduced in altitude, eventually fading into the ground. Before focusing on the destination in front of me, I looked back at the diminishing mountain range, appreciating the variety in scenery. A topographical shift of any magnitude was something I had not witnessed in what seemed like ages (which probably was more like thirty minutes, but who’s counting?).

Just a little ways to the east was my summit, visible from where the mountain ridge vanished.

The Northeast Corner.

It was surreal, getting to this point. My eyes were weary of experiencing nearly one rigorous hour of rolling hills and open plains. Reaching this point in my journey was a welcome drop of water on my parched tongue.

Like when I had first stumbled upon the Edge earlier, an oceanic plain fanned out a little ways beneath the land mass I stood on, also culminating in a watery corner. And beyond that?

Sheer nothingness.

Light pastel hues of white and blue stretched out for as far as the eye could see, instilling a strange marriage of peace and wonderment within me.

It was over.

I had done it.

To celebrate, I did the only logical thing left that there was to do, which was to jump off the Edge of the Known World, and into the serene waters below.

It didn’t end as well as I had hoped.

But hey, sometimes the best part of the trek is in the journey itself, not the destination. And Fallout: New Vegas is full of great journeys, even ones outside the perceived limits imposed by the developers.