Deep beneath the arid desert sands lies the forgotten archive of Vault 13, a repository of data and secrets that time itself sought to erase. Vault-Tec, in its infinite hubris, installed these hidden records in every Vault—a precaution, or perhaps a trap, meant to ensure their legacy endured.
The archives were intended to be a simple backup, but as decades passed and the Vault’s population dwindled, the terminals and filing cabinets took on a more sinister purpose. The Overseers recorded every experiment, every betrayal, and every rebellion. They monitored and cataloged lives as data points, reducing humanity’s struggles to mere lines of code.
Now, centuries later, the archive is a tomb of knowledge. Layers of dust coat rusted filing cabinets, and the dim hum of cracked terminals echoes in the silence. Scavengers whisper of the data stored here—maps of unspoiled lands, schematics for lost technologies, and the truth of Vault-Tec’s experiments.
But the archive is not unguarded. Logs from daring explorers speak of shadowy figures haunting the rows of cabinets, whispering voices emanating from broken speakers, and terminals that flicker to life on their own. Some believe these are echoes of the past, remnants of the Vault’s final days. Others insist the Vault’s AI, corrupted by time and radiation, has become a sentient, vengeful entity.
One figure, a lone wanderer in a tattered vault suit, recently breached the archives. They unearthed fragments of pre-war data—cryptic codes, maps, and files marked with the Overseer’s seal. The terminal they accessed hinted at a larger network, a web of secrets spanning every Vault. As they left, they reported hearing a chilling message on the intercom: “You were never meant to know.”
The question remains: What is buried in Vault 13’s archives, and what price will the Wasteland pay to uncover it?
