In the wasteland, you do whatever you can to survive...

Even after the bombs fell, even after countries unleashed weapons beyond imagination on one another, even after lawlessness became the norm, people still expect their mail.

As a deadman, I'm uniquely suited to deliver it.

Rads don't bother me, and people who try to hurt me typically wind up dead. Sure, humans may not like dealing with a face like mine, but hey, it's not like you’ve got many options here in the wastes.

Now in the middle of my route I’ve come upon a new Job, and maybe the opportunity to start thriving instead of surviving.