I grew up as an only child with a single working mom. We did not have much, so most of my time was spent at home. And most of that time was spent in video games. Not just playing them, but staying in them. They were more than something to pass time. They were somewhere else to go, somewhere that felt bigger, more open, and more in control than real life did at the time.

Out of all of them, Fallout stuck with me.

When Fallout 3 came out in 2008, it felt different. The world, the atmosphere, the music, everything about it pulled you in. But what stood out the most was the Pip-Boy. It was not just a menu. It felt like a real piece of the world. Something physical, something functional, something you actually used to survive in that environment. It made everything feel grounded in a way most games didn't.

That idea stayed with me.

Years went by, life moved forward, and I didn't think about it every day, but it never really left. The Pip-Boy was always there in the background. Something I thought was cool, something I appreciated, but not something I ever expected to actually have.

Then, almost twenty years later, I finally got one.

When The Wand Company released the Pip-Boy 3000 Mk V, I ordered it. And then I waited. For months. The kind of wait where the idea of it starts to grow in your head. By the time it showed up, it felt like something I had wanted for a long time, even if I had not been actively thinking about it.

When I finally turned it on, it was so cool.

But something was off.

It looked like a Pip-Boy. It had the shape, the screen, the feel of something real. But the experience was not there. The interface was limited, and more than anything, the music felt off. That was a huge part of what made Fallout feel like Fallout, and it just was not there in the way I expected.

It felt like something that could be a lot more than it was.

So I started messing with it.

At first it was small things. Just trying to understand how it worked. How files were loaded, what could be changed, what could not. That turned into trying to improve the music. Then trying to control what played. Then trying to understand how the device handled data and interaction.

Around the same time, I was still working in Angular, keeping my skills up and building things on the side where I could.

Eventually those two things met in the middle.

I started building small tools. Things that let me interact with the Pip-Boy from my computer. Upload files, manage content, change behavior. It was not meant to be anything big. It was just a way to make the device feel closer to what I thought it should have been in the first place.

It was a win-win. I was staying sharp with development, and I was improving something I actually cared about.

Then everything else in my life shifted.

After leaving my job, I had more time, but a lot less certainty. There was no clear next step, no structured plan, nothing lined up. But the one thing that did feel clear was this. It was something I could control. Something I could keep building without needing approval, alignment, or anyone else's direction.

So I kept going.

What started as a few small tools became something more consistent. Then something more useful. Then something that felt like it might actually be worth sharing.

So I put it out there.

At first, I did not expect much. Maybe a few people would find it useful. Maybe someone else with a Pip-Boy would run into the same limitations and want the same fixes.

People started showing up, so I kept building.