2097 Relics

Pre-Collapse Weaponry: Echoes of the Corporate Apocalypse

Origins and the Fourth Corporate War In the dying gasps of the 2020s, before the Collapse reshaped Night City into its glittering hellscape, the Fourth Corporate War raged like a digital plague. Megacorps poured eddies into forbidden tech: railguns powered by unstable fusion cores, smart munitions laced with quantum entanglement, and ballistic systems that defied physics. When the war flatlined in nuclear fire and net-crashes, bunkers across Watson and beyond became tombs for these weapons. Scavengers unearthed them decades later, but the relics carried scars—arcane twists from EMP backlashes and rogue AI infusions, turning cold steel into something alive, vengeful. Corps like Militech still spin Network 54 broadcasts claiming they're "obsolete prototypes," but fixers know better: these bad boys hum with residual energy, as if the war's ghosts refuse to die.

Arcane Twists and the Berserker Curse What sets Pre-Collapse Weaponry apart? It's the "war echo"—a glitchy fusion of pre-digital ballistics and emergent net-magic. Bullets don't just punch; they phase through armor like ethereal specters, ignoring chrome plating or kevlar weaves. But there's a price: each discharge channels the old war's fury, flooding the wielder's neural links with fragmented screams—echoes of corporate soldiers flatlined in the chaos. Overuse triggers the "berserker curse," a frenzy where your vision reds out, hands shake with phantom rage, and you might turn on your own chooms before the recoil snaps you back. Netrunners whisper it's no glitch; it's the weapons' "soul debt," demanding blood to balance the scales. In D&D terms, think +2 weapons with a risk of a Wisdom save or lose control, painting your HUD with war flashbacks.

Tyger Claws and the Samurai Souls The Tyger Claws claim these relics as sacred, hoarding them in Kabuki's shadowed dojos for rituals that blend street samurai code with corpo mysticism. To them, each weapon carries the "souls of fallen ronin"—digital imprints of pre-collapse operatives, bound in the fusion cores like katana spirits from old Japantown legends. They etch tattoos into the barrels, perform blood oaths to appease the echoes, and use 'em in gang turf wars as divine judgment. Cross a Claw with one of these? Expect a phased bolt to your chest, followed by whispers in your dying comms: "For the Emperor's shadow." Snake Nation rivals 'em for control, seeing the weapons as tools to topple Arasaka's waterfront fortress, but faction beefs often end in cursed frenzies that leave bodies twisted in the alleys.

Exemplar: The Eclipse Rifle Picture this beauty: the Eclipse Rifle, a sleek railgun relic with a matte-black chassis scarred by war burns, its fusion core glowing like a trapped star behind a heat-sink barrel. Pre-collapse Militech design, it fires "phase-bolts"—hyper-accelerated slugs that warp reality on impact, punching through multiple targets or walls without losing velocity, leaving ionized trails that blind optics like a solar flare. Damage? Devastating: 4d8 piercing with a chance to ignore half cover, but roll a d20 after each shot—on a 1-5, the berserker curse hits, forcing an Intimidation check against your own sanity or attack the nearest ally. Tyger Claws call it "Yurei no Tsuki" (Moon of Ghosts), believing it houses the soul of a betrayed exec who flatlined his own board. Found 'em in Watson's Med Center ruins? But good luck prying one from a Claw's cold, dead hands without invoking the curse.