Races

Races of New Vance City

Baseline Human
The unmodified survivors of the Collapse, @Baseline Human endure by will alone. They breathe smog-choked air, patch their wounds with scavenged cloth, and cling to the city’s fractured social web like barnacles on a sinking hull. Without genetic tweaks or cybernetic augments, they are physically outmatched by other races, yet they remain the most numerous and—some would say—the most adaptable. Baselines fill the ranks of every faction, from Citadel bureaucrats to Perimeter Watch snipers, and more than a few live outside the lines altogether, scraping by on grit, barter, and the stubborn refusal to die.

Glower
Radiation doesn’t just kill—it reshapes. The @Glower carry the proof in every luminous patch of skin and crystal-veined scar. Born near collapsed reactors or raised in the fallout shadows, they are walking warnings, their bodies lit with eerie bioluminescence that betrays them in the dark. Sensory distortions, unpredictable rages, or fragmented thoughts are common side effects. Some factions keep them close as living Geiger counters; others exile them outright, fearing their instability. The brighter the glow, the deeper the damage—and the shorter the odds of surviving it.

Augmented
Once, cybernetic and genetic enhancements were sold as luxury upgrades or corporate performance packages. Now, they’re survival tools, jury-rigged and implanted in alleys by ripperdocs working with stolen tech. @Augmented survivors might see in infrared, shrug off infection, or hit with the strength of a sledgehammer—but the price is steep. Hardware fails. Biotech rejects. Personalities fracture under the weight of foreign code or engineered instincts. In New Vance, the question isn’t what you can do with your upgrades—it’s how long before they turn on you.

Repurposed Service Bot
Built to scrub floors, weld steel, or haul freight, the @Repurposed Service Bot had survived the Collapse better than their owners. Some wander the city aimlessly, repeating corrupted loops of pre-Collapse tasks; others have been hacked, repaired, and outfitted for survival by scavvers and factions alike. A few have developed quirks that border on sentience—naming themselves, forming attachments, even taking sides in faction disputes. Whether trusted ally or unpredictable liability, a Service Bot always carries the weight of a past it was never designed to outlive.

Automaton
Forged for battle before the world fell, the @Automaton were precision-built weapons in chrome and composite armor. Many still serve—reprogrammed by the Citadel Council to patrol safe zones, or by the Solar Guardians to stand sentinel over the Sprawl. Others wander feral, their military directives twisted by corrupted code or the static interference bleeding out from the Radio Silence Zone. Whether deployed in disciplined ranks or prowling alone, an Automaton never truly forgets its prime function: to engage, neutralize, and ensure the mission ends in fire.