Underground Subway Tunnels

Origins and Structure of the Subway Undernet

The Underground Subway Tunnels are the remains of New Vance’s old rapid transit grid. Before the Collapse, trains moved workers, students, and shoppers through clean platforms and timed schedules. When power failed and the Z-Virus spread, evacuation plans broke down inside these tunnels. Stations became choke points. Trains stalled between stops, trapping people inside with the infection.

Emergency forces tried to seal sections and reroute survivors, but they could not keep up with the spread or the panic. Many gates were locked from the wrong side. Some trains were abandoned where they stopped, doors jammed or forced open. Over time, the subway system turned from a transit network into a blocked maze full of trapped bodies, half-finished barricades, and improvised shelters.

When the fighting moved to the surface and the Collapse settled into a new “normal,” the tunnels gained a new role. Scavvers, smugglers, and early faction scouts learned that you could cross large parts of the city underground while bypassing surface patrols and barricades. The system was dangerous, but it offered a way to move people and cargo without drawing as much attention. From there, the Subway Undernet grew into what it is now: a multi-faction corridor of constant risk and constant movement.

Today, no single group can claim full control. The map shifts from station to station and level to level. Some stretches are known routes with regular use. Others are dead zones that even desperate Raiders avoid. Old rail lines, switching yards, service tunnels, maintenance shafts, and drainage channels all connect into a complex that runs under key districts and borders. Anyone who wants to move through New Vance without going through official checkpoints must at least think about using the tunnels.

Layers, Atmosphere, and Environmental Hazards

The upper tunnels sit closest to the surface. They are the most used and the most “stable.” Many still have partial power from scavenged generators or jury-rigged solar feeds. Emergency lights flicker in stretched bands of red. In some stations, illicit neon rigs and hacked displays cast shifting colors across cracked tiles and old advertisement frames. Air moves slowly, but it moves. People can breathe here with basic filtration masks.

As you move deeper, the air grows heavier. Ventilation becomes unreliable, and old fans sit silent behind cages of rust. Pools of standing water mix with oil, chemical runoff, and bio-sludge from infected remains. Rails are slick with muck and corrosion. A careless step can send someone into a live rail fragment, a jagged metal edge, or a contaminated puddle. Fungal blooms spread across walls and ceilings, often glowing faintly or reacting to movement and light.

Many trains still rest on the tracks. Some are gutted and stripped to bare frames. Others have been converted into shelters, shrines, or fortified dens. Doors are welded shut or reinforced with scrap armor. Inside, you might find bunk rows, weapon racks, or small shrines full of Static Cult glyphs, Hydro ration tokens, or Gear Rat charms. In other cars, you find only silence, dried stains, and the marks of older struggles.

Hazards are not limited to infection. Sections collapse with little warning, especially near old construction sites or bomb-damaged areas. Gas pockets build up in closed loops. A single spark can cause small explosions that send debris down through old ceilings. Some maintenance tunnels now hold live electrical cables hanging from above or lying in stagnant water. Others link directly into the city’s drainage veins, turning sudden storms or system dumps into flood events that can sweep a person away.

The deeper you go, the less the tunnels feel like human infrastructure and the more they resemble a shared danger zone. There are no clear lines or warning signs. Every stretch can hold infected, raiders, or environmental threats. Even regular users accept that they will never know the full layout. The tunnels are always shifting as collapses, blockages, and new construction change the flow of traffic over time.

Faction Presence and Territorial Claims

The Underground Subway Tunnels are one of the few places where almost every faction is active at the same time. No one controls the whole network, but each group claims or influences certain segments. Competing routes, toll points, and safe zones overlap and clash. “Territory” here is more about who has the most guns or leverage on a given day than about fixed borders.

The Solar Guardians hold certain upper-level access points and key transit hubs close to the surface. They use these areas as checkpoints and quarantine stations. Strong floodlamps, UV rigs, and powered turrets cover main corridors. Shamblers and other infected that stumble into these zones are burned down with focused light and weapon fire. Their goal is not to rule the tunnels, but to keep outbreaks from surging upward into the more stable districts and the Solar Sprawl.

Hydro Hegemony teams move along maintenance corridors tied to old water and sewage lines. “Leak teams” patrol for illegal taps, hidden cisterns, and black-market water routes that bypass their control topside. They treat the tunnels as an extension of the Waterworks and other supply nodes. When they find unauthorized pipes or storage tanks, they cut them, poison them, or seize them as leverage. For Hydro, control of underground flow is control of life above.

The Shadow Syndicate uses the tunnels as their main movement grid. They run hidden black markets out of abandoned platforms, ticket halls, and maintenance depots. AR overlays and glitchware hide stalls, traders, and secured meeting spots behind normal-looking walls or dead terminals. Syndicate scouts know which lines are “quiet” and which are watched by Guardians, Hydro, or Raiders. They sell this information along with drugs, weapons, fake IDs, and stolen data.

The Gear Rats treat certain stretches of line like a moving scrapyard. They harvest metal from rail segments, repair old engines, and turn train cars into war rigs or mobile workshops. In some sidings, you can see half-disassembled vehicles, welding sparks, and the glow of small forges. Gear Rat raiding crews use the tunnels to move armor, fuel, and stolen parts between the Rust Belt and other industrial zones. They are less subtle than the Syndicate but know the rails better than anyone.

Raiders use whatever gaps they can find. They carve out drug dens and brutal crash pads in service stations and forgotten side platforms. Their control never lasts long, since they are willing to fight almost anyone and burn bridges for short-term gains. Still, their presence adds constant danger. A route that was safe yesterday might pass straight through a newly claimed Raider lair today.

The Static Cult drifts in the background. Cultists gather in dark junction rooms and under broken intercom arrays. They wire themselves into dead speaker systems and maintenance consoles, searching for “voices” in the noise. Flashing glyphs, stacked radios, and looping recorded messages mark their spaces. They do not hold territory in a strict sense, but their influence spreads through hacked systems, strange broadcasts, and unsettling rituals.

Silent Walkers, Shamblers, and Reasons to Descend

Shamblers are a constant presence in the Underground Subway Tunnels. They drift along platforms, slump in seats, or pile in collapsed cars. Some sections are relatively clear, while others are dense with slow-moving infected. Their moans and shuffling steps echo along the corridors, making it hard to judge distance. Many infected here follow old patterns from before they turned, repeating commutes they can no longer understand.

The Z-Virus behaves the same as on the surface. A bite, a deep scratch, or contact with contaminated blood in an open wound can mean infection. The tight spaces, low visibility, and many blind corners give shamblers an advantage. Even trained teams can be caught in close quarters or pinned by a sudden surge from a hidden side tunnel. Few who enter the Undernet can claim they have never been surprised by an unexpected cluster.

Above and around this constant threat, the Silent Walkers move. They pass through infected crowds without being attacked. They cross faction lines without paying tolls. They appear in upper routes, deep maintenance shafts, and flooded junctions. They do not speak, and they do not explain their goals. They collect objects, data, and, at times, people. Then they vanish into sections that most other travelers avoid.

Factions argue over what the Walkers are. Some Hydro scientists think they are carriers of a modified strain of the virus that makes shamblers treat them as part of the swarm. Static Cultists whisper that the Walkers are “listening posts” for something larger that speaks through static and interference. Shadow Syndicate tacticians simply mark them as a non-negotiable threat. Their rule is simple: if a route draws regular Walker attention, shut it down.

Still, people descend into the Subway Undernet every day. They go seeking profit, escape, or answers. Scavvers look for old tech, medical caches, or pre-Collapse data. Factions push patrols through to test new routes or harass rivals. Cultists hunt for signals. Raiders look for soft targets and safe dens. Some rare individuals come chasing rumors about hidden labs, deep shelters, or the true nature of the Walkers and the virus.

For New Vance as a whole, the Underground Subway Tunnels are a risk the city cannot remove and a resource it cannot ignore. They are a shared, unstable corridor where infection, trade, and power all move at once. Any plan that tries to shape the future of the city must take the Undernet into account. If you want to understand how New Vance really works beneath its claims of order and safety, you look down, not up. You follow the tracks into the dark and see who is willing to walk there with you.