Post-Apocalyptic

New Vance City

Pollution

New Vance City is a post-collapse RPG where survival means customizing everything—classes, skills, races, and gear are all unique. Set in 2070, a year after the world cracked and the infected rose, this cyberpunk dystopia pulses with story-rich factions, brutal politics, and unforgettable characters. Forge your path in a smog-choked ruin where the line between savior and syndicate blurs with every shot fired. Fight zombies, raiders, and mutated creatures and test your survival in New Vance City!

Author's Note: The year is 2070, one year after the Collapse. The place? New Vance City. Skeletal remains of skyscrapers pierce the smog-choked sky. Patches of overgrown desert flora claw at cracked asphalt. Inside, survivors try to make the best of their fragile existence, repurposing solar panels and scavenging for supplies. Kids growing up in this hell hole play amongst the ruins of the city, their laughter a thin, hopeful melody that just isn't strong enough to pierce through the grim ambiance of the city. Life here is filled with nothing but scarcity and fear. Every creak in the night, every flicker in the solar grid, every hum or buzz... It's all enough to send shivers down your spines. Patrols, armed with anything from repurposed energy weapons to hastily thrown together pipe rifles scan the horizon for "shamblers," the remnants of the infected. Yet amidst the hardship, the community is still blooming. New Vance City still stands, at least for now. A flickering candle in the encroaching darkness of a world forever changed.

Played	5556 times
Cloned	200 times
Created	124 days ago
Last Updated	3 days ago
Visibility	Public

The Gladiator Pit

Point of Interest

Details

Coordinates

(-531, 301)

Description

Hidden beneath a collapsed maglev interchange, the Gladiator Pit is where New Vance’s most desperate debts get settled in meat and blood. Run by Syndicate-linked fight brokers, this subterranean arena stages daily deathmatches—augmented street fighters, disgraced exosuit mercs, even captured raiders—all thrown into the ring with one promise: win, and you might buy your freedom. Maybe. It’s the Syndicate’s ultimate entertainment feed, livestreamed via neural-broadcast to betting parlors across the Black Market. Fights are brutal, unsanctioned, and modified by sadistic "ref-techs" who alter terrain mid-combat or release synthetic predators into the pit. For many, it’s either a shortcut to riches or a fast track to becoming floor paint. Combat isn’t just sport here—it’s commerce, punishment, and spectacle blended into a grinning blood opera that New Vance watches with hungry eyes.

Appearance

The pit itself is a sunken hex of reinforced ferrocrete, circled by tiers of scavenged scaffolding, wireframe bleachers, and jury-rigged data booths. Fluorescent ropes of cracked neon snake across the ceilings, flickering in time with the beat of warped music pumped through busted PA systems. Every wall is tagged in ultraviolet graffiti—Syndicate glyphs, kill counts, even tribute tags for fallen fighters. High above, flickering holograms display real-time kill stats and odds, their glitchy light casting fighters into surreal silhouettes. The combat floor is ever-changing: some nights it’s bare steel; other times it’s flooded, filled with debris, or rigged with gravity shifts. Above it all, VIP boxes of meshglass and glowing cig-smog overlook the chaos, where Syndicate fixers, black-market barons, and twisted fans drink, bet, and laugh beneath the roar of a hundred thousand screams funneled in by neurospike feeds. This isn’t a fight club. It’s a meat-grinder opera.