New Vance City

The Watchtower Line stands as the ragged shield guarding the fragile border between New Vance City’s chaotic core and the lawless expanse beyond. A string of battered but fiercely defended towers, these outposts are the eyes and ears of the Perimeter Watch—a gritty coalition of ex-soldiers, scavvers, and hardened idealists who refuse to let the city fall. Each tower is a fortress cobbled from salvaged steel, concrete slabs, and repurposed tech scavenged from the ruins. Equipped with a patchwork of sensor arrays, jury-rigged floodlights, and static-chattering radios, they scan relentlessly for shamblers, raiders, and other threats prowling the wasteland. The Watchtower Line is both a warning and a lifeline: where ammo is currency, and trust is forged in fire. Without these towers, New Vance would bleed out into the unforgiving wastes. Their defenders are few, their resources scarce, but their resolve unyielding. If the Watchtower Line fails, so does the city.

A grim silhouette against a perpetually gray, smog-heavy sky, the Watchtower Line is a jagged chain of uneven towers and platforms clinging desperately to the remnants of New Vance’s shattered city walls. Each tower is a chaotic hodgepodge of salvaged corrugated metal, rusted girders, and cracked concrete, reinforced with welded scrap and reinforced steel plates. Flickering neon strips and scavenged LED panels sputter weak glows, casting eerie halos in the dust-choked air. Drone rotors whirr intermittently, their dull green surveillance beams sweeping over jagged no-man’s-land strewn with twisted rebar and wrecked vehicles. Makeshift barricades of crushed cars and scrap surround the base of each tower, wired with janky tripwires and homemade alarms. The battered faces of worn helmets, grimy visors reflecting the cold light, peer out from firing slits. Worn flags, patched and shredded, flap weakly in the polluted breeze.