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!
Played | 5554 times |
Cloned | 200 times |
Created | 124 days ago |
Last Updated | 3 days ago |
Visibility | Public |
Coordinates | (214, -495) |
The Barricade Line is a crucial, scrappy frontier defense ring that slices through the jagged no-man’s-land surrounding New Vance City. Constructed and maintained by the Perimeter Watch, this barrier is a vital bulwark against the ever-looming threats of shamblers and relentless raider packs. A chaotic assemblage of crushed vehicles, twisted scrap metal, overturned shipping containers, and scavenged debris, it serves as the city’s fragile first line of defense—a thorny reminder that the city’s safety depends on constant vigilance and sacrifice. Patrols man rickety towers and floodlights, scanning the toxic horizon for movements in the ash-choked dusk. Ammo is precious and trust rare here; every bolt welded, every scrap hammered into place carries the weight of lives depending on the line holding. Should this barricade fall, New Vance’s fragile candle of hope would snuff out, drowning the city in chaos and bloodshed.
The Barricade Line is a sprawling, ramshackle wall stretching unevenly along cracked asphalt and dirt, a patchwork fortress of New Vance’s desperation. Rusted hulks of cars, military trucks, and crushed drones lean against one another like tired sentries. Jagged sheets of corrugated metal, scavenged scaffolding, and broken street signs jut out at precarious angles, welded and bolted together by hands worn raw with sweat and calluses. Atop makeshift guard towers cobbled from shipping pallets and steel girders, wary sentinels scan the horizon beneath flickering floodlights that buzz in the smog-thick air. Barbed wire coils twist like serpents along the top edges, snagging tattered banners bearing crude symbols of the Perimeter Watch. Pools of oil and rainwater reflect the flickering firelight of distant shambler patrols and raider campfires, while scavenged solar lamps cast harsh shadows over piles of scrap, cracked ammo boxes, and hastily painted warning signs.