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 | (552, -649) |
Deep within the Bone Yard’s shattered expanse lies the Skull Pits—a grim, excavated hollow where the Raiders dump the skulls of their victims. This morbid cache is less a burial ground than a brutal monument to chaos and terror. Each bleached cranium tells a story of hunger, violence, and the raw survival instinct driving these feral packs. The Raiders use the pits as a psychological weapon, a gruesome display meant to cow rivals and prisoners alike into submission. Occasionally, skulls are modified with twisted cybernetic implants scavenged from ruined tech, adding eerie glows or mechanical eyes that twitch with cracked servos. The pits emit a heavy stench of rot and burnt flesh, mixing with the metallic tang of scavenged blood and rust. Above the pits, makeshift bone altars and crude war trophies rise—reminders that here, death is not just an end, but a savage proclamation of dominion in the fractured outskirts of New Vance City.
The Skull Pits are carved into cracked asphalt and shattered concrete, a yawning crater rimmed by jagged metal scraps and broken bones. Faint glimmers of neon from the distant city flicker against piles of bleached skulls heaped like grim cairns, some wired with flickering, jury-rigged cybernetic enhancements—whirring servos, glowing ocular implants, and cracked LED fragments. Around the edges, rusted chains and spiked war banners flap in the choking dust, their tattered fabrics streaked with dried blood. The pits lie under a sickly orange haze, thick with smoke from distant propane fires and the acrid smell of burning plastic. Jagged shards of ruined vehicles and scavenged metal frame the site like broken sentinels. Occasionally, the ragged laughter of Raiders echoes over the grinding drone of scavenger bikes, while flickering torchlight casts long, flickering shadows that dance across the bone-strewn floor.