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, -648) |
The Bone Yard Scrap Forge is the brutal heart of the Raider’s Camp’s chaotic salvage operations. Nestled amidst twisted metal carcasses and cracked asphalt, it serves as the Raiders’ rough-and-ready workshop where weapons, vehicles, and scavenged tech are hacked together with grim determination. The Forge is a cacophony of clangs, sparks, and hisses as raiders wield crude welding torches and battered tools to repair their battle rigs or reinforce spiked armor plates. It’s a place of relentless improvisation—where scrap metal is king, and speed is survival. Here, makeshift anvils rest on crushed engine blocks, and stained workbenches bear scars from countless battlefield repairs. Raiders swap war stories and crude diagrams beneath flickering propane lamps, crafting the tools of destruction that feed their endless hunger for fuel, flesh, and fire. The Forge’s ceaseless racket forms the soundtrack to the Bone Yard’s ruthless existence.
The Scrap Forge sprawls over a jagged patch of cracked concrete, hemmed in by skeletal hulks of stripped-out vehicles stacked like metal bones. Rusted corrugated sheets, welded scrap plates, and twisted girders form uneven walls patched with scavenged tarps fluttering in the acrid wind. Flickering propane torches cast long, jittering shadows over cluttered workbenches littered with dented helmets, shattered chains, and scorched tools. Thick coils of fuel hose snake across the ground, stained dark with oil and grime, while intermittent sparks leap from arc welders and improvised blowtorches. The air hangs heavy with burnt rubber, molten metal, and the sharp tang of ozone. Rough-hewn scaffolds constructed from truck frames and scaffolding poles rise nearby, serving as watchpoints and storage racks for jagged weapons and spiked wheels. Raider silhouettes move restlessly, their silhouettes dancing through the smoke and dust.