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 | 5556 times |
Cloned | 200 times |
Created | 124 days ago |
Last Updated | 3 days ago |
Visibility | Public |
Coordinates | (316, -614) |
The Acid Vats are a grim testament to the Raiders’ ruthless ingenuity, nestled deep in the Toxic Digs—a hazardous chemical labyrinth on the outskirts of New Vance City. These enormous corroded vats, relics of the city’s forgotten industrial waste processing, still hold caustic residues potent enough to eat through steel. Raiders repurpose them with grim purpose, refining volatile concoctions and dipping scavenged blades in their corrosive depths to forge weapons that dissolve armor and flesh alike. The air is thick with a choking miasma of chemical fumes—burning nostrils and singed lungs are the price of operating here. Spilled acids pool in glowing iridescent puddles, seeping into cracks and stains that never fade. This noxious crucible is a key arsenalsite where desperate raiders manufacture tools of brutal survival, their crude chemical rigs buzzing and hissing amid rusted pipes and unstable catwalks.
The Acid Vats loom like giant rusting beasts, their scarred hulls blistered by decades of corrosive assault. Patches of flaking green and orange rust run along warped steel rings, bubbling where acid has eaten deep. The vats’ contents shimmer with unsettling hues—glowing sickly green, toxic yellow, and pale blue—casting eerie reflections onto the cracked concrete floor. Jagged metal walkways, held together with scavenged bolts and wire, snake precariously between the vats, slick with spilled liquid that glistens like oil. Thick, swirling fog of acrid smoke and chemical mist clings low, catching the faint flicker of scavenged neon lights rigged to sputtering generators. Rusted barrels and broken tanks lay discarded like the bones of forgotten machines, some leaking slow drips of bubbling acid. The air tastes like burnt plastic and rotten eggs, heavy with the hiss of pressurized pipes venting toxic steam.