Post-Apocalyptic

New Vance City

Pollution

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!

Author's Note: The year is 2070, one year after the Collapse. The place? New Vance City. Skeletal remains of skyscrapers pierce the smog-choked sky. Patches of overgrown desert flora claw at cracked asphalt. Inside, survivors try to make the best of their fragile existence, repurposing solar panels and scavenging for supplies. Kids growing up in this hell hole play amongst the ruins of the city, their laughter a thin, hopeful melody that just isn't strong enough to pierce through the grim ambiance of the city. Life here is filled with nothing but scarcity and fear. Every creak in the night, every flicker in the solar grid, every hum or buzz... It's all enough to send shivers down your spines. Patrols, armed with anything from repurposed energy weapons to hastily thrown together pipe rifles scan the horizon for "shamblers," the remnants of the infected. Yet amidst the hardship, the community is still blooming. New Vance City still stands, at least for now. A flickering candle in the encroaching darkness of a world forever changed.

Played	5556 times
Cloned	200 times
Created	124 days ago
Last Updated	3 days ago
Visibility	Public

The Shadow Exchange

Point of Interest

Details

Coordinates

(452, -729)

Description

The Shadow Exchange is the beating, venomous heart of The Devil’s Den—a hidden chamber deep in the tangled ruins claimed by the Raiders. Here, desperation fuels the fiercest deals beneath a veil of menace and mistrust. This clandestine bazaar is where the city’s most illicit and dangerous trades converge: stolen solar cells harvested from broken panels, hacked perimeter watch tech ripped from the Perimeter Watch, and twisted bio-mods forged in shadowy labs. The Exchange buzzes with whispered transactions of slave trades and forbidden weaponry, a market fueled by blood and survival instinct. Raider warlords, cloaked fixers, and masked mercenaries convene amid the haze of burnt synth-drugs and metallic tang, their voices low but sharp, deals sealed with threats or promises of vengeance. Every trade is a gamble; betrayal lingers like a toxin in the stale air.

Appearance

Dim, stuttering neon strips sputter above warped metal stalls draped in scavenged tarps and stained canvas. Flickering LED panels cast eerie glows over rusted crates piled high with contraband: chipped cybernetic implants, cracked solar cells wrapped in grime, and vials of luminescent chemicals. Shadows crawl along the uneven concrete walls, layered with graffiti tags—warnings and codes deciphered only by the initiated. The air is thick with the acrid scent of burnt oil, chemical haze, and lingering synth-drug smoke. Raiders and traders move like phantoms—faces obscured by patched gas masks, cracked goggles, or soot-streaked bandanas. Watchful guards clutch jury-rigged weapons, their eyes sharp beneath scarred helmets. Holographic flickers sputter erratically on nearby walls, glitching advertisements for illegal tech, while muffled voices trade threats and secrets. In this claustrophobic maze, trust is a currency rarer than the goods on sale.