New Vance City

Spillpoint Theta is an overflow relief nexus buried deep within the Chemical Treatment Tanks sector, originally constructed to vent high-pressure sludge during peak contamination cycles. Decades of neglect have turned it into a festering sump of backflowed compounds and decomposing chemical waste, its pressure valves long fused shut from repeated exposure. Now, the site serves as both a toxic bottleneck and a deathtrap for the curious. Geysers of hissing vapors erupt unpredictably, and the floor is a warzone of buckled panels and glassy chemical burns. Hydro Enforcers don’t patrol here—they observe. Anyone who enters is either a daredevil scavver or a test subject who doesn’t know it yet. It’s whispered that failed experiments are funneled here to vanish without record, their screams swallowed by the endless hiss. The Hegemony calls the location “inert.” The glowing water and twitching wildlife suggest otherwise.

Spillpoint Theta sprawls beneath fractured lighting grids, a multi-tiered chamber of overflowing containment pools and ruptured discharge vents. Irregular puddles shimmer with unnatural hues—neon blue blending into foamy orange and streaks of vivid crimson that glow faintly in the dark. Jagged floor panels rise like warped tectonic plates, corroded by chemical erosion and crusted with salt-like residue. A network of rusted catwalks crisscrosses overhead, many sagging or snapped, dangling cables like veins torn loose. Steam hisses from cracked valves in rhythmic bursts, painting the air in iridescent plumes that dance between light and shadow. Along the edges, warning lights flicker beneath layers of grime, casting dull red glows that pulse like a heartbeat. Fungal growths bloom from pipe seams, their translucent bulbs pulsing in sync with unseen machinery. In the silence between eruptions, the chamber feels alive—watching, breathing, waiting to melt the next intruder into the floor.