New Vance City

Relay Node 23-B was once a minor booster station for city-wide emergency signals—an unremarkable infrastructure site tied into the broader communication web of pre-Collapse New Vance. Now, it's a corrupted shrine partially claimed by the Static Cult and partially lost to entropy. Half-submerged in the fractured pavement of the Radio Silence Zone’s eastern sector, the node intermittently powers on without input, broadcasting bursts of corrupted distress codes in dead languages and scrambled encryption. Cultists don’t dwell here, but they pass through regularly, often kneeling before the node’s rust-bitten access panels and whispering their prayers to the static pulses echoing from within. Technicians who once attempted to repair or disable the station reported headaches, nosebleeds, or hallucinations—many fled mid-task. Now, the Citadel marks the node as "abandoned and unstable." But some scavvers swear that if you sit near it long enough, you’ll hear someone calling your name.

Relay Node 23-B squats like a dying insect among shattered asphalt and rebar roots—its skeletal broadcast tower bent at a 45-degree angle, coated in grime and oxidized copper. Cracked ceramic insulators hang from its frame like broken bones, twitching with erratic arcs of harmless, flickering static. Around its base, old maintenance panels gape open, revealing a tangled mess of spliced cabling and glowing capacitor cores still pulsing with faint life. The air is damp with ozone and heavy with feedback hum, interrupted only by bursts of broken emergency tone sequences that repeat in unpredictable patterns. A ring of scorched ground circles the node like an ancient blast radius, peppered with melted headsets, frayed cultist robes, and chalk-like residue. Faint symbols have been etched into the surrounding concrete, most worn away by time—except for one: a concentric spiral, recently re-drawn in copper wire.