What would the Cyberpunk with Fantasy Races settings equivalent of the Underdark be like?
Historical cities that the modern mega cities are built upon.
>>46470993
I want to say it would be in China
>>46470993
Like the lower levels of Corruscant, or Nar Shadda.
But with lots of illithids and saughins and drow and aboleth, instead of Star Wars critters.
>>46471984
>Aboleth with access to global information networks
Jesus Christ, how horrifying...
Makes Ra's al Ghul look like a casual.
>>46470993
You could move the Underdark into a network of orbital habitats and turn it into the Overdark.
>>46470993
A long time ago, a fanatical religious sect of elves and other races decided that an eternal fabricated reality in cyberspace would be better than a finite reality in the 'real world'. The proceed to upload their entire consciousness into a unique dataframe webwork which accidentally corrupts them mentally and physically. Only the most diligent and determined console cowboys manage to find the hidden depths of the 'net these uplinked minds found themselves in, and even fewer make it back with their minds intact.
"When you can build right over the top of their trailer parks and mobile homes, and build your shining towers to the heavens, what care of you for the poor who lived below? The new world has come, and if they do not want to be a part of it, they can keep their land, their homes, and we will move on without them."
-Secretary of State, July 2nd, 2034.
>March 18th, 2331
>Noveau York, United Democratic States
"...itially reported as gang violence, authorities are warning nearby residents to..." The youth slipped past the droning TV as he made his way past the food stall. An old Koyaboshi model, the TV wouldn't be worth squat, and the lady behind the counter had a nasty looking prosthetic to boot. No, Skag was after a bigger prize tonight, and Grif had promised a big score.
"It'll be easy," Grif said expansively, waving a hand vaguely towards a doorway. "These stairwells lead all the way down, way down, to the surface. I hear there's old dead cars down there, with batteries full of acid and rubber tires, and get this, actual metal. We go down there," a gesture to a toolkit, "we crack open a hood," a gesture to a trio of backpacks, "and we're rolling in enough chits that we can eat for a month and afford the good shit from Burns."
Now the three of them, Skag, Grif, and Wexler, stood in crumbled asphalt. "Smell that surface air, eh boys?" Skag shook his head. "You're gross, man." Looking around in the murky darkness, flashlights shining, Wexler pointed down a street. "This way, guys. I think I saw something." Kicking up finely ground chunks from the road, they made their way toward whatever it was Wexler had seen.
A ruined business, doors shut but windows long since smashed. Glass shards were scattered all along the sidewalk, one large piece braced against a tree. "Nothin'. What about inside?" Grif giggled, and used his battered ex-police baton(liberated from service, re-sold thirty some-odd times, stolen from a drunk) to smash a bit more of the window out.
>>46473575
With a great deal of noise, Grif managed to somehow kick cans, knock over something heavy, and unlock the door from inside. "Geez, could you make more noise?" Wexler whined, head scanning back and forth up the street. "Shaddup. We're here for metal, for rubber, for any salvage worth taking. It's not like anyone can hear us down here." Skag shrugged and pushed past, into the store. Walking past empty shelves, he reached the rear of the store. It was weird, he thought. Why isn't there more stuff in here? He slipped a memory plastrip into the keyhole of the till, and it clicked open for him. Nothing in the till, either. He guessed they could try to pull it apart, metal is metal, but the thing looked like forty pounds of I-don't-give-a-shit. Squatting below the counter, he started looking for a safe, or a lockbox, something that might have something small enough to slip in a pocket. One of the cupboards actually had another key lock, and he reset his plastrip. He heard Wexler and Grif mumbling up front, going through the piles of crap Grif had waded through to get inside. The lock would have been proof against any lazy lockpicker, but to a plastrip, it was as good as a key. Illegal as all hell, but new locks had countermeasures. Not so with this cupboard. Sliding it gently open to keep the noise down, he saw the glint of metal with his flashlight. This thing must be a relic, he thought. Slugthrower, some kinda weird tiny and stupid drum magazine. Looked like trash, but a piece is a piece. Slipping it in his waistband, he stood just in time to see something outside the window.
>>46473741
His first instinct was to shout out a warning. But then, maybe it hadn't seen him. Was it a proper scavenger, or someone who followed them perhaps? He decided to check for a back entrance in any case. Taking the door marked Employees Only he checked and found some old office space, a pile of raincoats in an otherwise barren room, and a long dead sign over a door reading Emergency Exit.
"Where'd Skag go?"
"Huh?" Wexler looked around, adjusting his oculars. "I don't see him, in here, he must have gone in the back." Grif stared at him. Wexler shrugged. "What?"
"Well go get him, damn it. This place is a bust, and we still need to find a car." Wexler nodded. "Alright.
"Good. I'll meet you two outside. Hurry it up."
Coming back out the door behind the counter, Skag scanned the front window where he'd seen the figure. All he could see was Grif, leaned up against the long dead tree. "There you are, " Wexler breathed, sighing with relief. "Let's get a move on, time's wasting."
Skag nodded. "Alright. But... Did you see anyone outside earlier?" Wexler looked at him. "What're you talking about, we're the only ones down he-" The scream that interrupted their conversation was only about the third worst thing to happen to them today. Rushing up front, they were just in time to see Grif being lifted bodily into the air by a rope around his neck. On the other end of the rope was a pale, grublike man, with nasty teeth, as he pulled bodily, lifting Grif higher and higher. Pulling his new-found gun from his waistband, he shouted and pulled the trigger. The hammer raised, fell, and clicked. Nothing happened. He tried to pull the trigger a second time, but the mechanism had jammed.
Old ammunition tends to deteriorate. It can simply not ignite, or it can experience a hang fire. It was at this moment that the gun kicked in Skag's hand, and delivered it's contribution of lead to the undergrounder's torso.
By the time they managed to get the rope off, it was too late for Grif.
>>46473996
Grabbing his metal baton ,they ran for where they'd come down. Skag hardly even broke stride when a hulking, misshapen hand had swept out of the darkness and from up high, and literally picked up Wexler, from ankle to throat. Skag ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, as he heard freakish howls. The few glimpses he'd gotten were terrifying, and the people all looked... wrong. Distended mouth. A third eye.
By the time the Megacorp running that particular tower had sent out a team, another dozen people had vanished. Sometimes some blood marked strange spots. Some people had tried to fight them off. The lady running the stall was gone.
A week later, Skag was out of solitary. That day, he stole the Koyaboshi from the new owner of the food stall. Pawning it and the revolver netted him a week's worth of meal chits, with enough surplus to keep his mind tingling with chemical fires for two days straight.
From now on, he was going after easier scores.
