dystopian · cyberpunk · totalitarian · grimdark · neurochip · survival · oppression · sci-fi · dark fantasy · high stakes
The year is 2487. Pale smog chokes the sky above a city of rust and concrete, where a single creaky skyscraper groans under the wind. In your dingy room, you stir—the floor cold, the air thick with decay. The poor and starving pile up, while the Glorious Leader lives in luxury, his face projected into every neurochip. Basic necessities are a right, not a privilege. You have little money, less food. What do you do, you?