Night City

The city never sleeps—it glitches. Neon signs flicker like dying stars between rain-soaked megabuildings, their ads burned into the smog-choked sky. Corporations rule from glass towers while the streets below rot in their shadow, where chrome-enhanced mercs, data-runners, and forgotten people scrape by on stolen eddies and borrowed time. Cyberware is currency, memories are commodities, and identity is something you can rewrite—if you can afford it. Gangs carve territory through alleyways lit by holograms and gunfire, while the Net hums beneath reality, whispering secrets to those reckless enough to jack in. Every deal has a cost, every upgrade takes a piece of your humanity, and the city is always watching, waiting to see who rises—and who flatlines.