V A L K Y R J A
- Eddies
- 10,830
NB: I wrote the full text of the thread, but I called in ChatGPT to help me reword it where they felt like it, to give it more of a cyberpunk feel to the text and objectives. If that's a problem and you don't want it in the future, let me know on Discord and next time I'll just write the Thread starter post in my own words.
Prelude: When the Lights Go Out
It started days ago—
The warning came in through every feed, billboard, and neurostream: Hurricane Ceren, a Category 4 beast, was on a direct course for Night City. A storm like this hadn't threatened this region in decades, but even before the winds began to howl, things were already falling apart.
Something was wrong.
People whispered first, then shouted—rumours of failing cyberware, glitching AI, and ads stuttering mid-cast became impossible to ignore. Some implants would randomly shut down for seconds, minutes, then power back up with no explanation. Holo-broadcasts flickered with distortion. Net connections lagged. City infrastructure, already hanging by a thread, began to fray. And all over town, blackouts started appearing like rot spots on a dying grid.
As tension thickened, the news confirmed the worst: Ceren was real. Massive. Inevitable.
Emergency protocols were deployed. Evacuation orders were issued to every district, from the corpo heights of Charter Hill to the broken slums of Pacifica. Shelters were designated. Maps were shared. Guidance was clear.
But this is Night City.
Obedience doesn't run in our blood.
Many ignored the warnings. Some didn't trust the corps. Others figured it was just media fearmongering—another crisis for clicks. The result? Mass confusion. Widespread anxiety. And just to make it worse, the gangs didn't stop fighting. The unrest only got worse.
Even in chaos, some saw opportunity.
Black market crews, data thieves, and muscle-for-hire factions thrived in the growing disorder. But there was one thing even they couldn't hack, shoot, or bribe their way through:
The storm was coming.
As the countdown ticked away, the city's tension reached a breaking point.
Then it happened.
Two hours before landfall, the lights went out.
Not just a few blocks. Not just a borough.
The entire city plunged into darkness.
9:30 PM.
Rain lashed the rooftops. Winds screamed through alleyways.
And not even the fortified towers of the MegaCorps were spared. Every system went down.
Doors that should have stayed locked clicked open.
Others sealed shut.
Traffic froze mid-intersection.
Drone patrols dropped from the sky.
Life-support systems flickered.
And the city—always bright, always buzzing—became a sprawling silhouette of fear, framed in lightning and chaos.
Outside, the storm raged closer.
Inside, some prepared to loot.
Some prepared to run.
Some just hoped to survive.
And then—
exactly two hours after the blackout began—
Ceren made landfall.
"Night City...
A city of chrome, blood, and broken promises. Where every back alley hums with secrets, and the sky never truly clears."
"But tonight… even the neon can't cut through the darkness."
A hurricane, code-named Ceren, is roaring toward the coast. She's fast. She's angry. And she's not coming alone. For days, the feeds screamed panic, warning you to run. Most didn't. Some couldn't. Others just didn't care."
The glitches began first—cyberware failing without reason, AI stuttering like drunks, billboards flickering like dying stars. Then came the blackouts. Small ones. Then citywide. And now—
—you're in the dark. Total. Absolute. No lights. No feeds. No escape."
Outside, the wind howls like a dying god. Rain slams against steel. And somewhere in the distance, gunfire echoes between broken buildings."
You've got two hours of silence. Then the storm arrives. No one's coming to save you. Not the corps. Not the cops. Not even karma."
So now I've got just one question—"
"Where are you, and what the hell are you doing when the lights go out?"
A city of chrome, blood, and broken promises. Where every back alley hums with secrets, and the sky never truly clears."
"But tonight… even the neon can't cut through the darkness."
A hurricane, code-named Ceren, is roaring toward the coast. She's fast. She's angry. And she's not coming alone. For days, the feeds screamed panic, warning you to run. Most didn't. Some couldn't. Others just didn't care."
The glitches began first—cyberware failing without reason, AI stuttering like drunks, billboards flickering like dying stars. Then came the blackouts. Small ones. Then citywide. And now—
—you're in the dark. Total. Absolute. No lights. No feeds. No escape."
Outside, the wind howls like a dying god. Rain slams against steel. And somewhere in the distance, gunfire echoes between broken buildings."
You've got two hours of silence. Then the storm arrives. No one's coming to save you. Not the corps. Not the cops. Not even karma."
So now I've got just one question—"
"Where are you, and what the hell are you doing when the lights go out?"
Doors sealed shut. Ventilation stopped. Life-support systems cut out one by one. While emergency supplies — air, water, food — were designed to last a day or two, the situation deteriorated rapidly. When Hurricane Ceren slammed into the coastline, part of the underground shelter facing the ocean sustained structural damage. The first trickle of seawater turned into a slow, inevitable flood.
Then came the real horror.
A body was found — neck broken, dumped in a dark maintenance corridor. Murder. Half an hour later, a second. All while water surged through the lower halls and the storm howled above.
There's no way out, no working comms, and nowhere to run.
Can you uncover the killer — or killers — before the rising water or rising panic consumes the shelter?
Or will this place become your tomb?
Now they wander through a city that no longer breathes — lost in the blackout, cut off from comms, wrapped in the howling arms of Hurricane Ceren. Some are searching for shelter. Others are looking for trouble. And a few are just trying to stay alive.
Out here, survival means more than dodging bullets and gangers. It means facing the raw, merciless force of nature — and the even more merciless nature of your fellow man.
You're on your own. No rules. No backup. Just wind, rain, and the deep, eerie silence of a dead city... broken only by the storm and the screams.
Can you find safety — or are you just the next body in the flood?
Maybe your crew decided to use the blackout as cover — to hit a corporate vault, raid a half-abandoned bank, or hijack a Militech supply drop while everyone's distracted. Maybe you're not a vulture at all, but someone still trying to help, pulling civilians out of collapsing buildings or guiding lost souls through flooded alleys. Maybe you're just trying to find your way back to someone you care about.
Whatever your story is — this is your moment.
No rules. No rails. Just raw survival, desperation, opportunity… and whatever connections you choose to make in the dark.
You can write solo, or link up with others and craft something together. Choose your objective — or make your own. All that matters is that you live it.
The thread will start next week, until then you can indicate here who is going to which objective and find a writing partner for yourself. Have fun!
