Enter Neon Row
It’s not just a burrow, it’s a full-blown science fiction fever dream, bathed in the glow of an eternal neon twilight. Where technology isn’t just a luxury, it’s damn near mandatory. Rabbits pimping their own bodies with cyborg upgrades, swapping out their fleshy bits for top-grade chrome like others might swap a t-shirt. It’s a testament to the ingenuity of madness or the madness of ingenuity, hard to say which.
And the subcultures. Lord, the subcultures. Cyberpunks, sporting cybernetic jewellery like a fashion statement from the future. The enigmatic Aliens, their bizarre features hinting at interstellar escapades or just the side effects of some particularly potent party drugs. The Disco Ravers, living embodiments of an eternal rave, dancing through life under the hypnotic spell of pulsating lights and pounding beats. And the Robo Troopers, faith-clad warriors dedicating their lives to the worship of technology, their bodies more metal than flesh.