Author: Kazimir

Lost Sins And Rusted Chrome

As if by command, the city’s noise dimmed to a soft hum. There was a weight in the air, not like the smog, nor the humid summer, but something that weighed down the atmosphere, and raised a sharp burn to his chest. He swallowed the weight back down. His organic eye stung, and its vision blurred.

The night breeze carried a chill, though not discomforting. He felt cozy under the jacket, and the tingling breeze at his cheeks reminded him of the warmth in his chest.

“You’re here.” Her whispered, raspy voice echoed through the air, and the breeze suddenly felt still. As she sat upon a concrete ledge, the matte black hair softly shifted, though her thin, white coat more than made up for it, billowing like a flag, reflecting the distant city’s neon lights upon its synthetic fabric.

“I said I’d come, didn’t I?” Leo replied. “You say a lot of shit. Makes you an asshole.” She snapped, looking off at the looming skyscrapers, held back by elevated highways like concrete fences. Another holographic advertisement for Kiroshi’s Nanoscarf crept over and dissipated into the night sky. “So what’s the game now then?” Her face was lit by the distant lights, she didn’t turn to look at him.

There was a long silence that the distant cars on the highway strained to fill. “It’s not a game, Risa. And I’ve made up my mind.” He drew his Lexington from its holster and pointed it at her.

“It’s a game to them,” she said, gesturing to the flying adverts. “A massive, never-ending numbers game. But to you it’s your life. You’ll always be chasing me, never moving forward. I’m your fucking muse.” She turned to him, expression hardened. “I’m your reason to sing, the backing track of your sorry life. Please, Leo. Just end the cycle. It’s why I wanted you here.” She opened her arms wide, replicating a messiah, and looked up at the dark sky. “Put me out of our misery.”

Leo’s hands shook, he struggled to keep his aim straight. Every second, a new memory flashed into his mind. A different smile, long-lost tears, arguments and promises. “I swore I’d always do what was best for us, that I’d wade through the shit of this city for it. I haven’t broken that promise yet, even if the others are long buried.”

Leo moved the pistol to his own temple. “You didn’t deserve any of this. It was my fault, and I’ll make it right.” Risa suddenly looked down at him in shock, “Don’t be an idiot Leo! You’ve got a life to live, mine’s been spent!” She took a step forward, “This isn’t some Romeo & Juliet story, let it fucking go!” She tried a quick-hack on his pistol, but it gave no signal. Set to offline, Leo still aims organically. “It’s our lives Risa. It can be whatever story we want it to.” He closed his eyes, and squeezed out the tears welling up in the same ‘ganic eye.

Leo gripped the trigger of the Lexington, and felt a sudden calm flow over him. For the first time in a while, he felt every ounce of weight lift from his chest, there was no more debt to pay, no more jobs to run. He no longer had to hunt, to chase, to run. He no longer had to decide between right and wrong. It just didn’t matter anymore.

“No!” Risa ran towards him, tripping and stumbling over herself. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision of Leo. He began to squeeze the trigger, and heard her voice ring in his ears so full of life. It reminded him of how far they’d come.

“No!”

“Not the high-fat one, I’m watching my weight!” Risa said, slapping the packaged real-meat burger patty out of Leo’s hands. “I don’t wanna use rippers for my figure anymore, it’s not good to keep synthetically adjusting ourselves.”

“But the high fat’s always tastier!” He protested. “Why don’t we just get both and keep them in the freezer for next time?” He grabbed another low fat variety and held them both up in his hands. Risa pouted disappointedly “World’s in enough of a shit-show as it is, lets not overindulge. The consumerist epidemic is a real one!”

“We’ve had that epidemic for the last couple hundred years, and probably had it a few thousands of years back too. Another pack of meat isn’t changing anything.” Leo shrugged and put both packs of meat in the shopping trolley drone. “You’re so greedy. Always gotta have everything!” She grunted, and continued down the aisle.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Leo thought. But decided it best to keep it to himself. As Risa walked off, he let out a deep sigh, and put the high-fat patties back in the store fridge.

A couple hundred eurodollars for their shopping this time around, Leo expected less, Risa expected much more. “Didn’t you always say groceries are cheaper in Japan? I don’t remember Tokyo being better than this.” Leo mentioned while the drone loaded shopping bags into their car–a Thorton Colby; midrange, effective, and horrendously boring.

“Tokyo isn’t like the rest of Japan. It’s its own little Night City, though way bigger. You’d still find the cheaper stuff if you knew where to go, and if you’d be happy with low-grade, unhygienic slop.” Risa replied, amidst loud chews of bubblegum. “Anyway, we didn’t spend that much this time, did you get the Centzon?”

Leo pulled out a square-shaped blue bottle from one of the bags “Yep. Indigo as usual. Ah shit, I forgot to buy cola!” He slapped a hand over his face. “It’s fine, I prefer it straight anyway. Get in the car, let’s do something! Don’t wanna waste one of your only days off this month.” Risa impatiently tugged on his sleeve and jumped in the passenger’s seat as the drone finished its work, closing the trunk.

He sat in the driver’s seat and set the autopilot to home, “Y’know, rushing me to enjoy my time-off as much as possible is basically like work. Let’s just have a drink nearby and make dinner at home. Good dinner, no scop.”

As they began to drive out of the parking lot, the car abruptly halted.

“DANGER DETECTED, RE-ROUTING…” Blared the car’s AI. A loud whirring and gunshots filled the air as an armoured black van rushed past them. “Leo, get down!” Shouted Risa, pulling on his arm. Boostergangers hung out the van’s open doors with machine guns firing behind. In another instant, three motorcycles, with two riders each, followed suit. The back riders had rifles of their own and wildly shot at the van.

Leo grabbed Risa and pulled her down, covering her with his body. As he guessed, stray gunshots flew at their car, most bounced off the bullet-proof windows, but eventually they wore down and a couple made their way through. Leo felt a sharp burn on his back and arm.

In an instant, the gunners were all gone. Though the ringing of police sirens and screaming pedestrians filled the air, they were both in a surreal stillness. A few drops of blood rolled off Leo’s clothes onto Risa’s head, “You’re bleeding! I’m getting the medpack.” She said, rushing to rummage through the glove-compartment. Meanwhile as the adrenaline calmed, Leo felt the pain shoot through his body and heard a warning alarm in his mind.

CRITICAL INJURIES DETECTED, TRAUMA TEAM RESPONSE EN ROUTE.

ARRIVAL IN 6:58

6:57

6:56

Risa grabbed hold of a MaxDoc auto-injector and jabbed him in the arm. A wave of calm overtook him as his muscles stopped tensing, his vision wavered. Leo looked into Risa’s eyes one more time, and passed out.

25th Oct 2026
Chapter?: Rattled
As the Age of Flame and Claw came to a close, the great continent of Akyr – unified under the Padishah Dagres the Illustrious – began a period of so-called freedom.

There was little celebration, for the empire had been in disarray. Many feuds of independent lords, and land previously split amongst the wyrms continued to ravage the political sphere. Therefore, in order to unite the country in both heart and title, Padishah Dagres called an invasion upon Tharion. For what better reason to unify, than the promise of new lands and riches?

Dagres, having married the princess Eilif of Olgur, made strong use of the Olguri navy to spearhead his war, which ravaged the south Tharian coastline for twelve years.

By the end of the invasion, Duke Poulard de Lupelle (or Poulard the Lionheart) claimed his lands as independent, and fought the war free from the command of the king and council. A suspiciously short year into his campaign, the Akyrian empire retreated, and signed a generous trade agreement for peace.

Thus, the soon-to-be-prosperous Duchy of Lupelle was born, upon the mountains of Akyrian gold.
- Once There Were Dragons, by Mirza. (Mza.) Elaneh
Llyn dragged the blade through the darkness, with barely a visible inch ahead of her. The glinting of wet stones in the moonlight were all there was to guide. Every step through the pouring rain was accompanied by the squelching of her wet clothes.

The sharp ache in her legs, almost as if sparked from the bones themselves, would force grunts with each of her pained steps. Her fingers struggled to hold the blade’s hilt as it knocked about stones in the mud, it took every bit of her to hold on. The exhaustion fought against her pleads, she begged herself to let go, to just fall and sleep. But she knew she would never wake.

In the distant dark, a bright shine cut through. It seemed no different from the wet stones at first, but as she drew closer she began to make out a building. Hope quickened her pace, suddenly her blade bumped over a tree root and she tripped into the mud. A futile obstacle. She dragged herself forward, the drag turned to a muddy crawl, and without armour to weigh her down she quickly struggled back on her feet, right in front of a small lake. Rising from the water was a castle of almost white stone, impressively thick pillars with flowing embellishments, but no bridge to access it.

The lack of access didn’t stop her. Llyn submerged waist-deep in the water, and trudged forward. As she drew closer the castle’s might turned daunting and its doors towered over her like mountains. But there was no light nor sound from within. The stone was old and weathered. Her eyes scanned the walls, she saw the horseman at the edge of the lake, gazing in her direction, and a deep fear gripped her stomach.

Bang! Llyn slammed her fist at the heavyset stone door. ‘Please!’ she shouted. Her fist crashed against the door once more, the screams rattled her throat as saline tears mixed with rainwater on her tongue, ‘I beg you let me in!’ The same fist continued its assault. The door slightly shifted. Llyn took a few steps back, and desperately charged to crash into the doors. But as she rushed forward and braced, the doors swung open towards her, knocking her back onto the ground. The inside of the castle resembled gates to an abyss. There was nothing but an unfathomable darkness. Llyn noticed that the horseman was gone once again.

The entrance hall had seen better days. It mourned its past self in dark cobwebs, dull moth-eaten banners, and old knights statues which had long since crumbled to the ground. The banners were of the old knights order – a white nightingale in flight, over a black shield.

She limped her way through the hallway, struggling to step over the odd stone brick and statue limb. The castle was no warmer than the wilderness. ‘Dry, at least.’ She coughed to herself, blade still at the ready over her shoulder. ‘Can’t be too careful.’ She mumbled, and the door slammed shut behind her.

As she reached the end of the hall, there was a set of large wooden doors, she saw a gentle light flickering from beyond them. Shoving the doors open, she was introduced to the great hall of the castle, with a ceiling impossibly high. The centrepiece of the room was a long, stone table with a handful of heavy ornate armchairs, their backrests pointed to the sky like thrones. The floor was made of polished stone, its colour dulled by a thick layer of dust. Llyn’s eyes followed the table until the end of the hall, where the old decayed corpse of a knight sat upon the largest seat. His head lay tilted, leaning upon its fist which had miraculously held its position on the armrest.

To the side of the table laid a roaring fire and bedroll, with skewered minnow roasting over it. A large rucksack was neatly placed beside the bedroll with a few stacked books and a quill over an open journal.

‘That’s far enough now ruffian! Drop your weapon!’ shouted a melodic and bright male voice from a set of doors on the opposite wall. Llyn jolted her head to face the sound and noticed the end of a small crossbow pointed right at her.

‘Fuck’s sake’ she exclaimed, and dropped her blade to the ground. The crossbowman was a baby-faced man in brightly coloured travellers clothes and long, wavy ashen hair, his clothing was clean, almost fresh. And his skin sparkled against the firelight, reflecting it back at her like a mirror. ‘And… Erm… Put your hands high up and fingers stretched!’ His voice quivered softly.

‘What are you, a bard? Playing songs for dead kni-‘ Llyn’s quip was cut by a streak of hoarse coughing which almost dropped her to the ground, each one felt as if it should be the last, but yet another kicked through. The lad awkwardly stared at her, waiting for the ordeal to end, which lasted more than either of them felt comfortable with.

‘Right then. I can note that you are deathly ill. You carry a blade of substantial weight in comparison to your size, and do not wear even a slither of steel for self-protection.’ He lowered his crossbow and took one step forward. ‘And despite your unsightly brazen demeanor, you are injured. And quite severely at that. One would think you had a great fall, or possibly were run over by a group of bandits upon their steeds. Unusual for you to have made your journey all the way here, and I wonder for what reason you would be wandering the forest or bogs nearby. A witch of sorts maybe? A trap for the bandits to soon assault me themselves?’ He moved a hand up to his chin and rubbed. ‘No, no. That doesn’t explain the greatsword.’

He looked down at Llyn, who had no strength to speak any longer and was desperately trying to keep her eyes open. She cursed to herself, feeling an unexpected fondness for her former state outside, now praying that the fool would stop rambling. ‘Quite the fairy-tale situation I have here don’t I?’ He stood in deep thought for a moment and finally his eyes widened, an innocent smile spread across his face, revealing his teeth, white as the moon. ‘My name is An-Tayir. Due to the peculiarity of the situation I have decided to assist you!’

And with those words, Llyn finally fell to the ground, and passed out.

The streets bustled with wagons and carts, the clicking footsteps upon cobbled stone, and merchants shouting their egregious prices out to the crowds. The sun shone upon Serlo’s face, and the scent of salty fish and baked bread entered his nostrils, he would have felt hungry if it wasn’t for how distracted he was with the colourfully dressed ladies about. Now that was a sight he didn’t get to see outside the books.

He skipped over towards a market stall, where a bright-eyed older gentleman was serving grilled eel in bread. Serlo, too distracted and not used to the cities, crashed right into a wagon of apples and fell alongside them to the ground. ‘Devils be damned kid, what in the realm are you doing?’ He sat up looking at an old man with a face like shaved bollocks and a piercing nose, sharp as a spear. Serlo held his hands up, his chest was gripped with a weight he could not name. ‘Fucking kids. What do you have to say for yourself?’ The man’s wrinkles curled into his skull, shrivelling his face to a raisin. Serlo wanted to speak, but the words did not leave his mouth. His eyes were wide, and his breaths began to quicken.

As he was about to turn tail and run, a heavy voice burst from behind him. ‘Oi, Barth! You geezer! Stop jabbing up the young lads, poor boy was just distracted by one of them fine maidens over there.’ Accompanying the voice was a wide, hulking man, the bones of his face seemed as if they bulged out from his skin, giving his expression a badly carved statue. He gestured to the group of ladies near a stall that Serlo had taken note of, and was infatuatedly staring at.

The ladies stared at Serlo, a couple laughed, and others scorned. He was smitten, of course, and turned his head to the ground. However, the attention they were giving only intensified the emotions that the old man, Barth, had stirred within him. He was, once again, frozen.

‘The runt knocked over my apples you oaf. He deserves his jabbing! Maidens or not!’ Barth looked back down at Serlo. ‘Move your blithering arms already! Are you too busy thinking with your prick?’

The heavy man moved closer, his footsteps were like a bear’s, the scattered apples shook as he stomped along. ‘Alright then, let me help you with this, lad.’ he said to Serlo as he began picking up the apples, four in each oversized hand. The gesture calmed Serlo, especially because the man was blocking view of the ladies, who had seemed to lose interest in the kerfuffle. He began to scutter towards the mess and picked up as many as apples as he could, in jolting, anxious movements. Old man Barth went silent until they finished.

‘Great, that wasn’t so hard now was it?’ The big man shrugged. Serlo said nothing. ‘Here, take an apple and keep your eye on the fucking road next time, you runt.’ Blabbered Barth, as he handed Serlo a shiny green apple. ‘What about me? You old geezer.’ Barth looked up at the heavy man and frowned. ‘You can share, as you shared the work. You dim oaf.’ He turned away, and walked off, pushing his wagon along.

‘He’s a right tosser, don’t you worry about him lad.’ The heavy man turned to Serlo and gave a wide smile, his teeth were yellowed, but somehow in perfect rows. ‘My name’s Fergus, nice to meet you.’ He held out his monstrous hand towards Serlo, who took a moment to realise the gesture. After all, he had seen it at the orphanage, but never taken part in the shaking of hands. ‘What’s your name?’ Fergus asked.

Serlo looked at him wide-eyed. He did not respond.

For he could not.
31st Aug 2026
The Hunt

In the dark grove sat a lone figure, awaiting his final breaths. I could see only his fluttering cloak, the silhouette of jagged antlers, and glowing violet pupils which pierced the shadows.

The Muhari edged closer, their winding weapons drawn, glinting like the crescent moon above. The figure was tired, but his vigorous panting had begun to calm. A pale hand of the Muhari general was held up high as the warriors gripped their weapons tightly. With dying, grey eyes they scanned their prey up and down—awaiting the signal. The figure finally calmed, and the last warriors converged on their positions, he took a long, slow, breath. It was contagious, after hunting him for so long we all followed suit.

Breathing in…

…and as breath left our lungs—the hiss of a blade sprang from the grove, and a new shine glinted from the figure. The general’s hand sealed into a fist, as warriors leaped out of hiding—all at once, attacking the now visible rogue Elf, who’s twisting blade shone upon him a sharp light.

Bright sparks blinded me, the ringing of steel rattled my hearing, innumerable movements and sounds in mere moments. It was as if two storms had clashed, the air itself weighed me down as I turned to the general, who watched intently with eyes darting around the chaos. His face suddenly hardened as he nocked an arrow upon his bow and pulled the string, his severed ears twitched, listening out for something.

As I focused my hearing, I could faintly make out words. Not yelling, nor the grunts of battle, but a whispered chanting like the weaving of a spell. My eyes adjusted to the flashing lights, and I saw it—his battle movements formed ties and knots, they began to form a twisting symbol in the air of battle. Sweat trickled down the general’s face, he clenched his jaw, desperately keeping the bowstring pulled. The symbol shined brighter. I held my breath, but suddenly the general’s arrow cut through the thick air. The Elf–noticed it at once, and snatched at one of the Muhari, holding him as a shield.

But the shot hit its mark. Through his own warrior’s neck—the arrow pierced the lone Elf’s eye. As the air of the grove finally calmed, seven Muhari corpses appeared, strewn out amongst the trees and bushes, their bodies disfigured by seemingly endless cuts. All surrounding the now dead rogue Elf.

Only me and the general remained.

Legends of the Alfen, by Komas Ganios

9th Apr 2026

A Filthy Awakening

The first thing he noticed was the smell, the rancid drippings of half-eaten bento boxes, dried up urine mixing into the humid summer air, and salty metal. The dried up blood in his nose and mouth. He realised he was in complete darkness, barely able to move his limbs, feeling crushed by something.

He began to kick and shove, moving around massive bags covering his body. Each kick only intensified the stench further, his struggling forcing constant shallow breaths of the filth.

Finally a kick gave way to a steel door, and it flashed with light. He gathered what strength he had left, and kicked again. The door swung wide open, and the sun shone brightly at his eyes, blinding him for a moment.

As his eyes adjusted, he climbed himself out. It was a large dumpster, and he was still in Harajuku.

His head pounded, his stomach churned, and his vision spun. The stench, the kicking, the adrenaline, the fucking hangover. He retched and emptied his stomach onto the street.

"Coulda just did it in the dumpster y'know? Now I gotta deal with this smell, in this gonk-ass heat."

The voice was sharp and tired. Interrupted occasionally by the pull and puff of an electronic cigarette.

The man was skinny, spiky haired and dresed in a black leather jacket with innumerable studs and spikes. His electronic smoke machine had a skull at its mouth, which he would kiss to take puffs.

"Name's Shingo. Been waiting for you to get up, choom. You've been out for a while, they finally decided to dump you after your other malfunction last night."

He was confused. He was just partying at an event, taking shots, grabbing a stray ass or two, and doing the usual SNS exchanges. Music got a bit intense, and the shots stronger, but nothing out of the ordinary.

"You're Ryota Kanamori, I know. Coolest kid on the street. Until about 7 hours ago."

It wasn't crazy for someone to know his name, but what does he mean until 7 hours ago?

"You were on one of those PAN programs for months. Kids you paried with cut you last night after it malfunctioned for the Nth time. Thought you flatlined and dumped you like trash. Little shits knew the PAN was fried, but not that your normal personality kick-starts your brain back when it sizzles out."

PAN? Personality Alteration Neuralware. He knew of it, he had heard and been tempted many times, but never went for it. He was happy, he was trendy, popular. Had the girls, and the money. Didn't need it.

"You probably think you never needed it, and you're right. You were a good kid, a bit of a gonk, but not a bad guy. The night you're probably remembering is the last memory of the normal you, before the PAN took over."

A puff of pink smoke flew past Ryota's face, forcing a short cough.

"You pissed off the wrong guy, and went for the wrong girl. An Ebmitsu exec. They fucked with the trends you followed. You had to spend more than you had to keep up. Joined some shitty service job working for the kids who used to worship you. They kicked you around and spat on you. Circle of fucking life eh?"

He slotted a new cartridge in the E-cig machine, took a big puff, and blew more smoke into Ryota's face.

"We tried to help you, but you didn't listen anymore. Used your last yen to buy into the experimental PAN scop, and we lost you. You went back into your flashy brat life, wooing everyone with your plastic corpo-charisma. But worse this time, with a weird obsession with Ebmitsu's subsidiary fashion brands."

Ryota's head started to wrack again, pulsing as if shocked by a taser. He saw memories he didn't remember, differing by months. Things he would never do or say. And blood.

Bloodied friends, bloodied hands, broken tables and furniture. Bloodied execs in Arasaka-branded suits. Men in black he didn't recognise. Corpses... The memories sent a shiver through him. A fear.

"The kids you were with last night tried to dump you out and make it look like an overdose. But Ebmitsu's gonna want to clean up their mess. So, time for you to disappear."

Shingo turned his head towards him in a smug grin. "Don't worry choom, you can always come back to the Rats. Lets clean up this town together, and smother it in shit."

He held out his hand.

27th Sep 2025

Crafting 2070s Shibuya: Harajuku

i guess the time has come to take on the ever-daunting TCM (Tokyo Central Municipality, A.K.A Arasaka’s playground).

I decided to begin somewhere well-known. Shibuya is a packed place, though not the biggest ward of Tokyo, there’s so much going on in every nook and cranny of it.

so let’s start off from one of these corners. Rather than the expanse that is central Shibuya, I’m going to flesh out the trendy fashion district of Harajuku.

looks packed eh? Welcome to Tokyo

once upon a time this area was the central for sub-culture fashion, Lolita, Decora, Thrift, etc. Alongside cute cafes and crepe stands. If you needed something rare, unconventional, stylistically torn, or just wanted to support local alt designers and pop-ups, then Harajuku was the spot.

in 2025, it’s changed a lot…

what’s the current sich?

Takeshita-dori, the once most famous street is now a simple tourist trap destination, the area has been “sanitised”, and though there are signs of the old sub-culture hotspot, it’s all more “market-tested” so-to-speak, commercialised if you will. Even the once thriving boutiques and stands are now replaced with minimalist, influencer-y, and polished stores; to make sure too much personality doesn’t scare the impressionable youth away.

how do I know this? Well I live kinda close, so I just went there. Field research, baby (also I needed new pants).

Harajuku “backstreets”, on a Monday evening

I’ve visited before on busier days, though Harajuku is never “quiet”. But this time was a Monday afternoon-evening trip, the area dies down pretty fast around night time, late spots are scarce and with central Shibuya just around the corner, people tend to migrate over.

knowing that, my cyberpunk version should intensify and mirror these personalities.

Bringing it to the 2070s

since the area’s becoming more polished and trendy, I thought to have it almost entirely owned by corps, using AI algorithms to create “micro-trends” which change based on the degrading attention span of the local youth. You could have crocodile synth-leather skinny jeans in fashion for a day and then suddenly all the stores are on a casual neon tracksuit phase.

don’t forget, it’s not just clothes. Corps like Ebmitsu are pushing their personality-altering neuralware and social compatibility mods, we all love drugs without drugs don’t we?

of course the impressionable youth follow it like sheep, due to corpo funded “fashion idols” and/or models who push their trends through social media (or SNS as we call it in Japan).

and this stuff ain’t cheap (at least not anymore), so most of these kids are on mommy and daddy’s hard earned newyen, forming little fashion cliques based on which trends they chase the most. And the average kids who wanna join the party? Well, they’ll try to jump in on one of the trends, maybe get some recognition for a bit, popularity, club invites, empty high-fives and SNS followers.

but once the trend passes, they’re stuck. Poorer than they were before, unable to catch up, they gotta get the money for it somehow… I wonder how.

nice, grey, and boring. Maybe the 2070’s would slap some more ads on there. Or would they keep it monotone to trick kids into thinking they’re better than the neon-soaked masses?

nightlife?

since the area isn’t big on clubs and bars, most of the nightlife would be trendy pop-ups with private invites and members. And if you don’t look the part, you definitely ain’t getting in to any of it.

such events would be run by the local fashion cliques (flashy word for the mini-gangs in this area), who use it for their other less-flashy work behind the scenes.

don’t forget, we’re deep in Arasaka territory now. The TCM is no joke, though corps like Ebmitsu and Glitcheon are showing a lot of face, big brother Arasaka’s keeping tabs. Don’t get mixed in with the wrong crowd, if you do, they’d better be smart.

oh and of course, with so many gentrified, influencer-obsessed corpo garbage, there’s bound to be rats around, thrashing around in it.

conclusion

these initial posts are mental dumps of my ideas, the next one will have more concrete structure and finalised information.

if you (yeah all 0 of you) have any ideas, I promise to read them, and then possibly forget. But maybe I wont, in which case I would be grateful.

you’ve reached the bottom, so, see ya next time.

3rd Sep 2025

crafting the stars: designing constellations for my fantasy world

to my adoring fanbase of 0 people, I deeply apologise for my silence, rest assured that though it may seem as if I’ve taken a hiatus, I’ve actually been hard at work on other worlds which I have now decided to also include here for the sake of having something to post.

though I am doing some cyberpunk work at the moment, my true passion has been medieval fantasy. Tokyo 2077 is a side project, the real meat is in my setting, haphazardly named “The Distant Lands”. I’ve also been using it to run a Mythras campaign or two.

not all of The Distant Lands are developed, the main continent I’m expanding at the moment is called Xanthia. There’s a lot of history and info to go through, but this post is primarily about my recent development of creating star constellations within the world that the denizens could use to navigate or tell fortunes and such.

chart of some of our real world constellatins

so how does one develop constellations?

since constellations are consistently visible stars, which us humans have given shape and meanings to, the first thing is to understand what the cosmos of your world looks like. Whether the universe is a solar system, realms connected by a big tree, a titan holding your planet on its back, etc.

I… have not decided this, and that’s definitely gonna come and bite me in the ass later. So do as I say, not as I do.

once you know how it works, you’ll have a deeper idea of why or when constellations should appear. If you care.

and

make things easy for yourself, tie it to the calendar system. Keeps things grounded.

in The Distant Lands, depending on which constellations are most visible, you would be able to discern what time of the year and even month it is.

now the juicy part, how do you decide on how they look and develop the culture behind them?

i decided to follow a similar idea as the Chinese zodiac calendar, which tells the story of a mythological race between the 12 animals, the calendar’s order matched the order of the race, and from that story we developed personalities to associate with people’s year of birth.

thirst for power, sacrifice and redemption are core themes in my setting, so I decided to tell the story of a king who wanted to conquer the realm to keep his “rose” safe.

old mythological stories tend to be super barebones, so I just started writing sentences like

“The King promised to go to war for his Rose, with his Spear and Steed, he set to conquer all to the Oceans.”

and so forth.

so, this means that the first constellation is The King, that can work in real life, since we have human-ish representing constellations like Virgo and Saggitarius. But I wanted something simpler, so I decided instead of King, I’d do a Crown. And the constellation can be a semi-circle with an extra star or two around the mid-point to represent a gem or centrepiece.

Following similar ideas, my main constellations became as follows:

the Crown
the Rose
the Spear (or some cultures call it the Sword)
the Steed
the Sea (sometimes the Ocean)
the Dragon
the Heart
the Eye
the Bird

this was too short for the months in my world’s calendar, so I added 3 more to make it 12 months:

Dawn (as the first month)
Dusk (11th month)
Twilight (as the last month)

ancient religions in my setting are based on the skies and stars so using things linked to the sun and moon just made sense. It’s also poetic in a way, it could mean that the realm is doomed to repeat the king’s story so long as the skies are alive.

that style of layered symbolism is what I aim to stumble upon, it makes the world feel ancient and naturally developed. If the foundations are strong, you can derive such symbolism from your own work.

what about other cultures?

Xanthia is a Eurasia-inspired continent, and an empire. Meaning there are many languages and cultures, so not everyone will call these constellations the same name, and through linguistic-nuance, the story and meaning behind it can change.

the main cultures in Xanthia are the pure Xanthian people (I’m a creative genius I know), who are based on ancient Romans and medieval Venetians, Milanese, etc.

then there’s Vassen, inspired by old feudal Germany, and then Bjorlund, basically Nordic-inspired, but less vikings and more knights. Linking them to real cultures keeps things grounded, which I like, though it can come at the cost of creativity.

so here’s the constellations in all the languages, in Xanthia, English is not a language.

Concept	Xanthian	Vassi	Bjorlic
Crown	Crona	Krone	Krona
Rose	Rosa	Rosa	Rosa
Spear/Sword	Hasta	Klinge	Sverd
Steed	Equs	Hengst	Hestr
Sea/Ocean	Mare	Mer	Aegir
Dragon	Draco	Drache	Ormr
Heart	Cor	Herza	Hjarta
Eye	Oculus	Auge	Sýn
Bird	Avis	Fugel	Ari

i took some creative liberties with which words I used, some are old german/norse (and somewhat adjusted), others more modern, but it’s all to tell the story and set the cultures apart.

for example the Bjorlic people end the story with Ari, which means Eagle, not bird. And prefer to use Sýn rather than Auga/Eye, since it means Perspective more than Eyesight or Vision. Even the types of Dragons that can come to mind based on the different words of the cultures can affect the story and legends.

omg whats ur star sign?!

as you may have seen above, every sign also has some characteristics accompanying them. The first bullet point is generally positive and the second is negatives, in a bid to follow our real world astrology sub-culture (idk if something so commonly known even constitutes as a sub-culture, but eh, life could be dream).

it’s not the most in depth, I didn’t put too much thought into it, since I did want it to be up to interpretation whether they are actually true or not. Like we do in the real world.

the kinda completed chart

bask in my glory. And awful photography skills. and awful handwriting.

anyway, more of this medieval fantasy stuff coming soon.

21st Aug 2025

current state of Shimokitazawa 2077

Narrow roads and frequent alleyways makes it hard to catch anyone on the run, and subsequently underground businesses, not to mention the Discogangers’ vast preference for analog tech. So local authorities rely on uniform-less units to catch out suspicious activity the old fashioned way, like 90s detective movies.

For the longest time, the cops had it tough, the Discogangers were a pain, and if they tried to go after them the ‘ganic way, random Shibuya posergangs popping into town would rough ’em up while they were chrome-less.

This cycle went back and forth until the cops realised they were outmatched, and knew they needed a corp to step in. Segatari had a couple developments in the area, but clearly wanted to expand, one of their main issues was dealing with the same rowdy kids who wanted to keep all their retro gear and shops in the area.

So came the first ‘corporate’ alliance of Shimokitazawa, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police agreed to turn a blind eye to whatever tactics Segatari used, so long as they grounded the discogagner kids for them.

The result was a local corpo-gang war, all out high-tech corp vs urban guerrilla warfare.

The kids used their old retro scrap: glitter bombs, tear gas, speakers so loud your eardrums burst, etc. Even pretty decently put together EMP grenades.

Segatari’s tactics fell flat at first. The Discogangers knew the streets too well, had seen the tech before, and never moved as a single unit. With no leader to target, there was no head to cut off. They ran solo ops, hit and vanished, and fought harder the smaller their numbers got.

Though as they’d been riding high on their horses, the kids ran into a new issue; arcade-obsessed posergangs spilling in from Shibuya for new turf. After catching a hard L in a gang war, fans of the popular Dance Impact! arcade game needed fresh turf to practice. The Shibuya crowd wasn’t handing over the arcade change anymore. Shimokita started looking real appealing.

As they started slipping in, Segatari took advantage of the sich, and started investing in new and improved DI (Dance Impact!) tech in Arcades with strategic positioning, using the Breakers to gain control over their renovation-interest zones.

So, a new challenger, the Discogangers now face the more centralised and big-city Breakers gang (fun fact: they didn’t get the name from their dance moves).

The Breakers are still pretty new in town, and haven’t managed to set up the strongest of HQs, but in the midst of this war, some parts of the Discogangers thought to team-up and centralise, to stand better chances. Particularly the more forward thinking Silver Hands.

But wait! You thought we were done? Yakuza.

Yep. Yakuza. What a shit-show.

Turns out, when corps start messing with real estate, and non-belonging Shibuya gangers go around shaking people up for their lunch money, you start to piss off the old dogs. One day, a big dog of the Kawaguchi family got jumped in an alleyway for his change, all cause his suit didn’t match the town vibe, Breaker kids thought he was a tourist.

Even the Discogangers never poked the hornet’s nest, and now they got an infestation. Kawaguchi goons started roaming the streets with their monowires, katanas and only Arasaka knows what chrome under those fashionable, armoured suits.

And that’s about where we’re at, cops lazing around being useless, Segatari still crawling around, manipulating the scenes, the Breaker kids getting busted by the real owners of the town, while holding out in their neon playgrounds as the Discogangers start thinking to finally reform after all these years of anarchy.

Something’s gotta give. And in Shimokita, it usually explodes first. Shit’s about to get real ugly, choom.

16th Jun 2025
Shimokita discogangers: analog rebels

i know I set up that whole TCM area for the setting of this supplement, HOWEVER… I don’t feel like working on it yet. AND I left out a few key areas on purpose, the TCM is meant to be Arasaka’s main territory and ‘heart’ of influence in Tokyo, meaning those who like to lay off their grids need somewhere decent to hide.

there’s a word in Japanese called “Shita-machi” (下町), literally meaning “Under/Down Town”. A shitamachi is an area thats cheap, unsophisticated, rowdy, and maybe a bit hippie or punk-y, think Camden Town or Shoreditch in London, for example. Maybe a bit less gentrified than that though. Some popular shitamachis in Tokyo are Ikebukuro, Ueno, Koenji, Kamata, Sangenjaya and Shimokitazawa.

example of a street in a shitamachi by sai_photographer

out of all those, Shimokitazawa (usually abbreviated to Shimokita) is specifically unique, its got a huge hippe and punk culture with tons of thrift shops, vinyl stores, underground DJ bars and listening bars. The main audience there are uni students, young musicians and DJs, and of course locals.

since it’s such a unique spot, I wanted to give it more important role in the setting, Shimokita is right outside the TCM area, just on border with Shibuya ward so its a convenient spot to hideout in if you’re in some corpo trouble nearby.

art by Jordi Ros

that being said, say hello to the baddest gang in the area, the Shimokita Discogangers:

A gang of old school tech-obsessed kids busting moves to disco and popular tunes from the 90s and early 2000s, you can imagine their parties. They only dress in 5th hand thrift shop outfits, baggy jeans, old denim and patterned pastel trash that seem like they’ve been dunked in sour fruit shots.

LEDs wrap their clothes, they overuse flip phones, got voice recorders, a bunch’a the kids even go full ‘ganic. Made it pretty rough for the authorities to deal with ’em, now the town’s got a weakened law enforcement, and since so much of their communication is through landlines and even “paper” letters, its a pain in the ass to catch them with modern tech.

The kids ride around in suped-up bicycles, which help traversing the labyrinthian streets of Shimokitazawa. Think to just grab one of em? You’ll think twice next time, especially after getting dismembered by their monowire bike-chains. All while a VHS of Disturbed’s “The Sickness” blasts from their retro, duct-taped speakers.

what’s next for these guys? Well they need clear goals, enemies, important members and preferred means of action.

we can imagine they’d have some split amongst their ranks with kids who prefer the full ‘ganic style and others who like to chip in a little, we can name the chromed ones “Silver Hands”, you get the reference, and they made it on purpose to claim that they can still rebel, even with chrome. The others can be called “Unplugged”, like MTV’s Unplugged sessions, easy enough.

and yeah I did think about calling the former “Radio Heads”, and I still might change my mind.

art by kendobi

anyway, we’ll flesh out their inner-workings and Shimokita next time.

25th Apr 2025
factions of the Ishin ward
it’s been a few days of more laziness, but I’ve decided to put the work pants back on and further work on this location since its got the most development.

what I’ll mainly focus on in this post is general info and factions located within the Nothern Quarantine (soon to be known as the Ishin ward/Ishin-ku).

here’s the introduction:

During the Time of the Red in Tokyo, a large area consisting of the northern wards of Itabashi, Kita and Arakawa were struck with MaMpox-12, a weaponised plague released from Millitech’s bombing of Arasaka’s covert biological weapons labs.

This promptly triggered the government to wall off and quarantine the area, posting patrols and guards to make sure nobody gets in and out. Once the Fourth Corporate War came to an end, Arasaka saw nationalisation, and the Japanese government had them lead the cleanup unit for the area as a form of reparations.

Within the 50 or so years since, the quarantine has gone through rapid change and chaos. With the introduction of various factions and gangs, alongside Arasaka’s Purification Unit and rival corps fanning the flames, the area, soon dubbed the Ishin ward was turned into a lawless and independent walled-off city.

that’s the general sich, Arasaka’s stuck cleaning up, but ready to soon take the reigns. They call it an investment, and other corps call it a way to kick a dying horse, particularly Fujiwara, who’ll soon be gunning on the area for some sweet sweet real estate development.

but these ideas need some brainstorming, so heres a little messy one i did:

call me Dr. Kazimir. Let’s break it down from the top right, clockwise with some simple notes:
- Arasaka’s Purification Unit
corpo janitors with guns. their job? “cleanse” the zone. real job? dig up and reclaim their old buried bioweapon data and prototype tech before anyone else does. Then annex the place for Arasaka’s Tokyo takeover.

Art from Death Stranding and CoD Concepts. Top right im unsure.
- Scrappers
bousouzoku (Japanese biker gang) who turned the abandoned highways into their personal raceway. Jury-rigged bikes, duct-tade cyberware, and a love for loud. known for stealing arasaka patrol drones to make guns and the occasional rice cooker.

Art by Fernando Correa

Art by Inkthinker
- Kang Tao’s little helpers (Shimizu Medicine Ltd)
Kang Tao’s too chicken to poke arasaka directly, so they sent a subsidiary (a Yakuza family with official license for pharmaceuticals) to loot prototype tech. Their agents pack Kang Tao weapons, wear lab coats, and take no prisoners. An initiative set up by Shiming Xu as his little “trial shift” before taking the reigns.

weirdly enough, Arasaka won’t pay them much mind till it’s too late.
- Fujiwara’s real estate hustle
secretly funding gangs to destabilize arasaka. Why? they want to turn the area into luxury condos. Current strategy: arm scrappers with anti-cyberware EMPs and watch the fireworks. Though they take a backseat till the plague dies down a little.
- Outsiders
dropped the nomad idea and instead went for immigrant labor crews that Arasaka imported to rebuild the zone. They rebelled, stole construction mechs, and now a bunch of em run a pacifica-esque enclave. Working on smuggling, mech-jacking, and throwing raves in half-built skyscrapers. Though this also happens a while after the whole plague thing.
- The Bird Bois (BBs)
plague doctor posergang with a 17th century London themed chambara twist. Bird beak plague doctor masks, knives (a London staple), and a theater kid obsession with “purifying” the zone (stabbing people, another London staple).

rumor has it they’re utlising MaMpox vials for their own fucked-up experiments to find “cures”. Side hustle: black market deals with metalmaxers (mecha-obsessed posers who help run and protect pop-up black markets).

Art by Fernando Correa, Katerina Argonskaya, Ann Kurzakova, Joby Dorr

what insanity (work) does this bring?

tons of yet-to-be unearthed Arasaka techs and relics lying about, with a army’s worth of treasure hunters clawing through busted-up ruins. Psychotic bird-headed maniacs running smuggling and trafficking rings, while flashy mechs guard their black markets.

let’s not forget the loud and proud mad-max bikers setting up marathon-like street races and stripping any bleeding-edge tech just to make a styish exhaust pipe.

i think that gives the Ishin ward/Northern Quarantine more than enough character to work with, keep in mind there are many more smaller groups doing rounds. And these mentioned already are not always as active or in their prime, some come and go at different times, create break-off groups, or may rename or die to make comebacks later.

Kang Tao will eventually become a very poweful rival, maybe triggering Arasaka’s scorched earth operation. Which in turn would get Fujiwara even more interested in the then barren land to build some ivory towers on.

anyway, that’s it for now. After posting this, I’ll soon update the Tokyo 2077 page too.
1st Mar 2025
crafting the Ishin ward

in the last post I went over the creative process and result of the more condensed area of Tokyo dubbed the Tokyo Central Municipality or TCM for short.

now, I don’t want the whole setting to feel like its trapped in this area, as I mentioned its Arasaka’s theme park, but there’s other corps around and Arasaka’s hungry to expand anyway. So my first plan of action was churning up some lawlessness, with a cute quarantine or combat zone.

say hello to what I call the Ishin ward! First named The Northern Quarantine, now an attempted restoration project (hence the name, Ishin means restoration, named in reference to the old Meiji Restoration and yes I copied the RGG game name dont @ me).

anyway here’s the map, lets go over it:

pretty big zone north of the TCM made up of the Itabashi, Kita and Arakawa wards, a big reason I slapped it together is because I’ve never actually visited those wards myself, and also that I’ve just never heard anyone really say much about them. So I decided to make it interesting!

the lore is that near the end of the 4th corpo war, Millitech got info on some top secret experimental weapons labs and warehouses that Arasaka has buried in the area, so they bombed the shit out of it. Turns out there were some old plague weapons there that never saw light of day, refined versions from the old Unit 731 times (real history, search it up, its fucked).

anyway, obviously that started an actual plague and alongside this and the whole Night City nuke, the Japanese government lost their shit, quarantined the area, put a leash on Arasaka and got them to start cleaning up their mess.

sounds good? no? well tell me.

so at this point it was just the Northern Quarantine, and stayed that way for a while as the plague started dying down, homeless and nomads made it their home, then black markets and gangs started popping up, etc. Good old lawless combat zone stuff.

eventually Arasaka and maybe even the government decided to storm the place and start blasting and the place became a full on warzone. After the blasting, even though they still didn’t have much control they did the usual corpo stuff to save face and officially declared it the Ishin-ku, and continued their blasting, but quieter this time.

exact gangs and groups, timeline and affiliated corps are next I guess. Along with describing the plague and its effects on Tokyo proper.

20th Feb 2025