Welcome to Coreline.
A city stacked on top of itself—layer after layer, stretching in every direction, swallowing the horizon like a beast that never stops growing. It never sleeps. It only flickers, burns, and chokes on its own smog-filled air.
Progress here is built with concrete and blood.
The sky is a lie—at least for 90% of Coreline’s population. A patchwork of platforms, suspended streets, and flickering ad signs glow in the distance—the closest thing to a sky they’ll ever see.
Above it all, the so-called "Great Nexus" gleams—a district above the city, where the rich breath clean air and gaze down like gods - their weaknesses long compromised by High tech bioelectronic upgrades, these beings - close to gods - are called "Protogens" they walk among the elite, a glimpse into a future the rest of the city will never reach.
Below, in the other Districts, the rest of Coreline festers—a maze of apartments, rusted pipes belching steam, and endless alleys. Further down means more dangerous and broken. Dreams linger in the most rundown places of better housing, better payment, or simply making it through another day.
Down here, life isn’t cheap. It’s owed.
You work. You owe. Or you disappear.
The streets pulse with the hum of electric billboards, their flickering glow painting ghostly figures on the cracked pavement. Holo-ads promise "A Brighter Future Through CoreCo Innovation"—but even their voices sound tired, skipping and glitching like they know the truth.
People move through the streets like ghosts—heads down, shoulders hunched, navigating around potholes and puddles of something you don’t want to step in. Some drag themselves home from shifts that drained the last bit of their soul. Others linger in the alleys, sharp-eyed, waiting for the next sucker to fall into their game.
It’s a destructive economy that feeds on itself—a machine built to crush and consume.
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It’s the kind of city where you keep your creds close in your pocket and your back even closer to the wall.
The government, long privatized – lead by the CorelinePTC, has been completely corrupt for decades.
But somewhere in the city...
Someone was in deep trouble…
Digging his hand deep into his pocket, he clenched a cigarette.
He wanted to stop, but the urge was too strong to let go so easily—especially now.
Shaking, he lit it—soaked, but still burning.
The first inhale stung his throat, but the familiar burn steadied his trembling hands just enough to keep moving forward.
He turned toward a nearby trash can. “I''ll leave it here for now.
Too much danger taking it with me... it’s not of much use since that damn—" He threw a small plastic object at the opposite wall.
Crack.
The plastic bounced off, breaking apart in the dim light, leaving behind a small trail of shattered pieces that matched the dull surroundings—flickering neon lights, a foggy view, and the cold gray paint of the walls.
The misty air seemed to swallow the sound, leaving only the faint hum of the distant city, the clattering echoes of people talking, laughing, screaming, and phones ringing. Far in the background trains rushed by, adding to the suffocating soundscape, accompanied by the erratic flickering noise of the lights.
Voices, muffled but clear enough to make out snippets, mingled with the rhythm of the district. “Anyway, I think I’m good for now...
I have to be.
For them.” He took a final deep puff from the cigarette, trying to shake off the unease creeping up his spine, but the weight of it lingered, gnawing at him.
His head sank low as he eyed a picture in his pocket depicting a happy Family. The photo is soaked in mud and dirt, just like his clothes.
His gaze shifted back to the cigarette, its ember burned dangerously close to his fingers.
He flicked the butt onto the ground—where at least five others already lay—before stomping it out with his heel.
The silence around him now felt more suffocating than before. “What was that? I need to keep going... quick.” His thoughts turned to his family. “The tracker’s broken.
There’s no way they’ll—" He turned a corner and froze.
A long, metallic barrel of a gun was pointed directly at him.
His breath caught in his throat—time seemed to freeze.
His mind raced, but his body was paralyzed.
He smelled the faint, dying scent of the cigarette still on the ground, barely giving off any smoke.
*BANG*
Then, the sound of a Gunshot shattered through the air.