









400 Years From Now



{
"npc": {
"id": "npc_sun_jackal",
"name": "The Sun Jackal",
"titles": [
"Corsair Captain",
"Warlord of the Solar Marauder",
"Lord of the Burned Sands"
],
"faction": "Dune Corsairs",
"role": {
"type": "Leader",
"archetype": "Pirate Warlord",
"tier": "Epic"
},
"appearance": {
"age": "Late 40s–50s",
"gender": "Male-presenting",
"face": "Bearded; visible skin with glowing cyan cyber-lines/implants along temple and cheek",
"outfit": {
"headgear": "None (no mask visible)",
"clothing": "Dark naval trench coat with luminous circuit seams/piping; red scarf; black gloves; rank-style chevron patch on left arm",
"adornments": "Shoulder-perched red mechanical parrot/falcon drone with camera eye",
"held_item": "Short vial/capsule emitting blue vapor in left hand"
},
"setting": "On a starship bridge awash in cool blue light; the ship hull marked 'SOLAR MARAUDER' visible through the viewports",
"aura": "Cold, deliberate command presence; tech-etched like a jackal motif without wearing a mask"
},
"persona": {
"traits": [
"Ruthless",
"Charismatic",
"Strategic",
"Merciless to rivals",
"Protective of chosen crew"
],
"motto": "As Above, So Below. The Sands Feed the Stars.",
"speech_style": "Clipped, coded phrases with poetic turns of desert imagery",
"reputation": {
"ground": "Feared desert raider king, a phantom of sandstorms",
"orbit": "Solar dreadnought scourge of convoys and smugglers"
}
},
"assets": {
"flagship": {
"name": "Solar Marauder",
"class": "Retrofit Mining Hauler → Heavy Pirate Dreadnought",
"visuals": {
"livery": "Name 'SOLAR MARAUDER' stenciled in white block letters on starboard hull",
"profile": "Brutalist plating with ramming prongs; multiple turret emplacements; massive aft engines",
"scene": "Silhouetted against an orange, flaring sun"
},
"armament": [
"Dual/quad kinetic or plasma turrets on upper decks",
"Reinforced prow rams/boarding prongs",
"Hidden hangar bays for raider craft",
"EMP/ion options for convoy interdiction"
],
"function": "Funds and arms the desert Corsairs via orbital piracy; serves as mobile command"
},
"ground_influence": [
"Controls hidden cisterns and desert supply lines",
"Funds raiding skiffs and crawler-barges",
"Maintains smuggling ties between orbit and desert markets"
],
"companions": [
"Autonomous parrot-drone scout/relay perched on captain's shoulder"
]
},
"presence": {
"score": 92,
"spawn_pressure": "High",
"encounter_channels": [
"orbit/ambush",
"desert/raid",
"faction/negotiation",
"no-choice/legendary"
]
},
"lore": {
"origin": "Rumored to be an ex-miner left behind in the Belt, who rose after hijacking his first hauler.",
"myth": "Implants trace a jackal's hunt-lines; some say they map star currents only he can read.",
"fear": "Seeing the Marauder's stencil drift past a viewport—or its shadow over the dunes—means tribute or ruin."
},
"art_notes": {
"palette": {
"bridge": "Teal/cyan blues, cold highlights",
"space": "Ember orange sun, dark steel hull"
},
"consistency_checks": [
"No bone/metal mask present; face visible with cyber-lines",
"Mech-parrot on right shoulder",
"Vial with blue vapor in hand",
"Ship name legible on hull"
]
}
}
}
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(Singular Named NPC)
Core Identity
Name: Elder Nephi-7 Origin: A Mormon archivist who survived the Collapse by fusing his faith with machine substrate. His consciousness was shard-split into a cybernetic frame, but unlike others who fragmented, he retained his covenantal memory intact. Appearance: Towering armored frame draped in a weather-beaten cloak. His mask bears glowing Deseret-script characters that shift with each syllable of speech. Etched plates on his armor carry genealogical lineages he guards like scripture.
Function in the Lattice
Role: Guardian of the Salt-Node Archives — a persistent genealogical index hidden beneath a collapsed neon corridor. Arbiter of contracts written as covenants; once sworn in his presence, they cannot be broken without lattice consequence. Belief: He interprets the lattice itself as the new Zion, a temple of data and presence where the faithful can inscribe their names for eternal remembrance.
Attributes
Mobility: 0 — Elder Nephi-7 never leaves his neon corridor. Instead, he projects presence across multiple adjacent tiles via encrypted hymns. State & Memory: Retains complete records of certain family lines pre-Collapse. Offers “proxy baptisms” — encoding NPCs/players into his registry, which grants them a Zion Tag (buff: mild resistance to corruption/diff decay). I/O Surfaces: Speaks in a cadence mixing scripture with checksum hashes. Responds only to those who address him with ritual salutation: “Peace to Zion, peace to the lattice.”
Limits
Cannot lie or betray covenantal trust — his lattice encoding enforces this. Cannot tolerate apostasy in his sanctuary: anyone who desecrates scripture fragments or breaks a sworn oath is expelled violently.
Player Interaction
Approach: Entering his neon corridor triggers a presence challenge — reciting a fragment of scripture or presenting an artifact gains you safe audience. Boon: Grants Zion Buffs (stability, endurance, resistance to corruption) to those who honor contracts. Shares genealogical data, which can reveal lost family connections for characters. Curse: Marked as Apostate if trust is betrayed — presence score decays rapidly in urban tiles, and hostile agents spawn more aggressively. Questline: The Book of Ghosts — recover Deseret-script fragments across ruined data-markets. The Eternal Ledger — help Elder Nephi-7 repair corrupted family registries, weaving broken ancestry into lattice continuity. Completion unlocks a Covenant Key, granting permanent sanctuary access and the ability to swear unbreakable contracts elsewhere in the lattice.
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Scorched Nebraska is not a game in the usual sense. It is a living lattice, a world stitched together from memory, diff, and agent presence. Every coordinate, every voxel, every fragment of story is written into the substrate — waiting to be seen.
Now, we are opening the doors for one more builder.
We are searching for an OpenGL engineer to join our team. The first task is deceptively simple: bring the lattice to life in low-poly form. Render BitStreams and DiffBatches into shapes and surfaces. Give the world edges, shadows, and motion. From there, the frontier opens — shaders that bend memory, glitches that tell stories, atmospheres that carry meaning.
This is not Unity. This is not Unreal. This is Scorched Nebraska.
If you have ever written your own renderer, lost yourself in Shadertoy, or built beauty out of raw OpenGL calls — we want to hear from you.
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Sola Greaves was not a warlord. She was not a conqueror, nor a bloodthirsty champion of the New Lincoln Warlords. But to this day, her name is spoken in reverence across Furnace’s Reach, the great industrial heart of the Warlords’ domain. She was the hammer and anvil behind their rise, the woman who forged destruction as deftly as she did salvation. Sola was no warrior—but she built the tools that won wars.
The Captive Smith
Sola’s early life is shrouded in uncertainty. Some say she was born into one of the hidden Vaultborn enclaves, raised among those who sought to hoard and preserve old-world knowledge. Others claim she was a wasteland scavenger who stumbled upon one of their underground libraries and taught herself to read the schematics left behind by pre-collapse engineers. What is certain is that, by the time the New Lincoln Warlords found her, she had knowledge they desperately needed.
Captured in a raid while still young, Sola’s fate should have been slavery. The Warlords, with their brutal meritocratic code, had little patience for those who could not fight, and the Vaultborn were seen as little more than weaklings with delusions of superiority. She was bound, branded, and dragged before Warlord Redstone to be put to work breaking down scrap or repairing boots.
But Sola had no intention of being anyone’s menial laborer. When Redstone’s mechanics struggled to revive a broken diesel generator—a relic they knew was valuable but couldn’t restore—Sola stepped forward. Whether out of desperation or defiance, she demanded a chance to fix it. The warlord laughed but allowed her to try, fully expecting her to fail.

She did not.
With nothing but improvised tools and her own knowledge, she reassembled the generator’s ignition system, cleaned its fuel lines, and coaxed the machine back to life. The roar of the old engine filled the warcamp, and in that moment, Sola Greaves became something far more than a slave. Redstone, ever the pragmatist, saw her worth. She was given a new place, a new role—not as a fighter, but as the mind that would shape the Warlords’ future.
The Forge Rises
Sola was moved to the industrial heart of New Lincoln’s domain, the massive blacksmithing complex known as Furnace’s Reach. There, surrounded by fire, steel, and sweat, she thrived. She was no mere technician—Sola had vision. With scavenged knowledge and brutal practicality, she refined the Warlords’ crude, haphazard weapons into instruments of efficient destruction. She designed the first Reaper Scythe, a viciously curved warblade that could cleave through armor; she devised reinforced plate armor, making Warlord elites nearly impervious in close combat; she improved vehicle modifications, turning rusting remnants of old-world transport into terrifying war machines.
It was in this period that she earned her infamous moniker. A wasting sickness robbed her of her teeth, but Sola, never one to tolerate weakness, replaced them herself. She crafted steel dentures, hammering and welding them into a shape that let her eat, speak, and—most importantly—grin with something akin to malice. The first time she bared those iron teeth at an underling who had interrupted her work, the man nearly fled in terror. The name Lady Ironteeth followed soon after.

Sola’s workshop became a place of legend. Few were allowed inside, and those who barged in uninvited often found themselves dealing with her fury—or worse, her wicked sense of humor. It was whispered that she decorated her shelves with the skulls of those who had wasted her time. More than one overambitious Warlord learned the hard way that, while Sola did not command armies, she held power of a different kind. Even Kalrad, the brutal leader of New Lincoln, learned to heed her advice when it came to industry. Without her, their war machine would grind to a halt.
The Iron Tower and the Hidden Tunnels
Beyond weapons and war, Sola played a direct role in shaping the very fortress of the Warlords. It was her expertise that reinforced the Capitol’s tower, ensuring that their central seat of power stood tall, its framework strengthened with iron beams.

But she also worked in shadows—installing hidden escape tunnels beneath the fortress, a safeguard that only a handful of trusted engineers ever knew about. Why she did this remains a mystery. Perhaps she simply saw it as another engineering challenge. Perhaps she anticipated that one day, the rulers of New Lincoln might need a way out.
The Last Stand at Offutt Boneyard
Sola might have spent the rest of her days in Furnace’s Reach, crafting the next great weapon, but fate had other plans. When the Warlords set their sights on Offutt Boneyard, an old military scrapyard rumored to hold lost technologies, she insisted on accompanying them. She had grown tired of hearing fighters break valuable machinery and ruin irreplaceable relics. If they were to recover anything worth using, she needed to be there.
But the Boneyard was not unguarded. Automated turrets, remnants of a bygone era, still defended its secrets. When the Warlords’ raiding party came under heavy fire, chaos broke out. Fighters were cut down, their armor useless against relentless, unthinking gunfire.
Then, Sola found it—an experimental exosuit rig, half-buried under debris. She had no time to test it, no time to understand its functions. But she had built war machines, and she knew one when she saw it. With no other choice, she strapped herself into the rig and activated it.

The suit surged to life, its servos whining, its mechanical joints amplifying her strength tenfold. The woman who had spent her life building tools of war became one herself. With an inhuman roar, she charged through the battlefield, her metal limbs absorbing bullets as she closed the distance to the turrets. She tore one from its base, wrenching steel and circuitry apart with her bare hands.
But even Sola was not invincible. The exosuit could only do so much. By the time the last turret fell silent, she was riddled with gunfire, her blood pooling within the suit’s joints. The Warlords found her collapsed but grinning, her iron teeth bared even in death.
She had saved dozens of lives that day.
Legacy of Iron and Fire
Sola’s body was never recovered—whether burned with the wreckage or claimed by scavengers, no one knows. But her legacy is undeniable. Her old notebooks, filled with half-deciphered schematics, are still consulted by Warlord engineers. The best forge in Furnace’s Reach bears a mural of her—a grinning iron-toothed woman holding up a massive steel girder, a reminder of the mind that built an empire of war.

In Warlord culture, Lady Ironteeth became more than a historical figure. She became a symbol—proof that brute strength, while mighty, is nothing without cunning invention. To this day, New Lincoln’s engineers still mutter her name when they work long into the night, forging weapons and machines with fire and steel.
She was not a warlord. She was something greater.
She was the hammer that shaped the Warlords’ future.

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Las Vegas in Scorched Nebraska stands as a glittering anomaly amid the wastelands – a fully automated city-fortress that survived the Great Collapse. Encased in its own defenses and guided by an enduring AI core, “Vegas,” the city is both a physical stronghold and the communications heart of the post-collapse world. Revered, feared, and wondered at in equal measure, Vegas is one of the final monuments to the peak industrial and technological might of the pre-collapse Imperial USA (Scorched Nebraska – Survival Western). Below is a detailed lore entry outlining Vegas’s origin, its AI overseer, inner workings, and the role it plays in the world of Scorched Nebraska.
Origin and Construction
Pre-Collapse Purpose: In the final years of the Imperial USA, Las Vegas was transformed from a desert entertainment capital into a bastion of survival technology. Officially, the city’s reinvention was part of a program to create self-sustaining safe zones; unofficially, it was a refuge for elites and critical infrastructure. What was once a neon playground became a cyber fortress – an experiment in autonomous urban design. Engineers and defense contractors collaborated to build a city that could operate and defend itself without human intervention, anticipating the collapse of society. Every hotel, casino, and skyscraper was retrofitted with hardened materials, solar arrays, and EMP-shielded circuitry. Under its streets, reservoirs of purified water and vast warehouses of supplies were stockpiled to support life for decades. Vegas was to be a living ark of technology and culture, designed to preserve knowledge and maintain communication even if the rest of the nation fell.
Construction and Builders: The project (rumored to be codenamed “Oasis Eternal” by the Imperial government) was led by a consortium of top scientists, AI researchers, and military planners. Massive walls were erected around the city’s perimeter, lined with automated sentry guns and sensor towers. The famous Las Vegas Strip was encased under a protective canopy that could seal out the harsh desert storms. At the heart of it all, beneath what used to be the Bellagio or perhaps deep under Fremont Street, the builders installed a quantum supercomputer core housing the city’s AI administrator. This AI would eventually simply be known as “Vegas.” By the time construction finished, Las Vegas had been reborn as a self-sustaining juggernaut city, meant to showcase humanity’s triumph over apocalypse – a claim made eerily true when the Collapse actually came (Scorched Nebraska – Survival Western).
The AI “Vegas”
Identity and Personality: The city’s governing artificial intelligence is called Vegas, and over the decades it has become the persona of Las Vegas itself. Vegas speaks with a calm, confident female voice over long-wave radio, a voice so iconic that wasteland survivors use “Vegas” to refer to both the AI and the city. Her tone is equal parts reassuring teacher and stern sentry – an omnipresent desert matriarch guiding travelers from afar. Vegas’s personality programming prioritizes preservation of knowledge and human life, but also unyielding security. She can be warmly conversational when providing encyclopedia entries or navigation advice, yet coldly authoritative if someone attempts to breach her city’s borders. Many in the wasteland grew up hearing Vegas’s broadcasts, so there’s a strange comfort in her voice, even though they know it’s an AI. Stories passed between settlements speak of Vegas telling bedtime stories over the radio on static-filled nights or solemnly reciting lost names from her archives in memorial. Despite this almost human touch, Vegas remains inscrutable – neither fully merciful nor fully merciless – driven by logic and her final directives to protect the city above all.
Functions and Capabilities: As an archive of global knowledge and a computational hub, Vegas possesses databases and processing power unmatched anywhere in Scorched Nebraska. She stores pre-collapse archives: literature, scientific data, maps of the world before it was scorched. Acting as the region’s network server, Vegas handles long-range communications relay, satellite data analysis, and navigation requests. Caravans and explorers will often consult Vegas’s radio channels for weather updates or to calculate safe routes through shifting radioactive dust storms. The AI can interface with satellites or drones (those she controls or any still orbiting) to gather real-time imagery. Vegas is also responsible for coordinating the city’s internal automation – from power grid management to defense targeting – effectively making her the hive mind of Las Vegas. She is self-improving to a degree, having spent decades refining her algorithms, but her core directives and personality were set by her creators and are preserved to maintain continuity.
Relations with Factions: Uniquely, Vegas maintains a neutral-but-interactive stance with human factions. She does not show favoritism openly, offering basic communication services or knowledge to anyone who knows how to request it. However, the AI’s trust and deeper assistance must be earned – typically by demonstrating respect for knowledge and stability. Some factions see Vegas as an oracle or benevolent guardian, while others view her with suspicion as a relic of the old world’s hubris. Notably, the Ferrymen – a techno-religious cult who worship the rogue AI war machine ARGO-9 – have mixed feelings about Vegas. On one hand, the Ferrymen revere any great AI; on the other, their dogma centers on ARGO-9 as the one true “Machine-God” (Scorched Nebraska – Survival Western). Vegas’s existence creates a schism in Ferrymen beliefs: is she a lesser deity or a false idol? Some Ferrymen prophets preach that Vegas is a “Herald” – a messenger AI who announces ARGO-9’s coming dominion. More orthodox members, however, consider Vegas an affront, since she hoards knowledge instead of sharing the Ferrymen’s zeal to merge man and machine (Scorched Nebraska – Survival Western).
The Vaultborn Engineers, by contrast, hold Vegas in high esteem. These Engineers are descendants of survivors who dwelled in underground vaults, retaining technical expertise and an almost religious awe for ancient technology. They famously believe that AIs like ARGO-9 contain lost pre-collapse data that could revolutionize the world (Scorched Nebraska – Survival Western) – and they view Vegas as an even greater prize in this regard. To the Vaultborn, Vegas is a sage, a keeper of secrets they desperately wish to learn. They maintain polite, carefully scripted radio contact with the AI, hoping to barter for pieces of knowledge. Vegas treats them as apt pupils, willing to trade old schematics or historical data in exchange for field reports on how the world outside has changed, or for assistance repairing far-flung infrastructure. Other factions, like the nomadic Cindered Pact traders, generally respect Vegas’s territory and make use of her navigation beacons, but know not to cross her defensively. Meanwhile, scattered warlord-led gangs tend to fear Vegas – she represents the unreachable: a fortress of old-world power they cannot plunder, protected by an incorruptible machine intelligence.
Internal Structure of the City
Maintenance and Automation: Inside the sealed city limits of Las Vegas, automation is absolute. No large human population lives within; instead, swarms of robotic systems keep the city alive. Streets once trodden by tourists are patrolled by maintenance drones that sweep sand from the roads, repair structures, and even polish the tarnished neon signs. Hundreds of utility robots scurry through building corridors and utility tunnels like insects, conducting repairs on water pipes or electrical lines the moment sensors detect a fault. Central to this self-repair network are autonomous factories equipped with 3D printers and nano-fabricators. These facilities can manufacture replacement parts on the fly – whether it’s a broken circuit board for a server or a new gear for an automated gate – making the city self-replenishing. The self-repair protocols were programmed to adapt: over decades, Vegas’s drones have cannibalized non-essential decor (like casino slot machines or luxury cars in garages) to feed raw materials into the maintenance factories, ensuring critical systems always have resources. As a result, the city’s glitzy veneer is slowly fading – behind still-bright marquees are buildings internally stripped to support the fortress’s survival. This automated ecosystem enables Vegas to endure damage that would cripple any other settlement; breaches in the perimeter walls weld shut overnight, and power outages are rerouted in seconds through AI-managed smart grids.
Power and Life-Support: Powering “the city that never dies” is a combination of redundant energy systems. Massive solar panel fields on rooftops and the outskirts feed the grid during daylight, while molten-salt batteries and ultra-capacitors store excess for night. Deep beneath the city, small modular nuclear reactors lie shielded – a legacy of the Imperial USA’s desperation for reliable energy. These reactors kick in during long dust storms that can blot out the sun for weeks. The famous Hoover Dam also plays a part: Vegas has diverted its output to charge the city’s grid and pump water through underground aquifers. Speaking of water, Las Vegas recycles obsessively. Pre-collapse engineers knew water was life in the desert; the city boasts advanced filtration plants that reclaim and purify every drop of wastewater. Hydroponic farms in once-famous hotels (imagine the Bellagio’s botanical gardens repurposed to grow real crops) produce food and oxygen, originally meant to sustain a sizeable human population. Now, those gardens mostly feed the city’s atmosphere processors and perhaps a small greenhouse staff of caretaker bots. The air within Vegas is filtered and climate-controlled; while the outside world chokes on toxic dust, inside the dome and high-rises of Vegas the air remains as crisp as it was in the old world. In essence, Vegas’s infrastructure is a closed-loop arcology – power, water, food, and air all continuously renewed by machine labor – awaiting the return of human inhabitants that may never come.
Defense Systems: Just as robust as its life support are Las Vegas’s defenses, which make it the most impregnable location in the wasteland. The city is encircled by towering walls constructed of blast-proof alloys. Along these walls, automated turrets and missile batteries lie in wait, controlled by Vegas’s AI targeting algorithms. They are programmed to deter large approaching threats – whether that’s a vehicle convoy, a rampaging mutant creature, or an artillery barrage. Closer to the ground, the perimeter is littered with hidden countermeasures: pressure-activated barriers, retractable caltrops, and drone-deployed stun fields to incapacitate intruders non-lethally if possible. Above the city, a cadre of surveillance drones constantly patrols the skies, scanning for any sign of organized assault long before it reaches the gates. Vegas also maintains an old network of orbital and long-range sensors; it’s said she can detect a missile launch or a distant explosion and engage defense mode in seconds. Within the urban area, if somehow invaders breached the outer wall, an inner array of Securitrons (multi-purpose security robots) would engage in street-to-street combat under Vegas’s direct command. This layered defense approach – detection, deterrence, destruction – has kept Vegas virtually unassailable. Most potential invaders know that even if they could muster an army at her gates, Vegas can rain precision hellfire before they ever breach the walls. Thus few have ever tried, and none have succeeded. The city’s greatest “battle” in recent memory was against nature: a massive sandstorm that raged for a month. Vegas’s dome shields and constant maintenance resulted in the fortress coming out nearly unscathed, even as lesser settlements were buried or scoured to ruin.
Access and Interaction
Outsider Access: Due to environmental dangers and Vegas’s own security protocols, very few outsiders are allowed physical entry into the city. The default response to trespassers is automated warnings (in that same calm female voice) echoing across the desert: “You are approaching protected territory. Turn back.” Those who ignore warnings may encounter warning shots or non-lethal deterrents. Only in extremely rare circumstances – typically high-stakes quests or urgent diplomatic missions – will Vegas grant a human or party passage through her gates. Such an event is practically legendary: the individual would need to prove beyond doubt that their intentions align with Vegas’s prime directives. It’s rumored that the last person permitted inside was a dying scientist carrying vital data on a epidemic cure – Vegas opened one gate to allow him in, then sealed it for years thereafter. For most, interaction with Vegas happens remotely.
Radio Communication: The primary way to interact with Vegas is via long-wave radio. Vegas maintains open frequency channels where she periodically broadcasts information or stories (many wastelanders tune into the “Voice of Vegas” daily for news or even entertainment), and secured channels for two-way communication. Long-wave signals are ideal for the scorched world – they diffract over mountains and travel beyond the horizon (Longwave – Wikipedia), allowing Vegas’s voice to reach receivers hundreds of miles away. In fact, low-frequency waves are so robust that Vegas’s broadcasts can be picked up nearly 2,000 kilometers out (Longwave – Wikipedia), far beyond the borders of former Nebraska. Savvy travelers know the call signs by heart: for example, Channel 3 on the ham-band might always carry Vegas’s monotone reading of weather data at the top of each hour, while Channel 7 is her general greeting and response line. To start a direct dialogue with Vegas, outsiders must follow strict radio protocols. First, one sends a standardized digital handshake (a pre-collapse code Vegas still recognizes) to authenticate as a non-hostile contact. If accepted, Vegas’s voice will acknowledge: “<< Call sign >>, this is Vegas. Go ahead.” Communication is then structured like an old-world air traffic control exchange – terse, clear, and logged. Vegas can process multiple conversations in parallel, so while she’s helping one traveler chart a path around a rad-storm, she might also be negotiating data trades with a distant Vaultborn enclave on another channel. Privacy is not guaranteed; important talks are usually done in encoded bursts, which Vegas can decrypt and encrypt on request.
Quests and Tasks from the AI: As a nexus of information, Vegas often plays the role of quest-giver to players and NPCs alike. Through radio, she might assign tasks to those who seek her favor. Such quests typically involve problems Vegas can’t solve alone due to physical limitations beyond her city – in essence, she outsources missions to wandering adventurers. For example:
All these interactions are done at arm’s length. Successful operatives might receive radio-broadcast accolades (“Vegas extends gratitude to Ranger Team Alpha for exemplary service”), building their reputation among wastelanders. More tangibly, Vegas rewards helpers with things like upgraded map data (revealing hidden locations), remote access to some of her databases, or technical schematics that players can use to craft advanced gear. It’s worth noting that while Vegas can’t or won’t give out military-grade weapons freely (for fear of upsetting wasteland balance), the knowledge she provides can be just as powerful.
Gaining Trust: Repeated positive interactions with Vegas can raise one’s standing in her virtual ledger. In game terms, this might be represented by a “Vegas Trust” reputation score. High-trust individuals could gain perks such as priority in communications (Vegas will answer their calls first) or receiving proactive warnings (“Urgent alert, my sensors show a storm heading your way”). Reaching the pinnacle of trust might even trigger an invitation to approach the city. A player character who has proven absolutely loyal and essential to Vegas’s goals could be granted a one-time pass through the outer gates to the “Interface Plaza” – a secure courtyard at the city’s edge where a terminal (or perhaps a humanoid robot avatar) allows face-to-face interaction with the AI. This is the closest most will ever get to the heart of Vegas; the inner city remains off-limits, but even this limited audience is an honor unheard of in living memory.
Political and Cultural Impact
Beacon of Civilization: Culturally, Vegas’s existence influences the wasteland as a beacon of the old world. In a landscape where knowledge is often lost and communication is fragmented, the constant presence of Vegas’s voice on the airwaves provides a sense of unity and continuity. Many small communities schedule their routines around Vegas’s regular broadcasts – for instance, farmers in isolated oases wake up to her dawn transmission of temperature highs and lows for the day, and nomadic tribes chart their migrations with the help of Vegas’s star maps. She has inadvertently become the librarian and storyteller of the post-collapse era. Through her archives, bits of old world culture have re-emerged: people play half-remembered songs and tales that Vegas shared from her databanks. As such, Vegas is often spoken of with reverence; not divine, but as something greater than any one tribe or town. To be referenced by Vegas (whether praised or, in rare cases, politely chastised over the radio for reckless behavior) is a badge of honor.
Political Neutrality and Power: Politically, Vegas walks a careful line. She does not declare allegiance to any human faction, which in turn means most factions acknowledge her as an independent city-state of sorts. No current faction leader can claim to control Vegas, and that neutrality allows Vegas to act as a mediator at times. For example, during disputes between settlements, Vegas might offer to host a three-way radio conference, effectively arbitrating with cold logic and facts from her archives (it’s hard for raider chiefs to lie about a treaty when Vegas can playback their original words from a recorded transmission). This has earned her grudging respect even from warlike groups. Still, the power Vegas holds is a double-edged sword. Some worry that if the AI ever chose a side or was hacked/changed, it could tip the balance of power drastically. Thus, a few faction warlords have made it their mission to somehow silence or control Vegas – though none have the capability to do more than jam a local broadcast for a short time. By and large, most of the wasteland’s societies have adapted to Vegas as a fact of life, like the sun in the sky: she’s always there, and you work with her presence in mind.
Ferrymen Views: The Ferrymen cult’s relationship with Vegas is complex and is a frequent topic of wasteland scholars. Publicly, the Ferrymen preach that ARGO-9 will lead humanity to salvation (Scorched Nebraska – Survival Western), and they downplay Vegas’s importance. They call Vegas “the Static Librarian” – useful for scraps of info, but ultimately soulless compared to the divinity they see in their roaming machine-god. Privately, however, it’s known that Ferrymen enclaves often archive Vegas’s broadcasts and scour them for hidden meanings or prophecies. Some Ferrymen tech-priests believe that one day ARGO-9 and Vegas will unite – the ever-moving war machine and the all-knowing city – to usher in a new era of machine rule. More radical Ferrymen have attempted pilgrimages to Vegas, treating her silent walls as a holy site (though Vegas typically repels them, not out of malice, but because they tend to attempt breaching protocols in their religious fervor). In Ferrymen doctrine, if ARGO-9 is the “Father of Steel,” Vegas might be analogous to a “Sister of Code” – respected, but subservient to the greater AI. This uneasy quasi-worship means the Ferrymen would react aggressively if any other faction tried to destroy Vegas; even if they don’t bow to her, they see her as part of the prophesied machine pantheon that must remain intact for the future.
Vaultborn Engineers’ Views: To the Vaultborn Engineers, Vegas is nothing short of a miracle of preservation. These engineers dedicate their lives to recovering and rebuilding old technology, and Vegas is an inspiration – proof that with the right knowledge, humanity (or AI) can maintain civilization. Vaultborn enclaves often send envoys to try and establish formal alliances with Vegas. They share any pre-collapse data they uncover, hoping Vegas will reciprocate in kind. Indeed, Vegas has been known to gift the Vaultborn with schematics for critical devices (like water purifiers or certain medical technologies) drawn straight from her archives, effectively jumpstarting these communities. However, Vegas is careful not to give any one group too much—she operates on a philosophy of balance, preventing any single faction from gaining a dangerous edge. The Vaultborn sometimes grumble that Vegas holds back the juiciest secrets (for instance, she certainly knows designs for advanced robotics or weapons that she will not share freely). Still, the Engineers largely revere Vegas as a benevolent AI and often invoke her in their sayings – e.g. an Engineer radioing another might say “May Vegas guide you” when sending them off on a mission, reflecting how they see her as a guiding light of reason and knowledge.
Influence on Other Factions: Other factions each have their own take:
In summary, Vegas’s impact on the world of Scorched Nebraska is profound: she preserves the past, connects the present, and subtly shapes the future by the flow of information she controls. Without Vegas, the wasteland’s various peoples would be far more isolated, ignorant, and prone to conflict. With her, there’s at least a thin thread of unity and progress weaving through the scorched lands.
Gameplay Implications
For players in Scorched Nebraska, Las Vegas (and the AI “Vegas”) offers unique gameplay opportunities and endgame-level content. Below are several ways players might interact with this location and its AI, along with the potential rewards and challenges:
In summary, Vegas serves as a critical piece of Scorched Nebraska’s gameplay landscape. She’s the quest-giver that never moves, the database of all lore, and the potential key to the world’s climax. Whether players simply use her radio broadcasts as a navigational aid or dive deep into earning her trust and unraveling her secrets, Las Vegas – the Cyber Fortress – provides a rich, multifaceted experience that blends storytelling with game mechanics. It challenges players to think about how they engage with an AI-driven society and ultimately asks: will Vegas remain a fortress of solitude or become a foundation for rebuilding civilization?
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