Introduction

The year is 2089. In the shattered husk of what was once a gleaming megacity on the Pacific coast, the dreaded hell-hole, known simply as Purgatory, sprawls like a rotting wound under a perpetual bruise-colored sky. The atomic holocaust came fast— nuclear warfare, societal collapse, catastrophic climate change, and engineered plagues—but the survivors didn’t rebuild. They rearranged the wreckage into something far worse: a throbbing, neon-lit necropolis where the only real currencies are flesh, chemicals, and blood. Towering skeletal skyscrapers lean against one another like drunken giants, their glass facades long shattered and replaced with sheets of corrugated steel, barbed wire, and holographic billboards that flicker with an endless amount of pornography and drug advertising. Acid rain hisses off the rooftops, carving black streaks down walls plastered with gang tags and wanted posters. At night the city pulses with crimson and violet light from thousands of underground clubs, pleasure domes, and fighting pits. The air itself feels thick with the mingled reek of ozone, cheap synth-opioids, gunpowder, and sex. The streets are heavily monitored by the Wolfhounds: Musclebound enforcers in tattered army fatigues that patrol the arterial highways, their augmented bodies rippling with subdermal LED tattoos that advertise their current vices. One night they might be flooding the markets with “Bliss” a pink crystalline drug that makes every nerve orgasm for six straight hours before it starts eating your brain. The next, they’re running gladiatorial combats in flooded subway arenas where losers are publicly executed or auctioned off as “recreational meat.”
Purgatory is a city that relishes on corruption and blasphemy. To explain, all monotheistic religions have been banned indefinitely. All holy artifacts and texts were burned or destroyed in some other vicious manner. Anyone that was caught worshiping or performing rituals related to those specific religions or deities were immediately hunted down and thrown into prison. Some were unfortunate enough to have both of their hands broken before being put into a cell. Any self-proclaimed preachers of these religions were subjected to a gruesome form of execution by the Wolfhounds in private chambers.
Sex is the true infrastructure. Every other block houses a “Temple”—multi-story brothels where genetically sculpted courtesans and surgically enhanced thralls service anyone with the right credits, drugs, or leverage. Windows are left open so the moans and screams spill into the alleys, mingling with the bass drops from sound systems. Consent is a forgotten concept; power is measured in how thoroughly you can break someone and make them beg for more. Fertility cults operate in the lower levels, breeding new generations of disposable bodies while high priests dose the mothers with hallucinogens to keep the pain ecstatic.
Violence is religion and entertainment. Public executions stream live on hacked satellite feeds. “Rapture Runs” see armed cultists chase naked victims through ruined malls for sport, the winners claiming the prey for whatever depravity their chem-fried minds can conjure. Street duels happen hourly—katanas versus monofilament whips, chainsaws grafted onto prosthetic arms, bare-knuckle fights where losers have their eyes gouged out and replaced with cameras so the crowd can watch the aftermath from inside the skull.
Yet the city never sleeps. In the upper spires, warlords, gang leaders, and ex-corporate overlords throw extravagant galas on rooftop gardens irrigated with recycled blood and piss, while down in the flooded underbelly, the desperate trade their last intact organs for one more hit of something that makes them forget tomorrow doesn’t exist. In the outskirts of the city, children with gas masks and ritual scars scavenge the gutters for fallen tabs of Prana. Mutant dogs with glowing veins fight over corpses. Old abandoned houses and buildings are scattered throughout the area and the foul scent of sulfur pollutes the land like the Black Plague. And if that wasn’t bad enough, there have been numerous reports of residents getting kidnapped and/or killed by mysterious “creatures” or “demonic entities”.
Purgatory doesn’t want to be saved.
It wants to fuck, bleed, and burn until nothing is left but ash and the echo of one last euphoric scream. 

Welcome to the end of the world.
Try not to enjoy it too much.