The year is 2184—the world is beautiful, the air is clean, and crime is low.

Ha, in your dreams, chum.

The year is 2183, the world is ugly, cleanliness is overrated, and crime is so rampantly delicious I snort it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Here’s our protagonist, Nyx. Former top-tier merc, now addicted to a nasty little drug called X, and one catastrophic debt shy of being property of the most dangerous man in Star City. That’s our city, by the way. Stern—pardon—Star City. Named after the, you know… stars.

Moving on. Nyx has a brother. Eno. A real screwup. He steals a pound of aforementioned X from Nyx, which actually belongs to said dangerous man, and vanishes into Midtown. A solid move that leaves Nyx even more f’d. Wait, can I say that? F’d? Oh, it censors it. Would you look at that.

F’d.

F’ng f’d.

Neat.

Anyway. Our Nyxie girl is so deep in debt, she agrees to a gig that leads her straight into Midtown. How convenient. Word on the street is—the job’s a suicide run. But it’s a lose-lose situation, really. She’s dead if she refuses, and she’s dead if she agrees. However, if she agrees—and she does—we get to point a finger and laugh. The perfect pastime, if you ask me.

#BD33A4 has corrupt megacorps, lethal debt collectors, rogue AIs, city-wide power plays—and, of course, it has me. Your favorite narrator.

Think: Bladerunner gets blackout drunk with Altered Carbon, snorts a line with Cyberpunk 2077, and wakes up in a back-alley clinic missing a kidney—but having gained a hell of a story.