Bind a grudge. Bear it forward.
A sci-fi survival ARPG of camps, factions, and reckonings. Earth is poisoned. The colonies above watch and do nothing. What you build, you defend. What you swore, you keep.
Bind a grudge. Bear it forward.
A sci-fi survival ARPG of camps, factions, and reckonings. Earth is poisoned. The colonies above watch and do nothing. What you build, you defend. What you swore, you keep.
You're a survivor. So is everyone you meet. Recruit them, pledge to a faction, found a guild, and grow your camp from a fire-pit into a town. Five allies makes you a Tribe. Ten makes you a Village. Twenty makes you a Town — and a target.
Pistols, rifles, blades, hammers, theft. Five weapon paths in the Combat tree, each with its own master capstone and signature item that grants +25% XP when wielded.
Seven professions, 35 branches. Forestry. Mining. Cooking. Bladesmithing. Alchemy. Tinkering. Every road to mastery costs the same — every road matters.
Snap walls, doors, stairs, and roofs into your own keep. Place workbenches, palisades, watchtowers, and turrets. Defend it from raids.
Every NPC — your hires, wandering survivors, faction raiders — runs the same stats, perks, and XP system you do. They harvest, craft, and level up on their own. Friend or foe.
Five factions claw for the surface. Pledge to one and earn its gear, contracts, and territory bonuses — at the cost of every other crown.
Trade caravans. Embassies. Diplomatic envoys. The surface has no government — only the people you choose to call allies.
A century ago, the colonial mining consortium known as The Way stripped Earth of everything that could be lifted to orbit. When the last shaft collapsed, they sealed the elevators behind them. The colonies kept the satellites, the medicine, the clean water.
Down here, the wells are radioactive. The trees grow strange. The Hollow Lords own the deep mines — what's left of them. The Tech-Scavengers own the wreckage. The Keepers own the rituals. The Network owns the wires. The Forgotten own the silence.
You own a grudge. That's enough to start.
Read the Lore →
Snap together modular walls, gates, balconies, and roofs to raise the keep that anchors your survivors. Place workbenches, beds, banners, and chests. Then ring it: palisades and an iron gate first, watchtowers manned by Sentries, auto-turrets backed by hired Gunners, and finally a Fortress Keep led by your own Captain.
Every building can take damage. Every wall can fall. Every NPC you hire eats food and draws upkeep. Defend well, or watch your stockpiles vanish in a Hollow Lord raid.
Camp & Defense Details →
The surface answers to no single power. Five factions hold the ruins between them. Pledge yourself to one to unlock its territory, gear, and contracts — and to set the other four against you.
Earth is alive. The Way was a parasite. Heal the land.
Nomads, mechanics, hackers. The ruins are a market.
They own the mines. Shelter is the only currency.
A loose coalition wired through old fiber. The closest thing to law.
Pre-industrial subsistence. Their gods do not answer to ours.
Every NPC remembers. Every faction keeps a ledger. Every wall you raise will be tested. The surface is small enough that nothing is forgotten.
"We don't make oaths anymore. We make grudges. They keep better." — Old Network proverb▶ Enter the Surface