Cy-Borg RPG (based on action trrpg)

Heavy black rain
Annoying drizzle
Howling winds
Sleet, slush
Corrosive acid rain
Choking humidity
Supercell thunderstorms
G0-dust winds
Oppressive heat
Bone-chilling frost
Blinding fog
Dead channel sky

Lilypond
Bugmosse
Svārta
Ports
North Central
South Central
Lake Gravel
Undersjön
Galgenbacken
Burnchurch Hex
Laketon
G0

There’s no escape from the City even with three ways out—air, sea and space. The Ports offer the illusion of escape from within a labyrinthine universe of steel, concrete and abandoned warehouses. A black market of imports from what’s left of the rest of the world, far from the prying cameras of the SecCorps (so long as the bribes keep flowing). Drugs and guns, clubs and fun; this is the entertainment district of Cy’s true citizens. Corps, mobs, VIP-celebs and street gangs vie for dominance, their gunfights drowned out only by the cacophonous hedonism on display.

What else is there? Royal West Shipping has the largest and most well-guarded warehouses; nobody dares challenge them. The rock-star themed pop-up hotels of Idol Coffins flare up like a bad case of VD, always next to the hottest new club. Word is there’s a salmon-painted door guarded by two ultra-chromed-up giants in brown tailcoats, allegedly leading to a restaurant so exclusive even the Guide can’t get a table.

This is where the rock fell. Where the bombs dropped. A post apocalyptic quagmire kept in quarantine by a massive wall monitored by auto turrets and armed drones. Entering the sector without proper protection is still a death sentence. If the murderous Nanophreaks,  pockets of nerve gas, or radioactive space dust doesn't kill you, then whatever makes THAT NOISE at night will. Most of the area is waterlogged scrap and warped steel, but some of the oldest, medieval parts of Cy still stand.  Scrapheads looking for antique junk smugglers running goods, cultists seeking their profane truth, and scientists looking for a way to profiteer from the fallout are the only beings you'll meet here. The only humans that is.

In this world there are very rare items one could call cursed . Examples include items such as a filament knife covered in pink algae that semi-liquifies a target upon their death, causing the user's body to reject a piece of cybertech, replacing it with an organic equivalent.

Another example is a Smartgun with it's RCD-Link torn out with a crude carving if a crossed out eye that, if the link is replaced, fills the user's head with a voice, granting advice to the most direct path to their goal, but has no consideration of consequences or morality.