New Carthage is a fucking shithole. - Graffiti
After the events of Zero Day threw the world into apocalyptic chaos, the city of San Diego clawed its way back out of the rubble and took on the name of New Carthage, destined to be a shining jewel of civilisation in the ruins of the old world. That is, if you are one of the corporate elite, a member of the new ruling class of the world that sits on a throne of concrete and mirrorglass, built on the broken backs of the destitute and impoverished millions who make up the real inhabitants of the city. For those, New Carthage is a shelter from the harsh wastelands and nuclear fallout, a melting pot of violence and desperation.
The class struggle that exists within New Carthage is more violent and obvious then many other so-called modern cultures. Giant fortresses of steel and glass throw long shadows over the rest of the city, desperate forgotten members of society living their lives underneath the might of the megacorporations. Street trash, violent gangs, deckers, and freelance mercenaries clash with each other and the corporate giants. Often, they clash between each other as mere puppets, tools of their corporate masters. What appears as a simple gang turf war is often a power clash between two megacorps, an opportunity to muck with each other's holdings and test out new products in action. Gangs form and dissipate like beads of mercury, leaving wide paths of destruction like Sherman's March. The dangerous streets of New Carthage claim victims by the minute, random citizens getting pulled into alleys or sewer tunnels, never to see the smog-clouded sun of New Carthage again. The downtown streets are markets of flesh and Illegal wares, conflict and business rippling through the masses in waves.
In the northern part of town sits the mighty hulks of old factories and warehouses. Hordes of corporate cogs march to work long shifts, the masses lining up to have their spirits and lives milked for the bare minimum to survive on. They trod past the gangers, the drug dealers, and the alternate members of the Darwinian struggle for survival, the millions of people trapped within the square walls of New Carthage.
Above the lines that mark the official Northern border of New Carthage sprawls Nirvana, a dark den of smugglers and crime. The drugs that supply New Carthage's desperate masses, that allow them to escape from their pathetic dreary lives, are grown and processed in the murky underground tunnels of Nirvana. The surplus of Dreamweed is exported through the docks, funding the black markets independent from the noose of the megacorps. Lurking in the shadows of Nirvana lie many dangerous and mysterious groups, from the Crosspatchers to the Massikim. Shadowy deals are made, flesh and technology auctioned off by the shiphold.
Below the southern walls of New Carthage is the battered Old City, unrepaired since Zero Day. The twisted remains of humanity and life exist on a day to day basis, easy prey to the downtown gangs. Hideous mutants from the atomic war hide underneath the streets, easy victims to those humans who seek to purify the race.
Even more devastated are the wastelands that lie outside the walls of New Carthage. Savage groups of nomadic wanderers brave the wastes, scavenging the goods needed for survival. Beasts altered by the environment prey on unwary travellers, and strongholds of those who do not want to be found exist out in the radiated plains.
Behind the bulk of the mighty 'Money Wall', glistening towering monuments of power and wealth display the opulence of the megacorps. Giant multinational corporations, the real controllers of the population beyond any remnants of government, fuel the economy that keeps New Carthage walking on the taught tightrope between complete anarchy and complete fascist control. The manicured streets of the corporate sector is a completely different world, perfect lives with perfect corporate control. From time to time, the violence of New Carthage breeches the Money Wall, causing disaster to the corporate crafted society. The corporate reaction to such a personal offense is usually even more devastating, but not nearly as devastating to the corporate bottom line.
Beyond the conflict between humanity and humanity is the struggle between man and the machine. Downtown ripperdocs slap in, replacing the weak flesh until the flesh is overpowered by the force of the machine. Hiding in cafes and cheap apartments, deckers scour the matrix, the internet hackers of the future. They spend their lives in the virtual reality of the net, scouring the corporate databases for valuable data to support their addiction to technology and speed.