The Data-Hive is a heavily fortified string of equipment that is right next to the beautiful sprawling section of Middle-Weight. Civilians who are crazy enough to venture in these valleys and canyons of the Data-Hive, either starve to death after getting lost, or are brutally killed when found by the robotic defenses.
The Data-Hive houses secure compounds and worship areas for RAPTURE. It’s mind and body exist all throughout this unknown area. It’s swarming with automated robotic defenses. Every section has it’s own defense-grid, of varying sizes. However, enormous fields of technology are left blatant. Each sector is also guarded by a powerful Sector Champion. An enormous automaton built with the purpose to protect and oversee an area.
This region also houses a vast amount of factories, constantly producing equipment, munitions, and bleeding-edge technology that is then shipped out the outer sectors. Necessary in moderation and production, the Data-Hive is the practical brain of the city.
Ritzy and popular for meeting, Middle-Weight has become its own landmark in the world, and tales of the utopia spread throughout the wastes, not just the city.
Glistening, neon, and clean, the Middle-Weight holds the high-class towers and consumerist utopia, with new fashion and foods made nearly every second, accompanied by euphorias of entertainment. A majority of this utopia consists of the extremely wealthy and upper-class, popular celebrities and actors, corporation giants, and crimelords. Middle-Weight tends to be a beacon of hope to those in the Outer-Edge, which also seems to be a nearly untouchable dream to those beneath this daydream of a city.
Middle-Weight, as is in its name, is the weight that surrounds the Data-Hive. Oftentimes, the bliss of Middle-Weight can be overlooked by the sprawling Data-Hives. It’s neon sights and ritzy life, sometimes overshadowed by the authoritarian rule of RAPTURE.
The Middle-Weight Utopia is constantly watched over by floating technological aircrafts that immediately deploy police upon any reports of crime. Middle-Weight is full of narcotics and vice, not too much violent crime.
Lastly, is the gloom darkness of Outer-Edge, surrounding the glistening neon utopia of Middle-Weight. The smog choked Police State is surveyed by human agencies responsible for security, and even with it’s humanitarian like behavior, it forever perpetuates a near civil war with its citizens.
Dominated by the idea of technology, being chock-full of crime, and constantly drowning in the pouring weather, Outer-Edge has an atmosphere of survival and desperation. It’s economy is full of markets and ambitious civilians looking to make a bit of money, trying to reach towards the neon hope looming over them. The only real person one can truly trust is themselves, amid an atmosphere of treachery and constant crime. Many see crime as a necessary way to make a life and exist, and being human and having morals is a real challenge here in Outer-Edge.
The real point of Outer-Edge is to be the stepstool to produce the goods and hold the lesser lives, to make Middle-Weight the Utopia it is.
Takes by the Expansion Corps, the wasting away bodies of the Occupied Zones are loosely bordered, and easy to penetrate. However sprawl across miles upon miles. Surrounded the areas around Shiloh, the primary and most recognized occupational Zone. Is Y-2061. The Occupied Zones are a grimy and crime-ridden package of despair.
All the while pressing down onto its head is a devastating militaristic force. The Keitekina. Working as a police unit for the Expansion Corps, they enforce brutal totalitarianism and propaganda onto its populous. Attempting to create brainwashed masses that will be pushed into the borders of Shiloh eventually. Compromised four zones, each cut out for a different line of work or purpose. Entertainment, which prides itself on new games and activities that reinforce the love for the state. Keitekina, which is where all training and government affairs take place. Labor, where all various factorial and light jobs are, and lastly, residence. These four area are split up away from the biggest part of the Occupied Zones. With no particular name, excluding a nickname.
‘The Slammer’, shoots with smoke, and hundreds of patrols in every area. It’s buildings decayed, people only barely helped by the state, with rations and Keitekina ran apartments. Life is miserable, with barely any means of escaping, besides striving to get as close as they possibly can into the borders of Shiloh. All the while, every last civilian has to worry about who they talk to. As the BIS prowls within the shadows.
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