"So, Author-san decided he wanted to put this out there for the hungry fishies who were looking for inspiration or what have you. Let me state now that he will NOT be continuing this in any form. This is strictly a conceptual experiment. If you come up with an idea that you wish to explore further on your own as a result of reading this, then congrats, it served its purpose. Feel free to directly copy any of the information below for personal use."
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It's called Night City, the place where dreams are made, achieved, and destroyed, sometimes all in a single night. A city that projects an illusion of authority, where the rich live a life of unimaginable luxury, while the poor manage to scrape by a living in the squalid neighborhoods they call home, forever trapped beneath the shadows cast from those glittering towers erected by the megacorporation's. Night City, a place where making a wrong turn down an alley might be the last thing you ever do, a place where those with even a modicum of survival instincts are packing heat, a place where your ability to make an honest living is determined at birth. A city that is so hopped-up on sex, drugs, and violence-fueled adrenaline that it will never sleep. If you can't roll with the punches, chances are that the city will chew you up and spit you out. And the only way you'll be able to stay clean when shit hits the fan, is to be the biggest, baddest, smartest motherfucker around. If you can climb to the top of the food-chain, ain't nobody gonna fuck with you 'less they got a death wish. But you're probably wondering; in a city full of AI's, killer robots, and machinegun-toting nutjobs, just how the hell am I supposed to stand up to that shit?
Implants' son. We'll take that weak-ass body you got and swap it out for something with some serious kick. God only gifted us with flesh as a temporary vessel for us to live in. Why risk getting your leg broken when you can replace it with a new one that can withstand a drop of twenty feet? Change out that arm for one with a built-in gun, and you'll never be unarmed again. Not like the bouncer can confiscate your whole limb when you go to the club. Hell, you can even upgrade your 'pistol' for a 'cannon', if you really wanna please the ladies.
In Night City, it's survival of the fittest, and you don't got the time to take the slow road to the top.
This is the common thought process of the residents of the infamous city. Genetics and hard work are worthless in the face of tossing out a few thousand eddies to replace flesh and blood with firmware and bionics. This is the way life has been for quite some time, and it won't ever be going back to what it was before. Casting off the shackles of the flesh is a standard practice, with hundreds of doctors and engineers running clinics in broad daylight that specialize in turning man into machine. But despite being such a lucrative business to be involved in, there is one major downside that nobody seems to acknowledge. An eternal deadlock between practicality and philosophy, where they spent so much time and effort figuring out how to do it, that they never stopped to think about whether or not they should.
'Just where does the machine end, and life begin?'
A perfect example of the Ship of Theseus Paradox. If you one by one replace every part of your body until nothing original remains, are you still the same person?
None of these 'cyberpunks' spend even a second considering the implications, as they are already shelling out cash to get eyes that can see in the dark. Humans used to be capable of so much on their own, but once they figured out the easy way to success, hard work and determination was discarded in favor of taking the elevator to the mountaintop. How long has it been since the tales of human potential have gone unheard? The stories of heroes, mere mortals who stood up against impossible odds and triumphed over adversity. Warriors whose skill and strength could potentially bend reality as they pulled off feats that you had to see to believe.
A swordsman whose blade could strike thrice in the same instant, a genius tactician whose plans could destroy armies in a single night, a band of noble warriors who marched to the mountain where demons had taken residence, the tale of four men who challenged a monster and his army, all to save a single girl. Humans were once capable of such grand exploits, yet now they have grown soft and complacent. A false sense of invincibility born of the replaceable nature of body parts, has caused the population to grow reckless. Why care about the risk of getting your hand cut off when you can buy another one at the corner store?
However, there are a few among the populace who cling to their humanity with all their might. They reject the concept of superfluous implants, managing to pull off amazing feats without having to rely on cybernetics for assistance. The people who show that human potential can surpass the limitations imposed by biomechanics. A mercenary who can replicate the effects of the Sandevistan, a nurse who has never had a patient die under her care, a sniper who never misses a shot, a swordsman who can cut a swallow mid-flight, a female assassin who can kill with a single touch, a warrior queen with the rage-fueled strength to literally tear a man to pieces should they call her the 'b-word', and countless others can be found in a secluded little 'district' known as The Throne. This fanciful place lies hidden inside an abandoned mall near the coast, where the residents have repurposed the decrepit building for their own use. Although it maintains the façade of a standard commercial megastructure, the place is a veritable fortress. Numerous 'unsavory' fellows have tried to engage in 'aggressive negotiations' with the people who call this place home but have always been sent fleeing in terror -provided the person they encountered was merciful in nature- and swore to never return.
This story is not about scientific intrigue or biomechanical advancements, but a simple tale about humans and the potential they possess.
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The premise of this story idea is to create a series of vignettes about the lives of various Servants who reside in Night City. Never planned to explain the 'why' or 'how', but that didn't really matter, as this wasn't meant to be about some overarching goal that needs accomplishing. A story that very much leaves itself open to interpretation regarding which Servants are in the city and what the motivations to their actions are. It could be as simple as Nightingale running a clinic or an altruistic mercenary enacting vigilante justice, or perhaps something more complex, like Da Vinci and Holmes investigating cyberpsychosis or Elizabeth and Nero trying to make it big as performers.
I never really had anything concrete planned, just a variety of ideas that could be viable for short stories that weren't firmly connected. The one thing I did settle on was exploring the concept of identity and humanity in order to shine focus on how unnatural all these body modifications truly are. Many would probably just concentrate on the positives of having a rocket launcher in your arm, but what about the negatives? You have given up part of your body in exchange for a temporary tool. I say temporary because it will eventually break down on its own and need to be replaced. Machines can't recover from injuries or damage like flesh and blood can, they require outside influence. Also, giving up part of your body is an irreversible process.
And although I haven't seen all of Edgerunners yet, I feel like the concept of this story would make for good contrast.
