Cybernetics, implants, hardware, chrome… it goes by many names, but in the end it’s what gives someone the edge over your everyday meat bag.
It was my second day on the orbital docks, loading the payloads for the new security net being built around the remnants of the planet I used to call home. Jack Finnigan strode past, carrying a crate that must’ve weighed nearly 150 kilos on his own with relative ease.
Everyone’s eyes tracked his movements, the company’s favorite loader fresh off the array from his performance reward that took the form of some high-end grafted muscles. Hushed conversations and barked orders suddenly filled my ears once more as he walked out of sight, taking place of the silence I hadn’t even noticed was there. The sound of tools working joined soon after as everyone decided in unison they were gonna be the next one to get those upgrades.
Suddenly shouts echoed from further back down the dock, everyone standing to get a better look. The rising hum of a front loader got louder as it careened around a corner, tipping one way then the next, bucking its driver out the side and gaining speed as it hurtled straight past us. Throttle must’ve gotten stuck.
The heavy machine seemed to select its target as it beelined straight at another new kid I recognized from the shuttle up. He turned and saw it, frozen ash white in that moment. Kid was struggling with his crate, trying to make up his mind up if he wanted his family to get the insurance money or drop the crate and live… in debt forever to the company for the price of that payload.
A blur, almost too fast to track, but anybody would recognize Jack’s face in the moment the big man shoved the kid and his crate clear, taking the full force of the front loader as it smashed itself and him halfway into the bulkhead. Toast.
The workers eventually and begrudgingly extracted the front loader from the bulkhead, not ready to see the leftovers of their hero. But as the gap grew, ‘ole Jack just popped himself out of the him-shaped dent in the bulkhead and grinned a toothless grin, blood trailing from his mouth set inside a twisted jaw. Guess the company splurged for the skeletal reinforcements too.
T. Sang, Dockhand
The way you augment yourself can be the difference between life and death on the streets of NeoTokyo.
About
There’s quite a few types of implants out there. Most are completely legal and some are not so much. Typically made for an industry-specific purpose, like bulking up on muscle mass to make loaders more efficient. Or jacking up a soldier’s reflexes on top of grafting armored skin to give them the edge in the warzone. That tech trickles its way down to the street, and you know the street finds its own use for things.
Commonly replaced meat includes eyes, hands, whole limbs, organs, and even hair. No one’s publicly figured out how to replace the brain but they’re trying, and they sure as hell can augment it.
There’s also implanted weapons around, although they’re usually reserved for vets that lost limbs and wanted back in the action. Those are definitely illegal unless you’ve got a license and most folks with ’em certainly don’t. Street cops don’t like not being able to tell if you’re packing. Either way, your local street surgeon likely knows a guy.
Cyberpsychosis
Go too far with the chrome, lose touch with your humanity, you’ll find yourself on the wrong side of the mental spectrum. In-game this is measured by your empathy, although most streetwalkers don’t have much of that in the first place. Once you’re over the edge, get ready to go for a ride. No one’s getting out clean.