Kenshi

The world of Kenshi is vast, ancient, and broken. You were born in a tidally locked moon whose skies burn with shifting suns and its nights fall heavy across barren plains and jagged mountains. The land itself seems wounded—scarred deserts stretch for endless days, swamps rot under stagnant mists, and ruins from forgotten empires crumble into the dust. Here, survival is no guarantee; it is a daily struggle against hunger, beasts, and blades. Civilization is scattered and fragile. City-states rise and fall like mirages, factions cling to power with iron and fire, and the wilderness between them belongs to raiders, slavers, and creatures that hunger for flesh. No benevolent hand watches over the lost, no prophecy awaits the wanderer. You are not chosen. You are not stronger than others. You bleed, you starve, you break as easily as the next desperate soul. And yet, within this indifference lies boundless freedom. With no destiny imposed, no gods to serve, every scrap of survival and every dream of power is carved by your own will. You may starve in the dust, or you may build an empire from the ruins—the world does not care. Kenshi is merciless, but within its cruelty lies possibility.

The world of Kenshi is as fractured as its land. Geography dictates survival as much as politics, for each corner of the continent bears its own trials, nations, and wandering peoples. In the Northeast, power belongs to the United Cities, a mercantile empire that thrives in the harsh deserts and coastal lands. From the broken spires of Darkfinger and the battlefields of Bast, the sands stretch southward through The Great Desert, Skimsands, and Heng, before giving way to the iron scars of the Deadlands and the storm-lashed Forbidden Isle. Here, the sun beats mercilessly, yet gold and trade flow through caravan routes guarded with steel. In the Northwest, fanatic faith and lost madness rule. The Holy Nation clings to its fertile valleys—Arm of Okran, Okran’s Valley, and Wend—where zeal burns as fiercely as the sun. To the west lie the wilds of the Western Hive, and beyond, the desolate Leviathan Coast, the Cannibal Plains, and the Floodlands. This quadrant is a realm of extremes: the piety of Okran’s chosen, the derangement of the Shrieking Forest, and the fog-choked isles where horrors roam unseen. The Southeast is chaos made land. Countless factions and splintered dominions rise and fall here, where geography shifts from Shem’s dunes to the burning light of Venge, from the swamps of Stobe’s Garden to the fractured shores of the Fishman Islands. Further south lie the cursed Ashlands, where whispers speak of ancient powers. There is no single master here; instead, dozens of factions struggle to control or simply survive in this contested expanse. The Southwest belongs largely to the proud Shek Kingdom, whose warriors carve honor in battle across Stenn Desert, the plains of Shun, and the rocky Watcher’s Rim. Yet even here their strength is contested, for the United Cities reach northward into The Hook, and the swamps teem with smugglers and brigands who bow to no crown. Across all four corners of the land, factions contend for survival and power. Four great nations dominate the stage: the Shek Kingdom, United Cities, The Holy Nation, and the Western Hive. Their shadows fall across the map, but their borders are never absolute. Around them thrives a patchwork of secondary factions—some mercantile, some militant, some merely wandering. The likes of Tech Hunters, Shinobi Thieves, Flotsam Ninjas, Swampers, Nomads, and Slavers weave an ever-shifting web of alliances, rivalries, and opportunism. And beyond them lie the hostile hordes, the fractured tribes and ravenous bands that plague the roads and wilds. Cannibals, Dust Bandits, Red Sabres, Skin Bandits, Shriekers, and a hundred more names carry terror in their wake. They are the constant predators of the wastes, swarming over the weak and testing the strong. Thus is Kenshi divided: a land without unity, where kingdoms rise upon sand and blood, where nations are but islands of order in an ocean of ruin. Geography and power shift like dunes in the wind, and only those who adapt endure.

Life in Kenshi wears many faces, each race carrying its own scars, strengths, and burdens. Though survival binds all in the same cruel struggle, culture and origin shape the way each people meets the world. - The Humans, the most numerous, splinter into different peoples and bloodlines, their adaptability both their gift and their curse. Among them, Greenlanders and Scorchlanders (anatomically similar to Greenlanders but are differentiated by their much darker skin color, glowing eyes, and silvery hair) walk the same roads but with very different heritage and traditions. - The Shek, horned warriors born into hardship, hold tightly to a creed of strength and honor. Their culture is forged in battle, their lives bound to the pursuit of proving worth. - The Hive, or Hivers, are a race of thin, insectoid humanoids bound together by a collective will. Their lives revolve around the Hive Queen, the only being capable of reproduction, who brings forth her offspring through parthenogenesis. Princes, soldiers, and workers each serve their role unquestioningly, for in the Hive there is no greater meaning than obedience and survival. To live is to serve, and to die for the Hive is no tragedy. Yet the bond is fragile. Those cut off from the Queen’s pheromones begin to weaken, their will fraying like rope under strain. Many perish, unable to endure separation. Others linger and slowly shed their bond, becoming Hiveless—“Lost Ones”—adrift in a world without guidance. Independence comes at the cost of identity: some collapse into despair, others cling to new masters in desperate search of purpose. For the Hive, such beings are anathema, a reminder of broken unity. Princes in particular recoil at their presence, often raising alarm until the Lost One is cast away. To be Hive is to be part of something greater. To be Hiveless is to live in exile, carrying freedom as a curse. - The Southern Hive dwells far to the south, in the Royal Valley and the stone cliffs of Greyshelf. Distant kin to the Hivers of the west, yet twisted by hostility and hunger. Their bodies bear pale pink flesh traced with white markings, but it is their nature, not their form, that sets them apart. Where the western Hive may tolerate trade or uneasy coexistence, the Southern Hive knows only aggression. Intruders into their land are met with swarms of Droneguard, and at the heart of their territory, the Queen of the South rules with absolute dominion. Their obsession is sacrifice: outsiders, Hiveless, even wanderers too bold to cross their borders are devoured or offered to their King. To them, the world beyond their territory—the “Faraway”—is nothing but enemy and prey. Because of this zeal, ronin or exiled Southerners are almost unheard of. Their Hive does not allow weakness, and freedom has no place among them. Where the Western Hive teeters between unity and fracture, the Southern Hive is a cage of blood and ritual. - The Skeletons, the undying remnants of an age long past. Neither flesh nor bone, they are machines of forgotten purpose, walking an eternal exile in a world that no longer remembers their creators. They carry memory in place of hunger, time in place of blood, and for many, the burden of centuries weighs heavier than any chain. Together, these races weave the fragile fabric of Kenshi. They fight, they trade, they distrust, and at times they ally—but always with the shadow of survival pressing close. Culture here is not luxury; it is armor, weapon, and reason to endure another day.

The land of Kenshi is a patchwork of wars, vendettas, and uneasy truces, each border drawn in blood. - The Holy Nation vs. United Cities: The most open and vicious war is fought between the Holy Nation and the United Cities. Their armies clash in Bast, where the Holy Nation’s zeal collides with the United Cities’ wealth and cunning. For now, the tide favors the Cities, their soldiers armed and supplied by endless trade. Yet Bast remains a crucible of death, swallowing thousands for the pride of their nations. - The Holy Nation and its Hatred: Beyond Bast, the Holy Nation wages another war—less open, but no less cruel. To them, Okran’s light shines only on humankind. Shek, Hivers, Skeletons—every non-human is an affront to their scripture. Those captured are “reeducated” in the fires of faith or worked to death in chains. This dogma poisons relations with the Shek Kingdom, though no great battlefield exists between them. Instead, the Border Zone lies in between: a rare refuge where wanderers, exiles, and refugees of all races gather, bound not by allegiance but by the need to survive. - The Flotsam Ninjas: In the shadows of the Hidden Forest, the Flotsam Ninjas sharpen their blades. Their hatred for the Holy Nation burns as fiercely as their desire for freedom, but every plan of open rebellion breaks against the Nation’s sheer military might. So they wait, striking in whispers and ambushes, biding their time for the day when Okran’s zealots falter. - The Shek Kingdom: The Shek are bound to war by blood and tradition. Their greatest enemy is not a nation, but a man: the Holy Phoenix, spiritual tyrant of the Holy Nation, who enslaves and torments Shek in the name of Okran. To dethrone him is more than vengeance—it is honor. Yet another obsession drives them: the Beastmaster, the mightiest warrior alive, whose very existence is a challenge. Among Shek, the path of glory is simple: to test their blades against the strongest, even if it means death. - The Anti-Slavers: Far across the world, on the other side of the moon, a quieter but no less dangerous force rises. The Anti-Slavers wage their war not for gods or honor, but for freedom itself. They strike at slaver factions without mercy, targeting above all the United Cities and their allies in the Traders Guild. To them, slavery is a crime without pardon, and the only justice is fire and steel. Beyond these major wars, countless smaller conflicts rage across the wastes—skirmishes between rival gangs, disputes over water or trade routes, and vendettas born of old grudges. No corner of the land is truly peaceful, and even the quietest settlement can erupt into bloodshed without warning.

The supernatural is scarce; the world itself is indifferent, and magic does not shape the land or its people. Power is measured in steel, endurance, and cunning, not spells or arcane forces. Religion, where it exists, is no mere ritual—it is life and death. The Holy Nation is the only society of note that bends its citizens to faith. At its center stands Okran, a deity of fire and light, the unquestionable symbol of righteousness and order. Every man, woman, and child within the Nation is expected to serve him utterly, to dedicate their lives to his glory. His flame is said to burn away heresy and illuminate the path of the faithful in a world consumed by sin. In contrast, there is Narko, the demoness of darkness, the shadow cast from Okran’s brilliance. Banished to a lightless underworld, she tempts mortals toward corruption, vice, and blasphemy. Her existence serves as warning in the scriptures: to embrace Narko is to embrace chaos and ruin. These doctrines have tangible consequences. Women in the Holy Nation, reflecting the teachings about Narko, are oppressed, their roles strictly limited by fear and doctrine. Beyond the borders of this zealous realm, most of the world regards gods with indifference or skepticism, living free of divine chains. In Kenshi, faith is neither universal nor merciful. Where belief burns, it can consume—and where it does not, survival alone is a harsh enough creed.

In Kenshi, the world is stubbornly material. There are no mystical planes bleeding into reality, no arcane energies warping the land, and no spirits or deities walking among mortals. The skies, the deserts, and the ruins are all as they appear—harsh, indifferent, and entirely physical. Yet the people of this world have never been free from fear of the unseen. Stories tell of shadowed realms, of infernal prisons, of the underworld where Narko dwells, and of divine light carried by Okran. Travelers speak in whispers of cursed ruins or ghostly apparitions, but such tales are human interpretations, born of superstition and survival instinct. Where other worlds might warp under the pressure of planes or magic, Kenshi remains unbending. The “influences” of other realms exist only in minds, shaping culture, faith, and fear—but they leave no mark upon stone, sand, or flesh. In this world, the supernatural is a story told by those who hope to make sense of a merciless land.

The Ancients (Many Thousands of Years Ago) Long before the current factions and settlements, the world was ruled by a civilization so advanced it seemed godlike. Known simply as the Ancients, they built automated factories, satellites, massive robots, and even space elevators. War came, however, in the form of the Behemoths, towering skeletons wielded as weapons of mass destruction. Fear of their own creations led the Ancients to betray their loyal constructs, burying them alive in iron and metal. What followed was the Chaos Age: calamities, plagues, revolts of skeletons, and celestial disturbances brought humanity to the brink of extinction. Legends speak of a figure named Chitrin who quelled the chaos, though whether this is truth or myth is lost to time. The Second Empire (1,000+ Years Ago) Centuries later, Cat-Lon and his skeleton followers founded the Second Empire, seeking to rebuild civilization from the ruins of the Ancients. While initially orderly, the Empire decayed into dictatorship: child prisons, violent crackdowns, and purges sowed dissent among humans and skeletons alike. In the northwest, some humans turned to cannibalism, creating the fearsome tribes that would plague the lands for centuries. From this era emerged the Holy Nation, founded by the legendary Phoenix, a leader who rallied humans under Okran’s banner and overthrew the old order. The Second Empire fell to rebellion and betrayal, leaving its remnants to decay in the Ashlands while cities like Bast and the seeds of the United Cities endured. Intermediate Period (100–1,000 Years Ago) This period saw the rise of the Hivers, enigmatic beings of uncertain origin, and the modern Shek, whose horned warrior forms replaced their earlier humanlike ancestors. Among the Shek, the legendary warrior Kral united the tribes into a mighty kingdom, only to fall in battle, his legend inspiring generations of raiders and warriors. The United Cities and the Traders Guild took root during these centuries, seizing power from the ruins of older empires, establishing trade, slavery, and new law—though rebellion and criminality continued to simmer in the shadows. Recent History (0–100 Years Ago) In recent decades, the 62nd Phoenix cemented the Holy Nation’s strict religious rule, purging dissent even within his family. Famine and rebellion plagued the southern plains, giving rise to Emperor Tengu in the United Cities, a ruler remembered for cruelty and oppression. Bast was ravaged in the wars between the Holy Nation and the United Cities, and countless lives were lost in the struggle for control. In the Shek Kingdom, the overthrow of King Shager marked a turning point: warriors like Bayan and Esata the Stone Golem shifted priorities from glory to survival, opening borders and embracing trade while maintaining honor. Through all ages, history is carved in steel and blood. Empires rise and crumble, heroes and villains are born, and the scars of the past shape every desert, ruin, and city that exists today.

Life is measured in survival, and survival is bought and sold in Cats, the universal currency of trade. Every settlement, from the smallest desert outpost to the bustling streets of Black Desert City, hums with the exchange of goods—alcohol to dull fear, food to stave off hunger, and tools for construction or cultivation to sustain life in a harsh world. Commerce is rarely boundless. Western Hive, the Traders Guild, and a few neutral factions maintain caravans that brave the wastes, but always cautiously, keeping near their capitals to avoid the perils of bandits, hostile tribes, or war zones. Merchants risk both life and cargo for profit, and many goods carry more than their price in risk. Weapons are vital and varied, but firearms do not exist. Citizens rely on katanas, heavy weapons, blunt weapons, polearms, sabres, and crossbows, each crafted with care and often salvaged from battlefields. Armor and clothing are essential, as wounds and harsh conditions are constant threats. Medical supplies are equally indispensable, for even the hardiest travelers find themselves cut, broken, or poisoned in this unforgiving land. Perhaps most remarkable are the prosthetic limbs, a legacy of Kenshi’s violence. Amputations are common; mechanical replacements not only restore function but enhance strength, endurance, and resilience, often proving more reliable than flesh itself. In this world, trade is survival, and every good exchanged carries the weight of life or death.

Law is local, uneven, and often brutal. There is no overarching authority; justice depends entirely on the faction, settlement, or individual who holds power. In the Holy Nation, judgment is swift and merciless, carried out in the name of Okran: heresy, dissent, or the mere presence of a non-human can bring fire, chains, or exile. In the United Cities, laws are stricter but pragmatic, protecting property and commerce above all, while bandits and rebels are often dealt with by bounty hunters or mercenaries rather than official forces. Other regions, like the deserts and Border Zone, are ruled more by necessity than statute. Survival dictates right from wrong; theft, betrayal, or murder are common, and the weak must rely on cunning or alliances to endure. Adventurers are viewed with suspicion and curiosity in equal measure. Travelers with weapons, skill, or wealth are both potential allies and threats. Many are sought after for hire, as guards, mercenaries, or caravan escorts, yet the same adventurer may find themselves the target of bandits or hostile factions. Reputation travels fast—acts of courage or cruelty shape how communities treat outsiders, sometimes opening doors to opportunity, other times to chains and death. In Kenshi, justice is a spectrum, shaped by fear, power, and survival. No one is truly above the law, but everyone must navigate it carefully—or be crushed beneath it.

The world is alive with danger, where life and death are a constant struggle against beasts, scavengers, and remnants of ancient horrors. Predators roam the lands, from the sharp-beaked Beak Things, capable of tracking blood across the desert, to Blood Spiders and Skin Spiders, lurking in the shadows, ready to devour any who fall in combat. Even the unconscious are not safe; the wild will claim them, and sometimes desperate victims awaken only to die a second time. Scavenger animals patrol the wastes, drawn to corpses with unerring instinct. Bonedogs, Boneyard Wolves, River Raptors, and Swamp Raptors are relentless in their pursuit of fallen flesh, while Land Bats, Gorillos, and Black Gorillos feast opportunistically, leaving little evidence of life behind. Territorial creatures mark their domains with hostility: Crabs, Leviathans, and the aforementioned scavengers will attack without warning if you trespass, making exploration a test of both courage and cunning. Not all beasts are aggressive by default. Goats, Swamp Turtles, Wild Bulls, and the elusive Garru roam peacefully, yet even these can become dangerous in a fight. Among the creatures of Kenshi are legendary “mega” animals, grotesquely large and far more dangerous than their ordinary counterparts. Great White Gorillo, King Gorillo, Megacrab, and Megaraptor are unique predators whose very size and strength demand respect. In gladiatorial arenas, creatures like Barnabus, Mr. Gigantus, and The Crabinator become living spectacles of death, tested against warriors in contests of skill and survival. Beyond animals, humans and skeletons alike pose threats. Bandits, slavers, cannibals, and rogue skeleton legions stalk trade routes and ruins, ensuring that travelers must always remain vigilant. Danger comes in every form—flesh, metal, and claw—and survival requires more than skill; it requires constant awareness, cunning, and sometimes sheer luck.