Novaris

Centuries after humanity shattered Earth’s atmosphere in a final war for control, civilization survives within tiered mega-arcologies known as Bastions, suspended between the poisoned surface and the silent void above. Society is divided by color-coded genetic castes engineered for purpose — from the ruling Golds who live in orbiting palaces to the Coppers, Greys, and Reds who toil in mines and reactors deep below. In this world, Old Greg’s Tavern sits in the undercity of Bastion Nine — a lawless neutral zone where spies, smugglers, rebels, and weary soldiers converge. Here, rumors become revolutions, and a single whispered deal can shift the fate of worlds.

The world consists of fragmented megastructures rising from a scarred planet: The Surface (The Sunder) – toxic wastelands littered with ancient war relics and rogue AI war machines. The Undercity – the industrial heart below the Bastions, home to the laboring castes, black markets, and hidden rebellion cells. The Bastions – colossal vertical cities housing the majority of humanity, each ruled by a noble House aligned with a corporate or military faction. The Expanse – orbital stations and mining colonies controlled by the elite, where the upper castes manipulate politics from above. Old Greg’s Tavern lies at the crossroads of the Undercity — between the smog-choked pipelines and the access tunnels leading to the rebellion’s secret transport lines.

Races & Cultures Humanity has splintered into engineered Castes, each with distinct physiology and culture: Golds – genetically enhanced rulers bred for beauty and command. Silvers – technocrats, AI handlers, and scientists obsessed with perfection. Greys – soldiers and law enforcers, conditioned for obedience. Coppers – bureaucrats, traders, and keepers of records. Reds – miners and laborers who live and die in the depths. Obsidian – ancient war slaves from the poles, now mercenaries or zealots. Ghosts – unregistered humans living off-grid, considered myths by the Bastions. The lines between castes blur in the Undercity, where Old Greg’s Tavern serves as forbidden common ground — a rare place where color means less than survival.

The Ember Rebellion – a growing insurgency led by Reds and Ghosts seeking to tear down the caste system. The Bastion Wars – political power struggles among the noble Houses, waged through assassinations, propaganda, and proxy skirmishes. AI Reclamation – rogue machines from the surface trying to reassert control over humanity. Resource Collapse – dwindling energy cores threaten all Bastions, forcing desperate raids into forbidden zones. Old Greg’s Tavern is where these tensions collide — spies exchange data chips, mercenaries recruit for suicide missions, and revolutionaries plan their next strike.

What was once called magic is now psionics — an unstable remnant of ancient genetic experimentation. Only a few possess these abilities, known as Echo-bearers, capable of manipulating matter, memory, or emotion through resonance with decayed quantum tech. Religion has fractured into cults: The Church of Ascension worships the Golds as divine. The Children of Ash believe the apocalypse must be completed before rebirth. The Lantern Faith preaches unity through the shared human spark, serving as the moral backbone of the rebellion. In the shadows, rumors whisper of a forgotten AI-god called The Architect, whose digital dreams may still shape the fate of humanity.

There are no other “planes” in the mystical sense — only the harsh divide between the heavens and the mines. The people of Aetherion speak of the Divide: the invisible barrier between the privileged who live among the stars and the laborers buried beneath the planet’s crust. To the Golds, the void is divine — the “Celestial Plane” where they rule as gods of empire. To those below, it’s a graveyard of dreams. Faith and superstition blur where technology becomes indistinguishable from divinity, but no true otherworldly powers interfere — only men, pretending to be gods.

The Expansion Era Humanity spread across the system, terraforming moons and hollowing planets for resources. Genetic engineering created the Color Castes, designed for efficiency — Golds to command, Reds to dig, Greys to police, and Obsidians to fight. The Rebellion Wars Over centuries, uprisings sparked in the depths — Reds demanding sunlight, Silvers demanding recognition, Obsidians demanding freedom. Each was crushed brutally. The Golds rewrote history, erasing entire generations from record. The Silent Reconstruction (Current Age) The surface is quiet now, but rebellion festers in the shadows of every Bastion. Rumors spread of a secret network of lowColors rebuilding the resistance under new names. One such hub is Old Greg’s

Novaris' economy is built on resource quotas, not currency. Each caste serves the one above — Reds mine helium for White energy priests, who in turn fuel Gold ships that dominate the skies. The official currency, Solar Marks, means little below the surface. In the tavern districts and mining levels, ration tokens, fuel chits, and medical rations serve as barter. Trade routes snake through smuggler tunnels and cargo lifts, connecting the oppressed to black-market channels. Golds trade in influence and secrets; Reds trade in blood and labor.

Justice in Novaris is not blind — it’s bought. The higher the caste, the less the consequence. Laws are written by the Praetorian Council, enforced by the Greys, and ignored by the Golds. Trials for lowColors are rarely held; guilt is assumed, punishment swift. The lash, the vacuum cell, or the mines await most offenders. In the upper Bastions, law exists as theater — a performance of order masking tyranny. Below, in the Undercity, people make their own rules. A quiet barter of loyalty, favors, and silence replaces any formal justice. Adventurers — mercenaries, smugglers, explorers — are seen as both necessary and dangerous. They move between castes, bringing news, contraband, and unrest. To the authorities, they are a problem. To the people, they are hope with a gun and a price tag.

There are no beasts lurking in the dark — only people who have become monsters. The true evils of Novaris are born from power, pride, and obedience: The Sovereign Houses — dynasties of Golds that rule the Bastions like empires, waging quiet wars through assassination, debt, and bloodlines. The Praetors — elite military governors who maintain peace through terror. The Obsidian Clades — once enslaved warriors, now fractured tribes of zealots who serve whichever master promises them purpose. The Syndicate — black market lords who control trade in the Undercity, profiting off misery as much as the Golds above. The Reconditioning Bureau — a division that “corrects” rebellion through psychological rewriting, turning former freedom fighters into loyal enforcers. To the Reds and lowColors, these are the monsters — men who traded humanity for hierarchy. The closest thing to an ancient evil is the system itself, built on centuries of lies, reinforced by fear. Every villain in Novaris smiles like a savior. Every revolution breeds its own devils.