Cyberpunk

Introduction

If you've got any ideas for the story, and want to see them written, or want to write them yourself, send me a message or leave a comment in this thread. If they're interesting to me and fit the theme, then they'll possibly be added (Though it's more likely if you're offering to write them yourself). The option to start a second thread with another character in the same setting is also available.

You can also find me on Discord, either on the CHYOA server or directly (With a friend request) at Danielle#2722.

Advice, ideas, art, or just general comments are appreciated ❤️

(Game mode is recommended. Some things might not make sense without it.)

Prologue

You are a tall young woman with light skin, blue eyes, and chin-length blue hair. All your limbs have been replaced with bionic alternatives, and many other parts of your body have been similarly upgraded. You are stronger and faster, both physically and mentally, than any natural human. You have been working as a mercenary, taking on dangerous tasks for pay. You've been on dozens of missions, including some black-ethics operations such as assassinations. Until now, nothing has gone seriously wrong.

You were hired to recover data from an old US government laboratory in the Western Dead Zone, a dangerous area of electrical interference cut off from the rest of the world by corporate blockades for decades. On your way out, data secured on your comm chip, your shuttles stealth systems began to fail. Now visible to the automated defences, you were quickly intercepted with laser fire. If you were a less skilled pilot, you likely wouldn't have survived the crash. Instead, you were knocked out by the of impact.

Awakening

You wake to a blur of pain and nausea, finding it hard to think and feeling an intense pressure on your spine. As you collect your senses, a trauma diagnostic flashes across the surface of your eyes, indicating the damage you've suffered is mostly superficial, absorbed by your enhanced durability. However, when you try to move, it becomes clear that you've got bigger problems.

You're sprawled out on the control console, pinned across your back by a piece of the shuttles frame, which itself is holding some of the weight of the upper half of the aircraft's damaged hull. Any attempt to move it risks bringing down the rest of its weight right where you're sitting, At the same time, the thought enters your mind that everyone within miles must have seen you go down. It can't be long until somebody finds you

Fuck.