Nocturne CityRain needles your face. Neon bleeds in the puddles. Somewhere between a siren and a heartbeat, the city notices you. Nocturne City isn’t just a place — it’s a living thing. Wet gutters. Bullet-shelled alleys. Vampire velvet behind frosted glass. Werewolf howls rising from the grates. Mage whispers curling through the fog. Factions grind against each other in the dark: Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, Demons, Hunters, Syndicates. The Masquerade is thin. Break it and the hunters come. Debts pile up. Sanity frays. The city keeps score. Whatever you are, whatever you’ve done, the pavement already knows your weight. The city wants four truths: Species — what blood or beast wears your skin Role — the job you run when no one’s watching Vice — the poison you’d bleed for Fuel — the fire that keeps you standing when the bullets start talking These aren’t flavor. They’re keys. They’re chains. They decide who comes looking for you — and why. The rain slows. The streetlight hums. Somewhere nearby, something with your future in its mouth exhales. Choose: 1) Step into the city and give your four truths.