The top is the most wealthy and least populated and is an almost perfectly replicated modern city with Museums, cooperate hq's, lakes, parks, government hq's and condo's for the extremely wealthy.

The next level is a massive farm. The whole disk is covered with rolling hills which are farmed by the cities criminals and other 'undesirables'. It's a massive concentration camp which produces all (or almost all) the cities food-stuffs.

Beneath that is the Sprawl, which is essentially a densely populated modern city, lots of shops, apartment buildings, thugs, drugs, guns, bars, clubs, and the like.

Beneath that is the Undercity. this layer is devoted to the in-house industry, military training and corporate storage. However, ever inch of land that isn't walled off and guarded by goons is tagged by graffiti and live in by the scum of the undercity. The Undercity is a gigantic shanty town built around massive columns that hold up other smaller plates that hold even more residences and industrial space. The streets are packed with people, shop vendors, the lights are dim (because of the lack enough working sun-lamps) and it's icy cold. (because heat rises).

Underneath the undercity is the Water reservoir and the shafts that dig and harness the thermal energy that the city uses as electricity.

Here are some thoughts.
Constant fear of plague to an almost witch-hunting level.
Have magic be similar to the occult is nowadays- most people believe it's BS and whatever but it's still practiced by fringe-people, No fireballs, but more subtle effects are able to happen.Like putting a pain sigil on a sword makes it do more damage, or cursing someone makes them have bad luck etc.
Propaganda! Propaganda!

Not everybody is down to live underground though. During the onset of the Great Winter whilst corporations and governments alike poured their attentions to digging and developing the undercities many decided to take the harshness of the coming winter. Most fled to the Undercity or died trying to withstand the incredible cold.

However some persevered through ingenuity and the sheer will to survive. Today the decedents of these hardy survivors travel across the icy wasteland braving the icy cold and unpredictable winter storms to scavenge from the icy ruins and to raid the many corporate resource caravans. (Guarded by an private army of mercs) Thus these Nomads are a force to be reckoned with, regularly capturing trade caravans through hit and run as well as ambush tactics.

>>5436244
Shouldn't the lower levels actually be warmer, because heat from the Earth rises up through them? In fact, if I were designing such a city complex, hundreds of years before your campaign, waaay back when it was first being dreamed up... I'd definitely use geothermal energy for everything. I mean, why not? We're digging down several miles into the Earth's surface. And we may not be able to count on solar energy all the time, what with the endless cloud cover that causes nuclear winter. So why not use the cheap-as-free energy right beneath the city itself?

This leads to a city with steamworks and boiler rooms and whatnot at the lowest levels, and oppressive, humid heat everywhere until you get up above, where the richer people can pay to have the temperatures regulated.

>>5436446
This also gives you a wider complement of environmental options, when contrasted with the bitter ice-age cold outside on the surface. It's unusual for a "permanent winter" campaign setting to have options for extremely warm, oppressively humid urban jungle-type environments. This setup would give you that uniqueness, and that flexibility.

The survival of the Undercity and everybody in it relies pretty heavily on 3 things.

The Sun-lamps which provide heat, light and most importantly allow for the growth of food. Next water, which is acquired differently for each Undercity. (the first example city is going to be Chicago, so water is pumped from under the frozen surface of Lake Michigan) Finally topsoil, which is harvested from the areas surrounding each Undercity. Each of these industries is dominated by a particular Corporation. Each Corporation has a standing private army and treats it's higher employees quite nicely. Corporate limitations have all but dissolved and whatever laws are set are rarely enforced against the people own the survival of the Undercity. That being said most are morally corrupt and tend to take full advantage of cheap and even child labor, they not above press ganging recruits from the slums to fill their ranks. What, it's not like anybody's going to come looking for them...

The way I see it, the cities would need to be constructed prior to the nuclear winter/whatever occuring, as building cities in those conditions would be extremely impractical, so an origin is needed for those.

So im supposing this is a capitalist themed build, corporations and such win out because they build the cities. Go for that kind of feel, relentless advertising and brand/corp. loyalty. (blade runner-esque) Some collections of cities favor one cooperation over the others, pseudo countries. perhaps there is an over arching global government, run like a stock market.

Have the above dwellers a little more civilized, a belt around the equator run by a communist like system that despises the under dwellers. The only way to survive is to be harsh and brutal, the citizens are jealous of the under dwellers (Moorlocks) and the communist government sees the corporations exploiting the resources during thaws, and as the corporations mining endeavors creep closer and closer to the boarders.

Cold war clash of ideas, taken to the year 2529

Also, if there is one guy who thought up the whole underground city idea, his name is probably pretty wide known, like edison or tesla

>>5436446
>>5436471

Your both absolutely correct.

Underneath the cramped and humid shanty-town that is the Pit lies the beating heart of the Undercity. Here the lifeblood of daily life lays churning in perpetual purification as waste water pours down the massive pipes from the cities above. All hours of the day and night corporate technicians sit in small booths monitoring the state of the purification systems. These booths are hung from the low and dimly lit ceiling and connected by a system of walkways on which the guards patrol, defending the water.

It is here that the Control hub and essentially the "boiler room" for the city lays. Around the edges of the pool six thermal vents release extremely hot air up into the Undercity. These vents are connected to six very deep shafts where Thermal energy is converted into harness-able electricity.

>>5436705
Sometime after the ice age began and the major nations started losing ground, there would've had to be a rather fantastic war over remaining surface assets, I'd think.

In fact, given the nature of billboards in the game, I'd say that Battlefield 2142 could've even been set a few decades or even a century before the setting. Relics of this war, like the Titans as well as the walkers might be of great interest to the surface dwellers around the tropics, assuming they're your typical apocalyptic 'Hey-kids-remember-The Road Warrior?' types.

>>5436705

Your right about the Capitalist sorta thing, that's the whole inspiration of the multi level city, each level is a lower class. ect. I agree with you on the Upper Dwellers should hate the Underdwellers, but I wanted to maintain a sort of fringe survivalist sorta feel with em'.

Nomadic people that survive by raiding old facilities for fuel for their snow-mobiles, capturing and ransoming the Terraforming (top-soil collecting corporate groups) back to the Corps. for fuel, food and weaponry...

Though I'd love to hear some development on these Communists eh?

Drugs that advance peoples physical abilities, but dissolve their brains have left people empty minded blood thirsty super humans.

I think if we decide to go with a nuclear winter, the drug aspect could be used in the form of radiation-suppressing drugs that the overworlders must take to survive, which alter them in some way as a side effect. The drugs would be a miserable necessity.

Ammo is hard to find due to it being post nuclear fallout (or is nuclear winter still fallout?), so most combat has to be done by make shift weapons and melee attacks. Grapple will be important. People have set up tribes that survive outside of the city and some are very hostile and others are neutral, you must deal with them between traveling city to city. Mutated snow animals (such as polar bears) are also a constant problem when you are not in the under cities. All forms of authority are either blood thirsty or unbelievably corrupt, which makes safes houses a necessity, raids a constant threat, and bribes an everyday thing.

>>5437031
No matter what level of the Undercity your on you don't have to look far for drugs.

In the Uppercity designer drugs, stimulants, dissociative and aphrodisiacs are choice and most are readily available from the many hired doctors the wealthy pay to keep them medicated, sedated and fucking.

In the Sprawl natural drugs like Pot, Salvia and Mushrooms are grown and peddled by many an entrepreneur looking to make some extra money. More exotic drugs requiring synthesis or extraction (lsd, dmt, ect.) are also produced, but in much more limited quantity. All of these substances are all highly regulated (if not illegal outright) and the unlawful sale/production of such illicit substances carry heavy penalties.

In lawlessness that is the pit all sorts of synthetic drugs are produced in mass quantity, Meth being the most common and most 'safe'. Otherwise the drugs produced in the pit have a plethora of different (often profound) effects. some claim that drugs from the pit can cause mutation and even the development of psionic abilities, though no legitimate research has ever been attempted.

>>5437174
Is that an alternate Spider Jerusalem?

ITT: a grain of originality get buried under the desert of mediocrity.

>>5437108
>>5437116

In regards to both the Outlanders and the animals they'd hunt/flee (depending). Givin' that the catastrophe was quite a while ago both Outlanders and Animals would be subjected to quite a bit of Radiation, as well as the harshness of the new climate. Both factors combined (even with Radiation reducing meds) has caused relativity fast evolution in the Surface dwellers.

tl;dr- Mutations/evolution for normal animals and people living on an iceworld.

>>5436893
India and china are below the permafrost lines, even after a WWIII they probably have enough population to constitute 50% of the above worlder population, what tattered government they run would likely be communist, very reminiscent of soviet Russia, rugged equipment, simple, not designed to the rigorous hyper-capitalist standards of the under dwellers, AK 47s with some 2500's attachments. basically, tanks no more potent than old Abrams equivalents.

They are the main foil to the capitalist collective, which runs like a European union, united in ideals, but free to pass their own laws and such. The idea of the nation state has passed, everyone considers themselves a citizen of earth, and sees the communists as barbarians. The corporations foster this one world nation idea, it makes it easier to run things as they aren't bogged down by actually governing stuff, however they compete viciously, private armies and such, they rarely fight directly.

North Africa and south America, as well as northern Australia are the home to pirates and renegades, who neither accept communist rule, or can afford the luxury of the under cities. the climate of these places is similar to northern alaska. 3 or so months of bearable cold 3 or so of cold, and 6 bitter cold months. Piracy is rampant in the Mediterranean and gulf of Mexico, mostly by sea.
The communist power is sovereign, but claims dominance over all above ground, regularly clashing with underworlders. throw some 1984 imagery in there, the corps. aren't afraid of the communists, they like them around, having a constant bad guy to fight keeps people employed, and keeps factories cranking out guns. in a sick perverted sense the corporations are becoming more and more soviet.

Factions as it stands.

Capitalist Collective; A string of sovereign City-States allied in principal and economically. (as many of the same massive corporations are present in each city) These City-States are the "last bastions' of Civilization and are effectively ruled by a privileged oligarchy of CEO's and "elected" political officials. The people of the Undercity are bombarded by propaganda, brainwashed and forced to suffer so that the rich man laugh and eat cake, but hell, at least their warm.

The People's Survivalist Something-or-another; After the war the surviving governments of China and India band togeather with a revolutionary group in South America under the flag of Communism and attempt through assimilation and strength of arms to spread the ideals of the revolution and rid the planet of the Bourgeoisies pit of excess. People here are destitute and poor, but hard working and near fanatically dedicated to the revolution and it's ideals.

Wasteland Nomads- Sovereign and fiercely independent clans of Wasteland wandering survivalists. Taking refuge in abandoned cities, Military bases, shelters and even Navel ships now entrenched in sheets of ice. The Nomads are ruthless pirates of the vast icy wasts of North America and Europe and they live hearty, adventurous although short lives.

Pirates of the Mediterranean/Gulf of Mexico-
Space Colonies?-

>>5437316
If China and India are below the permafrost line, then so is America and Mexico. Most of America, easily.

>>5437554
Just because there beneath the permafrost line, doesn't mean it's not going to be cold. This is of course Snow-punk.

Although now that I'm thinking about it, both China and India are/would be more than capable of digging undercities if they set their minds to it....

All around the world rushed past in a blaze of harsh synthetic lights, crumbling many-story buildings and the subsequent advertisements and sardonic murals that had been slathered onto most every large flat surface available, all barely visible from behind the scarred, cloudy and battle worn windows of the rail-car speeding downward into the depths of the Undercity. With a dull metallic roar, the long hanging monorail train-car struggled along its rails, emitting sparks and occasional shrieks, downward toward the sprawling cityscape below.

Thus far the trip had been uneventful and as it was just around midday the whole of the trains many cars lay barren and devoid of passengers, except for one. Upon a cushioned seat next to the large automatic double doors, just behind the no-smoking sign, sat a young man staring wearily out into the whirlwind of colors and lights from behind a fog of clouded glass and self emitted cigarette smoke. Clad a long dark trench coat his figure stood a sharp contrast to the overbearing florescent lighting that illuminated the innards of the rail car. Several rows of decrepit and severely damaged seats now lay, torn out of their resting places in their respective rows, in haphazard piles along the walls, leaving only the least of the damaged for passengers. The inside walls, that subsequently matched the outside walls, now appeared as something from the imagination of a maniac as an intangible amount of graffiti swirled together into an incomprehensible whirlwind of chaotic colors.

After a few moments the florescent lights above flickered and with a distinct shutter all went black as the rail-car roared into the confines of a crammed tunnel. In the newfound darkness that surrounded the rail-car the dark coated figure found his’ own gaze in place of the cityscape. He spent a few moments examining the intricacies of his face, with sharp blue eyes practiced for details lost onto others. His face was chiseled and sported crevasses along the edges of his wide, now cigarette laden mouth, beneath his sharp blue eyes and upon his defined forehead. Short, yet unkempt jet black hair sprinkled with thin strands of gray and predominate gray patch at his left temple, pared with his long thick sideburns framed his powerful, yet age worn face. Taking a moment at this makeshift mirror, he ran his large cracked hands though his hair and then set to readjusting his thin black tie, that lay loose around his neck and the rumpled and collar opened dress shirt that he wore under his long, warmth preserving, black trench coat.
As quickly as it had come his reflection vanished into the now at hand cityscape before him. A slight computer generated “ding” rang out amidst the empty rail-cars, alerting it’s near nonexistent cargo that their destination was close at hand, followed by a shrill screech of the breaks and a sudden change in momentum that forced the unattached seats into the wall ahead with a loud bang. As the rail-car approached the haphazard exit platform Jack Masters stood from his seat, took up his briefcase from upon the disgustingly kept floor and made his way, still smoking, to the double doors just ahead of him.

As the train stopped, the chime sounded once more and following the not-dented of the two double doors slid open, allowing a harsh chilly wind to rush in, past Jacks face, into the car behind. Purposefully and carefully, with his long coat in tow, Jack Masters strode out onto the awaiting platform, past the blustering winds and equally rushing passengers. Down a set of equally ill-kept stairs Jack descended the platform and the subsequent station onto the sprawling streets stretched out before him, all alive with activity and midday life. All along the bustling avenues, untold numbers of small market stalls, each housing a different assortment of estranged goods, merchants and colorful draperies suspended by thin poles rested being attended to by an intangible crowd of frantic customers, all haggling animatedly for the best bargain.

With a practiced and powerful stride, Jack weaved his way though the massive crowds of eager shoppers for a few long overflowing blocks of the market district, until finally the crowds began to dwindle and dissipate and their haggling roar die to a soft echo.

From a distance behind him, Jack’s sensitive ears were greeted by the elegant chiming of a far off clock tower, striking its grandeur chimes only once, marking the time as 1 O’clock as he found his feet planted at the doorstep of a familiar and welcomed building. Standing two stories tall and made of a thick brick painted a dull grey it was an uninspiring and a painfully commonplace looking business office except for its large sign that hung above the door that in a plain text read “Masters Private Investigation Services” however to Jack the sign seemed to read more like “Home”.

After a few moments rest standing upon his cold cemented doorstep Jack gathered him self together and pushed inward the clouded glass door that stood just before him, ignoring the large “Closed” sign what lay in plain sight. With a slight jingle of a tiny brass bell that hung just upon the top ledge of the door, Jack was welcomed home by warm dim light and the thin smell of stale cigarettes overpowered by both the sweet smell and crackling sounds of sautéing drifting from the kitchen that lie just up the stairs that flanked the entrance’s right. Jack laid his suitcase onto the cold tile floor and removed his trench coat, resigning it to its perch upon an antique coat rack, he had purchased from a toothless merchant some years back. The coats length, as to accommodate to Jack’s considerable stature, paired with a distinguishable bend in gilded coat rack, caused by an instance on the railway when Jack used the rack to stave off a threesome of brutish thugs, caused the tattered tails of the coat to brush ever so slightly upon the floor. Jack deduced that the massive bend gave the old rack character.

Producing a small tin, containing cigarettes, Jack lit up and breathed a deep, smoke laden sigh into the room, that was all but thwarted by the slow turning of the fan that hung from the generally low ceiling just three feet above the height of an average man. Stepping forward Jack took stock of the sorry state of his office, just a few feet ahead of the entranceway was a large low desk that ran, lengthwise into the leftmost wall that was usually inhabited by Maxx his bookkeeper, mechanic, informant, partner and daytime receptionist. Across from the low desk to his left a ménage of chairs and a low table cluttered with assorted magazines and periodicals stood making up the entirety of the offices’ ‘waiting room’. Stepping forward, Jack took up his suitcase and made his way to the right of Maxx’s overflowing desk to the door that stood behind it, labeled upon the clouded glass in a bold black text ‘Jack Masters; Private Investigator”. He jiggled the doorknob and applied a considerable force, all the while his hand emitting a traceable trail of wispy gray smoke until after a few moments hardship the old door creaked open into his office.

>>5437772
My name is Roger Smith, and I'm a Negotiator.
Best anime crossover with /tg/-content ever? YES.

Entering swiftly, flipping his dim hanging lights on and closing the door tightly behind him Jack tossed his metal briefcase with a loud bang upon his old and weather beaten desk, as he stepped to his leftmost window and ceased the caress of chilled air that poured in from outside. Before sitting down at his desk Jack took a few moments to blow his hot breath into his clasped hands, rubbing them together for warmth then exasperated and worn out Jack collapsed into the large overstuffed chair that awaited his weary bones behind his now briefcase laden desk. Taking a long drag on his solace he threw his head back against the back of the chair and reclined, raising his weary feet up onto his desk as was his custom for a his mid afternoon nap. Within only a few moments Jack’s head was growing heavy and seemed to fill with liquid warmth as his eyelids grew heavy until finally his consciousness did give onto their weight.

>>5437810

Fund it.

>>5437760

That's not bad work, though I noticed you were kinda repetitive.

>>blustering winds and equally rushing passengers. Down a set of equally ill-kept stairs Jack

7/10

The first thing that always amazes me is just how small they look, from the outside. The entrances are just a little blip of the metallic, the rectangular, the man-made, dwarfed in every direction by the still crests and waves of the frozen white desert, a sheet of crumpled paper with a square period in the middle. It betrays nothing of the miles and miles of humanity below- the tip of the iceberg, as it were. At least irony isn't dead. If you're dealing with a real major-league city, Chinese or No-Rad shit, I hear the entrances are the size of a warehouse, and you can even sometimes see them from one another.
I'm not dealing with a major league one here. The entrance is the size of an apartment, a metal bunker with few distinguishing outside marks beyond the standard barely legible remnants of painted security signs and nomad hobo signs. As I walk up to it, the metal strips that cover the wall facing me slide out in either direction from the point where they meet in the middle, forming my silhouette and giving me enough room to walk through without letting more snow and gusts in than absolutely necessary. A small blizzard is already underway inside as the door snaps shut with a noise like scissors. As I step into the circular aluminum chamber behind the doors, I peel the tinted goggles off of my face, my eyes adjust to the lower fluorescent light inside, and my cheeks are stung by the harsh cold even within the structure.

>>5438284
My drifter instinct, the reptile section of my brain, hates this part. An empty, stark room like this has nowhere to hide yourself, nowhere to blend in, no cracks to slip through. Not that it would help much, of course. I've been scanned and identified by the security systems since I came over the white horizon and within sight of the pillbox building. My dna, my vital statistics, and every item I'm carrying have been quintuple checked by now. I know this just as I know I've been okayed- the room's started to move. The chamber sinks down into the city with a soft hydraulic sound, moving neon lights on the outer section of shaft visible through the door reflecting pink on the frost-coated rainbow of graffiti coating the walls. As the capsule I stand in is transferred by a mechanical arm to a different shaft, sealed and insulated, and the information broadcast telling me about the decontamination I'm about to go through starts to play, I start to be amazed for the second time, as always.
You never realize just how cold you were all that time until you feel warmth again.

>>5438063
>7/10
I'd advise not grading things like that if you don't want to look like you're accusing someone of trolling.

>>5438482
eh were not on /b/, its alrite

dang it guys this thread was cool, I really don't want to be the one who killed it

>>5438564
For the record guys, I'm actually working on a novel in this setting and am going to run a Campaign using modified Dark Heresy to flesh out the setting.

I'm really appreciate for all the help and content you've all posted, if this novel ever gets finished I'm going to dedicate it to /tg/. Also, if there's any interest I'll post more of the setting info and material I produce it.

>>5438684
what are those guns from?