Netherworld/Alternative Dark Dimension
Locations
Browse the public locations that belong to this world. Select a card to read more.
Public locations roster
Netherworld/City Of Anomalies
The City of Anomalies stands as the most formidable and perilous settlement within the Netherworld, distinguished by its unique genesis from a convergence of multiple dark emotions rather than a singular malevolent force. This sprawling metropolis comprises numerous sinister cabins constructed from weathered dark brown timber, scattered throughout an ancient forest and interconnected by a vast network of bridgeways woven from massive dark green vines and gnarled roots that span above a fathomless black river teeming with unseen horrors. The forest itself presents an unsettling landscape of twisted and contorted trees whose trunks bear uncanny resemblances to anguished human faces, while cryptic claw marks scar the cabin walls in seemingly random patterns. At night, beneath the glow of a purple moon, shadowy silhouettes of otherworldly creatures emerge from the darkness, their true nature and intentions remaining terrifyingly obscure. The forest's greatest threat lies not only in these nocturnal entities but also in an ancient radio tower constructed from the same dark vine architecture, which broadcasts an endless cacophony of human screams and disturbing voices that inflict profound psychological torment upon all who hear them. Within the cabin walls, residents find temporary refuge, though safety remains fragile—any breach of the doors or acknowledgment of the voices outside invites catastrophe, as the creatures mimic beloved ones and fabricate desperate pleas for aid. The City of Anomalies transcends the horrors found in the other twelve locations of the Netherworld, manifesting anomalies so profound and unsettling that they defy comprehension.
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Netherworld/City Of Agony
Netherworld, known throughout the realms as the City of Agony, stands as a nightmarish convergence of human suffering made manifest—a twisted amalgamation of a decrepit mental institution and an expansive cemetery that towers into the perpetually stormy sky. The architectural centerpiece is a colossal pyramid structure, its surface the sickly grey of decomposing flesh, marked with inverted black crosses that seem to writhe in the ceaseless purple moonlight. Beneath eternal storm clouds illuminated by an unnatural violet glow, the buildings emanate constant, anguished screams from those trapped within—both the living and the dead who cannot find respite or release. The city's horrifying distinction lies in its fundamental violation of natural law: inhabitants experience wounds that never close, diseases that ravage without killing, and suffering that persists indefinitely, creating an endless cycle of torment. The cemetery's labyrinthine caverns offer only temporary solace, their narrow passages breeding paranoia and claustrophobic dread rather than peace. Strange spectral red light bleeds from countless windows, casting grotesque shadows across the storm-lashed landscape, while the wails of the tormented echo endlessly through the streets. Those who perish within Netherworld do not find death's mercy but instead awaken to renewed agony, a curse attributed to the dark sorcery of the infamous Dr. Agony Marauder. The city exists as a monument to collective human trauma, where madness is the only alternative to unbearable pain, and escape remains eternally impossible.
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Netherworld/City Of Madness
Netherworld, known colloquially as the City of Madness, stands as a nightmarish manifestation of humanity's darkest collective fears and fractured psyche given physical form. The sprawling metropolis takes the shape of a colossal carnival and circus, dominated by towering black and crimson striped tents that stretch toward an eternally purple sky illuminated by a bloated full moon. Crumbling attractions and rusted mechanical wonders litter the landscape—abandoned game stalls draped in cobwebs, decaying rides with missing panels, and malfunctioning mechanisms—yet impossibly, they continue to operate with a terrible, unsettling efficiency. A perpetual crimson mist envelops the city, and those exposed to it for more than an hour begin to experience profound psychological deterioration, their minds unraveling into violence and madness. The most notorious attraction, a roller coaster christened The Danger, lurches through decaying tunnels lined with razor-sharp blades and lethal mechanical traps, its corroded cables still crackling with deadly electricity. The central circus ring stands as the epicenter of the city's corruption, where unnaturally twisted performers and grotesque freaks conduct incomprehensible acts that shatter the sanity of spectators within mere hours. The enigmatic Ringmaster Yagsa, draped in black formal attire and adorned with a porcelain serpent mask, orchestrates this realm of madness from the shadows, collecting the newly insane and recruiting them—willing or otherwise—into the ever-expanding roster of the carnival's macabre performers. Few who enter the Netherworld ever truly leave unchanged, their minds forever altered by the city's intoxicating influence.
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Netherworld/City Of Lies
Nestled within the shadowy realm of the Netherworld, the City of Lies stands as a manifestation of deception itself, a place where falsehood has taken physical form and roots deep within human consciousness. The city's architecture defies conventional geometry, with buildings of polished obsidian twisting and coiling together in impossible configurations, their surfaces simultaneously dark and mirror-like, creating a landscape of infinite reflections. The streets themselves are treacherous, constructed from the same gleaming black stone, and possess an unsettling ability to shift direction and elongate, trapping unwary travelers in labyrinthine patterns from which escape proves nearly impossible. What makes this city truly perilous are the illusions it conjures—the mirror-like surfaces of every building reflect deeply convincing lies tailored to each viewer's deepest fears and desires, showing visions of unfaithful lovers, hidden treasures, and devastating secrets that appear absolutely real. Desperate inhabitants and visitors attempt to destroy these deceptive reflections in fits of rage, only to discover that their hands pass through the mirrored surfaces and are drawn into the obsidian itself. Pale green obelisks line the twisted roads, glowing whenever someone gazes into the reflective buildings, marking the presence of those caught in the city's web of deceit. The Obsidia creatures, enigmatic beings of shadow and hunger, dwell within the black shining walls, feeding upon those who have been lured into the mirrors by their own susceptibility to lies. Above it all stretches a perpetually dark, sinister blue sky that casts an oppressive pall over this realm of illusion and danger.
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Netherworld/City Of Pain
The City of Pain stands as a manifestation of collective human suffering, a twisted realm where agony takes physical form. The landscape itself is treacherous—streets are carpeted with jagged glass shards and razor-sharp blades that slice through flesh with supernatural keenness, while towering structures constructed entirely from corroded, blood-stained metal blades loom overhead, constantly groaning and collapsing in a perpetual cycle of destruction. Interspersed throughout this hellscape are countless contraptions of torture and execution—rusted guillotines with ancient bloodstains, mechanical devices designed to lacerate and pierce, and arcane apparatus that systematically break bones and tear tissue with methodical precision. The mysterious entities known as the Inflictors patrol these nightmarish streets, hunting captives to subject to endless cycles of torment, carefully allowing wounds to heal before reopening them anew every twenty minutes. Those who survive such horrors long enough may seek elevation within this hierarchy by proving themselves to the Inflictors—a path requiring them to inflict maximum suffering upon other wretches under watchful eyes, then enduring their own brutal trials: mutilation of the tongue, ten ritualistic lacerations, and an hour of survival within the razor-sharp buildings. The City of Pain operates as both prison and proving ground, where suffering is the only currency and death the only true escape.
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Netherworld/City Of Torment
City Of Torment stands as a haunting monument to suffering, a vast expanse of desolation stretching across a barren landscape beneath perpetually grey skies. Once a sprawling military installation, the city now lies in decay—rusted artillery pieces jutting from cracked earth, abandoned barracks crumbling into dust, and countless animal enclosures scattered haphazardly across the terrain like monuments to cruelty. The very air carries the psychic weight of countless tormented souls, manifesting as phantom sounds that assault visitors: distant screams of soldiers, phantom gunfire, and the anguished cries of animals long since perished. A peculiar crimson mold blooms across every surface—buildings, equipment, and stone—its spores triggering vivid, maddening hallucinations in all who breathe them, causing travelers to witness ghostly silhouettes of soldiers and spectral creatures that never truly existed. As darkness falls, the torment intensifies; the woods surrounding the city become an even more dangerous realm where unearthly shrieks echo and abominations—grotesque fusions of human and animal forms—hunt through the shadows. Those unfortunate enough to venture into these forests rarely return, leaving only their anguished cries and translucent images that linger in the minds of survivors. The city itself serves as a collective tomb, housing the restless spirits and trauma-fractured consciousnesses of those who suffered within its boundaries, whether soldier, captive beast, or handler forced to commit atrocities. Every corroded fence and collapsed structure whispers of unimaginable pain, making the City of Torment a place where the boundary between the living world and the realm of pure anguish grows dangerously thin.
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Netherworld/City Of Plague
Netherworld, known colloquially as the City of Plague, stands as a nightmarish island formed from the accumulated remains of countless victims and the still-suffering afflicted, a grotesque monument to humanity's darkest medical horrors. The landscape itself is composed of decomposing corpses and the living diseased, creating a landscape of perpetual suffering and decay. Towering above this abyssal terrain are massive lighthouses constructed entirely from coffins, their walls lined with trapped victims still enduring the final stages of the most virulent plagues imaginable. Surrounding the base of these structures sprawls an endless cemetery of gaping graves that release noxious miasmas and constantly mutate new strains of pestilence into the atmosphere. The waters surrounding the island present an even greater horror—a murky expanse choked with corpses, blood, and viscera, perpetually battered by violent tempests whose acidic rain intensifies the suffering of any exposed to its touch. The only refuge from this biological wasteland exists within the lighthouses themselves, though entry is granted solely to those bearing no visible signs of infection—no crimson blisters infested with black maggots, no blood-reddened eyes, and no weeping yellow corruption. Yet safety is illusory, for the mysterious guardians in their black hazmat suits who patrol the interior are not protectors but harvesters, themselves rotting entities that preserve the clean inhabitants not for salvation but as a source of unspoiled flesh and healthy tissue to replace their own putrefying forms.
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Netherworld/City Of Hunger And Thirst
The City of Hunger and Thirst stands as a sprawling metropolis of eternal torment, manifested from the anguished spirits of those who perished from starvation and dehydration in the mortal realm. This nightmarish domain presents itself as an endless expanse of magnificent dining halls and grand kitchens, their tables laden with lavish feasts prepared by spectral chefs of incomprehensible skill. Yet this abundance masks a horrifying deception—the moment sustenance touches a visitor's lips, the food decays into putrid filth crawling with vermin, while beverages transform into blood, bile, and other vile bodily fluids that induce violent retching. Those who enter become bound to the tables by sentient thorned vines that ensnare their limbs and torso, trapping them in place. The only escape lies in consuming every offering before them or accepting death, after which mysterious kitchen dwellers claim the corpse to become part of the eternal menu. Some desperate souls attempt to endure the revolting meals and drinks, only to discover that surviving one table merely chains them to the next in an ascending nightmare of depravity and filth. The city contains approximately one thousand tables, each bearing one hundred dishes and one hundred drinks, making complete consumption virtually impossible for mortal endurance. Those who choose starvation over consumption often succumb to madness before death finally claims them, their screams echoing through the halls as a warning to future arrivals.
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Netherworld/City Of Suffering
The City of Suffering stands as the most formidable and nightmarish metropolis within the Netherworld, a sprawling fortress born from the collective anguish of countless tormented souls. This grotesque settlement functions as a hybrid institution—part penitentiary, part research facility—designed to extract maximum suffering from its unwilling inhabitants who are brought from distant realms or seized from within its own twisted streets. Prisoners languish in countless cells throughout the labyrinthine structure, their screams echoing endlessly through corridors before they are transferred to the surgical wings governed by the enigmatic Dr. Necromstein. The doctor, a visionary of body modification and genetic transformation, subjects captives to procedures of unimaginable horror, keeping them conscious yet paralyzed through alchemical compounds that allow full awareness of their agony without the mercy of movement or vocalization. Vast laboratory complexes branch throughout the city, containing specialized chambers for specimens preserved in crystalline vessels—failed experiments that Dr. Necromstein meticulously catalogs as reference material for future endeavors whose purposes remain known only to him. The architecture presents a nightmarish fusion of prison and hospital, with towering walls crowned in jagged spikes and guarded by sinister serpent statues that writhe with malevolent intent at every entrance. Dr. Necromstein himself dwells within the highest chambers of this monument to suffering, where he rests and dines despite no longer requiring sustenance after his own extensive self-modifications, indulging merely in the pleasure of his continued existence.
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Netherworld/City Of Fear
The City of Fear stands as the most formidable metropolis within the Netherworld, a sprawling architectural nightmare birthed from the collective anxieties of humanity itself. This colossal structure manifests as an endless gothic museum of horrors, where fear takes tangible form across countless interconnected galleries and corridors. The exhibition halls showcase an array of disturbing artifacts—corroded suits of armor, grotesque weaponry, and inexplicable entities that defy mortal comprehension. The most unsettling displays feature haunted paintings whose grotesque imagery grows progressively more disturbing with each successive piece, each canvas capable of instilling profound dread in living visitors. Throughout the museum, macabre biological specimens remain disturbingly animate: severed organs still pulsating with life, disembodied hearts continuing their rhythmic beating, and mutilated heads that attempt to vocalize silent screams despite their severed tongues. The corridors themselves are blanketed in pale blue dust-laden carpets illuminated by erratic, sputtering lights, while the walls and vaulted ceilings bear a deep purple hue that amplifies the sinister nature of every collection. Access to this nightmare realm occurs through black mirrors whose frames are constructed from bone and living, pulsating flesh—portals that can prove either salvation or doom depending on one's fortune. The City of Fear exists as a singular, labyrinthine structure, yet its vastness and the intensity of its horrifying exhibitions render it a landscape unto itself, making it the most terrifying destination throughout all the Netherworld.
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Netherworld/ City Of Greed
Netherworld's most infamous district, the City of Greed, stands as a breathtaking yet treacherous metropolis constructed entirely from glittering jewels, gleaming gold, and radiant precious stones that seem to promise unimaginable wealth to all who enter. This magnificent façade conceals a sinister curse: the very beauty of the city awakens an insatiable hunger within the hearts of visitors, compelling them to seize as much treasure as possible, only to watch their prizes crumble into worthless stone the moment they leave the city's boundaries. At the heart of this gilded realm grow peculiar trees bearing branches heavy with golden bars and shimmering silver, yet these metals too transform into rusted iron once removed from their source, perpetually frustrating the avarice of those who seek to claim them. The city's gardens feature magnificent sculptures and statuary carved from jade and gemstones, each one a haunting portrait of those who surrendered completely to greed—some merely decorative warnings, while others remain disturbingly animate, frozen in eternal torment. The most dangerous feature of the City of Greed is its central fountain, whose waters run black as obsidian despite being forged from gold and jewels, serving as either a portal of escape or a final tomb for the hopelessly covetous. Those whose greed proves most consuming face a horrifying fate: touching these cursed waters initiates a gradual or swift petrification, transforming them into golden statues condemned to remain conscious and aware throughout eternity, unable to move or escape their gilded prison. The City of Greed endures as a physical manifestation of unchecked desire itself, a living cautionary tale that warns travelers that some treasures can never truly be possessed.City of greed îs a manifestation of pure greed that humans on Earth feel Deep inside them and this city îs the result of the greddy ones that have a eternal thirst for the most precious things.
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Netherworld/City Of Rage
The City of Rage stands as a nightmarish realm born from the collective fury and wrath of humanity, manifesting as a desolate volcanic wasteland dominated by rivers of obsidian lava and geothermal upheaval. Towering structures rise from solidified magma flows, their forms twisted and unnatural—jagged spires and hollowed chambers that once flowed with molten rock now serve as unstable dwellings for the city's temperamental inhabitants. The scarce patches of solid ground throughout this infernal landscape remain treacherously fragile, constantly threatened by collapses and newly formed lava channels that reshape the terrain without warning. Interconnected cave systems honeycomb beneath the city's surface, their walls lined with glossy obsidian mirrors that function as dimensional portals, offering dangerous passages to the earthly realm or to other regions within the Netherworld itself. The volcanic activity remains relentless and unpredictable, with eruptions and cooling lava perpetually constructing new buildings and destroying old ones in an endless cycle of geological chaos. The hostile natives of this infernal domain have carved out their own civilization within this hostile environment, though their temperament remains volatile and aggressive toward outsiders. The very atmosphere of the City of Rage seethes with malevolent energy, known to inflame the anger and aggression of any mortal who lingers too long within its borders. This realm serves as both a physical manifestation of human rage and a self-sustaining prison, where fury itself becomes the fundamental law of nature.
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