People of Night City - Small Immersive Encounters

WORKING WITH PATCH 2. 3!

A partial sequel to my mod Ghosts of Night City - Small Immersive Encounters. this mod explores the themes of resilience, loss, and the will to keep going in a city that never stops grinding people down. These encounters are subtle and scattered, snapshots of lives unfolding just out of sight. From a small grave in the Badlands visited by a famous superstar, to body parts stuffed in a cardboard box, to a man on a one-sided mission to expose Arasaka—these stories remind us that not everyone in Night City is a legend. Most are just trying to survive.

Focusing on telling a story each with every encounter, these locations are aimed to be integrated seamlessly into your game.

WHAT'S LEFT OF LIZZY

Each night, between midnight and 2am, Lizzy Wizzy disappears from the lights of Night City and makes her way to a lonely grave in the Badlands. Buried beneath the dust is a man she once loved—someone she later had a hand in destroying. At first, she visited out of guilt. A fragile gesture of remorse. But the longer she sat at his grave, the less she felt. Sympathy curdled into rage. Grief twisted into something darker.

Now, she returns night after night, not to mourn, but to revel in the emptiness that’s taken root inside her. She stares into the dirt like it might stare back. Silent. Motionless. Unreachable. Her bodyguard waits in the van, always watching, always worried. He knows this ritual isn't healing her. He knows she's not coming back from this.

If you approach, she won't even notice you. Or maybe she does, and just doesn't care. Either way, you're witnessing the slow unravelling of someone who once touched the stars—and now can't feel a thing.

SHE NEVER SAW IT COMING

Outside Mega Building Ten, tucked between garbage and concrete, Evaline sits cross-legged on a stained mattress, tarot cards laid carefully before her. A small box rests at her side, its contents pitiful spare change. If Misty’s Esoterica couldn’t make ends meet, Evaline never stood a chance.

She offers to read the future, her voice soft, almost hopeful. But people pass by without stopping. Some recoil at the sight of her inky fingers, as if misfortune might rub off. No one asks her name. No one stays to listen.

So she waits. Every day. In the shadow of the city’s filth and noise. Hoping someone, anyone, might care to know what lies ahead. All while never knowing what lies ahead for her. The cards speak to everyone—except the one who holds them.

That’s what they call him. Crazy Milo. Just another broken man shouting outside Arasaka Tower. Every single day he stands there, holding an old machette, demanding justice for a woman