Before entering Dog Town, players have already scoped the necessary information. They know the general location and buildings, so they won't be completely clueless once inside.
Even though Dog Town is enclosed by high walls separating it from the outside world, so things never change.
The rich indulge in luxury hotels and bars in the north, living in a drunken stupor, while flashy cars line up at the entrance guarded by chauffeurs and bodyguards. anwhile, the poor huddle in the trash-filled slums to the south just scraping by.
The slum is located at the Long Beach Waste Yard, which was originally the largest construction site on Taiping Continent, full of building materials and high-rises. Later, it was incorporated into Dog Town and beca a shantytown after high walls went up.
Similarly, this seemingly chaotic trash slum is the most inford place in Dog Town. There's an endless array of pawns from various factions embedded here, and it's highly likely that the two laughing in the north are backed by forces bearing ugly and greedy fangs in the south, fighting for territory. It's a good place for fencing goods too.
Among the information players have uncovered themselves, it includes NCPD.
Players learned from Taiping Continent officers that the cops' gear is terrible, all refurbished second-hand stuff, outdated by over a decade.
The source is Dog Town itself. NCPD Chief Colridge has connections there, purchasing firearms in bulk at low prices for the officers.
Complaining doesn't help the officers; having any equipnt at all is a blessing as long as they can pull the trigger. After all, the money made stays up top—no way it's coming back out.
Sneaking through the main gate isn't too difficult; the guards on duty are just idling away ti, barely making any effort to stop the unfamiliar quartet. Their only response to seeing them ard was a mild threatening comnt before letting them in.
Passing through the desolate, ramshackle outskirts towards the center, the four feel like they've entered another world.
Centered around a dead tree surrounded by half-finished high-rises, temporary steel structures form connections, stringing together rows of twinkling bulbs. Surprisingly, this small area has ford its own bustling marketplace.
A faint white mist emanates from these houses, shrouding the space above the fourth floor in a haze, enveloped by a cacophony of voices.
"Pay up! You moron! No money, go back to your mom!"
"I'll owe it, pay next ti."
"There won't be a next ti! I'll have soone chop you up now!"
"Boss, your bullets are damp, they won't fire."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots echo with angry shouts.
"Who's this little punk trying to scam in my shop? Get out!"
The raucous street shouting is reminiscent of the Kabuki District, but here it's cruder and more blatant, perfectly fitting players' imagination of a no man's land.
But now they're hungry, no ti for other thoughts; after a big haul, the priority is finding a place to eat.
[Moth Bar]
"Good evening, folks, what would you like to drink?"
A white female staff mber in an apron, notebook in hand, looks expressionlessly at the four rcenaries who just walked in. Honestly, she's not keen on serving these folks.
Her years of experience tell her these four likely just committed a cri. One of them reeks heavily of blood, raising the risk that Netherworld Dogs or so other gang's thugs might suddenly storm in and start a brawl in her bar, wrecking tables and chairs and killing a few, with no compensation.
"Give a plate of stir-fried beef with scallions."
"I want egg fried rice."
Upon hearing these dish nas, the waitress rolls her eyes and coldly replies,
"Nope."
Potato smacks his forehead.
"Oh, I forgot, this isn't a cop's tea room."
"What do you have then?"
He peers through the kitchen window, spotting a dumb-looking robot.
"Robot cooking?"
"Yes, here's the nu."
For so reason, Potato, looking at the nu dropped in front of him, feels this waitress is targeting them.
However, he's in a good mood, decides not to fuss with a minor NPC, grabs the nu, and heads back to the table.
"Damn, it's expensive here!"
Chief is shocked at the prices, many tis higher than outside. Switching maps and this happens, just like severe inflation in those trashy gas.
"I suspect developers are deliberately draining our Orokin, limiting asset amounts."
"Just typical, don't overreact."
Brother Ni, unfazed, casually orders two items before explaining,
"Dog Town doesn't have factories, all food and drinks are imported or smuggled—if it weren't expensive, that'd be weird."
"Hey!"
Upon hearing this, Potato gets a flash of insight and whispers to the group,
"Can't we smuggle things in ourselves for profit?"
"What's your smuggling channel?"
Chief looks at Potato with disdain and contempt,
"You seriously think the gatekeepers are fools? They'll scan and count your guns and ammo, so how much can you even smuggle in? Think it's like Koreans smuggling rice into the Northeast?"
Before the server launched, many players staked out Dog Town's gate, clearly observing the number of vehicles that passed daily. Most were aid supplies marked with red crosses; there was no large-scale smuggling convoy.
"Hey, there's definitely a way."
Brother Ni tosses aside a tofu skewer bought from a roadside stall and claps his hands: "I'm sure."
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