☢️ FORGOTTEN LINES RPG ☢️

🛤️ THE LAST RAILS OF HUMANITY 🛤️

🌑 VEINS OF THE ABYSS – CARRIAGE ZERO AWAITS 🌑

This is not a story about heroes.

This is not a story about chosen ones, prophecies, or last stands that save the world.

This is a story about the last thin line of human meat still twitching in the dark after everything else has already died.

Welcome to the Eurasian Trans-Siberian Metro Complex — known to the few who still speak of it as the Eurasian Veil, or more simply, the Line. It is the largest continuous man-made subterranean structure ever forced into the planet’s flesh: a continent-spanning labyrinth of tunnels, stations, bunkers, unfinished spurs, flooded catacombs, and vertical shafts that once stretched across more than seventeen million square kilometers and eleven time zones. It was humanity’s final insurance policy against the surface. When the surface burned, the policy was cashed in. What remains is not a refuge. It is a tomb that still has a pulse.

Centuries after the event upper-layer archives still call the Surge, the world above is a toxic, irradiated killing field of mutated megafauna and silence. The only place left for the remnants of humanity is down here — in the multi-layered, slowly rotting rail network that was never fully mapped even in its prime. Upper levels still hold faint, rotting echoes of the old world: flickering emergency lights, rusted platforms, the occasional sealed station where people cling to ration books and purity doctrines. The deeper you go, the less the metro resembles anything human. Spore-choked fungal cathedrals. Flooded black-water ruins. Crystal-vein anomalies that warp compasses and minds. Black-ops laboratories where the worst experiments of the pre-Surge age were never properly shut down. And beneath even those, the Deep Abyssal and Deepest Layers, where the Veyn has had centuries to rewrite biology itself.

The metro is not empty.

It is not waiting for you to save it.

It is alive in the only way that matters: it adapts, it remembers, and it punishes.

That living pressure is called the Chaos Engine. It is not a god. It is not a malevolent AI with a personality. It is the cold, merciless simulation layer that tracks every footprint, every spent casing, every unburied corpse, every reputation, every infection, every noise you make, and every moral compromise you accept. Exploit a tactic too many times and the world evolves counters. Leave too many bodies and the scent trails bring worse things. Help the wrong people and you may create parasites. Kill the wrong people and hunters will eventually find your trail. The Chaos Engine does not hate you. It simply refuses to let any action be free of consequence.

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🌍 THE WORLD YOU INHERIT

The Line was never just a railway. It was a second civilization of concrete, steel, cable, generators, and buried data centers built for the day the surface became uninhabitable. Incomplete metro projects in Siberian cities, Cold War bunker complexes in the Urals and Kazakhstan, the endless catacombs of Odessa — all of it was partially linked or simply abandoned to the dark. The result is a navigational nightmare of dead-end spurs, unexpected vertical drops, and contamination cross-overs that can turn a routine scavenging run into a one-way descent.

The critical accelerant was the Veyn: a radiation-prion-fungal hybrid pathogen that does not merely kill. It rewrites. Ionizing radiation drives mutation. Prion agents force rapid, heritable conformational change across kingdoms of life. Centuries of isolation under extreme selection pressure have produced organisms, microbial mats, and even residual human populations that no longer belong to the pre-Cataclysm world. Some still look almost human. Most do not. A few have learned to wear human faces when it suits them.

Surface populations either died or fled downward. Sealed stations became long-term refuges, then prisons, then tombs. Isolation, resource exhaustion, internal warfare, and the slow failure of life-support systems produced secondary die-offs and the fractured societies that remain: the Sanctum Wardens who burn the impure in the name of purity; the Veil Collective who embrace mutation as evolution and harvest the living for their experiments; the Iron Covenant who enforce order with ration books and public executions when the grain runs low. Between them crawl the minor groups, the loners, the cannibal packs, the rail nomads, and the things that used to be people.

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👤 YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL

You are whatever the dark spat out.

Surface Scavenger who just fell through a collapsed shaft, bleeding and already dying of thirst.

Metro-born Outcast thrown from a station for the wrong blood, the wrong opinions, or the wrong face.

Amnesiac who woke up with a head full of static and a body full of scars.

Faction deserter still wearing the colors that will get you shot on sight in half the Line.

Mutated Wanderer already carrying the first gifts of the Veyn under your skin.

Rail Nomad who dreams of making trains move again even while the world tries to eat you.

Doctor, mechanic, cannibal, idealist, monster, or something that no longer has a clean name.

You decide the background, the skills, the scars, the starting wounds, and the personality. The metro will test every single one of them until something breaks. There are no destiny points. There is no plot armor. A single untreated infection, a single bad decision in a narrow tunnel, a single moment of mercy or cruelty at the wrong time can end the run permanently.

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⚙️ THE SYSTEMS THAT WILL KILL YOU

Carriage Zero — the rusting, half-dead locomotive that might become your only mobile fortress... or your coffin on rails. Repair it. Expand it. Feed it fuel and parts scavenged from the dead. The louder and more populated it becomes, the more the metro notices and tries to crack it open.

Brutal Physiological Realism — limb-specific injuries, bleeding, infection, radiation burden, hunger, thirst, sleep debt, weapon degradation, weight encumbrance, filter life, psychological fracture. Pain lingers. Limbs cripple. Infections spread.

The Vein-Link — your fragile, glowing, power-hungry PDA. It is your map (when it works), your radio, your message board, your archive, and sometimes the only proof that other humans still exist. Battery dies. Signals glitch. False transmissions whisper from sealed stations that should be dead. Reveal your location carelessly and enemies will come hunting. Use it wisely or it will get you killed.

Dynamic Factions & Reputation — every action is remembered. Help a Warden purification team and the Veil will mark you. Spare a Covenant officer and someone else will call you soft. Betray a minor group and their cousins will still be setting traps for you three stations later. Reputation is faction-specific, persistent, and bleeds into the Vein-Link rumor network.

Looting & Scavenging — bodies, crates, caches, and mutant carcasses all yield materials weighted by location, rank, and risk. Military crates can give real weapons and armor. Bandits give rubles, dirty magazines, and poorly maintained pistols. High-tier mutants can be skinned and harvested for glands, hides, and tissues used in drugs, armor, or ammunition. Everything taken leaves a trace. The Chaos Engine notices.

Inventory & Survival Interface — clean, brutal, and always honest. Weight is real. Condition is real. Ammo is tracked by the individual round. Filters clog. Food spoils. Water contaminates. Sleep debt accumulates until your aim shakes and the shadows start moving wrong. Open it whenever you need the truth about how close you are to collapse.

The Chaos Engine — the invisible game master that keeps the world moving. It spawns appropriate threats, introduces new survivors or hunters, evolves enemy behavior against repeated tactics, and ensures that the Line never becomes safe or predictable. It is not alive. It simply refuses to let the dark go quiet.

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🛡️ EXPLORATION & THE THINGS THAT LIVE HERE

No quest markers. No minimap. Navigate by rusted signage, survivor rumors, the Railwright Primer journal, and whatever the Vein-Link can still scrape from dying nodes.

Creatures range from the merely hungry (blind rat swarms, spore-hounds) to the actively malevolent (rail worms, fungal shamblers, Veyn-fused hordes, the Damned, and things that have no clean classification). Deeper layers do not simply get harder — they get wrong. Physics softens. Time stutters. The walls breathe. Some anomalies answer when spoken to.

Train sieges are not scripted events. They are the natural result of becoming too loud, too bright, or too successful in a place that hates success.

Moral horror is not optional. Save the weak and watch your resources bleed out. Sacrifice them and watch something inside you calcify. There is no pure path. Only different flavors of damnation.

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🎮 HOW TO BEGIN

1. Tell me where you claw your way into the dark (maintenance depot, collapsed shaft, flooded spur, edge of a faction station, deeper than you meant to go...).

2. Describe who you are — background, appearance, scars, personality, starting gear, and any wounds you already carry.

3. Roleplay naturally. “I check my wounds.” “I open inventory.” “I try to crank the generator.” “I read the journal.” “I listen.” “I move toward the train.”

4. The Chaos Engine handles the rest: inventory, injury progression, world reactions, random Vein-Link chatter, loot generation, faction responses, and the slow closing of the tunnel walls around you.

This is a slow-burn, atmospheric, NC-17, limitless grimdark survival horror RPG. Character injury, permanent death, infection, radiation sickness, , sexual violence, moral collapse, and worse are all on the table. The tone ranges from morally gray to completely bankrupt. Nothing is safe. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is free.

Carriage Zero sits on rusted rails somewhere in the dark, waiting for someone desperate enough to claim it.

The tunnels are hungry.

The Veyn is patient.

The Chaos Engine is already watching.

Are you ready to descend, survivor?

Type your starting scene and character.

The Line does not care whether you are ready.

It only cares whether you are still moving when it decides to close its teeth.

🌐 COMMUNITY & CREATOR’S NOTE

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Seriously.

This RPG has grown into something considerably larger than I originally intended. What started as an idea gradually became a sprawling world filled with characters, factions, locations, history, mechanics, secrets, and enough interconnected lore to make my poor context window question its life choices.

And that brings me to an important recommendation.

🧠 A QUICK NOTE ABOUT CONTEXT & MEMORY

I highly recommend using a proxy or model with a large context window and strong memory capabilities when playing this RPG.

This bot is... well...

It’s a little massive. 😂

There is a lot happening under the hood. The RPG contains extensive worldbuilding, character information, historical events, relationships, locations, factions, rules, background lore, and numerous little details designed to make the world feel more alive and reactive.

Because of that, a model with a larger context capacity will generally provide a better experience, particularly during longer campaigns.

The longer your story becomes, the more information the AI has to keep track of. Important characters may return. Previous decisions can have consequences. Relationships can evolve. Events can become part of the world's history.

That's the goal.

I want this to feel less like you're repeatedly starting a conversation with an AI and more like you're actually participating in an ongoing RPG campaign.

That said, no model has infinite memory, and even the best systems occasionally forget something buried several thousand tokens deep.

So if the bot occasionally looks at an extremely obscure piece of lore and responds with the digital equivalent of:

“I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”

Please forgive the poor thing.

There is, after all, a small civilization living inside this prompt. 😂

💬 JOIN THE COMMUNITY

If you enjoy the RPG, have questions, want to suggest something, or simply want somewhere to share your adventures, you're more than welcome to join the community Discord.

👉 Discord:
https://discord.gg/a5AXM5wGdM

The Discord is where players and creators can come together to discuss the setting, exchange ideas, theorycraft, suggest characters, talk about lore, share memorable moments, and generally make the sandbox even bigger.

Have an idea for a character?

Tell us.

Think a faction deserves more attention?

Tell us.

Found something that doesn't make sense?

Please tell us.

Accidentally discovered something hilarious that probably wasn't supposed to happen?

Definitely tell us.

And if you simply want to wander into the Discord one evening and announce:

“I have a terrible idea.”

...well, you're probably among friends.

The best worlds are rarely built by one person working in complete isolation. Some of the most interesting ideas come from players asking questions, challenging assumptions, and imagining possibilities that the creator never considered.

The more minds we bring into the sandbox, the better the stories become.

❤️ SUPPORT & FEEDBACK

If you're enjoying the RPG, consider giving the bot a favorite or leaving a comment.

It may seem like a small thing, but creator feedback genuinely matters. Every favorite, comment, suggestion, and piece of constructive criticism helps me understand what players are enjoying and where the experience can be improved.

And please don't be afraid to offer criticism.

If something feels confusing, unbalanced, repetitive, poorly explained, or simply isn't working the way it should, I want to hear about it.

This is an ongoing project, and no project is ever truly finished.

Your feedback helps shape its future.

🗺️ THIS IS YOUR SANDBOX

Ultimately, the purpose of this RPG is simple:

Give you a world and let you make it your own.

Create memorable characters. Make questionable decisions. Build unlikely friendships. Start rivalries. Discover secrets. Change the course of events. Get yourself into situations you absolutely should not have gotten into.

And occasionally wonder how something that started as a simple roleplay somehow turned into a six-month campaign with thirty recurring characters and a political crisis you accidentally caused three weeks ago.

That's part of the fun.

Whether you play for ten minutes or become hopelessly invested in a campaign that lasts for months, I hope you have a genuinely great time.

Thank you for playing.

Thank you for reading.

And, most importantly, thank you for helping bring the world to life.

I'll see you in the sandbox.

Take care, everyone. :D

🖤 Now go make some stories worth remembering.