The Edge

Life is short… the half-life of most Lancers and Edgers can compete with the expiration date on a quart of milk. Raw ability, natural talent, determination and skill can only get you so far before you run up against someone who’s enhanced with the latest top-grade wares and an attitude to boot. Tactical advantage and superior firepower just aren’t enough anymore.

Contacts and (if you can find any) trustworthy companions are more valuable than even the hottest cyberdeck or the fanciest full-auto blazing-death assault rifle. In a sordid world of mind-numbing drugs, totally addictive bliss-chips, blackmail, sex, credit and power the temptation to sell out is high. You never know when that teammate who has always been there for you in a pinch, is gonna pull a 180 and frag your ass.

The Edger, Lancer, or even Corpse who drops their guard generally finds themselves in a body-bag, sporting a toe-tag, with nowhere to go but six feet under… This is the world you live in, the world you wanna thrive in and these are the tools of the trade and the people who use’m.


Corpse, Lancer or Edger... your choice.



Data - Path