THE RIFTVERSE FILES

Before the Rift

The galaxy worked. Trade flowed between star systems, cities thrived beneath shining towers, and silent AI minds kept everything running. Billions of Inhabizenz lived in peace — or something close enough.

Nobody questioned where the power came from. Nobody asked why the AI never slept.

The Still

Then people started dying. Not violently — quietly. They just… stopped. A virus called "The Still" swept through megacities without warning. Entire sectors fell silent in hours.

The media blamed rogue AI. The government — a shadow entity called GATHR — sealed the cities, cut the air supply to "infected zones," and declared martial law. Millions suffocated. They called it containment.

The Purge

Your crew — your Frenz — were framed. GATHR broadcast their faces across every feed, naming them as the ones who unleashed The Still under orders from rogue machines. The truth was buried under headlines and propaganda.

Three factions rose from the ashes: WARZ BOTZ — unchained AI burning for justice. VEXXEN — human militias hellbent on torching anything with a circuit. And DRIFTZ — the rest of us. Scavengers. Smugglers. Survivors.

The Signal

You intercepted a fragment — a corrupted transmission from deep inside GATHR's blacksite network. Three words, repeating on a dead frequency:

"THE STILL LIVES."

It wasn't a virus. It was never a virus. And whoever sent that signal… knew your name.