In modern society, where technological progress often marginalizes organic life, real pets have gone out of fashion. They have been replaced by mechanical creations, AI-controlled companions that have no needs or whims. These perfectly engineered animals need neither food nor walks, they leave no mess and no chores. In the ultra-modern districts of Ravenlock City, in chic apartments and mansions, they are another accessory of comfort and convenience.
But in the shadows of the Entropy Estates, life is still untamed and raw. Here, among the outcasts and the forgotten, real animals roam the ruins – remnants of a world that was once wilder. Dogs bark in the empty halls, cats prowl the rubble and rats scurry through the cracks in the crumbling walls. These animals are semi-wild, surviving by instinct and adaptability, free from the shackles of human expectations.
The residents of the Estates, who have adapted to the harsh reality, see in these animals a mirror of their own existence. The Reclaimers, who find hope in every germinating seed and in every cleansing raindrop, see these animals as allies in the constant battle against devastation. The Codex may view the animals with a kind of reverent curiosity, as part of the natural order that their own technologies could never fully replace.
The Neon Circuit Punks, with their love of anarchy and spontaneous living, might see the animals as the ultimate punks, the true masters of the unpredictable and independent. To the Fringe Traders, the animals are simply another part of life in the Estates, neither useful nor disruptive, just another factor in the equation of survival.
The Evolutionaries, who see themselves as the next stage, might see the animals as interesting but obsolete life forms, a reminder of a path they have long since abandoned. And for the lost, these animals could be companions, a touch of warmth in the cold of their existence, a reminder that life goes on even when everything else seems to be falling apart.
In the rare silence that sometimes falls over The Glitch Inn, even a stray dog or shy cat might find its way in, welcomed by a resident with a piece of dinner. In the warm, flickering lights of The Glitch Inn, there is a cat that has almost become something of an unofficial mascot. With its piebald fur and deep eyes, it has won a permanent place in the hearts of the guests and on an old bar stool. She roams around the bar, snuggles up to the legs of the guests and lets herself be stroked with a calmness that contrasts sharply with the rough atmosphere of the place. This cat, affectionately named “Pixel” by Sam for her patchy fur reminiscent of a faulty advertisement, is a calm pole amidst the stories and buzz that fills the room – a living symbol of the peaceful coexistence that can be found at The Glitch Inn.
