Progress is moving forward, even if it’s not as fast as I’d like. I’ve got two alpha testers helping me refine character generation and develop the powers and abilities system.
I wanted to share the setting file I just completed. I chose Miami as our location - I love the contrast between its sunny, vibrant atmosphere and the dark, Gothic elements we’re weaving in. Plus, having watched Dexter, I already knew the city had potential for the kind of atmosphere I’m going for.
Miami in Shadow
Here, the Magic City takes on a darker kind of sorcery. Neon still bleeds across Ocean Drive, but it illuminates gargoyles perched on Art Deco facades, their wings spread against the subtropical night. Palm trees cast serpentine shadows across streets where colonial-era carriages share lanes with gleaming sports cars, and nineteenth-century Gothic spires rise between modern condominiums like dark teeth against the perpetually storm-threatened sky.
This Miami writhes with impossible architecture. A Romanian castle, transported stone by ancient stone, looms over Brickell’s financial district. Venetian-style canals cut through Coral Gables, their waters black as ink under moonlight, while Little Havana’s streets host processions that blend Santeria with rituals far older and darker. In Coconut Grove, Spanish moss drapes from banyan trees like funeral shrouds, concealing paths to places that shouldn’t exist.
The heat remains oppressive, but now it carries the weight of ancient curses. Hurricanes approach the coast like conscious entities, their eyes holding actual malevolence. The Everglades encroach upon the city’s edges with increasing hunger, its waters concealing more than just alligators. On South Beach, beautiful predators stalk through endless nights of pleasure and horror, while in Wynwood, street art writhes with hidden meanings and graffiti spells.
This Miami’s Cuban coffee is served in cups lined with prophetic grounds, and the cafecito windows sometimes open into other realms. Santeros work true magic in back rooms, while demons negotiate souls in Brickell’s glass towers. Luxury boats in the marina belong to creatures that haven’t been human for centuries, and the cruise ships departing from Government Cut sometimes return with none of their passengers—or worse, with all of them changed.
In this Miami, every neighborhood tells a different horror story. Vizcaya isn’t just a museum but a living monument to dark bargains, its gardens maze-like and hungry after sunset. The Metrorail rattles through the darkness like a ghost train, stopping at stations that appear on no official map. Little Haiti thrums with power that makes colonial vampires tremble, while Overtown’s historical wounds birth new monsters from old injustices.
This is Miami seen through an obsidian mirror—where the subtropical heat bakes ancient cobblestones, where Gothic spires pierce a sky heavy with Caribbean storms, and where the city’s famous diversity encompasses creatures from every dark corner of folklore and nightmare. Welcome to Miami, where the darkness dances salsa and the monsters wear guayaberas, where every sunset might be your last, and every Cuban sandwich might be sealed with a blood oath.
