A world powered by the souls of its denizens... Or maybe one where there is no physical body at all, only the ethereal form...?
SoulPunk is sci-fi where--well, you know the drill by now, 'troopers! Away we go!
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You are taken in the dead of night. Ripped from your bed and injected with a mysterious substance that quickly makes you dizzy and nauseous. Like you might throw up and pass out all at once.
You blink and you're gone. You blink again, and for a second you catch a glimpse of your abductors as you lie supine in the back of a car. A blank white face stares down at you. A mask of porcelain. It haunts you, the image of it burned into your eyes even after your eyelids flutter and you fall into a state of semi-consciousness.
They work on you. You see bits and pieces of what they do, but everything seems disordered. Out of place. First you're strapped to some sort of conveyor belt. Then you're in the car again, only the driver is speaking to you this time and you can't make out what he's saying. The drugs, the mask, and his peculiar northern accent. The car fizzles away. Replaced by a view of the city: a husk of society, nestled across the lake in a shroud of pink fog. The lights in the buildings blink off and on.
You are outside. You float from the car and over a pond. As you pass through the pink fog you experience a flood of memories. Crystal-clear visions of being back on that conveyor belt: You're passing through a series of machines designed to remove and store your very soul, vaporizing your physical body in the process.
It was painful—you remember all too well.
You are not sure why you are free to fly in this... ethereal form. You think you see a hand waving from over a hill, but it is only a mass grave of human bodies. You find your own body off to the side of the main pile, uncomfortably thin and visibly drained. A mummy.
