“United Kingdom?” Mate, that union broke faster than a cheap commlink in a mana storm.
Overview
In 2097, Great Britain is no longer a unified state—just a name used nostalgically by history sims and aging monarchists. What remains is a shattered archipelago of fiefdoms, free cities, corpo baronies, awakened strongholds, and anarcho-zones. Each town, district, or even neighborhood might be governed by a different force—druids, megacorps, gangs, ghost cults, or worse.
Officially, the “Throne-in-Exile” still exists, represented by a semi-AI monarch and a pageantry-simchannel consortium known as Crown Holdings Authority. But everyone knows power flows elsewhere.
Whether you’re shadowrunning, soul-searching, or smuggling, expect the unexpected—and pay your local toll-witch.
Key Themes
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Fragmented Sovereignty: No central control. Every region operates under its own system—if there is one.
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Magical Bloat: Wild ley lines, old gods returning, and warlocks claiming lordship over real estate.
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Corporate Feudalism: Megacorps don’t want to own Britain—they want to carve it into pieces and sell it back to you.
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Haunted Heritage: Ghosts walk. Spirits talk. The past refuses to stay buried.
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Gilded Decay: The rich live in retrofitted aristocratic splendor. The poor starve beneath rusted monorails.
London: Sprawl of Crowns and Ashes
“Every tower in London casts two shadows—one for the poor, and one for the past.”
Greater London is a paradox: half-sunken, gang-plagued, and leyline-distorted… yet still the beating heart of a nostalgic empire dreamed up by corporate simsense designers.
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Central London is operated by the Crown Holdings Authority—a syndicate of megacorps, simcrown influencers, and “neo-aristocrats.” The aesthetic is corporate-Victorian cosplay: top hats, tailored coats, and AR scepters that track your compliance score.
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The City (Square Mile) is corporate property. No taxes, no laws, just contracts and clean extractions.
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Outer Boroughs range from gang zones to eco-enclaves. The ley lines here fluctuate with moods and murders.
Weird Shit Around the Thames:
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The water spirits of Docklands don’t like being filmed.
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Tower Bridge sometimes vanishes between realities.
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There’s a kraken. Officially denied. Definitely real.
Notable Factions:
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The Towerbinders – Hermetic elites running Thames-touched skyscrapers.
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The Wigs – AR-crowned nobles who duel over sponsorships and tax havens.
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The Iron Company – Saeder-Krupp’s local “commerce guild” (read: death-dealing logistics).
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The Black Abbey – A whispered theocratic order tied to ghost summoning, tabloid sorcery, and possible necromancy-as-a-service.
Regional Rundown
Southwest (Cornwall, Devon, Somerset)
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Druidic autonomy. Roads dissolve into mist.
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Magical sites awaken, disrupting both Matrix and mana.
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Corporate prospecting is hazardous to your soul.
Midlands (Birmingham, Leicester, Coventry)
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Cybergangs and old unions now run as armed communes.
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Midlands Steel Pact (Ares-aligned) operates as a paramilitary industry protectorate.
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Rogue AIs occasionally declare sovereignty.
Wales
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A spiritual buffer zone. Ruled by ancient spirits, blood oaths, and the Rhondda Resistance—a technomagical liberation front.
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Dragons are worshipped. Sometimes fed.
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Foreign corps avoid the interior. Local ones vanish trying to expand.
North (Manchester, Leeds, Newcastle)
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Politically aggressive ork and troll autonomy movements.
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Crime syndicates openly hold mayoral seats.
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The Lake District is waking up... and it remembers the Fey.
Scotland
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Part of the Gaelic Compact, but really a Faerie frontier.
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The astral and physical blend in the Highlands.
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Edinburgh acts as a neutral zone for magical colleges, rogue scholars, and illegal spell traders.
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Highland access? Invite only.
Ireland (Éire) – See Separate Entry
Ireland operates as a separate elven-dominated state with its own problems, including:
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Seelie vs. Unseelie politics.
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Strict technomancer oversight (as ritual musicians, naturally).
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A running list of ex-British mages seeking asylum.
Travel, Trade, and Trouble
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Heathrow International is Zurich-Orbital-run. Expensive, invasive, clean. Not for smugglers.
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Thamesport (offshore floating arcology) is the preferred entrance for corps, diplomats, and those who don’t want their shoes wet.
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Eurotunnel is an open-air black market and cult recruitment corridor.
Shadowrun Hooks
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Neo-Victorian Extraction: Steal a peerage document from the House of Lords-Simsense Studio.
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Haunted Heist: Infiltrate a manor whose guests have been dead 200 years but won’t stop gossiping.
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Smuggler’s Rite: Transport awakened contraband across ley-warped Welsh hills while being hunted by druidic surveillance owls.
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Dual Reality War: Break a stalemate between a rogue AI ruling Coventry and a blood-mage baroness backed by Evo.
Final Word
Great Britain is not one place. It's a thousand stories, stitched together by fog, greed, and ghostlight. There is no master key—only local permissions, shifting truths, and whispers of royalty that never really left.
If you're brave, brilliant, or just desperate enough, there's always a crown to steal and a curse to earn.
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