“When some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, and he looks you crooked in the eye and he asks you if ya paid your dues, you just stare that big sucker right back in the eye, and you remember what ol’ Jack Burton always says at a time like that: “Have ya paid your dues, Jack?” “Yessir, the check is in the mail.” – Jack Burton
You pay your two bucks at the door and walk in. Over at the bar there are the usual lines, so you decided to skip the bar-front action. Feeling on top of the world, you go out to the main floor, for another night of the club life.
At first glance, the club seem like a mixing place of all types of people. Then you realize that they’re all segregated. Posers at the back, trying to get noticed, your average punks in the middle, acting oblivious to their surroundings. There are Chromers bashing their heads against the walls on one side, while Boosters are on the other, looking for trouble.
And last but not least there are the ’dorph-heads, slamming into each other at the front, next to the stage, where the band of the night blares out hits of today and the past.
They say people like Johnny Silverhand and Kerry Eurodyne got their start in clubs just like this one, but you think it’s just hype. After all, people like Johnny Silverhand didn’t need the clubs to make them larger than life, they were born that way. It’s only Rock N’ Roll, right?
Out on the Streets of Night City, there’s stories going on – Street history being made. Whether it’s the Boosters in the alley, Nomads on the road, or Rockers in the clubs, there’s action and trouble everywhere you look. And the Trauma Team hovers overhead, waitin’ to pick up the pieces – for a price.
Here comes a taste of the City. In your face.