Albany New York

Albany, once the proud capital of New York State, stood as a symbol of governance, history, and progress. Its skyline was once crowned by the Empire State Plaza, its streets alive with politics, art, and commerce. But that was before the Fall—before the unraveling of order and the rise of the Wastelands.

Now, Albany is a broken husk of its former self. Skyscrapers sag like wilted giants, their glass eyes shattered and hollow. The Capitol Building lies half-buried beneath creeping vines and collapsed stone, a mausoleum for a forgotten era. The Hudson River, once a gleaming artery of trade, runs dark and sluggish, choked by debris and ruin.

The streets echo with a haunted stillness, occasionally broken by the shuffling of the lost. Zombies wander aimlessly—remnants of the city's final, frantic days—while nature has reclaimed what civilization lost. Coyotes prowl the overgrown suburbs. Deer, their eyes glassy and too quiet, move through broken shopfronts like ghosts.

Pockets of survivors might still hide in the bones of the city, eking out life in bunkers or behind barricaded doors. But for most, Albany is a warning: a dead city in a dying world, where history lies buried under ash, and silence reigns louder than any siren ever did.