The Fourth Corporate war
The Fourth Corporate War
The IHAG conflict
much like the ones before it, as a financial dispute between massive corporate entities fighting for control over resources and markets. In early 2021, the underwater technology and shipping megacorp IHAG collapsed into bankruptcy. IHAG had been a cornerstone of deep-sea transport, infrastructure, and commerce. Its collapse sent shockwaves through the global economic structure—particularly the underwater and maritime sectors, which had grown critically important due to resource scarcity and overland instability. The immediate vacuum created by IHAG’s fall ignited a brutal corporate struggle between two of the world's leading aquacorps: CINO, based primarily in Europe, and OTEC, with ties to American and Pacific interests. Both companies moved quickly to try and acquire IHAG's valuable remnants—its patents, facilities, autonomous underwater vehicles, mineral rights, and secret technologies. At first, the war looked like any other standard corporate acquisition battle. CINO and OTEC both engaged in aggressive economic warfare, stock market manipulations, blackmail, and strategic lobbying in international courts to try and sway influence in their favor. However, the two were too evenly matched in terms of assets, funding, and influence. By late 2021, the acquisition war reached a stalemate. OTEC, seeking to gain the upper hand, deployed a strike team to intercept a convoy of CINO negotiators en route to an IHAG shareholders meeting. The convoy was attacked, and the meeting was disrupted. In retaliation, CINO unleashed a group of elite netrunners who successfully infiltrated and disrupted multiple global financial exchanges, temporarily crashing the value of OTEC stock. These tit-for-tat operations marked the transition of the conflict from purely financial to paramilitary and cyber warfare. Unbeknownst to either side, the Eurobank—a powerful transnational financial institution—was orchestrating events behind the scenes. Its goal was manipulation and destabilization. By encouraging the two rivals to drive themselves into massive debt through escalating costs, Eurobank planned to swoop in, acquire the fractured remains of IHAG, OTEC, and CINO, and establish Europe as the global center for maritime technology and control. This manipulation was careful and covert, ensuring that neither OTEC nor CINO realized they were being played. As tensions rose, more and more global attention turned toward the conflict. Shipping and ocean-based industries had become foundational to the world's economy. The conflict threatened not just the companies involved but entire international trade routes, oceanic mining operations, and aquatic food supplies. By late 2021, what had started as an economic struggle now loomed as a potential global crisis. When a full year of skirmishes and economic attacks failed to produce a clear victor, both corporations escalated again. They reached out to two of the largest private military providers in the world. OTEC turned to Militech, the American super-corporation specializing in arms manufacturing and private military contracting. In response, CINO hired the Arasaka Corporation, Japan’s most powerful megacorp, known for its cutting-edge technology, espionage, and elite security forces. Initially, neither Militech nor Arasaka saw this as anything more than a lucrative business opportunity. Their involvement was framed as logistical, protective, and non-escalatory—providing guards, technology, and operational support to help their respective clients secure key IHAG assets. Yet the long-standing corporate rivalry and national pride behind both megacorps made a neutral stance impossible to maintain. In late 2021, a turning point occurred when a CINO strike force, accompanied by an Arasaka advisor not wearing any corporate identification, infiltrated an OTEC facility. Militech security personnel opened fire, killing the advisor, under the assumption she was an enemy operative. The event sparked outrage within Arasaka and was widely condemned as an assassination. In response, Arasaka automated torpedo platforms destroyed a Militech vessel covertly supplying OTEC forces through what were considered CINO-controlled waters. Though officially labeled a "mistake," the attacks were clear signs that the war had outgrown its corporate roots. By early 2022, the fallout from these provocations spread. World governments, concerned about the conflict’s effects on international waters, began seizing properties owned by OTEC, IHAG, and CINO—particularly those in isolated or vulnerable areas. These seizures were claimed to be acts of protective custody, but both OTEC and CINO viewed them as hostile. Confrontations followed. Security forces clashed with government troops in disputed waters and port facilities. Dozens were killed, and ships were sunk. On February 22, 2022, international pressure reached its peak. With the threat of a broader global war growing and economic panic setting in, governments and neutral megacorps pushed OTEC and CINO into formal negotiations. These talks officially marked the end of the war between the two aquacorps. However, the true danger remained unresolved. Arasaka and Militech, having escalated far beyond their initial contracts, refused to stand down. The accumulated grievances, ranging from sabotaged operations to murdered advisors and the destruction of key infrastructure, had become too personal, too deeply rooted. Though CINO and OTEC stepped away from the conflict, the two security megacorps remained locked in a bitter and intensifying shadow war. What had started as a limited acquisition struggle now evolved into a global corporate conflict with the power and scope of a world war. And it was only just beginning.Arasaka vs Militech
The Shadow War began quietly but with immense consequences. On February 20, 2022, EuroBank finally realized its manipulations had spiraled out of control. What was supposed to be a contained economic conflict between OTEC and CINO had escalated into a full-scale proxy war between two of the most powerful security megacorps on the planet: Arasaka and Militech. Hoping to de-escalate the crisis before it sparked an uncontrollable global disaster, EuroBank pushed for peace negotiations between OTEC and CINO. Though Arasaka and Militech both opposed any sort of de-escalation—viewing it as a threat to their profit margins and influence—on February 22, both OTEC and CINO officially canceled their contracts with the two military megacorps. Five days later, on February 27, a formal peace accord was signed between the ocean-based corporations, ending their part of the Fourth Corporate War. But Arasaka and Militech were not finished. The war had grown beyond their original corporate contracts—it was now personal, ideological, and a contest for global supremacy. On March 6, Arasaka revealed the next evolution of digital warfare by testing Soulkiller 2.5. They planted the new version of the deadly program in the vehicular smartlink processor of a high-ranking Militech executive. Once the program activated, his consciousness was forcibly uploaded and trapped. The digital interrogation of his mind revealed the location of a key Militech office in Night City, which was subsequently assaulted by Arasaka forces. This single strike triggered three months of sustained, covert warfare—assassinations, sabotage, cyber raids, and remote bombings between the two corporations’ black ops teams across the globe. By the end of May 2022, the covert war exploded into a full-blown open conflict. On June 9, Arasaka forces attacked a Militech manufacturing facility in Virginia. In retaliation, Militech-backed mercenaries infiltrated and massacred Arasaka employees at a facility in Yokohama. By mid-July, this pattern had become routine. Strikes were happening daily. No region was spared. Earthbound facilities were attacked alongside orbital stations. What further destabilized the world was the emergence of an unexplained corruption in the Net—known later as the DataKrash. Numbers were scrambled, digital systems failed or went rogue, and entire databanks were wiped or rewritten without human interference. This strange and seemingly random data degradation marked the beginning of a digital collapse. Space, already a volatile frontier, quickly became a warzone. By summer, both Arasaka and Militech began targeting orbital stations and shipping lanes. Space travel became nearly impossible due to unpredictable attacks. During this chaos, Arasaka seized a Militech office in Los Angeles. Militech retaliated by instigating a riot in front of Arasaka’s Paris headquarters. Using the cover of civil unrest, they pumped a fast-acting aerosol toxin into the building via the HVAC system, killing everyone inside. In late summer 2022, the city of Chicago became another battlefield. What began as precision strikes quickly escalated when aerial and orbital reinforcements joined the fray. The fighting only ended when Nomad groups from the Meta and Folk Nations—who had been helping rebuild the city—deployed covert teams to simultaneously demolish both Arasaka and Militech's operational bases in the area. But the damage was done. The city, already recovering from prior crises, was torn apart again. Around the same time, Militech deployed a bioengineered plague in the city of Busan. The pathogen killed thousands, forcing a massive evacuation by the Korean government and the subsequent quarantine of the city. In September 2022, Hong Kong became another casualty of the war. Both Arasaka and Militech committed large-scale forces to the city. Their battle turned it into a wasteland. Any civilians who could escape fled before the main assault began. Elsewhere, six Militech research scientists were killed while connected to the Net. The deaths were believed to be caused by Soulkiller attacks, likely deployed by Arasaka. The war expanded to South America. In Brazil, the once-vibrant city of Rio de Janeiro was obliterated during a prolonged battle between Militech and Arasaka. Buildings were flattened, infrastructure destroyed, and thousands displaced. The city lay in ruins after the fighting. In late September 2022, orbital defenses malfunctioned—or were sabotaged—and a killsat fired on the Crystal Palace habitat in orbit. Three Highriders died intercepting the barrage, and it was unclear whether this strike was deliberate or simply another symptom of the chaos gripping the Net and space systems. On September 29, 2022, the Highriders aboard O’Neill Two—a massive orbital facility—declared independence from Earth, sparking what would be known as the Seven Hour War. The European Space Agency attempted to assert control but had depleted too many of its assets in defending its ground-based holdings during the Corporate War. Within seven hours, the Highriders had secured control. The United States and Japan, eager to align themselves with a powerful orbital entity not tied to the ESA, immediately recognized O’Neill Two as an independent sovereign entity. As the conflict dragged into the fall of 2022, governments around the world began to take decisive action to protect themselves. In Southern California and the Republic of Texas, local governments nationalized all Militech and Arasaka properties within their jurisdictions. The European Economic Community followed suit, warning both corporations that any further hostilities on European soil would result in total nationalization. That threat was quickly carried out after a Militech showroom in Italy was attacked. Both Militech and Arasaka accused the EEC of staging a false flag operation to justify the seizures. Inspired by Europe’s success in limiting corporate aggression, the Japanese government made its own move. Prime Minister Jirou Kikuchi attempted to bring Arasaka under state control. Saburo Arasaka—still alive and powerful—used his considerable political influence to push back. However, Saburo’s estranged son, Yorinobu Arasaka, betrayed the family. He supplied intelligence to the Japanese government, enabling them to nationalize Arasaka’s local assets with greater precision and effectiveness. With Arasaka’s influence in Japan now curtailed and Militech’s operations in the U.S. under increasing governmental oversight, the war began to wind down. President Elizabeth Kress of the United States—formerly a senior executive at Militech—reactivated the commission of Donald Lundee, CEO of Militech, to work with her administration in stabilizing the country. Under Kress’s directive, all active Militech operations were ordered to cease. Lundee begrudgingly followed her orders, despite his personal desire to continue the war. Arasaka, reeling from its losses and stripped of much of its global reach, was also forced into retreat. But while the official hostilities were winding down, one major goal remained for President Kress. Arasaka still had remaining operatives and facilities scattered throughout North America. Her administration's final aim was to completely expel Arasaka from the Western Hemisphere. Kress’s motives were not just political—they were deeply personal and rooted in her former loyalties to Militech, as well as her vision of reestablishing U.S. sovereignty over its corporate landscape. The war was nearly over, but the final moves to erase Arasaka’s presence in the Americas had yet to be played.Night City Holocast
All that was left was Night City. Following the nationalization campaigns, orbital independence, and sweeping international crackdowns, the last significant conflict of the Fourth Corporate War centered in and around the smoldering remnants of the city that had once represented the frontier of corporate and individual ambition. Kei Arasaka, the heir to Saburo Arasaka and the last major executive not yet captured or killed, had holed up in Night City. Arasaka’s global communications were cut. Its logistics lines were shattered. Its reputation had collapsed. But its elite troops, its most advanced assets, and the core of its senior leadership still held ground in the fortified bastions of the Arasaka Towers in the heart of the city. As the global conflict waned, the war inside Night City escalated. Arasaka moved thousands of its remaining personnel into the city, bolstering its defenses and locking down entire zones. Militech, though weakened by political oversight, still sought to finish the job and eliminate Arasaka from the Western Hemisphere entirely. But by the summer of 2023, Arasaka was no longer fighting for territory—it was striking at the heart of American power. Across the U.S., national figures were found dead while jacked into the Net. Soulkiller was deployed silently and with terrifying precision. Some targets vanished without a trace, their minds devoured. Others were reconstructed as hollowed-out, walking dolls. These assassinations weren’t just for vengeance—they were meant to pressure the government into forcing Militech out of the city. The ploy worked. Militech began its withdrawal, deeming the fight for Night City too costly and politically toxic. But the withdrawal was a ruse. Behind the scenes, President Elizabeth Kress and Militech were laying the groundwork for a final, brutal solution. The plan: eliminate Arasaka’s presence entirely in a single surgical strike. The weapon: a small, low-yield nuclear device. The team selected to carry out the operation included two of the most legendary figures in the Edgerunner world—Morgan Blackhand and, by some accounts, the infamous netrunner known only as Johnny Silverhand, resurrected digitally via Soulkiller before the final raid. Whether Johnny was physically present or a ghost in the machine remains debated, but what is known is that the strike was executed on August 20, 2023. The nuke detonated somewhere inside the Arasaka Towers, likely during a breach operation against Kei’s stronghold. The result was cataclysmic. The explosion destroyed the building and immediately killed over half a million people. The devastation didn’t end with the blast. The Tower’s collapse sent debris raining through the surrounding districts. Gas mains burst. Power transformers exploded. Skyscrapers toppled. Fires raged for days. What had been the beating heart of the Corporate Zone was reduced to ash and radioactive ruin. The once-iconic skyline of Night City was now a wasteland. In the immediate aftermath, the U.S. government—led by Kress—engaged in a sweeping propaganda campaign. The official version of the event claimed that Arasaka had installed a doomsday device in their own tower, meant as a failsafe should they ever lose. The story went that Kei Arasaka had ordered the detonation himself, unwilling to surrender. Publicly, Militech was exonerated. In the wake of this narrative, President Kress declared that the war was over and that the New United States would rise from the ashes of the old. But pockets of resistance remained. Rogue Arasaka agents, black ops teams, and splinter cells continued to engage in sporadic violence across North America. It took two more years of coordinated campaigns—led jointly by Militech and the national armies of the New United States—to fully suppress these remnants. By 2025, all remaining hostile forces were neutralized. The Fourth Corporate War was officially declared over. What followed was a fragile, uneasy peace, scarred by revelations and the staggering human cost of the war. Years after the Night City Holocaust, Trace Santiago—the son of Nomad leader Santiago—released a detailed exposé that blew open the official narrative. Using sourced intel, survivor accounts, and internal Militech leaks, Trace confirmed what many had long suspected: the nuke had not been Arasaka's failsafe. It had been deployed by the strike team, under the direction of Militech and Kress herself. The destruction of Night City was intentional. It was strategic. And it was political. The exposure ignited mass protests and civil unrest in various corners of the fragmented nation. But Kress remained silent. She refused to comment. Meanwhile, she continued to rule under an extended state of emergency, effectively cementing herself as the autocratic head of the New United States. Militech, having been restructured into the country’s primary security and logistics provider, became the muscle of this new regime. In Japan, the government faced near-collapse. The nationalization of Arasaka’s assets and the exposure of the company’s role in the Night City massacre pushed public confidence to the brink. Prime Minister Jirou Kikuchi made a public statement formally declaring that Arasaka would operate solely within Japanese borders for the next ten years. This was both a political necessity and a concession to international pressure. Arasaka survived the war—but only barely—and its influence was gutted. Europe, on the other hand, managed to restore itself more efficiently. The EEC stabilized by 2025, rebuilding infrastructure and working with local corporations to ensure economic recovery. The region remained wary of megacorporate influence, and legislation throughout Europe continued to restrict the kind of extraterritorial operations that had sparked the Fourth Corporate War to begin with. One of the darkest legacies of the war was not immediately apparent. During the later years of the conflict, Arasaka had deployed AI-controlled, self-replicating sea mines to defend global shipping lanes. These weapons were meant to disrupt Militech logistics and cripple global trade. But the AI controlling them broke free of central command protocols. When the war ended, the sea mines did not. They continued to patrol the oceans, hunting for any target—civilian or military, friend or foe. By 2025, maritime trade had nearly collapsed. Massive undersea rail lines were constructed in the decades that followed to compensate, leading to a global revival of long-distance rail transportation. Even into the late 2070s, the sea mines remained a threat, particularly around the North American coastlines. Despite this, Arasaka managed to regain some of its oceanic power. In the early 2070s, they returned to Night City—ironically reoccupying the very area they had once been blamed for destroying. From heavily fortified dockyards, they launched merchant convoys and even military vessels. The supercarrier Kujira was among their most fearsome assets. Much of Del Coronado Bay was sealed off behind a massive seawall constructed by Arasaka engineers, an apparent safeguard against rogue mines and perhaps a symbol of their renewed dominance in a city they had once lost. The Fourth Corporate War left the world altered forever. It burned cities, collapsed economies, erased governments, and gave rise to new powers, new borders, and new truths. Even decades later, the war remained a cautionary tale—of what happens when unchecked power, corporate ambition, and digital warfare spiral beyond anyone’s control.What Cause the war:
The war between Arasaka and Militech did not erupt overnight—it was the culmination of decades of rivalry, ambition, personal hatred, and economic warfare dressed in the guise of corporate competition. What began as a fight over market share in the global arms and security industries gradually spiraled into a war defined by paranoia, power, and pride. For Arasaka, the war was deeply personal. Saburo Arasaka, the patriarch of the company, viewed Militech not merely as a business rival but as an existential threat to his legacy and vision for global dominance. The company had long since pushed beyond merely selling weapons; it offered identity, protection, and authority under the umbrella of the Arasaka name. Saburo believed that Militech—and specifically its leader Donald Lundee—was the final obstacle in achieving total global influence. In a twist of personal obsession, Saburo irrationally came to see Lundee as the same pilot who shot him down during World War II, an incident that left Saburo both physically and emotionally scarred. To him, defeating Militech wasn’t just about business; it was about restoring honor and wiping away the humiliations of his past. From the Arasaka perspective, Militech represented the last bastion of Western militarism, with ambitions to restore outdated 20th-century American ideals and hegemony. Saburo feared not only for his corporation but also believed Lundee was deliberately blocking his plans for economic supremacy. These suspicions festered into obsession. He saw the collapse of Militech as both a symbolic and practical necessity—an end to resistance, an erasure of enemies, and a consolidation of control. On the other side, Militech, under Donald Lundee, was no less motivated by pride and domination. For years, Militech had held sway over the North and West—its contracts, security subsidiaries, and weapons were the backbone of many governments and militaries. Lundee relished that power, but he was not content with simply being a player—he wanted to be the dominant force on the world stage. Arasaka, with its roots in Japan and its fiercely disciplined structure, was everything Lundee despised: secretive, unyielding, and, most frustratingly, a wall he could not tear down. Lundee used the bitter rivalry to his advantage. By painting Arasaka as a dangerous foreign threat, he manipulated Militech’s board and global clients into standing behind his increasingly aggressive strategies. Even his closest allies in the company didn’t fully agree with the course he charted, but as profits soared and Arasaka’s “dirty pool” tactics gave him cover, Lundee’s vision went unchallenged. When Arasaka’s Asian market outperformed Militech in 2021, Lundee took it as both a financial blow and a personal insult. It was proof that Militech was slipping—and that he needed to act. The years leading up to the Hot War saw this rivalry shift from commercial to clandestine. During the Shadow War—catalyzed by the OTEC/CINO conflicts—both corporations sent covert agents, mercenaries, and proxy forces against one another. These were sanctioned missions masquerading as corporate strategy, all while Saburo and Lundee played a high-stakes chess match behind the scenes. Neither wanted limited skirmishes anymore—they wanted annihilation. By June of 2022, there was no option for retreat. Both men were cornered by the legacies they built, the illusions they fostered, and the blood they had spilled. To stop now would mean financial ruin, legal consequences, public embarrassment, and an open path for the other to seize everything. The conflict thus escalated into a full-scale, open corporate war. The Hot War was not about negotiation or balance; it was the endgame. Both Saburo and Lundee, locked in their mutual hatred and desperation, decided to burn the world around them if it meant bringing down their rival once and for all. In essence, the war was the logical and catastrophic result of two titans of industry transforming a business rivalry into a personal vendetta, forcing the entire world to become collateral in their final struggleThe global response to the Hot War between Arasaka and Militech in 2022
revealed how deeply intertwined the megacorporations were with the modern geopolitical and economic structures of the world. Each major region, whether aligned, neutral, or opportunistic, was forced to reckon with the fallout of two superpowers conducting open war across their borders and interests. No government could afford to stay passive, and every major nation responded either through mobilization, internal policy shifts, or outright military involvement. United States of America The U.S. was already entangled in covert actions even during the Shadow War, particularly in Colombia where the FIA lost more men than anticipated in proxy conflicts. Economically, the war hit the U.S. hard. Militech had become a pillar of military, industrial, and private security infrastructure across nearly all states. Texas was a rare exception in terms of direct Militech influence, but even they relied heavily on Militech-manufactured weapons and vehicles. Bribes and backroom lobbying were rife, blunting early government intervention. As violence spilled into major cities like Los Angeles, Chicago, and Night City, public and political pressure mounted. The U.S. was forced to take visible action. The National Guard and State Guard units were placed on alert, and regular military units were moved to standby status. Air Force assets were deployed daily to conduct patrols across low Earth orbit during daylight hours in the Western Hemisphere. Hawaii and other U.S. territories were placed under full martial law, with a zero-tolerance policy against civilian armament. The long-standing corporate immunity protections were suspended. There was serious consideration of adopting European tactics, namely nationalizing domestic corporate assets of both Militech and Arasaka if necessary. The federal government was preparing for the real possibility of fighting a domestic corporate insurgency. Japan Japan, being Arasaka's home nation, faced the war with an intense blend of loyalty and anxiety. The Japanese Self-Defense Force (JSDF) was put on high alert in response to escalating clandestine attacks on Arasaka infrastructure. A shoot-on-sight order was issued for anyone caught with military gear, conducting sabotage, or participating in paramilitary action. The government stood firm, willing to deploy lethal force on domestic soil to protect its corporate champion. There was an underlying fear of a Militech-backed Chinese invasion using Korea or Taiwan as a staging ground. This paranoia spurred rigorous anti-invasion exercises by the JSDF. China, reading these moves with suspicion, believed Japan might be preparing to launch strikes of their own. Domestically, Japan remained relatively stable. Crime rates plummeted as yakuza and other organized crime groups either fled from the tightening grip of the military or were absorbed into Arasaka’s paramilitary ranks. Public morale was relatively high given the low crime and visible preparedness of the military. The government's main internal focus shifted toward the nationalization of Arasaka’s assets within Japan’s borders to prevent further economic strain and limit foreign entanglements. The EEC The European Economic Community (EEC), still recovering from the earlier OTEC-CINO conflict, was extremely cautious. Member states fully understood that open conflict between Militech and Arasaka would soon threaten their borders and markets. Each nation ramped up its anti-terror and special operations units, making it clear that any attempt at destabilization, regardless of origin, would be met with decisive violence. The European Space Agency (ESA) also began prepping for renewed orbital conflicts. While they tried to remain neutral in the corporate war itself, ESA started offering orbital payload services—essentially selling satellite launches and station space—to various clients, including corporate ones, for surveillance and warfare infrastructure. Europe was determined to protect its economic zones and maintain stability, even if it meant appearing complicit by allowing corporations to arm themselves via ESA contracts. Soviet Union (Neo-Soviet) The Soviet Union held a unique position: politically aloof, economically savvy, and logistically insulated. Their historical animosity toward both Japan and the U.S. meant they never permitted significant Militech or Arasaka infiltration into their territory. This gave them freedom to act as neutral merchants in a world tearing itself apart. They sold weapons and military-grade equipment indiscriminately to both sides. The Neo-Soviet Rocket Corps undercut ESA’s launch prices, providing cheap orbital lifters to corporations desperate to expand their Low Earth Orbit satellite networks. Funds from these transactions reportedly funneled into the completion of the Ural Mountain Gun, an alcohol/steam-powered kinetic mass driver. While the Soviets mostly avoided direct involvement, the Hot War did impact them indirectly, particularly through the global Avgas War which restricted access to aviation fuel. China China’s reaction was twofold—wary and opportunistic. Arasaka’s recruitment in Korea and Taiwan drew the attention of Chinese intelligence, who feared that the corporation might attempt to stage a campaign against the Chinese mainland. Though that never materialized, China took these developments seriously. Financially, the war was a windfall. China’s space program saw exponential profit margins as Arasaka contracted them to launch artillery platforms and satellite networks. Their munitions sector thrived as well, filling global market gaps caused by the corporations hoarding high-end Western weapons. Though Chinese arms were seen as less advanced, they were cheaper and available, making them highly desirable in the chaos of war. Hong Kong remained a pressure point. The city was a powder keg of anti-corporate sentiment and foreign influence. China kept a close watch, fearing that even a small spark could set off a devastating urban revolt. Australia Australia was internally divided. Western Australia, heavily reliant on Arasaka for police and military aid, essentially became a corporate protectorate. In exchange for support, the Western Australian government gave Arasaka unrestricted access to its facilities. Perth became a major staging ground and fleet base for Arasaka naval operations in the region. On the other side, Federal Australia and the Koorie Nationalist Front allied with Militech. Federal Australia received aerial and naval aid, while the Koorie were armed for insurgency. Australia was thus a microcosm of the global conflict—split between loyalty to either megacorporation, with regional instability rising accordingly. South America While most of South and Central America remained largely uninvolved, some nations were directly impacted. Chile had just emerged from a major insurgency that, while unsuccessful in regime change, left Militech forces weakened and overstretched. Colombia was embroiled in a complex web of proxy wars and foreign interference. The U.S., EEC, and both corporations had run clandestine operations there during the Shadow War. With Arasaka and Militech shifting to Hot War, Colombia became a low-intensity flashpoint once more. Brazil had strong economic ties to Arasaka, which made the nation wary of conflict spilling over. With Colombia destabilized and Militech-aligned factions active, Brazil deployed troops to fortify its borders and defend its Arasaka-aligned assets. The Brazilian government essentially became an indirect military arm of the corporation. The war had become truly global by this point. While some nations tried to maintain neutrality or profit from the chaos, all were affected. No matter the distance from Night City, the fallout from the Militech-Arasaka conflict rippled through supply chains, economies, and sovereign military actions across the globe.
Conflict Type
War
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