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This Fall.


Austin - 2017

Club Nokia - 2011

Echostage 2017

Who was there?

Echostage DC - 2017

Just added to the vault --> Nero - Torture (Remastered) & Nero - Ragga Puffin (Remastered)

"Smells Like Victory" - Originally released on Formation Records in 2005 exclusively on vinyl - Now live in the vault (link above).

Just dropped in the Vault ---> NERO - Space 2001 (Remastered) Originally released on Reformed Recordings in 2004

New Content in the Vaul (link above):

NERO - Requiem EP. Originally released May 10, 2006 on Formation Records, exclusively on vinyl. New content will be released weekly.

"I come bearing something of great value to you," our character declares, their voice imbued with a sense of urgency and conviction. "Someone very close to me has guided me here, instructing me to place my trust in your hands."
With a creak, the door swings open, revealing an empty threshold. The figure who had been speaking moments before has vanished, leaving behind a void of silence and uncertainty. Tentatively, our character steps forward, crossing the threshold into a labyrinth of corridors lined with countless doors.
As they progress, the unsettling sensation of being watched intensifies, the unblinking gaze of surveillance cameras fixed upon them with an almost palpable scrutiny. Each door they pass seems to conceal secrets untold, its surface a barrier between our character and the enigmatic truths that lie beyond.
"Keep walking, please," a disembodied voice calls out from somewhere unseen, guiding our character further into the depths of this mysterious enclave. Though the voice is reassuring, a sense of unease lingers in the air, tinged with the ominous feeling of being manipulated by unseen forces.
Suddenly, a chill runs down our character's spine as they realize they are not alone. The hairs on the back of their neck stand on end as a door behind them swings open, revealing a figure shrouded in shadow.
"I think you should come with me," the voice murmurs from behind, its tone laced with a subtle undercurrent of threat. With a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach, our character turns to face the unknown presence, their heart racing with apprehension and uncertainty.

In the disorienting aftermath of their journey through the labyrinthine streets of Aetherford, our character finds themselves standing outside a nondescript door in a shadowy alley. The passage of time feels nebulous, a blur of weary footsteps and throbbing headaches, testament to the toll exacted by the military-grade navigation protocols they've been subjected to. Sore legs and a pounding head serve as tangible reminders of the arduous path they've traversed to reach their destination.

As they muster the strength to raise a hand and rap upon the door, a small peephole slides open, revealing a sliver of darkness beyond. A voice, muffled yet distinct, emanates from the other side, querying our character's purpose in this clandestine corner of the city.

"What is your business here?" the voice demands, its tone tinged with suspicion and guarded curiosity.
Caught off guard by the abrupt inquiry, our character pauses, their mind racing to formulate a response that will appease the unseen figure on the other side of the door.

What does our character say?

"Get to the Neon Haven," the rebel grumbles, his voice a gravelly whisper that cuts through the oppressive silence of the district. Amidst the unkempt tangle of his hair, a solitary strand stands out, its inconspicuous appearance belying its true nature.

As our character hesitantly accepts the data transfer, their fingers brush against the rebel's wiry hair, a strange sensation sending a shiver down their spine. Upon closer inspection, our character discovers a hidden cord nestled within the rebel's locks, a prong protruding from its tangled strands. Instinctively, they jack into the transfer, a surge of electricity coursing through their veins as the connection is established.

In an instant, the location of Neon Haven floods our character's consciousness, a vivid image etched into their mind's eye with crystalline clarity. The neon-lit streets—brilliant against the backdrop of the district's decay—illuminate their path with a kaleidoscope of technicolor brilliance.

Yet, as our character attempts to articulate the address, a peculiar sensation washes over them. Try as they might, the words elude their grasp, slipping through the cracks of their consciousness like sand through clenched fists. It's as if the information is encoded within their very being, accessible only to the subconscious mind.

A dawning realization washes over our character as they come to understand the true nature of the rebel's gift. This level of encryption, steeped in the shadows of old military technology, is designed to thwart even the most relentless interrogations. The location of Neon Haven, now imprinted upon our character's soul, remains beyond the reach of prying eyes and probing questions.

In the heart of Aetherford's dystopian landscape, our character carries within them the secrets of Neon Haven, a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

Amidst the winding alleys of Aetherford, our character encounters an aged rebel, a relic of a forgotten resistance. His breath carries the scent of potent future spirits, a reminder of defiance in the face of a dystopian reality.

Clutching a faded sign reading "2808 Doomsday," the rebel mumbles this cryptic message, his voice weathered by years of dissent. Though his warning is obscured by the din of the rain-soaked streets, its gravity is unmistakable.

Faced with the rebel's enigmatic mutterings, our character hesitates, caught between intrigue and caution. Should they engage further, unraveling the mystery that shrouds the rebel's dire prophecy? Or is it wiser to press on, leaving the specter of impending doom behind in the murky depths of Aetherford's streets?

In this moment of uncertainty, our character must decide whether to heed the rebel's cryptic warning or forge ahead, their fate hanging in the balance amidst the rain-soaked gloom of the district.

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