The pilgrimage into the Digital World is a known fact to every human. Everything else, however, is lost to time. What exactly made the world so bad that it was necessary to flee into cyberspace? Just how long humanity has been in here? What were these ancient nations who doomed the Earth like? These questions linger at the fringes of your consciousness eternally.

For sixteen long years, you've lived in City 87-O. Like all of your peers, you never met your parents. Your life has been one long string of lessons and routines from white-faced servitor programs, who were never even fussed to pull you back onto the rails when you deigned to wander off into the alleyways. So long as you didn't violate hard-coded regulations of the city, that is.

87O is a cold, dreary landscape of cybernetic urban sprawl, with an eternally darkened skyline that gives way to vibrant streams of junk data. One night, for what feels like the thousandth time, you stand atop your favorite rooftop and stare up at the massive tower that makes up the city's core. You clench your fists as you watch the tiny figures circle the pinnacle, patrolling it eternally while dozens of spotlights fall over their diminutive forms.