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A persistent post-nuclear MMO where every survivor on the map is a real person — and none of them are safe from each other.
Reactor 48 is a turn-based, persistent post-nuclear MMO played entirely in the browser. There are no NPCs to farm and no scripted encounters — every survivor on the map is another player, the entire economy is goods they scavenged and priced themselves, and the wars are fought between factions of real people over days at a time.
The design is built around a single constraint: the world is server-paced, so it moves whether or not you’re logged in. That makes it playable in ten minutes a day, and it makes every absence cost something. No seasonal resets, no wipes, no wallet that buys power — one continuous world where the strongest survivor on the map earned it.
No NPCs to farm. Knock someone down and you choose what happens next — walk away, or pick them clean. Turn-based combat where every probability is shown before you commit: no hidden dice, no secret formula.
Going down isn't a respawn. You're left for dead with a triage timer counting and an injury that follows you — cracked ribs at −10% accuracy until someone patches you up. A stranger running Stabilize on you is a real player choosing to.
Every rebreather and round of ammo was scavenged, crafted, or looted by another player — and priced by them. Haul goods across the Rads between regions and eat the spread. List fees and sale tax burn out of circulation.
Every job shows success odds, payout range, stamina cost, body burden, and critical-fail chance before you attempt it. Blow the roll badly enough and a Tracker takes your scent.
Bind into a Faction, drill in its Cell, and put its name on the map. Multi-day wars tracked on war-points and momentum tiers — territory, rackets, and reckoning on a ledger everyone can see.
Muscle, Hardening, Reflex, Fieldcraft, Wits — one survivor, no wasted stats and no respec. Training costs Conditioning and accrues soreness. Ten regions to cross, and every road wants you dead.
The world is server-paced, not session-paced. Stamina regenerates, crimes cool down, caravans arrive, and rival players move while you're logged off. That single decision reframes the whole design — it makes a ten-minute daily play session viable, and it means the cost of ignoring the world for a week is real. There are no seasonal resets and no wipes: one continuous world, and the consequences carry.
Every action shows its odds before you commit — success percentage, payout range, stamina cost, body burden, and the critical-failure chance that puts a Tracker on your scent. Nothing is resolved client-side. The design bet is that transparency creates more tension than mystery does: when players can see exactly what they're risking, choosing to risk it means something.
There are no vendor prices and no fixed loot tables. Every item in circulation was scavenged, crafted, or looted by a player, and priced by one. List fees and sale tax burn currency back out of the supply, so inflation has a counter-pressure. Moving goods between regions is a real arbitrage play — and the corridor between them is where other players are waiting.
Getting knocked down isn't a respawn. You land in The Ward with a triage timer running and an injury that follows you out — cracked ribs at −10% accuracy until someone stabilizes you. Five skills with no respec means every training decision is permanent. The result is a world where players carry visible history, and where helping a stranger off the floor is a genuine choice rather than a scripted event.