Cyberdrunk

The fights are something else, man. You're wired to the eyes: reflexes like whoa, muscle twitch times cut to ribbons.  But the real magic, the thing that the evil rich fucks come to drink up, is that you've been mashed up with an ultra-high-speed electrochemical synthesis organ, your emotional state placed under the virtuoso control of a drama orchestration AI, the brake lines cut on your self-control, and a brick jammed on your accelerator. You don't just fight, you fall in love — literally, unstoppably, madly, maddeningly, with each opponent: fake as wrestling and and real as a heart attack. If you're lucky, you both walk out at the end, stumbling away with just bruises, fractures, broken hearts. If not...each season of fights builds a fever-dream crescendo of dizzying infatuation, ending in monomol swords and screaming tragedy.

You know. Showbiz.

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A rules-light TTRPG.