Feeble sunlight filters through a perpetual cloud of steam. Dusty fields are dotted with ramshackle buildings and dilapidated houses. Broken-down aircraft, engine parts, and other scrap metal litter the ground. A few groups of children play outside. An old man with one leg sits in a squeaky rocking chair on his porch, gazing off into the distance. Massive gears rise high into the sky miles away in a vast city. Faint clanks and squeals break the still air.

On the outskirts of the city, steam billows from the towering stacks of an industrial complex. Colossal gears are flanked by pistons, springs, and cogs. The whir of mighty zeppelins high above is barely audible over the noise of the giant machinery.

Among the factories in the complex are several airfields where fixed-wing aircraft and giant zeppelins alike are built and maintained; ground crews and wrench benders scurry around them. The air above vibrates with the hums and roars of mass-transport vehicles taking off and landing.

A short distance away, the skyline is broken by a multitude of high-rise buildings. Here reside the inhabitants of the city, from the middle class to the wealthy. The structures are fabricated from steel, iron and stone; the most ostentatious are ornamented in marble and bronze. A labyrinth of copper pipes winds its way among the buildings, transporting steam from the factories to the citizens for heat and to power household devices. Individual aircraft navigate their way through the metal maze as people head to work, school, or play.

At the center of the city stands an enormous stone and marble coliseum. Fields of weeds and yellow grasses buffer the building against the encroaching urban surroundings. Pillars decorated with copper accents encircle the perimeter of the arena, glinting in the weak sunlight. On game days, the rest of the city is deserted and the fields are packed with aircraft and people. The coliseum is filled to capacity and the roar of the crowd is deafening. This is the competition grounds of the Sprocket Junkies.