It’s 2026, and the neon-drenched nightmare of Dogtown still calls to me like a second heartbeat. Even now, three years after Phantom Liberty dropped, the thrill of squeezing every drop of power from that Relic Skill Tree hasn’t faded. I remember the day Songbird first dragged my fried circuitry back from the edge.
We were at the Dogtown gate, Johnny’s ghost buzzing in my skull like a trapped wasp, and then—crack—a seizure hit. Songbird’s voice melted through the static, explaining she had to push him aside just to give me a mission briefing. When I came to, she’d unlocked something new inside my head: the Relic Skill Tree, and three gleaming Relic Points to spend. That was the moment I became something more than just another edgerunner.
Jailbreak, Emergency Cloaking, Vulnerability Analytics—three paths, each a rabbit hole of dirty tricks. I dumped my first three points into Emergency Cloaking. When you’re a solo in a city that eats chrome for breakfast, becoming a ghost at the squeeze of a trigger is worth more than eddies.
But three points weren’t enough. Not even close. I needed more. I hunted, I crawled through air ducts, and I made silent prayers to whatever gods listen to mercs. The next three came during “Birds With Broken Wings.” Songbird flashed her digital smile again and kicked my firmware up a notch. Six points total from the main story.
After that, the trail went cold—unless you knew where to dig. Dogtown was littered with Data Terminals, each one a treasure chest of Relic Points. Finding them became my obsession.
My first free terminal was just outside my Dogtown apartment, down a piss-scented alley near Kress Street. No guards, no cams—just a glowing screen behind some trash. It felt like a gift. I tapped the panel, felt that familiar electric tingle as a new Relic Point burned into my synapses. One down, more to go.
Next, I doubled back to a restricted area near Increased Criminal Activity. Two Barghest goons loitered by a door. I could’ve splattered them across the pavement, but I was still nursing a hangover and a fresh bullet wound from a botched gig. So I slipped behind a stack of crates, ducked under a broken chain-link fence, and crawled through a floor-level exit. The terminal was right there, humming innocently. One more point.
Capitan Caliente was next—an abandoned restaurant I’d visited during “Lucretia My Reflection.” Getting to the roof was a puzzle. I had to climb a concrete bridge that jutted from the neighboring structure like a broken bone, then shimmy up old steps slick with damp soot. At the top, the Data Terminal sat beside a rusty air conditioning unit. The view of Dogtown’s flickering skyline was almost worth the climb. Almost.
The point opposite Heavy Hearts nightclub required a little more finesse. A green crane loomed over a dilapidated building, and inside, a skull graffiti mark warned of trouble. I crept upstairs, past the smell of stale synthbeer and ozone, and found the terminal against a wall. I slotted my personal link before anyone noticed the blinking light on my jacket. Easy.
The Dogtown market was a different beast. Crowds, noise, and a Black Market weapons dealer whose eyes followed me like a hawk. I took a left at the autoshop and found the terminal behind some stacked crates at the top of the stairs. A quick hack while a vendor argued about chow mein—perfect cover. If you blink, you’ll miss it. I almost did.
Not every point was so civilized. In the Eastern part of Dogtown, a gang hideout marked by three green skulls on my map awaited. I went in hot, shotgun first, and painted the walls with their cheap chrome. After the last body dropped, I found the terminal near a pile of deck chairs, its bright screen cutting through the smoke.
The most discreet point was in a tunnel beneath the circular HFS building—the same spot where I first met Reed. I slipped through a fence as Barghest thugs muttered nearby, swiped the data, and vanished into the shadows. No one even knew I was there. That’s the beauty of Emergency Cloaking.
Finally, I pushed deep into the Southernmost area of Increased Criminal Activity. Beneath a crumbling space shuttle monument, a dead mall with a “Massdrive” ad awaited. I cleared the ground floor, then rode an escalator that jerked to life just long enough to deposit me on the top level. Beside an iconic melee weapon—a blade that hummed with old-world rage—sat the last Data Terminal. I claimed my prize, feeling the full weight of my new Relic skills settle into my nervous system.
All told, I’ve gathered enough Relic Points to reshape myself into a nightmare. Some runners say you can nab all of them without firing a shot, but where’s the fun in that?
🔥 My advice: start with the market and the tunnels if you want a quiet life. Save the gang hideouts for when you’ve got itchy trigger fingers and a full set of Trauma Team insurance. And always, always double-check those alleys near your apartment. The best things in Dogtown are hidden right under your nose.
Even in 2026, these secrets hold. The city hasn’t changed—it just got meaner. And I’m still here, chrome gleaming, Relic humming, ready for the next gig.