One of the things I enjoy most about building Within the Boundless is working out how people actually survive in a world where almost nothing works the way it was originally intended to.
Travel is a big part of that.
The Boundless isn’t a world where you simply jump in a car, follow a road and arrive at your destination. Roads can fracture, routes can disappear, and the environment itself often decides which direction you are able to take. Because of that, most transport has been adapted from whatever pieces of the old world are still left behind.
Croak is probably the best example of this.
His personal transport is the TRX-1/TRX10, a heavily modified hover bike built from the remains of an old Harley-style touring motorcycle. The wheels are gone, replaced with exposed hover technology, but the original heavy shape of the bike is still there underneath all the modifications. It is battered, noisy and looks like something that should have stopped working years ago — which makes it perfect for Croak.
Lee takes a very different approach.
His vehicle is the Reformed Dodge V, an ink-blue Dodge that has been rebuilt into something far more aggressive than the car it once was. The doors are missing, the bodywork is rusted and scarred, and a huge engine pushes its way through the bonnet. It isn’t polished or futuristic. It looks like a machine that has survived because somebody refused to let it die.
Then there is the Scrappers’ Fort at Ravensfield Station.

Subway tunnels from a forgotten era thread through the fracture, linking
wasteland, scrapper town, Iron scrap fortress and Scrapper town there is a rumor it even goes to where the boing tower is, a giant boing that crashed nose down that created a crater, and the leaders of the colony had transformed it to a tower that scouts the lands for intermediate threats and there a doctor takes measurements of the tidal drift of the night fog, amongst other things that people pretend that are not true. 

 Below the surface. Those who know the entrances can avoid shifting ground and deadly
haze — if they have the means. The tunnels are not safe, but they are
predictable, and predictability is priceless in Discontinuity.
Access is guarded knowledge.
Maps are memorized, never written. Guides trade routes in whispers. A
wrong turn underground
can strand a traveler in darkness that has forgotten daylight.
And everything below has a price. The currency in the fracture is fluid. Scrap
buys tools. Water buys loyalty.   buys silence. But
information — real information —  is the rarest commodity of  all.
Routes, weaknesses, hidden caches… these are traded carefully.
People say body parts can buy you a night’s mercy.
Secrets can secure you a future where it is safe to sleep. .
In Discontinuity, survival is not just about endurance.
It is about leverage.

Beneath the fort sits the remains of an old subway station, buried underneath layers of cast iron, rebar and concrete. Much of the original infrastructure is still down there, which gave me the opportunity to create one of my favourite pieces of transport in the Boundless.

Against all odds people adapt to the conditions around them

Not quite Patience not quite Discontinuity, Here roads  fracture mid-journey. A person’s path is determined by the environment that surrounds them. Ruins stand beside structures preserved by the sands of time. Untouched by decay and not witnessed by the generation that walks amongst it 

The wind carries echoes that do not belong to the present — fragments of
moments suspended between what was and what might have been. Someone else’s achievement that was relevant to the survivors who walked amongst them

Travelers disagree on its nature. The tales passed through the generations  say the land rearranges itself when no one is watching.

 Others  believe it reveals layers that never settled, some say it takes what it wants, 

The Elementists say that the sand has a soul and is ever drifting, taking no prisoners only memories. Whilst its thirst searches for the Missing Daemon Sea.

Whatever the truth, one thing remains constant:

This is not a place of comfort.

It is a place of decisions..