Welcome back to The High Life!

Every fighter in the Robotannical Battledome has big dreams—the glory, the gear, and the killer threads to match. This is Highstreet, after all, and there's no shortage of ways to make your S.I.M.U. stand out from the crowd. Want to know how to actually pull that off? It all starts with the two currencies that keep Highstreet City humming. Find out exactly what you need to chase—and what to save for that next big splurge.

Then, take a detour into The Gardens for the origin story of The Elixir, the legendary restaurant that keeps every foodie coming back for one more bite. It's so good, diners willingly brave the ever-creeping, ever-deadly vegetation that threatens to swallow the place whole. In Highstreet, danger is everywhere, but so are unforgettable meals.

Let's dive in! ⬇️

Eyeing that Quackvana tee or a fresh pair of distressed jeans? Davey's Store has all the drip you need—but you'll need the right kind of cash to really show off. In Highstreet: Calamity, it's as easy as swiping a card. One currency is exclusively used by vendors that are around the Robotannical Battledome in The Gardens.

It's called Scrap, and it's earned by mowing down wave after wave of enemies in the Battledome. The concept of using Scrap as a currency is the brainchild of Gizmo, the hustler running a pawn shop called Bit Bye Bit. Noticing that the maintenance and customization of S.I.M.U.s was too costly for newcomers, he developed this system for humans to ease into Highstreet City's economy.

Scrap is unique to this area of Highstreet City. You won't normally use it in any other part of Solera—unless there's a special event. That means once in a while, you'll need to return to brave the waves of enemies that step through portals and gang up to swarm you. But with upgrades and experience, any Adventurer, Apprentice, or Adept will make short work of them.

Remember: at launch, Davey's Store will have a tight monopoly on tradeable items, so this is where you'll be spending all of your Scrap. As time goes on, you can expect to find more vendors who can offer weapon unlocks, mods and upgrades, plus consumables that juice your attacks, harden your defenses, and kickstart your regeneration.

Fortune favors the bold, so hack, slash, and grind your way to becoming the richest, best-dressed warrior in Highstreet: Calamity!

I heard the change before I saw it. A low hum rose through the tiles of my dining room in the original Elixir. We were days from the grand opening. Everything inside was arranged with absolute control. Every plate, every glass, every tiny detail ready for service. Then the hum deepened. The tables shook. Outside, the trees began swelling at impossible speed. Green Lunarite had slipped beyond anyone's command.

The first vine tore through the wall. I ordered my brigade out. They listened. They always did. I stayed long enough to watch the clock. Chef Manley's clock. My first mentor's most prized tool, passed down to me as a reminder that discipline is the spine of a kitchen. I saw it stretch toward a tear in the air, metal bending as if softened by intense heat, then vanish inside a swirling violet portal. By nightfall, the restaurant was buried under the chaos.

People still ask whether I regret rebuilding. They say choosing to carve the new Elixir into a tree is petty, a childish attempt to fight back against nature. They do not understand the point. I am not fighting plants. I am fighting the idea that what I built could disappear without consequence. If the gardens wanted to take my first kitchen, then I would build my next one inside their domain. And this time, I would run it on my terms.

The new Elixir stands in the North Gardens. Calm outside, frantic in the kitchen, just as it should be. Some say it is inspired by the humans' Danish fine dining, others say French. Let them guess. The truth is simple. I chose French techniques because they honor the clock. Milliseconds matter. Order matters. Precision is a language, and I speak it fluently.

Soon, the doors will open. Guests will sit in a room carved from living wood, believing they are here for art and ritual. They will not see the battle behind the curtain. They will not feel the war drums that beat to the timing of every dish. They will not know how loudly the ghost of that old clock ticks in my head.

Somewhere in the depths of the East Gardens, the ruins of the first Elixir still sit trapped in vines. Maybe the clock is trapped there. Maybe it surfaced somewhere else. Maybe it is drifting between worlds. I have no way to know.

But I do know this. When I step into my kitchen tomorrow, the rhythm will return. The discipline. The precision. The war I fight every day to make sure nothing I create is forgotten.

The Gardens can grow as wildly as they want. I am ready.

That's all for this issue of The High Life.

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