There is a lot to do here.

Build a name people are careful about saying

Crime here is a career, not a payout button. You climb a personal reputation ladder from small corner work all the way up, and if you charter a crew it climbs a track of its own. Everything you pull counts toward both.

• Scores that run from cracking an ATM to taking the Pacific Standard. Fleeca and Paleto too — plus a jewellery house, a gun shop, a security depot, an armoured truck, a yacht and a moving freight train. Each one runs as a chain of objectives — cut the power, get through the door, crack the vault, get out — with hacking to do under pressure and a heat system deciding whether you leave clean. More are built and waiting on final checks.
• Territory you can see. Charter a crew with its own name, colour and logo, then hold ground on the map. Spray your tag on real walls. Rivals have to physically scrub it off to take the block back.
• Crew infrastructure. A treasury with deposits and withdrawals, rank names and permissions you set yourself, declared wars and wagers, laundering, a private medic who can bring your people back, and a black market that opens up as you climb.
• Product, start to finish. Six separate production chains — grow and cure, press, cook through temperature stages in a hidden lab, refine, synthesise. Nothing is one button.
• Move it yourself. Sell on the street to the right people, corner by corner. Your own turf pays better. A rival's is riskier. And roughly one customer in ten is a problem — a snitch, or somebody who is very much not a customer.
• Boosting. Take a contract, find the car, get past whatever's guarding it and beat the tracker — because on the high-value classes it's pinging every deputy on duty. Deliver it, or scratch the VIN and keep it in your own garage.
• And if it goes wrong, there's a working prison on the other side, with jobs, a commissary, contraband worth smuggling and a way out for anyone patient enough.

Turn up on foot and go racing

Racing on most servers dies the moment the grid thins out or a new player realises they can't afford the car. We fixed both of those specifically.

• Spec loaners. Roll up with nothing and you'll be handed a car identical to everybody else's. No garage advantage, no cheque-book advantage — the win belongs to whoever drove better.
• Hot laps on your own. Set a time on any track even if you're the only person online. The board is always live.
• Bounties. Put real money on a lap time and dare somebody to take it off you. It's escrowed, so nobody's arguing about it afterwards.
• Championship seasons. Qualifying, a proper grid, stage points through the race, finishing points, and a season that resets while your lifetime stats don't.
• Tracks built in-world. Race officials lay out a course by driving the racing line and dropping the checkpoints, then dress it with barriers and cones — so the circuits are made by people who race them.
• Upgrades, and second thoughts. Pull aftermarket parts back off if you don't like them — they used to be permanent. Upgrades pay for themselves, but every car sits on a performance ladder for its class, so money buys you a better version of your car, not a way out of its class.
• Trackside leaderboards, a rematch button on the results screen, and a heads-up across the city when someone opens a race.

Earn it honestly — and properly

This is usually where a city thins out. It's where ours goes deepest. You can hold up to three jobs at once and switch between them with a single key.

• Run a restaurant. Prep and cut ingredients at real stations, cook the menu, ring people up on a till, take kiosk orders and run deliveries. Staff get paid from the business account, with commission and tips if the owner sets them.
• Run a garage. LS Customs at Burton is player-run across fifteen bays — work orders, invoices, payroll and servicing by mileage. Leave it on self-service after hours so drivers can customise their own car at a markup while nobody's in, and the other lots around the city stay self-service when they're unstaffed.
• Mining, properly. Ore nodes that persist, pickaxes that wear out, panning in the river, washing, cracking, smelting into bars, cutting gems, and a long list of jewellery to make from them — across six separate skill tracks.
• Keep bees. Buy hives, place them where you want them, catch wild bees, and harvest honey that tastes of wherever you put the hive. Hives get sick, decay, and turn on you if you open them without a smoker.
• Work the land. Orchards you can walk up to and pick, greenhouses out in Grapeseed, and produce that feeds the restaurants back in the city.
• Hunt. A career with a licence, missions, tracking and a long climb. Poach without the paperwork and someone will call it in.
• Fish and dive, properly. Time the cast, react to the bite and actually fight the big ones on the line. Fish with a licence and buyers pay properly; fish lose value the longer you hold them, and prices move with the market. Cast nets, crab traps, boat rentals and the open and deep sea unlock as you level, the Puerto del Sol marina runs dive contracts, and a logbook keeps your quests, titles and a season leaderboard. Rebuilt from scratch in October.
• Drive for a living. Los Santos Freight Co. down at the docks takes anyone — no job needed. Start on van parcel runs, move up to box trucks you unload yourself with a trolley, then full trailer hauls across the map, up to government and military contracts. Earn a contractor licence and run your own fleet.
• One scale for every career. Mining, hunting, trucking, crafting, farming and heists all level from 0 to 100 on the same scale, so level 50 means roughly the same work whichever you pick — and 100 is meant to take about a year.
• More than twenty casual jobs with experience and levels behind them — diving, warehouse work, treasure hunting, scrapping, towing, and a metal detector you can walk up and down the beaches with. Good for a quiet hour, and they pay.
• Craft it yourself. Benches with their own skill levels and blueprints, and a queue that reserves your materials and keeps its place — walk away, crash, or sit through a full server restart, and it's still exactly where you left it.
• Buy the car, finance the car. Walk the showroom at Premium Deluxe Motorsport, take a test drive, then pay cash or take a finance contract with instalments, a running balance and the option to clear it early. Miss enough payments and it goes back.

The people on the other side of every story above

Three departments and a courthouse behind them — the Sheriff's Office working out of Davis, Sandy Shores and Paleto Bay, the San Andreas Rangers out of SAR North, and San Andreas Fire Rescue. Small enough that everyone knows each other, structured enough to be worth taking seriously. Founding ranks are open in all three.

• A real records system. Reports, criminal records, evidence, a weapons registry, standard operating procedures, internal affairs, field training for new deputies, and duty hours that are actually tracked.
• Dispatch that reacts to the city. Calls come in off what's genuinely happening — a tracker on a stolen car, a deal that went to the wrong person, an alarm going off mid-heist. Repeat reports merge into one call, officer-down and the major heists jump the queue, and quiet calls close themselves. Panic and backup are a keypress away.
• Radar and plate reading, with alerts on flagged vehicles — and every car is meant to carry registration and insurance, which a deputy can check from the MDT.
• Eyes in the sky and on the dash. Department helicopters carry a working camera with night and thermal views, a plate reader and ground markers every unit can see. Every patrol car records on a dashcam.
• Not every sentence is a cell. Community service puts people to work in Legion Square, one to a hundred tasks, with their belongings held until they've done it.
• Fire and rescue with somewhere to work. Stations and clinics across the map, ambulances and a helicopter, with patients stabilised on scene and run in for treatment — unless it's bad enough to treat where they lie.
• Kit your rig out at the department garage: a curated roster per department, liveries, extras, colours, tint, a wash and a repair. Rigs come out in department paint, fully kitted, with some units held back for rank.
• Turn up and get issued. Duty gear is free at the armoury, weapons and attachments are heavily discounted, tasers carry a limited charge and reload from cartridges, and each station has its own uniform store with kit your command staff manage.
• Evidence that actually exists. Casings, projectiles, blood and prints are left at scenes, found with a torch, physically collected and filed with a chain of custody — so a case is built rather than declared.
• Lifts that bring everyone along. Hospital elevators carry escorts, stretchers and wheelchairs together instead of stranding half a scene on the ground floor, and the helipads are open to anyone.
• Medics are protected by rule, not just by convention. On-duty EMS can't be robbed, downed or taken hostage — see the rules.

Somewhere to come home to

You are not going to spend your first week homeless and broke on a bench.

• Every citizen gets a starter apartment, free. No rent, no bills, from the day you arrive.
• Log out at home, wake up at home. Your front door is where you left it.
• Hundreds of properties across the map when you're ready to move up — houses, apartments and garages, set up by a licensed realtor who's another player doing their job.
• Owning one takes VIP. We'd rather say it here than have you find out at the door: buying a home beyond the free starter apartment needs an active VIP membership. Let it lapse for more than fifteen days and the place locks until you renew — nothing inside is touched.
• Seventy-four more went on the market in September — the Sandy Shores Motel, the Starlight in East Vinewood, and four condos up at the Town Resort & Casino.
• Nobody's breaking in. Player homes can't be lockpicked or robbed.
• Furnish and decorate the inside to your taste.
• Garages that keep your cars where you put them, across the whole city.

And everything in between

The things that aren't a career, but are the reason a city feels lived in.

• A casino inside a player-run bar. Our Town Bar & Grill is run by people who live here, and the casino is part of it — blackjack, roulette, slots, the lucky wheel and three-card poker, with a proper drinks list on the other side of the room.
• A night out. Mini golf out on the pier, a full round of golf, bowling, a laser tag arena with real gear, bumper cars down on the Chumash shore, an arcade on Vespucci Beach and a karting centre in Cypress Flats.
• A night out that gets loud. Jukeboxes running on a music catalogue we host and licence ourselves — which means you can stream a night at the bar without a takedown landing on your channel afterwards.
• Get a dog. There's a pet shop out in Harmony with eleven breeds on the floor and a price on each one, from a $500 hen up to a $15,000 dog you'll recognise. Pets get hungry, level up the longer they're out with you, and ride along in your car. Put a dog house down and two grown pets might hand you a puppy — or feed one of the strays living rough out there until it follows you home.
• A board shop on the boardwalk. Vespucci Beach sells skateboards, $2,500 and the deck is yours for keeps.
• Ride the bull. There's a rodeo arena out in Sandy Shores, five hundred dollars a go, and a leaderboard for the three people who lasted longest.
• Ink you can see before you pay for it. Sit in the chair, the camera comes in, and you preview the piece on your own body until you're happy with it.
• Outfit bags. Pick one up at any 24/7, drop it anywhere and it opens a fitting room — your character turns on the spot while you try looks on. Each bag keeps its own wardrobe, and if you share it your friends can change into your fits.
• Things worth collecting. Card and stamp books are proper albums with pockets to fill — and the set belongs to the book, so handing it over hands over the whole collection.
• Weather that means something. Rolling seasons, regional conditions and forecasts, and occasionally something you'll be telling people about afterwards.
• A city you can touch. Dumpsters worth searching, vending machines that are actually stocked, parking meters you can pay — or take a crowbar to — chairs you can sit in, and an aerial tramway with the best view in San Andreas.
• The Vinewood sign gets rewritten for events. Look up now and then.
• Speech that stays where it belongs. Your /me and /do appear above your character's head for the people actually stood near you — not in a chat box the whole server can scroll back through. It's a small change that quietly kills a lot of metagaming.
• Pick each other up. Literally — carry an injured or unconscious friend, with their say-so, instead of waiting on a vehicle.
• A phone that does the job — banking, a garage app that routes you back to wherever you left the car, and one search box that looks through everything on it.
• Hunt ghosts. Take a case from the ghost hunter near Legion Square, walk into a haunted house with the power out and up to three friends, and work out what lives there from the evidence it leaves — before your sanity runs out and it starts hunting you. Ten ghosts, six kinds of evidence, all year round — and if you're sure of your answer, you can try to banish it. Read the hunter's handbook.
• The city keeps the calendar. In October it's haunted — ghost hunts, trick-or-treating after dark and a car on the roads at night you'd rather not meet. Read this year's Halloween update.

We didn't just move into Los Santos. We're rebuilding it.

Most cities hand you the same San Andreas you've already seen, with a few interiors bolted on. We've torn two whole towns down to the foundations and put them back up, and opened a whole new county north of Paleto — and we're not finished.

• Roxwood County, a whole new county. Head up the coast past Paleto and keep driving. Roxwood City, the Marina Docks and Marina Beach, Lombardt Bay, Roxwood State Park and a water park. Out west there's the Arroyo Muerto airport and raceway, plus farms, a power plant and a container terminal. That's not everything — go find the rest. It opens as a place to explore, with businesses, jobs and services moving in over the coming weeks.
• Sandy Shores, remastered. The whole town, inside and out — the motel, the bar, the laundromat, the Burger Shot, the car lot, the strip mall. A new marina on the Alamo Sea, reworked beaches and a new bridge on the way in. And something got dug in out past the sand that we're not going to point at.
• Paleto Bay, rebuilt top to bottom. A brand-new Sheriff's station, and a hospital with its own garage, a morgue and a helipad on the roof. A Bean Machine out on the pier, a café in the park, a rebuilt RON station, a new canal front and a metro station entrance in the middle of town. The old Cluckin' Bell building site is finally finished as the Cluckin Bay District, and the Black Wood Saloon is still standing — with its downstairs open again. Up the road, the ranger station in Paleto Forest is where the San Andreas Rangers work out of.
• Weazel News HQ. The newsroom is open. Go and look around it.
• Cypress Flats, twice over. An indoor karting centre on the old nightclub lot, and a car meet underneath it — lit, loud, and exactly where you'd expect one to be.
• An arcade on Vespucci Beach, the Premium Deluxe Motorsport showroom, LS Customs at Burton, and the Rangers' station at SAR North.
• This is the part that never stops. New venues land most weeks. When a town gets rebuilt, doors and counters occasionally sit a few inches off while we re-survey them — tell us in Discord and it's fixed that week.

Run like we intend to be here next year

• Whitelisted — but with no application to write. Verify, read the rules, react, and you're in. Real anti-cheat and queue priority behind it.
• Fights you can actually lose on purpose. There are no one-tap headshots here — not from a pistol, not from a sniper. Armour matters, weapon choice matters, and a gunfight lasts long enough to be roleplayed instead of being decided by who clicked first.
• Nothing you can buy makes you harder to beat. Supporter perks never touch damage or speed, and every car sits on its class's performance ladder however you came by it. The one thing VIP does gate is owning a home — the starter apartment is everyone's.
• Crash on the way in and you keep your place in the queue — and restarts ramp people back in rather than letting it become a stampede.
• Backed up constantly, monitored around the clock, on hardware we run ourselves.
• One clean look. Every menu in the city shares a single visual language, because thirty-odd different interfaces is its own kind of immersion break.