BOLIVAR
Bolivar is tide-locked to an orange dwarf star. The world is rich in abiotic hydrocarbons and boiling tar lakes dot the of the dayside, while oily seas of slush cover most of the frigid nightside. Fumes from asphalt pollute the atmosphere, which is slowly escaping. Humans require breathing gear to survive outdoors. Additionally, special insulated suits or vehicles are necessary for travel beyond the temperate twilight band.
Most of the world's 80k population lives in Ciudad Bolivar, a small city built in and under an impact crater. The meteorite strike that created the depression millions of years ago deposited a great store or nickel-iron and iridium, materials which the colonists who came here during the Rule of Man quickly began to mine and to utilize in constructing their settlement. Iron spire-topped towers and gothic arches built a thousand years ago have darkened with accretions of soot and grease, a cityscape lit by great torches of burning hydrocarbon fuel--cheaper than fusion, here.
Buildings have airlocks. Within, the air is clean and pressure is higher, though still lower than 1 bar.
For a time, Bolivar prospered, but its mines have been depleted by centuries of extraction, and none now produce enough metal for export. What industry exists is entirely domestic, and largely consists of recycling old machines, crude exploitation of natural hydrocarbons as fuel, and cottage-level manufacture of outmoded filter-masks, rifles, simple tools, and so on.
A sizeable part of the population works in fungus farms that fill what were once mineshafts; Bolivarian chefs know dozens of ways to prepare mushrooms and yeast-based meals.
A free public education system and computer library network has thus far prevented Bolivar from actually losing the skills and knowledge to maintain and repair its high technology, but still the world slowly sinks into decline.
With its industries in decay Bolivar now exports the one thing it has left of value: its people. Corporate indents and free agents seeking employment leave on every passing starship. Remittances paid by Bolivarians working off world are a microscopic blip in the vast economy of Arcturus Subsector but a lifeline for the home-world. If everyone came home at once, the population would more than double.
Beyond the extrality line, travelers are confronted with signage warning that no weapons are permitted for civilian carry and use in the city.
Militiamen who inspect visitors are pretty lenient about tools like utility knives, but they won't let a man with a cutlass at his hip just saunter on by.
BOLIVARIAN MILITIA
Rifle*, bayonet, cloth armor
Militia on outdoor duty wear enclosed plastic helmets fitted with filter-compressors, ear-mikes, and wide visors (allowing for good peripheral vision)
Their field duty uniforms are splotchy gray and midnight blue.
* snipers carry laser rifles, but these are very expensive weapons that cannot be manufactured on Bolivar, but can be repaired and recharged there