Install Steam
sign in
|
language
简体中文 (Simplified Chinese)
繁體中文 (Traditional Chinese)
日本語 (Japanese)
한국어 (Korean)
ไทย (Thai)
Български (Bulgarian)
Čeština (Czech)
Dansk (Danish)
Deutsch (German)
Español - España (Spanish - Spain)
Español - Latinoamérica (Spanish - Latin America)
Ελληνικά (Greek)
Français (French)
Italiano (Italian)
Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
Magyar (Hungarian)
Nederlands (Dutch)
Norsk (Norwegian)
Polski (Polish)
Português (Portuguese - Portugal)
Português - Brasil (Portuguese - Brazil)
Română (Romanian)
Русский (Russian)
Suomi (Finnish)
Svenska (Swedish)
Türkçe (Turkish)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
Українська (Ukrainian)
Report a translation problem

Kansas, United States



Gold City could jog a race at half-effort, stop to fix her hair clip, blow a kiss to her fans, and still finish first purely because fate refuses to embarrass itself by making her lose. The sun rises in the east, fashion trends follow Gold City, and elegance is defined by her existence. Some things are just constants.
So yeah, go ahead and hype your favorite. Meanwhile, real ones know there was before Gold City, and there is after Gold City. And nothing will ever be the same.
Her mane doesn’t just shine; it glitters like she’s permanently under stage lights. Her confidence isn’t loud or aggressive—it's that smooth, unshakeable kind of “I already know I’m winning, darling” assurance that sends rivals into existential crisis. She’ll smile, give you a compliment, and then casually leave you ten lengths behind like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Gold City doesn’t just run. She performs. Every stride is like she’s walking a runway that happens to be shaped like a racetrack. When she steps onto the turf, cameras don’t point at her—they beg for her attention. Other horse girls don’t lose to her out of weakness; they lose because they get distracted wondering how she looks that good at top speed.