Primosto Camp was humanity’s first established outpost on Titania—the cradle of colonisation on an alien world outside the Sol system. Initially constructed as a secure base for early settlers, the camp was encased within a thick, high wall topped by a transparent geodesic dome. This structure shielded its inhabitants from the unpredictable alien elements during the planet’s early terraforming stages.
What began as a haven for human colonists has since transformed into a thriving cultural hub, open to all intelligent lifeforms seeking to engage in peaceful exchange and shared discovery. Primosto now serves as a symbol of unity, progress, and the boundless curiosity of sentient species.
Primosto is located on the shores of a vast natural harbor, its placement strategic for both early planetary logistics and modern trade. The city’s aesthetic is shaped by clear blue skies and a temperate, stable microclimate, which not only influences human comfort but also deeply inspires the architectural vision of the camp.
The buildings, ranging from scientific complexes to residential habitats, feature large, climate-adaptive windows, open courtyards, and vertical gardens that flourish in the alien sun. Structures are built with a blend of advanced terran materials and local resources, optimised for both form and function in Titania’s environment.
Today, Primosto Camp is no longer merely a camp; it is a modern marvel, a prototype city for interspecies cooperation and ecological harmony. Towering skyscrapers rise gracefully from the dome’s interior and beyond its perimeter, crafted with intelligent alloys and reactive surfaces that adapt to the weather. These structures reflect the city's evolution and its aspiration to become a beacon of civilization on Titania.
Though peaceful in appearance, Primosto retains its foundational purpose. The city is equipped with a robust military infrastructure, safeguarding its residents and visitors from potential threats, planetary or otherwise. Beneath the public plazas and research domes lie secure bunkers, automated defence systems, and rapid-deployment aerial craft.
In parallel, Primosto is home to cutting-edge scientific research facilities, diplomatic embassies, educational institutes, and bioengineered agricultural domes. It functions as the planetary hub for communication, innovation, and exploration.
Once hailed as the crown jewel of human engineering, Olympus was the titanic spacecraft that carried the first waves of colonists across the void to Titania. Designed as a self-sustaining ark, it was humanity’s hope—a city forged among the stars. But that time has long passed.
Now, Fallen Olympus is a relic of its former glory—an ancient, monumental structure repurposed into a vertical city. No longer soaring through the cosmos, it rests like a colossal iron-and-stone citadel, partially buried and permanently grounded on alien soil. What remains is a living monument—home to the descendants of the original crew and settlers.
Olympus is built like a tiered, leaning monolith, its structure slightly tilted from a catastrophic orbital re-entry and controlled crash-landing. With a base diameter of roughly ten kilometers, the city rises over a hundred levels high, each floor stacked vertically atop the next, forming a narrowing spire that once pierced the skies.
Each level is referred to as a sector—a massive, ring-shaped floor filled with districts and quarters, originally designed to house different societal, logistical, and scientific functions.
Due to the ship's original structural design, each higher sector is slightly smaller in diameter than the one below, giving Olympus its iconic stepped-silo shape.
Only ten functioning lifts now connect the vertical layers, creating bottlenecks and tightly controlled zones of movement between sectors.
Much of the interior retains the stark aesthetics of spacefaring days: reinforced alloy bulkheads, airlocks repurposed as gates, gravity dampeners long disabled. Makeshift gardens bloom under broken skylights, while collapsed hangar bays have become trading hubs and communal plazas.
Electric light flickers along ancient corridors once humming with interstellar life. Whole sectors lie dormant or abandoned—either too damaged to inhabit or sealed for reasons no longer remembered. These quiet ruins are often referred to as the Hollow Floors, rumored to be haunted by old AIs, malfunctioning defense drones, or worse.
Despite its age and decay, Fallen Olympus remains a vital stronghold, now inhabited primarily by a coalition of scientists and military personnel. These colonists form the backbone of an effort to preserve, study, and one day reactivate the deep communication arrays embedded within the ship’s core. Hoping to re-establish contact with Earth after decades of silence.
The scientific teams operate out of refurbished control sectors, working tirelessly to reverse-engineer long-dormant systems, stabilise decaying infrastructure, and decode corrupted mission logs that may hold critical data about the journey or warnings never received.
Meanwhile, a dedicated military garrison ensures the security of the structure and its inhabitants. They patrol the fragile boundaries of the city, protecting Olympus from both external threats, such as wildlife, raiders, or local unrest, and internal dangers, such as rogue AI subsystems, unstable reactor sectors, or unauthorised scavenging operations in sealed levels.