Max Pointner
Arca: Cultivation
Arca has two other collaborators! See their contributions here:
Read a detailed account of the building process on MocPages!
The planet has become bare. What once was a land of towering forests, expansive grasslands, and thick jungles is now nothing more than a rocky sphere orbiting a star. It was the darkness, seeping out of the planet’s core, which harkened back a time of emptiness, a time before color, movement, life. Yet the Inhabitants of the planet were prepared. As the surface of the planet was cast into destruction, they erected a new structure, a pyramid on which to found new cities, and in which to sustain life. Built high on the apex of the tallest mountain, it had little contact with the ground, and was designed to withstand the corrupting darkness. Protruding from the sides of this monument were many cubes of glass, each containing a garden of lush grasses, verdurous plants, and drooping vines. The Inhabitants lived on the top of their edifice, constructing cities of skyscrapers, streams, garden towers, generators, and monorails. All that was necessary to sustain life on the now barren planet was housed within this citadel, and the Inhabitants remained there for many years. Yet darkness finds a way. The Inhabitants had designed their citadel to keep out all chaos, all contaminants, even to defy time’s destructive power. They did not realize that the threat they faced was not the absence of life, but an entity in itself, hungrily swallowing all it encountered. Seeping up through the rock, it struck the base of the edifice, crept up its central core, and ate away at the life it contained, shattering glass gardens, toppling towers of civilization, and squeezing the walls into that elemental shape: the cube.
Arca: Cultivation
Arca has two other collaborators! See their contributions here:
Read a detailed account of the building process on MocPages!
The planet has become bare. What once was a land of towering forests, expansive grasslands, and thick jungles is now nothing more than a rocky sphere orbiting a star. It was the darkness, seeping out of the planet’s core, which harkened back a time of emptiness, a time before color, movement, life. Yet the Inhabitants of the planet were prepared. As the surface of the planet was cast into destruction, they erected a new structure, a pyramid on which to found new cities, and in which to sustain life. Built high on the apex of the tallest mountain, it had little contact with the ground, and was designed to withstand the corrupting darkness. Protruding from the sides of this monument were many cubes of glass, each containing a garden of lush grasses, verdurous plants, and drooping vines. The Inhabitants lived on the top of their edifice, constructing cities of skyscrapers, streams, garden towers, generators, and monorails. All that was necessary to sustain life on the now barren planet was housed within this citadel, and the Inhabitants remained there for many years. Yet darkness finds a way. The Inhabitants had designed their citadel to keep out all chaos, all contaminants, even to defy time’s destructive power. They did not realize that the threat they faced was not the absence of life, but an entity in itself, hungrily swallowing all it encountered. Seeping up through the rock, it struck the base of the edifice, crept up its central core, and ate away at the life it contained, shattering glass gardens, toppling towers of civilization, and squeezing the walls into that elemental shape: the cube.