von Anna Vehres
Insights into the production design of a student sci-fi project
Cybercity Lovestory is an ambitious student project that was realized in the form of a transmedia series at the Ludwigsburg Film Academy. The first idea for this concept emerged almost seven years ago, and the pilot episode was completed at the end of 2023.
For me, science fiction is one of the most exciting genres that you can work on in terms of scene design. That's why it was a great pleasure for me to be able to get my diploma with this project. Since you can hardly draw from contemporary props or locations, this student project was a real challenge that I had great respect for. With this article I would like to provide an insight into the design process, but also address the challenges during implementation. Maybe I can encourage some students to dare to try this wonderful genre, because despite all the hurdles, it was a lot of fun and fascinated me in the long term.
Cybercity Lovestory (CCLS) takes the audience to the year 2094 on the planet Mars.
We accompany the courageous Martian Elaine and the rebellious cybercriminal Kevin from Earth on their journey to change the future of their two worlds. The interface between the two planets Mars and Earth and the place where Elaine and Kevin meet is the virtual reality game “Cybercity”. Not only Elaine and Kevin immerse themselves in this virtual city, but also the audience, who can slip into the role of Elaine's artificial intelligence using VR glasses to experience the “Cybercity”. There, the audience becomes active to help Elaine survive in the virtual metropolis and bring to light hidden secrets there.
The film part of the pilot episode takes place in the Mars colony. My task was to design a total of eight locations, consisting of a server room, conference room, Mars habitat, youth room, greenhouse, airlock, an archive room and the botany laboratory. Before I could start on these specific design topics, I immersed myself in the history of science fiction and was fascinated by how far its roots reach. Centuries ago, its literary predecessor, utopia, was a means of expressing new ideas and criticism of the authorities through the flower of fiction. In most exciting science fiction stories, this critical element continues to this day, in the treatment of political, social or technological topics of varying intensity - from the more escapist STAR WARS to BLACK MIRROR or GATTACA. It was clear to me that this critical examination of the here and now had to flow into my design. Especially since the colonization of Mars becomes a very concrete and controversial vision of the future.
The current state of research was also important to me. What do current visions of Mars colonies look like and what are the assumptions about how people will live, communicate, research or produce there?
CCLS is essentially soft science fiction. Technological elements are of course part of the world, are also addressed, but are not supporting elements of the plot. Unlike in hard science fiction (e.g. THE MARTIAN), for me there was no emphasis on a meticulous depiction of technology and architecture. The focus is always on the protagonists, whose everyday problems and dreams take up most of the space in the plot. The spirit of the story, with its coming-of-age elements, is slightly naive and driven by a spirit of progress and optimism, which is, however, not entirely unclouded by the stagnation of research work. In addition, the conditions on Mars are inhospitable, which puts a strain on people and manifests itself in widespread physical and psychological problems. During the Corona pandemic, many people experienced what isolation feels like. The inhabitants of the Mars colony have to live with the expectation of never experiencing anything other than isolation. Art and culture are basically non-existent. Escaping into a digital world therefore seems very tempting. And hovering above it all is the big corporation USC, which wants to bring humanity under its interplanetary control. All of the frightening aspects of this potential future resonate in CCLS, but not without always referencing the challenges of our present. What is it like to live in constant isolation, dominated by work for survival?
How worth living is life without nature, art and culture? How do digital worlds develop when they become the actual places where life takes place?
Our Mars colony was not intended to be the first to be established there. For me, this consideration was crucial for the materiality of the architecture. In my assumption, the first station was produced on Earth and then transported to Mars. When designing our set, however, I assumed that to build this station we could already use what could be found on site on Mars. Therefore, the entire station should appear as if it was 3D printed from a composite material based on Martian sand and rock. We simulated this surface quality with a total of five tons of clay plaster. The outer walls are very thick and slanted in order to aerodynamically withstand the strong sandstorms and to block radiation. For the interiors, I completely avoided using wall coverings or paints in order to be able to convey, on the one hand, the limitation to the bare essentials and, on the other hand, to emphasize the oppressive feeling of isolation, the border between inside and outside that is almost impossible to penetrate. In terms of design, the interiors are a combination of the Space Age and minimalist, but also brutalist elements. I was interested in Brutalism as a reference because it was considered futuristic when it was created, but from today's perspective it is perceived more as dystopian, partly due to a lack of maintenance. This image also has to do with the common use of brutalist-looking architecture in science fiction dystopias to underscore isolation, cold and over-dimensioning.
As my starting point, I assumed that designers from Earth originally designed the interiors for Mars. For my designs, I tried to put myself in their heads. I wanted to create a beautiful environment that also made it clear that too much imposed, externally determined design can limit the self-efficacy and personal development of the people living there. So, I always thought about the elements on two levels: How would the slightly naive and perhaps slightly overambitious designers have designed the elements? And how can architecture radiate such intentions but at the same time embody their failure? It is no coincidence that the overarching spatial organization of the residential units with the hallway running through them alludes to Le Corbusier's Unité d’Habitation, which marked an early attempt to enable economic efficiency while simultaneously increasing living comfort through modularity.
Most sets should appear as harmonious as possible thanks to their strong symmetry. This is emphasized by soft and round shapes. Many of the items are cylindrical. Centred on the walls there are large golden circles that appear calm and balanced and at the same time narratively embody the once worshiped sun - hope for the favour of higher powers in uncertain times. Today we associate minimalism in the living space with clarity, freedom from consumption and a strong connection to self-care and mental health. Therefore, “the designers from planet Earth” attached great importance to this. However, I deliberately exaggerated this approach so that a deficiency, a "too little" can be seen. The rooms are deliberately intended to appear empty. Which is reflected, among other things, in a sparse supply of props. Emotionally charged objects, art and literature hardly exist on Mars anyway. The infinity created in the server room by digital set extension plays with the uncomfortable feeling that so-called liminal spaces create [note. d. R.: deserted transitional places that lose their meaning and purpose without people].
The Space Age influences can be seen particularly in the furniture of the apartments with their spacious seating areas embedded in the floor and the spherical lights hanging above them. The theme also appears in chairs and objects. The earthly designers wanted to evoke associations with times when people looked euphorically into the future. The times of the Space Race and the visions of utopian avant-garde architecture, which promised a prosperous future achievable through technological progress. At the same time, we know that all of this was intended to distract from the pain of the post-war period and geopolitical conflicts. But the promises were worn out - traditional technologies were re-dressed in a streamlined style and still remained: pure scenery.
The server room occupies an important place in the story, as a data theft is told there. In order to put this data at the centre, I wanted to stage it visually and make it perceptible. Data in liquid form seemed to me to be an exciting solution. Liquid is flexible and in constant change. At the same time, such a form increases the importance of the data by putting the all-connecting, all-pervading AI on a level with water. That element that is not only the origin of all life and highly sought after, but also has the ability to absorb, store and pass on information. Just like AI, water embodies hope on the one hand, and unpredictability on the other. The fluid data is stored in high basins and emphasized by lighting from below. The height of the containers is deliberately unergonomic, since it is not humans who control the AI, but the other way around.
After all the designs were completed, implementation began.
Originally, the majority of the sets were to be created digitally using an LED wall. During the preparation process, however, we realized that real backdrops would appear more authentic, atmospheric and immersive. So, we decided to take a middle path, namely to digitally expand the studio buildings where necessary. This allowed me greater creative freedom as I could design more comprehensively. At the same time, it brought with it the challenge that the digital extensions had to merge seamlessly with the physical production design. It was therefore important to keep this interface in mind right from the start of the design. Working in 3D made this process easier. I was able to test different perspectives again and again. In addition, the 3D model could easily be passed on to our game designer for further processing in the Unreal Engine. Working in 3D not only made the set extension easier, but was also a great help for me in terms of planning and economics. I was able to take the local conditions into account in the digital clone of the studio, take measurements at any time and plan very precisely from the start with substructures, podiums and panels, so that I could keep a good eye on the cost development.
One of the biggest challenges, as is often the case with student projects, was recruiting and coordinating people for the art department, as volunteers are usually less involved than an employed construction site. Given these circumstances, it was all the more impressive that almost a hundred people worked passionately over a period of seven months (some of them for the entire duration).