I.S.S

The I.S.S., once the pinnacle of human ingenuity and international cooperation, now drifts silently as a decaying tomb orbiting a dead world. Faint emergency lights flicker along its corridors like distant stars struggling against the void. The station groans with the strain of age, and long-abandoned systems wheeze under failing power cells. Within, a sense of haunting preservation lingers—dustless, bloodstained, and echoing with the ghostly silence of forgotten horrors.

Cryogenic Pod Bay (West Wing)

Once a sterile and cutting-edge life extension module, the Cryogenic Pod Bay now resembles a butcher’s locker. Eight pods line the chamber, their exteriors scorched, some cracked and stained with dried blood. The regeneration cycles have been brutal—claw marks, dents, and impact fractures cover the glass from within. Wall-mounted consoles flash corrupted data, looping records of vitals gone flat and restored again and again.

"Temperature: Critical. System Integrity: Compromised. Subject 07: Reinstated. Subject 04: Reinstated. Subject 02… error."

This is where the characters spent a century dying and returning—unaware, unknowing, but not unscarred.

Laboratory (Northwest Wing)

Once dedicated to pioneering cryogenic research, the Laboratory is now a shattered sanctuary of scientific ambition. Cabinets lie open, sample cases broken. A freezer hums with corrupted samples—twisted remnants of early particle experiments. Scorch marks and shattered glass hint at conflict here. A half-dismantled rat cage sits in the corner—its occupants long dead, mummified, or worse.

Scattered audio logs, scrawled notes, and hastily coded messages whisper of a descent into madness.

"Subject R-213 regrew after dismemberment… but retained no neural stability. We are crossing lines even we no longer understand."

Habitation Module (Central Spine)

Meant for comfort and humanity in the harsh void of space, this module now bears signs of deep psychological breakdown. Photos of Earth, taped drawings, and clippings of family memories still cling to the walls, some shredded or bloodstained. Beds are disheveled. Personal lockers have been rifled through. A makeshift shrine in the corner, dedicated to something unnamed, is surrounded by symbols scratched into metal in jagged, looping patterns.

"We dreamed of Earth… until the dreams stopped. Then came the screams."

Nodes (East and North Junctions)

These modular connectors link the station’s major wings. Once clean, functional tunnels—now rusted, cold, and claustrophobic. Panels hang loose, lights flicker in morse-like patterns, and bootprints trail off into blood smears. Unidentified black fluids leak from vents, possibly coolant… possibly not. One node is welded shut from the inside. Another shows signs of recent forced entry.

Each passage here holds a choice—forward into darkness or back into memory.

Solar Truss and Communications Module (Southern Extension)

The Solar Truss still juts proudly from the station’s flank—massive, skeletal arms reaching toward the sun. But one wing is twisted, sparking intermittently. The Communications Module, located below, is half-powered. Accessing it requires rerouting decaying batteries and risking exposure to decompression. When functioning, it transmits corrupted logs and a low emergency beacon:

"This is Dr. Ezra Halden, ISS Lazarus crew. If you're receiving this… don’t come home. Don’t trust the project. We… we’re not alone anymore."

Airlock & Docking Bay (Far West End)

The Airlock stands at the far edge—sealed, frosted over, and buckled by some violent force. Tools float near its frame, tethered to a half-sealed repair kit. The Docking Port, once designed for transfer shuttles, is now a jagged maw opening to the void, the last corridor the mutinous crewmember passed through before vanishing.

Burn marks and zero-g blood droplets freeze midair near the hatch—trailing away like the final breath of a dying soul.

The Station as a Character

The I.S.S. in Renewol isn’t just a place—it’s a scarred sentinel, a memorial to a broken world and a gateway to a new one. Its failing systems and haunted halls are echoes of humanity’s last gasp in orbit… and the birthplace of what comes next.