Three ways to
dress the ruin
Same myth in all three: the sphere fell, the water turned, the powder saves. What changes is what the lounge looks and feels like — palette, material, and what 25 of us wear for a week. Read all three, then vote.
Last year, various time frames and light. We already have the bones of a great camp: the arch, the ball, two neons, satellite mirror balls, rope light, and a genuinely comfortable soft-goods lounge. None of these themes throw that away — each one tells you what to keep, what to re-skin, and what to add.
Opportunities for improvement: the color story isn't decided yet. The textiles, rugs, and furniture are all pulling in different directions. That's the actual problem these boards solve.
Reliquary
of the Sphere
The lounge is a shrine built by survivors who don't fully understand what they're worshipping. Powder is sacrament, dispensed by hand from a gilded reliquary. Servers are clergy: hooded, slow, quiet, deeply serious about hydration.
Palette
Warm and low-contrast by day, so the gold reads without competing with the ground. Dust is the base note, not an accident — canvas, ply, and robes all sit in it. All accent light stays amber — the existing neon gets gelled or dimmed to sit inside this.
Materials & texture
Costume direction
Clergy of the powder. One silhouette everyone can hit: a hooded, floor-length open robe in bone, sand, or olive over whatever you're already wearing.
Every guest who drinks writes one spell on a card — a wish, a curse, a name they're done carrying — and posts it into the reliquary. Nothing is read in the moment. The slip is simply taken.
Typeface direction
Drink, and be counted among those the sphere spared. The powder is given freely to everyone who arrives dry.
Aftershine
Where the sphere landed, the ground grew mirrors. This is the beautiful apocalypse: everything the tainted water touches crystallizes into chrome and salt. The camp isn't a shrine or a plant — it's the bloom, and we're the ones it changed.
Palette
No gold and no warm accent — this theme is deliberately cool, and the only warm note is the dust itself, which we don’t get to choose. All the color comes from what the mirrors pick up: sky at dawn, neon at night, whatever people are wearing. The sigil goes chrome or flat black here, never gold
Materials & texture
Costume direction
The crystallized. Whatever you wear, one surface of you is reflective. The rule is a texture rule, not a garment rule — so everyone interprets it differently and it still coheres.
Chrome is how you get seen by whatever is watching. A guest steps up and performs a task. We chrome their mouth and cheekbones with silver adornments (facepaint, temp tattoos etc.) and the whole lounge stops to witness them by name before they drink. Then they go back out shining — and the next time we see them, we witness them again.
Typeface direction
The water changed and so did we. Everything it touches keeps the light.
Flavorworks
Not a temple — a plant. The last working electrolyte refinery on the playa, run by a crew in coveralls who take decontamination seriously and dance anyway. Every surface is labeled, stenciled, rated, and numbered. The cult is a union.
Palette
High contrast on purpose — orange and yellow are the two colors dust cannot mute. Teal is the flavor accent.
Materials & texture
Costume direction
Refinery crew. Workwear, worn hard. Coveralls or utility pants, always something high-vis, always goggles pushed up on the forehead.
Flavor mixing as spellcraft. Guests pick two powders from a numbered rack; the crew reads the resulting formula aloud off a clipboard like an incantation, stamps their card, and hands over the drink.
Typeface direction
POTABILITY: CONDITIONAL · ADDITIVE: MANDATORY
OUTPUT 24H · CREW 25 · RATION UNLIMITED