Overview

The Station

The Station is essentially a small town of about 10,000 people living on an asteroid for so long that they have no memories as to their true origins as humans. To them, we came from somewhere, but no real clue where. The entire space is split roughly into two main parts: the Upper Station, and the Lower Station. The Upper Station is, by and by, significantly less wealthy than the Lower Station, because the Lower Station is closer to the mines that go into the asteroid and has all of the machinery/resources required for survival.

The Upper Station

The Upper Station houses about 6,000 people in total. In general, the closer you are to the edge of the station, the poorer you are; due to decay of facilities over time, the Station’s resistance against stray objects hitting its surface has decreased significantly, to the extent that those who live right on the side of the Upper Station can die from the impact.
Many of the workers here are manual laborers for the mines, which will be expanded upon in the mines section.
Along with all of this is the crime in the area. Laborers currently work 7 days a week and are inches away from being slaves to the mines. 10 years ago, there was a miners’ union, but ever since the sudden proliferation of Clover (working name), all of that has stopped, and many of the laborers need some of it just to get through the day.

The Lower Station

The Lower Station houses the remaining 4,000 people. Unlike the Upper Station, in the Lower Station, the most powerful individuals live right in the center of it- approximately ¾ the distance from the edge of The Station to the entries of the mines. This is where we have the most job diversity.
People here range from skilled laborers all the way to significant governmental figures and scientists, and each industry is extremely small. 
First is the division system, which can be found below. 

Main Control Room

A Large bunker with communication devices and conference rooms. Leaders of each division gather here every day, to hold a cabinet meeting. The triumvirate (The Controller, The Observer, and The Mechanic) also holds meeting here every day. This is the most heavily guarded and maintained facility in the station, and only essential workers can enter. Due to all the devices and security measures, space is extremely limited.

-3~4 Chairs for officers to sit on.

-Desks with keyboard and joystick controls. The controls are lit, dim yellow color

-Microphone for each officer to announce stuff:

-Screens with geometric graphs. Example:

Squares

This is where commoners gather, one of the few open spaces in the station. Squares consist of multiple levels, but its reach is limited by barriers.

-Consists of a large open void, multiple levels visible.

-A couple of elevator shafts, connecting the levels.

-Dim unrecognizable figures of people walking by.

-A large open area at the lowest level for people to gather.

In game description

Standing in the heart of each deck, the upper and lower public squares are built upon firm beams of tempered titanium. The squares themselves are relics of ambition, once envisioned as hub of trade and culture. Now, they are places where the past hums through the vents, and shadows fall long in the dim, flickering artificial light. Still, you can occasionally hear children playing and merchants humming—oblivious to the gloomy future that awaits them.

Like most of the station’s megastructures, the squares stood long before any surviving historical records. It is thought they were built during the station’s expansion phases by demolishing internal structures to make way for passengers and cargo. They were the first civic spaces ever attempted at such scale. Their design was bold: circular corridors ringing a vast void, above which elevator shafts hang suspended at unimaginable heights. The ground—a tessellation of dark alloy tiles—bears the scuff marks of countless boots, wheels, and dreams worn thin.

Around the edges, rusted vendor stalls and dormant information kiosks linger, though some still seem to be running. A constant low-frequency hum pulses from deep within the station’s core, like the breath of something immense and ancient beneath the surface.

It is a place where silence has weight, and time feels paused—as if waiting for something to return. Or awaken.

Markets

This is where the Industry diviison sell their products. The largest market is in the upper station, where they sell mediocre but affodable products. Rich people in the lower station also has a market, albeit much smaller and specific.

-Dim unrecognizable figures of people walking by

-Each store is lit, display of unrecognizable stuff they sell

-The long corridor of stores fades away.

-The ceiling is very high, and there are bridges connecting the two sides.

In game description

Tucked between the arteries of transit and the veins of maintenance shafts, the market sprawls in subdued anonymity. The largest of these is set in the upper station—an expansive corridor where rows of utilitarian shops offer products of dubious quality but undeniable affordability. This is where function supersedes form, where practicality is packaged in cheap metal packages.

Down below, in the lower decks where oxygen flows richer and the pressure of life feels less mechanical, a much smaller market exists—exclusively for the elite. There, selection trumps necessity. The shelves are sparse, but the offerings precise: rare tools, tailored implants, and items whispered about in catalogs long discontinued. The wealth down here buys specificity, not abundance.

This is where people of dubious qualities get hired. You might be able to find a gem in the pile of rubble if you have sharp enough sense, though.

The market corridors stretch on endlessly—or so it seems. Each store glows under its own pocket of light, revealing blurred silhouettes of goods too strange or obsolete to recognize. Holographic tags flicker, illegible or misleading. Dim figures pass by, heads down, their outlines warped by dust in the air and the old glass of surveillance domes.

Above, the ceiling disappears into shadow. Metal bridges crisscross high overhead, their undersides lined with rusted conduit and forgotten signage. Occasionally, a figure moves across them—quiet, unhurried—never stopping, never looking down.

The corridor narrows in the distance, fading into a vanishing point where light fails and memory falters. This is not a place built to welcome; it endures, trades, and breathes in silence.

And beneath the dull hum of ventilation and old machinery, one might swear they hear the market whisper—bartering not just in goods, but in time lost and futures bartered away.

The Observatory

This is where The Observer stays most of the time. No one is interested in the outer space anymore, so the facility is empty otherwise. This facility does not require human maintanance.

-References:

-A large main telescope, cylindrical and supported by robot arms to move it.

-Truss structure supporting the spherical ceiling.

-A slot open in the ceiling, looking toward the outer space.

-Bunch of wires leading to the main telescope.

In game description

High above the habitation rings, in a region of the station where few lights reach and fewer footsteps echo, lies the forgotten observatory. It was once known as the Celestial Aperture, though that name has long since slipped from station directories and memory alike. No one comes here anymore—not because it’s sealed, but because no one cares to look outward.

Inside, the facility operates in silence. It has no need for human maintenance; its circuits hum with inherited purpose, long after its creators stopped asking the stars for answers. The space is immense and cold, the kind of cold that feels like time stopped breathing. A lattice of blackened trusses cradles the high, spherical ceiling, from which a singular aperture remains eternally open—a wound gazing into space that no longer draws wonder.

At the chamber’s center, the main telescope rests like some ancient sentinel. A massive cylindrical eye, its surface dulled by decades of neglect, is held aloft by articulated robotic arms. The arms twitch occasionally, calibrating unseen mechanisms, responding to no operator. A tangle of thick cables coils at its base, feeding it data, or perhaps draining it of something more ephemeral.

The only presence here is The Observer. No one knows who—or what—they are anymore. Some say they were assigned; others claim they volunteered. Now, they simply are. Seen only in shadows and distant reflections, they linger beside the telescope for hours—or days—gazing through it, though what they hope to find in the dark, uncaring void remains unknown.

The station forgot the stars long ago. Industry, commerce, and containment took precedence. The Observatory was left behind, sealed in irrelevance, its original mission buried beneath layers of obsolete protocols.

Yet still, The Observer remains.

And the telescope moves.

And the stars, perhaps, still look back.

Reservoirs

This is where they store water and other critical substances. Due to the limited space of the station, several toxic and inflammable materials are stored in proximity, which has resulted in several catastrophic accidents in the past. As long as they are properly staffed and inspected regularly, such accidents should not happen.

-An array of liquid tanks, each of them the size of a small car and round rectangular shape.

-Pipes behind the tanks, connecting them.

-Gauges and pumps connected to the pipes.

Excavation Shafts

This is where the excavation workers dig in to the core. What they dig is mostly common rock (SiO2), but sometimes other minerals, and in a few lucky incidencts, the remains of the facilities forgotten long time ago. The remains are gutted and transported to the habitable zone, to supply construction projects. Temperature drops quickly outside the habitable zone, and the lack of oxygen and the sense of direction renders these shafts extremely dangerous. The most useful material found here is ice methane, which is used to grow plants, the only reliable way to sustain life in the station.

The engine is in the relatively shallow section of one of the shafts.

-A long vertical elevator shaft, supported by an array of truss beams:

-The bottom of the shaft vanishes into the darkness.

-An array of pipes going down on the wall of the chasm, connecting gas flow and electricity across various levels of the mine.

In game description

Deep beneath the oxygen-rich corridors of the habitable zones, past the last pressure seal and the flickering hazard lights, the excavation shafts plunge into the belly of the station. They call it the Red Mine—not for the rock, but for the color the light takes when filtered through dust, rust, and atmosphere grown thin.

The main elevator shaft drops vertically into the unknown, framed by a lattice of corroded truss beams that groan with every vibration. Its walls are threaded with thick, frost-laced piping—arteries of gas, coolant, and power—feeding the lower levels where machines dig endlessly through strata of compressed silica. Most of it is worthless—just common rock—but now and then, the drills strike something different: dense minerals, volatile ices, or the twisted remains of structures thought long erased.

No one speaks of what these ruins once were. No records exist. No names survive. When the excavation teams uncover them, the procedure is simple: gut the remains, salvage anything structural, and ship it up to the construction stacks in the inner ring. Whatever purpose these facilities once served is irrelevant now. The station consumes history as easily as it consumes ore.

The further down one goes, the more direction fades. Orientation becomes unreliable—compasses spin, gravity warps in places, and time seems to stagger. Outside the thin perimeter of pressurized corridors, the cold is absolute. Ice forms in layers, sharp and blue, choking machinery and slowing breath. Even the most experienced workers admit they sometimes hear things in the shaft: faint knocking, distant machinery long since shut down, voices not carried by comms.

And yet, they keep digging. Because buried deep within this lifeless crust is the only thing that still matters—phosphorus. Trapped in ancient remainings and burial sites, it is the one element that makes life sustainable aboard the station. Without it, the biogardens wither, abominable diseases grow among the people, and the illusion of self-sufficiency collapses.

Near one of the shallower shafts sits the station’s secondary engine—an aging thermal core, half-sunk into the mine wall, held in place by scaffolds and neglect. It still burns. Still feeds heat into the lower veins of the station like a buried heart.

Asteroid Mines

Normal rock asteroids (SiO2) in the outer space are useless and only a threat to the station. However, metal asteroids have a significant amount of precious metals such as gold and iridium, which is of limited supply in the station. Thus, whenevere feasible, they are captured with a magnetic field, docked to one of the openings in the Impact Barrier, and then workers access these openings through an airlock. Mining an asteroid is a dangerous job, as artificial gravity is pulling everything right out to the opening. A breach in the airlock is especially catastrophic, wiping everything in the upper station near the airlock.

It will require more support than the above image, as the artificial gravity exists in our station.

This crane might be a helpful reference.

Farms

The bioengineering division grows a few different kinds of crops here. The farm is next to one of the water reservoirs.

-A long array of Hydroponic farm plots

-Ceiling light to keep the plants alive

-Various devices on the top of the farm plots, to water them and measure the growth.

Construction Yards

The Infrastructure division workers assembles constructure materials here, which is then transported to the site. A large open area with a hoist is therefore required.

Ceiling Hoists, you can blur the details.

In game description

Tucked against the outermost inner ring, far from the glass corridors and commerce halls, lies the Construction Yard—an expanse of steel platforms, suspended gantries, and scaffolds wrapped in an ever-settling haze of welding smoke and recycled air. It is not a place of beauty. It is a place of necessity, raw and skeletal, where the station builds itself in fits and fractures.

The Yard never truly sleeps. Machines lurch and stammer through their endless routines—autonomous cranes groaning under the weight of prefabricated alloys, manipulators welding supports with bursts of light too bright for bare eyes. Human workers move among them, draped in insulated suits stained with grease and insulation foam, indistinguishable from one another behind visors fogged with their own breath. Their chatter is low and short, if it exists at all.

Here, structures are born not from design, but improvisation—scavenged materials from old habitat pods, salvaged panels from gutted ruins deep in the mines, polymers synthesized from industrial waste. Blueprints exist only in fragments. The builders follow the whisper of directives that seem to change with each rotation cycle.

Above, gantries form a web of steel veins stretching toward the void. Some lead to incomplete modules left hanging in zero gravity, others to nowhere at all—projects halted mid-construction, abandoned without explanation. A network of tether rails keeps crews from drifting off into the black, though not all of them return. Sometimes, tools are found wedged in beam joints. Sometimes, helmets.

In the center of the Yard sits a rotating dry-dock where atmospheric pods and farming bays are assembled, or rather reassembled—most components are reworked from forgotten things. You can still see serial numbers etched into the undersides, crossed out, re-coded, and forgotten again. Somewhere beneath the deck plates, power flows from redirected lines that were never meant to be tapped. Occasionally, lights will flicker station-wide when the Yard draws too much.

Rescue Stations

This is where safety division officers stay for duty. Other than rescuing people from the shafts and mines to hospitals, they maintain the order through force. They cannot use weapons that may damage the station barriers, so the most common weapon is a baton. Rescue stations are heavily guarded, as they are often targeted by labor protests, gangs, and even political coups.

Hospital

This is where doctors of the bioengineering division take care of injured people.

Electrolysis Station

Here is where huge amount of water is electrolysed to produce oxygen every hour. Water flows in, and Oxygen and Hydrogen flows out. Also has a huge power source and an emergency battery system.

Recycle Facility

This facility is a huge factory which processes several materials, but the most noticable facility here is the organic distiller, which is a 100ft high cylinderical apparatus which dissolves all organic waste produced in the station, including corpses, so that they can be reused.

Security Check

The safety officers working in these gates prevent discontent people of the upper station from entering the lower station. Weapons and other dangerous materials are also regulated. It is done similarly to modern airport security, except there is the large metal wall, the station barrier, in the between. The other direction is not as throughly checked.

Mining School

This is where they do basic training for miners, and educate managers of the mining and the infrastructure division. It consists of small classrooms and offices, so there is nothing particularly noticable.

Tech School

This is where they do basic training for construction workers, and educate managers of the bioengineering and the industry division. It consists of small classrooms and offices, so there is nothing particularly noticable.

This image might be helpful, but is not a hard referecence.

The Engine

The engine is in the relatively shallow section of one of the shafts. It is supposedly one of the many generators that the ancestors used when they had access to the entire asteriod, but it is the only functional one now. The heat generated by the engine is transported to the habitable zone, and it is the only thing that keeps the station from freezing to death.