A future built fast, built cheap, and left to rust
Visual storytelling, world-building, and identity design through graphic design for the props, packaging, and invented language of a sci-fi feature film.

Drop someone into a world they have never seen, and let the world tell the story.
Prospect is a dystopian sci-fi film about a teenage girl and her father travelling to a remote alien moon, aiming to strike it rich. But there are others roving the wilderness, and the job quickly devolves into a desperate fight to survive.
The film keeps its perspective observational. There is very little exposition, so the audience learns where they are almost entirely from what they see on screen. That puts an unusual weight on the design of the world itself.
Not the posters or the credits. The fine print that immerses you in the world.
In film, "graphic designer" is a broad title. It can mean the title sequence and motion graphics, the marketing and key art, or post-production work. Mine was none of those. I designed graphics for props, set decoration, and costumes: the warning labels, instruction manuals, packaging, logos, advertisements, signage, and patches that fill the edges of a frame and dress the characters in it. None of it is the thing the audience is looking at, and all of it is the thing that convinces them the place is real.

A print sheet of "dry rub" decals that we would apply everywhere a label or a logo might be: providing an interface for characters to interact with

The meticulous application of the dry rubs by myself (right) and graphic design lead, Alex Park (Left)
The audience had two hours to load a new construct of reality in a universe they'd never seen.
The User: the viewer
The user here was the viewer: someone with no manual, no exposition, and about two hours to absorb a whole civilisation and believe it. Every object I designed was a bet on what that viewer would understand, trust, and feel in the half-second it was on screen.
The challenge: Immersion
The challenge was immersion. The audience needed to feel dropped into a completely new alien universe, and with only a couple of hours to do it, the world had to carry the rest of the story. Utility, cost, weight, and the implications of life on an alien frontier all had to be considered for every object that appeared.
The directors wanted the world to feel expansive and alive but to sit behind a small, intimate story. It had to feel incidental, like it extended well beyond the edges of the film, rather than built to order for it.

The interior of the drop pod that the characters live and conduct their work out of. Reminiscent of a 1970s u-haul or winnebago in space filled with branding, safety and instruction information, and signs of life, like the stickers of a teenage girl navigating a harsh universe.
We built their world out of ours.
Research
Though Prospect takes place on the uncivilised frontier of the galaxy, the directors still wanted evidence of civilisation buried in the corners. Pop culture, religion, politics, and consumer goods were all facets of humanity they wanted the audience to encounter. This universe was not our own, but we drew reference from many corners of the one that is.
The aesthetic was nicknamed "painted rust," a reference to the industrial output generated at breakneck speed by the USSR, built quickly and cheaply by an industrial power, then left out to weather. Everything in the film had to ride that line, expressing the progressive spirit of space travel but grounded by utilitarian and economic realities. Building the world also meant blending times and cultures, layering eras and influences until the place felt like it had a history of its own. We drew reference from the famously unmade Jodorowsky's Dune, whose maximal, invented world-building inspired the breadth and depth we wanted for the Prospect universe.

Right: A glimpse of the trove of reference images that informed the film, spanning decades and cultures
Left: The beginning workings of brands, labels, and alien cartoon characters that would go on to form the world
On a frontier with no exposition, what the audience felt came down to what we left in the corners of the frame.
The control panel of the pod with functioning screens, a handwritten instruction note providing reminders to a complicated instrument and the branding of the control panel company

Signs of life within a space caravan, like the stickers of a teenage girl navigating a harsh universe featuring her favourite cartoon characters and brands
The med kit used in a pivotal scene featuring the Prospect universe orange flower in the stead of a green cross and convoluted packaging based on soviet medical packaging
From an alphabet no one had ever written to a brand on a passing container, the world was built one object at a time.
The Language
A world feels truly alien the moment the audience cannot read a word of it. Nothing in this universe could be written in any language that exists on Earth: the solution was to give the world its own language from the ground up. The written alphabet was developed by our concept artist, Laurie Greasley, with calligraphic, machine, and handwriting systems. Reporting to graphics lead Alex Park, I digitised the machine glyph system from her hand-drawn source; Luke Dietz then built it out into a working OTF font, so every label, manual, and logo would read as real text without being text a viewer could recognise. It worked almost too well. Years later, fans have decoded the glyphs frame by frame and reconstructed the alphabet themselves.
The Objects
From there the world filled in piece by piece, each object carrying a small story. The drop pod the characters live in was written as a rental, the space equivalent of a U-Haul, so its branding had to feel rented rather than owned. Down to the slurry packs they ate from and the brands on passing shipping containers, every piece added up to a world that felt interconnected and a little messy, the way real commerce is.

The packaging for the "bits bars" featuring Kyoku a cartoon character well-known in the universe


The packaging for the "slurry packs", nutritional slop that the characters depend on with fruits alien and earth-adjacent, well-worn from their travels


The brand patch on a main character's suit reminiscent of 70s Patagonia. Outdoor wear for space.
Following one prop from a blank page to something worn, used, and full of history.


Prospect was designed so no one would stop to read a slurry pack. Its fans now pause to read them anyway.









