↓ Dystopia
In a world that never embraced Solarpunk ideals, humanity continued to consume resources without considering the long-term consequences it had on the environment. Over decades, this led to Earth being stripped of all of its natural resources and covered in technological waste. Pollution and neglect turned once thriving regions into desolate wastelands filled with decaying infrastructure.
Bridges that used to connect communities now stand broke and incomplete, with some section missing and car parts scattered across their surfaces. Below the bridges that crossed bodies of water, the water has turned toxic green - the result of decades of chemical runoff and industrial pollution. Nearby the bridges, there are roads that are covered with scrap metal and rusted machine parts, forming what looks like canyons of garbage.
The main roads that lead into these areas are cracked, their surfaces littered with fragments of rusted car parts and dead leaves. Bus stations stand abandoned, the buses that once transported thousands of people daily are now sitting in their designated spots - except they weren’t there for maintenance, they were left to rust and for grime to build up on it. Furthermore, vehicles no longer roam the streets and all that’s left are the old tire marks on the pavement.
Beyond the roads and bridges, hills and mountains dominate the landscape, however these areas couldn’t escape the consequences of human negligence. Along their slopes, trash has piled up against them, creating new hills of waste and blocking pathways that once allowed people to hike up the mountains. The air thick with the scent of rust, oil, and decay, with no signs of plant or animal life to break up the lifeless land.
Most of the human population has abandoned their once home, seeking refuge on distant planets or space colonies. Those who remain live in remote regions of the Earth, avoiding the dangerous and contaminated areas. The world has become a graveyard for human technology - a reminder of what happens when progress is pursued without consideration for the planet.
↓ Solarpunk
It wasn’t all that long ago when this riverside land was just another outpost of concrete and cars. The people had forgotten the rhythms of the river and the forests, trading them for the restless hum of highways and smokestacks. But as the world around them began to unravel, this little corner of Earth became a quiet crucible for something new - a promise that cities could live in harmony with the wild again.
The transformation began with small acts of hope: a vast solar panel garden and a network of community spaces where neighbors could gather and reconnect. Soon, neighborhoods were weaving green back into their bones. Bridges that once carried nothing but exhaust and noise became lively paths for walking and biking, reconnecting the town with the river that had always been its lifeline. Deep underground, geothermal vents powered by the nearby volcano provided clean energy to the machines that now filter the city’s air and water, turning decay into new breath.
The town itself is a patchwork of old and new - earthy homes with sun-catching roofs, redone tennis courts alive with activity, and roads reimagined for bikers and pedestrians. At the heart of it all stands a beautiful community space, where a small lake cradles a waterfall that sings softly throughout the day. People gather here to watch frogs hop from lilypad to lilypad and to share quiet moments beneath the shade of ancient trees. Streets are lined with fruit-bearing trees - apples, pears, and plums - free for anyone to pluck as they wander. Nearby, the grand solar panel garden fans out like a sunflower field, with panels that tilt and turn throughout the day to soak in every drop of sunlight.
Governing here isn’t about who sits at the top of a pyramid - it’s about circles of trust and shared purpose. Decisions are made in open-air councils under the gentle rustle of leaves, guided by the belief that every voice matters and the future belongs to everyone. In this town, sustainability isn’t just a word - it’s the heartbeat of life itself, woven into every path, every meal, and every quiet promise whispered beneath an endless canopy of green.
↓ Nature
Long before the quiet of the river valleys and the meadows, there was a time when machines roamed these lands with ceaseless hums and clicks. Humans built towering structures and bustling cities here, consuming resources in a race that never seemed to pause. The rivers were once lined with concrete embankments, and forests had been reduced to lonely clumps of trees surrounded by fields of glass and steel. Yet even in those days of relentless industry, there were whispers of renewal—there were dreams of healing the land that had been hurt by humans.
It was during the final years of the old world that the first seeds of change were planted. Using the last of their tools and the last of their resolve, people built small rewilding machines - machines meant not to exploit, but to restore. Slowly, wetlands returned where dry soil had cracked, forests reclaimed valleys, and meadows stretched across once-barren plains. These devices worked tirelessly, guided by blueprints of rewilding and restoration. But the humans knew their work was only half done. When the last seedling had been planted and the final riverbank rebuilt, they made the choice to let go of their machines and step away from the now restored land.
With the earth healed from the wounds inflicted by humanity, the nearby volcano has lain dormant for many years, turning the once hot mouth into a lake and the surrounding land into a forest where a thriving ecosystem of animals call home. The departure was as deliberate as the restoration. With gentle hands, they decommissioned every last engine and lifted the final solar arrays, folding them away like the closing chapter of an old story. The air fell silent, the drones that once carried saplings to new homes no longer tracing patterns in the sky. The people walked away from the humming relics of technology, leaving them behind like shells on the shore of a new ocean of green. In that silence, the world began to truly heal itself.
Now, as you wander through these forests and along these rivers, you see not a trace of those machines, only the gentle weave of life. The meadows are alive with birdsong, and the rivers flow clear and sure once more. The land carries a quiet memory of what was - a memory of machines that healed before they were put to rest, of people who remembered that to belong to the earth is to let it be. This is how the world came to be as you see it today: a place of pure nature, a living testament to the balance that can be found when we finally learn to step aside and let the earth breathe.