Dune: The Awakening – Interlude: The Architect

 

The Architect – Theme Song

One day, you’re high on the mountain peak
So high that the ground feels antique
Then the wind at your back brings ember and ash
And your whole proud house comes down in a crash

Was it planned at all, or just paint on a wall?
Any choices you wish you could reset?
I can’t comprehend—were there blueprints or plans?
And may I speak to the architect?

After the last “renovation adventure” (known locally as That Time Dave Accidentally Bulldozed Reality), Dave decided to do things differently. Responsibly. Sensibly. With permission.

“Hey Myles,” he called across the base. “Now that we’re part of House Atreides, don’t you think our home should reflect that? Maybe… some green on the walls?”

“Sure. Knock yourself out, go crazy,” Myles replied, not looking up from under the hood of his Thopter. It was the kind of distracted approval you give a toddler with crayons, not realizing those crayons are industrial paint sprayers and the toddler has a credit line.

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Phase One: Inspiration

Dave took this as divine sanction. He leapt into his Thopter and headed for Helius Gate, near the Pinnacle Trading Post. The Atreides outpost there was a cathedral of green-panelled glory—rounded entrances, bay windows, intricate webs of glass, basalt, and smug architectural superiority.

And then came the deal of the century: every plan, every blueprint, all for a mere $80k. That was 25% of the group’s funds, but Dave’s internal calculator immediately filed it under “bargain” and slapped the cash down.

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Phase Two: Materials

Back at base, Dave tallied the plastone: 9,000 units. Good, but not Atreides good. He needed more. The buggy was fueled, the mines were stripped, the refinery roared to life. Days later, another 12,000 plastone joined the pile. The desert sighed in resignation.

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Phase Three: The Madness Takes Hold

He started with the main hangar:

• South wall: ripped down, replaced with green Atreides panels.

• Two exterior walls: replaced with Atreides bay windows.

• Interior wall: mesh-panel walls, more bay windows.

• Door: upgraded to a Pentashield.

• Roof: new green Atreides roofing.

Then his own hangar: entire north wall became a bay window, new floors, all walls replaced.

Main house? All roofing replaced Atreides-style. Safety rails upgraded.

From there, Dave entered a fugue state:

• Pyramid of Power: upgraded.

• Traveller’s Outbuilding: added.

• Bastion: rebuilt from the ground up.

• Ramps: smoother, wider.

• External vertical walls: replaced with vertical-windowed Atreides walls.

• Crafting room: raised roof.

• Water refining area: expanded and hermetically sealed.

• Switchback: rebuilt entirely in Atreides style.

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Phase Four: The Reckoning

Myles finally crawled out from under his Thopter and looked around. “Some green paint,” he muttered, surveying the hangar that now looked like Frank Lloyd Wright had binge-watched Dune and gone feral.

“Dave, report to the hangar. ASAP.”

Dave arrived at a sprint, expecting maybe a collapsed roof—difficult, given it was a forcefield.

“I approved some green paint,” Myles said slowly. “Please explain what the hell is going on here?”

Dave flipped open his notebook. “You told me to knock myself out and go crazy. Ta-da.” He gestured broadly at the emerald-tinted imperial splendour.

“So it’s just this hangar then?” Myles asked hopefully.

“All the hangars,” Dave confirmed, “plus—”

“Stop right there. How much of the original building remains?”

Dave thought for a moment. “The foundations… well, most of the foundations. Oh, and the floor. Well, most of the floor.”

Myles closed his eyes. Somewhere, faintly, the theme song played again.

Dune the Awakening – Climb Every Mesa (and Crash Every Thopter)

🎵 Climb every mesa, ford every quicksand… 🎵

  Climb every mesa, scour high and low, 
  Follow every byway, chase where winds may blow. 
  Climb every mesa, ford every quicksand, skim over every drumsand, 
  Follow each spice eruption till you find your team’s grand stand. 
  A role that will take all the nerve you can spare, 
  Every day of your life, in a rift, gasping for air.  

By the time we were done, the only thing we hadn’t forded was Craig’s patience, and even that was wearing dangerously thin.

Between sessions, Dave channelled his inner Frank Lloyd Wright—if Wright had been fuelled entirely by caffeine and bad ideas—and unveiled his Mighty Pyramid of Power. All generators? Inside it. Fabricators? Moved to “a more convenient spot,” which is Dave-speak for “somewhere you’ll trip over them on your way to bed.” Two extra hangars appeared for his and Craig’s thopters, which prompted Myles to ask the obvious:
“Who authorised this?”
Dave, without missing a beat: “It’s implied in your request for more mighty hanger space.”
And thus, Dave found his official team role: Den Mother & Part-Time Architect Dude.

Myles locked his own thopter, borrowed Zaph’s, and left Zaph stuck at base—thus discovering his role: Thopter Repair Dude. Craig’s thopter-building escapades? Redacted, mostly out of kindness.

Following the song lyrics, we flew north to “climb” mighty mesas—by which I mean we landed on top, looted the chests, and fled. Aluminium mining resumed until Myles fell off a mesa, leaving his thopter stranded like an abandoned shopping trolley on a freeway overpass.

We practised gliding our thopters for speed and fuel efficiency. Most of us improved. Craig perfected the art of dune-crashing and hitching rides on Myles’s thopter… until Myles learned the ejection manoeuvre.

Westward we went, where we found the Pallas, sliced through doors, and ran Atreides faction quests. House Atreides got our loyalty (because the Harkonnen “shaved head and smell like regret” aesthetic is a hard pass). Then north again to ruin a slaver outpost—water tanks sabotaged, fuel depot torched, crane wrecked—before they emptied a full can of whoop-arse on Craig. We killed their boss, but not before Craig cemented his team role as: Crash Test Dummy & Target Dummy.

Back at base, we built Zaph a mighty sniper rifle, because of course Sniper is always Zaph’s role. Then came rebel-hunting and blood extraction in a massive rift base. Craig—lacking a working anti-grav belt—jumped down the stairwell and added Vampire to his résumé.

Naturally, Dune wouldn’t be Dune without a few 10,000-year-old imperial testing stations. We ran a couple, unlocked our inner Sword-Masters, and were heading home when Dave’s squirrel instincts kicked in.
“OOOH SHINY—purple sand!” he yelled, cutting power and barrel-rolling into a death spiral. It was almost enough to challenge Craig’s crash test title.

Myles—apparently colour-blind to purple—could only see spice sand while hovering and scanning. Dave demonstrated spice collection and worm evasion. Craig tried to distract the worm with interpretive dance while Zaph harvested. Close calls were had. Photos exist. And since there’s an achievement for collecting 2,000 spice, this nonsense will be repeated.

Till next week—remember: climb every mesa, ford every quicksand… and if you can’t fly it, crash it spectacularly.