Note: Time is calculated differently in my city, the earliest time is referenced as 0 A.C., the abbreviation meaning “After Conception” where 0 A.C. is the year of my birth. Every one year in my life is ten years in NIkolausstadt.
In the beginning, Nikolausstadt was a place of sweetness, wonder, and imagination. The land was open and free, sprouting trees made of chocolate that provided warmth. The city, small and unsure, though proudly called “he” by his citizens, fed on the gifts of the forest. His people built homes from the magical lumber, finding shelter, warmth, and belonging. Life in early Nikolausstadt was simple, care-free, and full of love. One day, in 32 AC, a meteor’s flash shook the city, splitting the island in two and creating the Blut Channel. Once whole, now broken into two separate places where imagination ran free on the west side, and seriousness took over the east. For the first time, the city felt fear. Its land, once whole now split by the wound carving through it known as the Blut Channel. He developed resilience for himself and his people, realizing that even after disaster, Nikolausstadt could rebuild. Guided by the Martz family, prominent figures in the early government transformed him into an organized community, culminating in the construction of the first town hall in 40 AC and officially founding Nikolausstadt—named after the leader’s first son. Once a playground of imagination, the Revere Neighborhood encapsulates these origins in Memory Plaza, a place the city holds onto to remind himself of who he was—and who he is yet to become. Stories, artifacts, and artwork are now housed in the Nikolausstadt Historical Society, where the early declarations of “I am Nikolausstadt, and we are strong together,” are lovingly preserved.
In the early days, he embraced the faith brought by outside missionaries, and by 68 AC, the Church of Nikolaus stood proudly at his center, overlooking the Blut Channel. But as he grew, his beliefs shifted and doubts crept in. The clear sense of universal right and wrong was questioned, and the faith, once an anchor of spirituality, fell widely out of favor by 110 AC and the church fell into disuse. However, Christianity paved the way for “Honesty and Love,” a new philosophy now rooted in his thoughts. The change wasn’t born by fascination with worldly explanations, but from a deep desire to understand human connection. The former church was reborn as The Assembly of the True Heart, a place not devoted to a heaven, but to the heart. The Community of Sisters of the Honest Heart emerged as a guiding voice, spreading the new philosophy and shaping leaders who would outline his future. At the same time, the city entered a period of rapid growth and development, where the corn fields of childhood gave way to towering industrialized buildings of ambition. His roads, bridges, and neighborhoods surged with change, establishing a train line to connect neighboring islands by 97 AC. He was no longer a small, quiet settlement, but brimming with excitement—becoming something bigger, modern, and gradually, more himself.
Amid emotional turbulence, Nikolausstadt felt the need to protect himself. He raised fortified walls all around the island’s edges in 135 AC. As fear of change and the outside grew, the walls aimed to keep visitors out, and the government advanced ever-stricter restrictions on outsiders. Despite the lock down, innovation and growth continued within Nikolausstadt. He welcomed its first streetcar line in 148 AC, circling along Heart Road like a pulse, making movement within the walls easier for his people. In the heart of the city, a new project arose that changed him forever: The Nikolausstadt Citadel, a manmade island and fortress in the middle of the Blut Channel. Utilized as a last line of defence against outside attack, it also locked away his bad memories and painful experiences, keeping the most vulnerable aspects of him closed off. For years, the Citadel stood silent and sealed, considered nearly impossible to penetrate. It was finally decommissioned in 188 AC as Nikolausstadt embraced the mistakes of his past, no longer willing to conceal emotions that had built up for so long. A new era of openness for the city occurred as the citadel opened its doors to visitors, the cells transformed into spaces for reflection. The Citadel became a living reminder: even the darkest parts of his past are to be faced and learned from
Nikolausstadt longed to feel joy again, reminiscent of its early days. This chapter of the city saw celebration and play as a driving force, which blossomed into the Joy Neighborhood, where several entertainment and business operations grew—laughter, silliness, and delight filled his streets. Establishments like the Nikolausstadt Coffee Company began in 161 AC, co-funding the construction of the Flying Wheel, a ferris wheel in the Center of Joy inspired by bicycle culture. Mechanically it served as a renewable energy source, and a symbol of spirit and freedom for the city. Yet amid coffee’s success, factories outside the wall were overproducing coffee, pushing his limits.
Like most things, even Joy faced challenges. The Great Coffee Crisis of 167 AC saw a large failure in the factory's ability to contain coffee production. Liters of brewed coffee poured into the Blut Sea, causing anxiety and frustration in his waters. Then, in 175 AC, tragedy struck when a fire ravaged the Church of the True Heart, shaking his fragile trust and sparking anti-foreigner sentiment. The fear almost sent the city back into a lockdown state, until a prominent figure—and a leader in The Community of Sisters of the Honest Heart (CSHH), named “Feminine Soul,” spoke out publicly about the injustice done to the church, but warned the city not to shift the blame to all foreigners. She urged the government to not close their hearts, and to bring down the walls for a more open-minded perspective. A new era of creatives—artists and designers—emerged in the midst of social tension to advocate for change and foundation for a new philosophy. The Creative Act emerged, establishing a public space in the center of the city, denoted as Creatives Circle—a vibrant core to Nikolausstadt, where expression b many believed embodied the Feminine Soul’s true spirit—the Sisters of the Honest Heart built a new community center on the east end of Creatives Circle as a place to heal, reflect, and be vulnerable.
Today, the former site of the church stands as a heritage site, inviting visitors and residents to reflect on the past and remember the fire that once burned the heart.
In 185 AC, the demolition of the fortifications opened Nikolausstadt once again to the world, filling the city with excitement but also uncertainty. Two sections of the wall are proudly preserved as historic landmarks, the South and North Tower, still watching over him and his waters as they once did in the past. In place of the old walls came parks, railways, and open spaces that polished his edges, inviting life into these once walled off sections
By 200 AC, construction on a new City Hall began in the south east corner of the island. The new City Hall symbolized the renewed guiding principles and commitment towards the new millennium of motivation, freedom, and openness for Nikolausstadt. A new streetcar line opened from the Train Station to City Hall, trailing up and down his busy boulevard. He embraced outsider culture as new communities migrated and established connections within him. The Collaborative Freedom Square fronting the New Town Hall celebrated outsider voices throughout the heart of the city. The Joy Neighborhood transformed too, with the founding of the Nikolausstadt Beer Garden in 202 AC. Here, residents and newcomers are gathered together, drinking, dancing, and enriching a diverse identity. These years marked a coming-of-age for Nikolausstadt, a time where strength coalesced in its streets and neighborhoods, but he also realized that his true strength did not come by standing alone, instead it came by opening himself to the world and letting others shape who he was becoming.
Despite all his progress, Nikolausstadt now finds himself in a restless, and explorative time by 225 AC. As the years pass, he feels a deepening sense of isolation among his residents. His people hurry the streets, heads down, headphones in ear, chasing careers, deadlines, and personal ambitions. Even with his new cafes and crowded public spaces, something lurks quietly beneath it all—the soft loneliness in his heart, a fear of slipping away from what he loves. In a response, the city looks towards rekindling connections that once gave him life. The Society Traditional Act is passed, an attempt to revive old traditions and enrich them for the future. New initiatives like The Spark Community Center and True Brothers Co-Op, now work tirelessly to foster belonging, dialogue, and unity, helping to rediscover the power of community in an increasingly individualistic age. At night, centers like the 209 Hub or Student Media Lounge windows glow with circles of laughter, debate, and sometimes soft tears. Nikolausstadt searches for new ways to be human together, like through the New School of Humanities, where thoughtful minds collaborate on hard questions, and imagine a future full of connections. Graduates go on to work for the Thought Exchange Market, a growing enterprise that brings in outside knowledge while exporting the city’s own ideas to the vast world.
Now, underneath the quiet gaze of the city hall’s clock, the towers at his edges, and the train station humming with arrivals, Nikolausstadt waits—for the laughter, the heartbreak, the collisions and reconciliations that will shape the next chapter of his unfolding story.