Tending Ambitopias

Growing New Reference Points for an Uncertain Present

Mar 29, 2025

The future is not a fixed destination but a shifting landscape shaped by our perceptions, narratives, and actions. How we imagine tomorrow influences the choices we make today, subtly steering the course of history. Science fiction, speculative design, and worldbuilding are not just exercises in creativity; they are tools for exploring possibilities, testing ideas, and even planting the seeds of real change. In my previous articles, Planting Futures and Futures, Futuring, I explored how fiction shapes reality and how we can navigate the indeterminacy of multiple futures.

Building on these ideas, I want to share how I have applied some of these principles in my own work since 2018. That year, I began collaborating closely with designer and filmmaker Emilia Tapprest (nvisible.studio) under the name Liminal Vision on an ongoing worldbuilding research project called Embodied Ambitopias. This project sketches the contours of near-future societies and maps out potential pathways toward them, using speculative storytelling as both a research method and a creative practice. The result is a series of cinematic and audio-based fiction pieces—accessible via my Telegram and Discord groups—that offer glimpses into these imagined worlds through the eyes of fictional characters.

From Futures Theory to Worldbuilding Practice

In Embodied Ambitopias, I put into practice the methods introduced in my previous articles—such as the futures cone, backcasting, and particularly the futures compass—to create a navigable map of possible futures. This approach, which I call ambitopian worldbuilding, is designed to uncover the hidden desires, fears, and beliefs that shape different visions of the future. Unlike corporate science-fiction prototyping, which primarily identifies market opportunities, or utopian activism, which pushes for specific societal changes, ambitopian worldbuilding is a critical practice. It highlights the ideological foundations of imagined futures, helping us understand not just where we might be headed, but why.

This method is especially useful for organisations across sectors, where teams may appear to share a common vision but, in reality, hold unspoken and conflicting assumptions about the future. These underlying tensions can slow down decision-making and collaboration. Take, for example, the concept of the smart city, a frequent feature in corporate future scenarios. Worldbuilding allows us to explore how different value systems shape technological development. Often, such explorations fall into a simplistic ‘utopia versus dystopia’ contrast—but a more nuanced approach reveals deeper dynamics. A smart city built around corporate efficiency will look vastly different from one designed for community autonomy or ecological integration. In the former, we might see optimisation algorithms, surveillance systems, and automated services; in the latter, decentralised governance tools, bio-mimetic materials, and interfaces designed for interspecies communication.

Two contrasting visions for the smart city as imagined by ChatGPT. Left: a smart city designed for centralized efficiency with surveillance and automation. Right: one built for community autonomy featuring participatory design and biomimetic infrastructure. Worldbuilding like this can visualise how different underlying value paradigms shape the development of different aspects of a world, such as the technological infrastructure and the built environment. Simplified juxtapositions like this often carry a subtle “dystopia vs utopia” undertone.

Ambitopian worldbuilding acknowledges the messy reality in which desirable and undesirable elements rarely come as neatly packaged opposites. Instead, it maps how different priorities—efficiency, autonomy, sustainability—intersect and evolve together, rather than being mutually exclusive. A smart city, for instance, might integrate both optimisation algorithms and participatory governance or balance high-tech automation with ecological design. However, the underlying premises, beliefs, and preferences—what Emilia and I call value paradigms—determine which aspects take precedence and how power is distributed. Ambitopian worldbuilding makes these deeper structures visible, revealing that futures are not just collections of technologies but reflections of competing ideas about what a good society should be.

Ambitopia and Value Paradigms

The term ambitopia, coined by writer and activist Redfern Jon Barrett and referenced in Planting Futures, describes fictional worlds where multiple societies coexist beyond the simple utopia-dystopia binary. Instead of presenting a singular ideal to strive for or a cautionary tale to avoid, our worldbuilding project imagines a constellation of futures, each shaped by distinct value paradigms. While all these societies share a utopian impulse—envisioning ecologically sustainable, diverse, and post-consumerist worlds that move beyond today’s political horizon—they are built on fundamentally different underlying principles.

Value paradigms are deeply ingrained beliefs about what constitutes a good life and a good society. They go beyond political positions or technological preferences; they are foundational assumptions about morality, human nature, and social organisation. Like a mycelial network beneath a forest floor, these paradigms shape everything from a society’s technological infrastructure to its social institutions and lived experiences—often operating invisibly but with profound consequences.

Embodied Ambitopias’ worldbuilding research maps different value paradigms that shape possible futures, allowing navigation between them rather than prescribing a single "correct" vision. Some of these worlds, especially the more dystopian ones, merely serve as placeholders, accompanying our three main worlds: *‘Posthumanist ecosystem design’*, *‘Embodied liquid-democratic protocols’* and *‘Ludified surveillance capitalism’*. (Courtesy of nvisible.studio and the author)

We can see value paradigms at play in today’s emerging techno-social systems. Silicon Valley’s surveillance capitalism prioritises engagement maximisation and digital privatisation, while China’s techno-authoritarianism centres on government control and social harmony. Both contrast sharply with regenerative movements such as Transition Towns, which value local resilience and community self-sufficiency, or platform cooperatives that emphasise shared ownership of digital infrastructure. Even within “green” movements, there is a divide between industrial-scale renewable energy mega-projects that sustain current consumption patterns and de-growth initiatives that redefine prosperity beyond material accumulation.

Mapping future societies through the lens of value paradigms allows us to trace pathways back to the present. Some futures may be more immediately accessible than others, but by identifying the underlying values that shape them, we gain actionable insights that can inform present-day decisions. This transforms abstract visions into navigable landscapes, offering concrete pathways between different possible worlds.

These futures are not merely different governance models or technological choices—they reflect fundamentally distinct conceptions of human flourishing. The technologies developed, architectural forms designed, and institutions established in each society are direct expressions of its core values. Urban commons initiatives, decentralised autonomous organisations (DAOs), and bioregional economic networks, for example, each embody alternative value paradigms within the cracks of dominant systems.

Unlike the protopian approach, which advocates for incremental progress toward a specific desirable future through activism as “proactive prototyping,” the ambitopian approach is primarily a reflective tool. It does not prescribe correct futures or preferred directions but instead helps us understand why we find certain futures more or less desirable in the first place. It acts as a compass, guiding us through the landscape of possibilities and revealing the crucial choices that shape the future.

This perspective also acknowledges that with every step forward—even toward a collectively desired goal—new choices emerge, often exposing hidden divergences in values. Consider climate activism: what appears as a unified movement today may fragment tomorrow when decisions arise about technologies, governance models, or resource distribution. These fracture points reveal underlying value paradigms that remained invisible while the movement was united against a common problem rather than for a specific solution. The ambitopian approach helps us anticipate these potential divergences, regardless of the direction we move in, making it particularly valuable in moments when a movement or trend appears unified toward a seemingly shared goal.

This diagram shows how unified movements contain latent value divides over time. Climate action starts as a common cause but splinters as concrete implementation choices emerge, exposing underlying differences in values. What appears as tactical disagreements often reflects deeper philosophical divides about humanity’s relationship with technology, nature, and each other. Understanding these divides is key to cultivating meaningful futures. (Courtesy of the author)

Ambitopian worldbuilding could be described as critical-anti-anti-utopian. It rejects naïve utopianism while still insisting on the need to imagine better futures. Rather than reducing complex discussions to clichés like “one person’s utopia is another’s dystopia,” it offers a more nuanced exploration of values and desires. The goal is not to eliminate the utopian impulse but to make it more self-aware and diverse, ensuring that future-making remains an open, evolving conversation rather than a fixed ideological project.

Worldbuilding as Critical Design

In our project Embodied Ambitopias, we explore how different societies might structure themselves around core values such as collective harmony, competitive advantage, or embodied healing as the foundation of their social order. Each society is examined through the lens of its technological infrastructure, governance structures, and everyday practices. We ask questions like: What kind of technological systems does this world require? Who controls them, and with what motives? How does this society legitimise its social order? How are resources distributed? By answering these questions within each fictional world, we expose how seemingly technical choices reflect deeper ideological commitments and power structures. This, in turn, provides critical reference points for evaluating emerging trends in the real world. When value paradigms are made explicit, we can better assess the trade-offs, blind spots, and ideological assumptions embedded in contemporary innovations, policies, and infrastructures.

Classic dystopian narratives like 1984 (totalitarian surveillance), Brave New World (technocratic hedonism), and The Terminator (militarised AI) have deeply shaped our cultural imagination. They serve as familiar reference points against which we interpret contemporary developments—concerns about AI-driven automation and autonomous weapons, for example, frequently invoke The Terminator, as seen in the 2015 Open Letter on AI signed by leading scientists and technologists warning against lethal autonomous weapons.

However, as noted in Planting Futures, we seem to be living through a sinister hybrid of all three, largely because our culture lacks alternative sense-making tools. Fear-driven imaginaries tend to materialise precisely because they dominate our speculative landscape. Black Mirror, for instance, amplifies current socio-technological trends into exaggerated dystopias, yet it often fails to highlight how these futures emerge from our present-day value paradigms. On the other hand, more aspirational visions—such as Star Trek’s post-scarcity techno-humanism, where technology serves cooperation and curiosity rather than profit—struggle to gain traction as cultural benchmarks. Its vision of post-capitalism and universal basic income, while influential in economic debates, remains overshadowed by its reliance on speculative technology and spacefaring adventure, making it easier to dismiss as escapist fiction.

Our Embodied Ambitopias project intervenes by designing speculative societies that bridge the gap between dystopian warning and utopian aspiration. Worlds like Dolphin Waves, Dragonfly, and Project Gecko combine value paradigm analysis with backcasting methods, creating more nuanced tools for interpreting the present and shaping the future. Unlike traditional dystopias, which offer critique without alternatives, or disconnected utopias, which seem too distant to be actionable, these ambitopian imaginaries provide both hope and concrete pathways forward. As technologies and social systems evolve at an accelerating pace, such carefully constructed reference points become essential—not just for critique but for actively shaping futures that align with our deepest values.

Three Possible Futures

In Embodied Ambitopias, we have developed three distinct, concretely backcastable imaginaries for 2041, offering alternative cultural reference points: Dolphin Waves (ludified surveillance capitalism), Dragonfly (posthumanist ecosystem design), and Project Gecko (embodied liquid democracy). By exploring how different value paradigms shape technology, governance, and everyday life, we aim to expand our vocabulary for evaluating present trends and their long-term implications.

Dolphin Waves (New York City): Ludified Surveillance Capitalism

A world where play—combined with harvesting embodied intelligence data to train AI—replaces work as the foundation of the economy, with luxurious sparcades as its physical embodiment. Entertainment, movement, and emotional expression become commodities in a data economy that has evolved beyond personalised advertising and physical consumption into experience-based value creation.

This world raises pressing questions: If economic participation becomes synonymous with play, does that redefine freedom, or merely repackage labour into a more pleasurable form of extraction? Do individuals still retain ownership over their own embodied intelligence, or do their movements, gestures, and emotions become raw material for AI-driven systems of prediction and control? Dolphin Waves challenges us to reconsider whether pleasure and compensation are truly adequate exchanges for our embodied data—or whether a non-exploitative data economy is even possible.

Dragonfly (The Netherlands): Posthumanist Ecosystem Design

A post-democratic society where governance is modelled on ecological design principles, with AI mediating between diverse, cross-species perspectives and interests to maintain environmental and social balance. Here, decision-making is no longer an individual or collective human prerogative but a co-creation process between humans, AI, and ecosystems.

The Dragonfly paradigm prioritises collective stability over individual expression, raising questions about the boundaries between facilitation and control in technologically mediated societies. If AI-driven governance ensures long-term sustainability and minimises conflict, does that justify limiting human autonomy? Where does adaptation end and coercion begin? Can a society be truly equitable when participation is mediated through algorithmic negotiation, or does this shift power into the hands of those designing the AI itself?

By presenting an alternative to liberal-democratic governance, Dragonfly forces us to consider whether human-led decision-making is sustainable in the face of planetary crises—or whether a more-than-human governance model is inevitable.

Project Gecko (Global): Embodied Liquid Democracy

A decentralised network of eco-village-like communities where liquid democracy operates through embodied protocols and conscious movement. With visible, optional technology and body-centred cryptographic systems, this world reimagines democratic participation as fundamentally somatic.

Unlike political systems that privilege rational deliberation, Project Gecko asks whether genuine agency, community, and ecological consciousness require not just intellectual but embodied engagement. Could decision-making be more ethical and inclusive if it were rooted in shared movement, physical co-presence, and sensory awareness? Does decentralisation enable real autonomy, or does it risk fragmentation and inaccessibility?

By exploring the tension between structured governance and intuitive, body-based participation, Project Gecko challenges the assumption that democracy is best served through disembodied digital platforms and textual deliberation. It raises the possibility that political agency might be as much about sensing, moving, and responding as it is about voting and debating.

In my collaborative work with Emilia and others, we’ve explored not just the conceptual architecture of these worlds but also their affective atmospheres—the omnipresent, experiential dimensions that shape how life is felt and navigated within them. This aspect of worldbuilding research, which I’ll expand on in the next article, revolves around questions like: What does it mean to inhabit this world, not just intellectually, but viscerally? How does this reality feel different depending on one’s position within its structures of agency, power, and participation?

In Dolphin Waves, does gamified existence feel liberating or extractive?
In Dragonfly, does algorithmic mediation provide a sense of stability or alienation?
In Project Gecko, does embodied democracy foster deeper agency or an insular, fragmented world?

By foregrounding these questions, we connect the abstract systems of futures research to the embodied, lived realities they would create.

Cinematic imaginations of — or “windows into” — Dolphin Waves (left), Dragonfly (middle), and Project Gecko (right). These speculative visualizations serve not just as aesthetic representations but as invitations to inhabit the affective atmospheres of these worlds. By rendering these futures tangible, we explore their emotional, sensory, and political textures beyond abstract speculation. (Courtesy of nvisible.studio and the author)

Trailer for Embodied Ambitopias (2021)

The Garden of Futures

To return to my gardening metaphor from Planting Futures, each value paradigm is like a distinct species or cultivar, with its own requirements, strengths, and vulnerabilities. But a future can only be tended once it has been planted somewhere. Until then, it remains an abstraction—an untethered possibility.

Critical worldbuilding is not just about imagining futures but about planting them as seeds in the present—rooting them in concrete, backcastable forms so they can take hold, be nourished, and become attractors around which reality might begin to coalesce.

Like a garden, the landscape of possible futures is shaped by what we choose to cultivate. Some ideas germinate quickly, thriving in the soil of the present; others require different conditions, a shift in climate, or more deliberate care to grow. If we wish to make certain futures viable, we must not only envision them but also prepare the ground—adjusting structures, creating openings, and fostering the conditions in which they might flourish.

Worldbuilding, in this sense, is not speculation for its own sake. It is a strategic act—a way to cultivate pathways through uncertainty, not by predicting the future, but by giving it something to take root in.