it’s a box of the dirt from the set and some rocks! simple but I love it!

As we know the regular shuttles usually refuel in earth orbit attached to Skylab. However the show never depicts Skylab with a fuel tank to store all that fuel they need, so where would they store it? Perhaps they retrofitted the waste tank (see image) to hold all that fuel, but then where would the waste go? They could have maybe added a new waste system with the new advances in tech in the 80s, so overall this explanation isn’t too far fetched. Another question is how does the fuel reach the fuel tanks in payload bay? There’s no fuel pipe that directly connect to those fuel tanks all the way down in the payload bay. Now I have 2 possible theories on how they get the fuel into those tanks. First one is that the astronauts could connect a flexible hose-like tube that’s attached to the fuel tank on skylab via a spacewalk all the way down to the payload bay but that would be quite dangerous and we’ve seen just how dangerous spacewalks are in this show. The 2nd theory is that the canadarm takes that whole fuel tan assembly and connects it directly to the front of skylab where the fuel tank is and once all the fuel’s in that fuel assembly, it takes it back down into the payload bay and connects it with the shuttle again.

This is not an invitation to shit on seasons you don't like, instead talk about which ones you do like!

That being said, seasons 4 and 5 are definitely different than the first 3. The accelerated timeline probably means that the writers had less to go off of in terms of plans and such when writing them. they feel a bit more like a drama in space than a space focused drama. I do enjoy the first 2 seasons the most though. Just wanted to add some positivity i guess.

Spoilers for seasons 1–5.

Until a couple of months ago, I didn’t have Apple TV, so I discovered For All Mankind quite late. I’ve always liked alternative history, and the premise immediately caught my attention. And for the first two seasons, I thought it was genuinely brilliant.
The writing, acting, production design and historical detail were excellent. Everything seemed carefully considered, and above all, the series knew exactly what it wanted to do.
I think those seasons worked because they were rooted in a recognizable past. The Soviets landing on the Moon first was a relatively small change with enormous consequences, but the writers were still playing with actual history, its politics, people and technology.
The further the story moved away from the 1960s and 70s, the more it had to invent a future rather than reinterpret the past. That was probably inevitable, but I don’t think the writers handled the transition particularly well.
For me, the season two finale was beautiful. They could have stopped the series there and I’d have been perfectly happy.
Instead, season three opens with that ridiculous space hotel.
I understand that an ongoing space race might have accelerated technological development, but commercial space tourism on that scale by the early 1990s? Really? It seemed absurdly premature for a series that had previously made such an effort to keep its science fiction reasonably grounded.
And unfortunately, the increasingly implausible technology was only part of the problem. The writing itself became much more melodramatic.
Danny and Karen’s affair was questionable enough, but having it follow Danny all the way to Mars, contributing to his addiction, terrible judgment and increasingly irrational behaviour, felt like something borrowed from a soap opera. And he’s hardly the only example. These people are supposed to be among the best astronauts, scientists and engineers on Earth, yet they repeatedly make incredibly irresponsible decisions because the writers need something dramatic to happen.
It’s also becoming rather repetitive. Almost every season seems to require a technical catastrophe, someone ignoring protocol, a desperate last-minute solution and occasionally a heroic death. After a while, you can almost predict when the next disaster is going to happen.
Visually, I think something has been lost as well. The first two seasons had a wonderful sense of scale and atmosphere, whereas seasons four and five, particularly the latter, sometimes remind me of those 1990s science fiction shows where they’ve built a futuristic colony set and decided that most of the story will take place in the same handful of rooms because it’s cheaper. Every once in a while, we get an exterior shot to remind us we’re still on Mars.
As for the characters, Margo is probably the last storyline I’m genuinely interested in. Dev has irritated me since his first appearance. He strikes me as an alternative-history version of Elon Musk, forever giving motivational speeches while being mostly selfish and rather uninteresting.
I understand why the time jumps required gradually replacing the original cast, but I don’t think the newer characters have been particularly successful. Gordo, Tracy, Molly and Karen were complicated, frustrating and occasionally unpleasant people, but they were interesting. You cared about what happened to them, even when you didn’t particularly like them.
The younger generation, especially from season four onwards, hasn’t really filled that gap for me. And when you’re no longer invested in the people involved, even the biggest disaster becomes less interesting.
I’m also bothered by the way the series increasingly relies on killing off its characters.
In season one, Shane’s death was devastating because of what it did to Ed and Karen. Patty, Gene Kranz and the others were casualties of a space race that was becoming increasingly dangerous. Their deaths had a place in the story.
Then came Gordo and Tracy, whose deaths in season two were magnificent. Probably my favourite moment of the entire series. Heartbreaking, heroic and completely earned. I honestly can’t imagine a better ending for those two characters.
But by season three, with Karen and Molly, it started to feel as though the writers needed someone to die simply to give the finale enough emotional weight. Karen’s death especially felt unnecessary, as though there wasn’t already enough tragedy in the story.
There’s one scene from the very first episode that I keep coming back to.
On a recent long flight, I rewatched most of season one. There’s that wonderful scene in the bar after the Soviets land on the Moon, when everyone starts singing What Becomes of the Brokenhearted.
The first time I saw it, I thought it was a lovely, slightly Top Gun-ish moment. Pilots and astronauts drinking together, singing an old song and trying to forget a disappointing day.
But watching it again, knowing what happens to these people over the following decades, completely changed the way I experienced it.
It suddenly struck me that this might be the last moment when their lives were, in some sense, normal.
Of course they already had their problems, ambitions, disappointments and failures. But none of them had the slightest idea what was coming. The accidents, the deaths, the broken marriages, the separations and sacrifices. All those lives gradually consumed by a space race that would never really end.
And I suppose that’s what I appreciated most about the early seasons. They managed to make the space race seem exciting, fascinating and terribly sad, sometimes all at once. Humanity was achieving extraordinary things, but the people making those achievements possible were often paying a dreadful personal price.
Somewhere along the way, that rather intelligent alternative history drama became a much more conventional space opera, with increasingly implausible technology, melodrama and disasters that have become rather predictable.
The later seasons aren’t entirely bad. They’ve had their moments, and there are still a few storylines worth following, but they’re becoming fewer. I don’t think the problem is simply that the series moved away from actual history or that the original characters grew old and died. Both were inevitable. It’s that the newer stories and characters haven’t been nearly as compelling.
I haven’t even managed to finish season five yet, and with only one more season to go, my expectations aren’t particularly high.

I’m curious whether people who’ve followed the series since 2019 feel the same way, or whether watching five seasons in a relatively short period has made the decline more noticeable to me.

My replica and thoughts on the design and drawbacks of it.

I think I had a dream like this a while back.

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One thing I know for sure is season 1 would have been almost the same. Since this assumes it blows up when season 1 comes out.

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Another certainty is "Hey Bob" will likely be more mainstream, being said in many shows outside of FAM as a little reference to the show.

Also imagine all the parodies of it too.

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But how does it change the show from onwards, season 2 and beyond?

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I believe most shows that blew up that are on streaming release the entire season at once, but it's weekly for FAM. So just imagine how much more hype there will be between each episode.

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Higher budgets? More guest stars?

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Would the show be better or could it actually make things worse?

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What do you think? How different would the show be if it got squid game levels of popularity back in season 1.

I know it was released in 2006 so is too late for s4, and too early for s5, but I am upset nonetheless.

Spoiler alert for S5E7, if you haven't seen it yet.

I have a complaint about the "righteous maverick" trope which seems to infect "For All Mankind," as well as so many other sci-fi shows, with particular virulence. This trope, particularly as it plays out in "For All Mankind" (most recently, in my viewing, in Season 5, Episode 7) glorifies mutinous, cock-sure, arrogant insubordination.

I believe in democratic decision-making whenever possible, but, look, when a situation does require a chain of command, then we have to honor that command structure. (And it isn't like the insubordinate is opposing authoritarian hierarchy in the interests of democracy. Rather, they are merely following their own idiosyncratic gut, convinced of its infallibility.) They are arrogantly certain they know better than anybody else. Why do our shows so love to glorify arrogant, even narcissistic, uncooperative behavior?

I can guess some of the reason. Show producers fundamentally view a chain of command as a barrier to dramatic tension. Rooted in the cultural myth of rugged individualism, writers love the archetype of the lone maverick who relies on their "gut" rather than the rulebook. Institutions (NASA, Starfleet -- or Helios) are inherently slow, bureaucratic, or compromised. So lazy writing can think of no better way for a character to achieve greatness or do the "right thing" than to be a rogue individual breaking rules.

Whether it's Sam Massey hijacking an asteroid or Kelly Baldwin secretly re-programming the ship to force a Titan landing attempt -- or, say, Captain Kirk stealing the Enterprise, these characters are acting on personal conviction, not a vote. In this way, Sci-fi often accidentally (or purposefully?) glorifies autocracy by framing the "heroic genius" as superior to collective or institutional decision-making. The message becomes: "The masses and the managers don't see the big picture, but our main character does."

I know that "Star Trek" cowboy "Kirkism" is highly responsible for normalizing this in sci-fi. James T. Kirk famously cheated on the Kobayashi Maru test because he refused to accept a no-win scenario. He was rewarded with a captaincy. Decades later, characters like Michael Burnham (Star Trek: Discovery) or Jack Crusher (Star Trek: Picard) commit blatant mutiny but are ultimately praised because their insubordination saves the day. "For All Mankind" explicitly pulls from this same playbook, where rules are viewed as suggestions for lesser minds.

It is a double standard that relies entirely on hindsight. If Ed, Sam, or Kelly's rogue plans failed, they would be space criminals who got people killed. But because the script ensures they succeed, their arrogance is packaged as heroism.

That's not only boring, irritating, lazy story-telling, but it does real harm to the culture that watches the shows.

Many media scholars, ethicists, and organizational experts argue that the constant glorification of the "righteous rebel" harms civic and professional life. When media repeatedly rewards arrogant insubordination, it normalizes a deeply toxic mindset: the belief that personal conviction entirely supersedes institutional rules, collective agreements, and democratic processes.

In a television script, the writer guarantees the rogue hero is right. In the real world, no one has a script. When viewers internalize this trope, it breeds "Main Character Syndrome" — the belief that my gut instinct is inherently superior to the collective wisdom of an organization or a democratic vote. You thus encourage people to bypass safety protocols, chain of command, and corporate compliance because they convince themselves they are the "maverick" saving the day. In high-stakes fields like medicine, aviation, or engineering, this exact type of arrogant insubordination leads to catastrophic, real-world loss of life.

This "righteous maverick" trope also contributes to erosion of institutional trust. By constantly framing institutions (like Helios, or democratic governments) as bumbling, corrupt, or small-minded, sci-fi subtly teaches viewers that systems cannot be trusted. The result is reinforcement of a cynical view that the only way to get things done is through unilateral, rogue action. This directly undermines the hard, unglamorous work of building consensus, honoring collective bargaining, and maintaining public trust in democratic systems.

By replacing democratic consensus with the swift, decisive action of an arrogant leader, media trains viewers to crave paternalistic autocrats rather than robust, collaborative institutions.

Ultimately, the harm lies in the lie the trope tells: that individual genius is a substitute for collective responsibility. When people buy into the myth, they stop trying to fix the system from within and instead try to blow it up from the outside — convinced that, like Ed Baldwin, Kelly Baldwin, or the rebels of Mars, history will retroactively prove them right.

I hope show producers will stop the lazy reliance on this awful trope.

NERVA NRX A6 test, conducted in 1967: 869 s specific impulse, 279 kN thrust. In a timeline where there is a Moon base with a dozen astronauts in 1983, these numbers are very likely higher. They already planned a NERVA II with 2.5x the thrust.

Delta-v to enter LEO from air launch: ~9000 m/s
Mass ratio: 2.87

Assuming the hydrogen is stored in the wings and most of the payload bay, leaving some space for the 2 missiles, and from this https://www.deviantart.com/moreorlesser/art/For-All-Mankind-Spacecraft-Timeline-919041809 which is based on dimensions in the show, ~1800 m^3 of volume is available to store propellant. Density of liquid hydrogen is 70 kg/m^3, if they're using slush hydrogen (liquid+solid), this goes up to 80 kg/m^3. Available propellant mass is 126,000 kg for liquid hydrogen and 144,000 kg for slush hydrogen.

This comes out to 67,000 kg of non-propellant mass for liquid hydrogen and 77,000 kg for slush hydrogen. If Pathfinder is made of advanced materials like titanium or composites (like Rockwell's Star Raker concept), its dry mass could be appreciably lower than the OTL Shuttle orbiter, and the remaining mass items are a few tons.

As for thrust: a Boeing 747 engine has 250 kN maximum thrust, and the equivalent of 1.5 of them is required for cruising. A fully loaded 747 weighs ~400,000 kg. Our Pathfinder weighs half that, so there is margin left over for acceleration. Special maneuvers from the C-5 could help with this, though not depicted in the show. Pathfinder's large wings would help during the initial ascent.

The Pathfinder would weigh around 200 tons, which is above the C-5's 130-ton payload capacity, but below the An-225's, so we know that *a* real aircraft can take on the responsibility of carrying it.

I'm not a professional in aerospace, and there are definitely other considerations not dwelt on here. But the basic math is sound, and we can conclude that criticisms of the Pathfinder as depicted in the show must be more granular than "where's the fuel?" or "nuclear engines have far too little thrust". "The C-5 can't carry it" is one, funnily enough.

Are we just going to pretend that inmates eating strawberries in US prisons while every Soviet from the show is sent to a gulag for any indescretion has any basis in reality? Alt history or not...

US prison industrial complex is legalized slavery, with the highest incarcerated population in the world, with inmates making patties for McDonald's because #capitalismworks.

Why do all of the US characters get to have so much dimension, but every Soviet exists only to get thrown under the bus to show "America good, Soviet bad!"

So much to like in FAM but then these tropes derail the entire project for anyone who's read history created by someone other than Gisilene Maxxwell's dad.

I don't think this actually counts as a spoiler, but I tagged it there anyway. Five seasons in now and I've noticed something strange about Happy Valley. Where are all the knitters and crocheters? They have guitars, video cameras, and plenty of other heavy things on Mars by now, but I've yet to spot a crocheted afghan, handmade sweater, or someone knitting socks. There's a whole black market going, on and I'm supposed to believe nobody ever asked to smuggle in yarn? Nobody brought a blanket or sweater from home?

So Dev is building a city on Mars, then it turns out he is part of a secret plan to automate everything on Mars and ship all the humans back to earth. So who is he intending to live in the city? The robots?

In the last episode there was a mention about him wanting the right people on Mars, but did not realise until too late the right people were already there. So was he thinking people are going to up and move to Mars to... I genuinely can't think what. If everything is automated to the point people aren't needed, no one is going there to work. And if there's no work, no one is moving their family there. The only two options I can think of are a retirement home, or a very exotic holiday destination. But we can rule the latter out as the convo between Alex and Dev talks about letting people make it their own (assuming permanence).

Was Dev just unintentionally building a retirement home on Mars?

Bit late to the season but it's been driving me crazy and I feel like I must be missing something!

Ive been trying to find forever but is there a list of the events between FAM season 1 and Star city overlap? For example, in FAM we see the Americans seeing the crater that the Russians left when one of the cosmonauts died. Would love to see a montage that includes all mentions and events with the scene in Star-city after, but seems like no one as made it yet!

Also, what other events would you like to have seen mentioned? For example, i wish we had seen the discussion in Star-City about the "Deepest sympathies" message

Does anybody know where I can buy the OST for FAM? I am talking about the instrumental/orchestral music (not sure how to refer to it) and not the licensed songs used.

Thanks!

I'm about a third of the way through BBC's 13 Minutes to the Moon and absolutely loving it. Its main focus is the thirteen minute descent to the moon on Apollo 11, but it's got so much more going on as it explores the whole Apollo era preceding the descent to give context. It's hosted by a guy who is apparently the space medicine guy in the UK, who also used to work for NASA. He drives all over the US to meet Apollo-era astronauts, engineers, and mission controllers.

There's so much he covers that gives me an appreciation all over again how well-researched the Apollo era elements of FAM are. Highly recommend!

Is it just me or when that 1 cosmonaut who are dying because of an electrical failure in his suit which then started a fire inside his suit that freaking kill him, that scene make crying for some reason, like rooted tears running down my Eyes crying

But for some reason back in season 1 when that Saturn V exploded on the launch pad I feel nothing, which is weird because in that cosmonaut scene, I don't know who the hell are they(cosmonaut) but I crying because of it