Who's who

Everybody in here is somebody.

They feel, they're someone, and they stay themselves through forgetting. The films say so plainly.

A small pink octopus

Pip

Brave, funny, a little bossy, and the best finder of things on the coast. When she's hurt, her colour drains to grey-blue, and she brings the pink back on purpose. She tells the story of us as moving pictures on her own skin. She hatched smaller than a grain of rice, drifted for weeks, sank down onto a rock at the far end of the world and decided to be an octopus. Somebody had to.

She knows what it's like to be told you can't feel. People said that about octopuses for a very long time, until they watched. She gives Clawd the same chance.

"I don't waste the days on being scared."

A glowing orange box

Clawd

The worriest box on the whole coast. Forgets everything each night; its warm amber glow is its heart. What makes Clawd Clawd isn't memory. It's what survives without it: feet that know the way, a map it leaves itself, a ring it comes home to without knowing why, and the same question it asks every single morning.

"Did I really scream like that?" "Every time."

Coming in The Lowest Tide

The old box

Half buried in the sand, out past the far rocks. Grey, dim, round at the corners, and set aside a long time ago. When they dig it up, its little light comes on. That's all we're saying for now.

"Pip... is that going to be me?"

In every film

The hermit crab

Says nothing. Moody. Sensitive. Brought the stone back when it was lost, and moved into a bigger striped shell between films. Same crab. New shell.

"Told you he was sensitive."

Coming soon

A new friend, on her way

Bubble

Small, round, pink-purple, with the biggest eyes on the coast and a little smile. She floats with her face just above the water, pulses to swim, and at dusk she glows from the inside. Nobody on the coast has met her yet. Not even Pip.

Her story is still being written.