The anime series Made in Abyss draws viewers into a beautifully cruel world where the only way forward is down. While the flora, fauna, and relics of the titular chasm often take center stage, one of the most quietly persistent mechanics guiding the characters is celestial navigation. From Riko’s inherited Star Compass to the way explorers gauge depth by the changing sky, the cosmos itself becomes both a map and a metaphor. Understanding this layer of the story reveals how creator Akihito Tsukushi fused ancient human practices with a realm that defies all natural laws.

The Art and Science of Celestial Navigation

Celestial navigation is the millennia-old practice of determining one's position on the Earth’s surface by observing the sun, moon, planets, and stars. Before GPS and radar, seafarers and desert travelers relied on the predictable movements of celestial bodies to cross vast, featureless expanses. By measuring the angle between a star and the visible horizon with a sextant—or earlier, with an astrolabe—navigators could calculate latitude. Longitude required precise timekeeping, which eventually came with the invention of the marine chronometer. This science is built on the fundamentals of spherical geometry and an understanding that the sky functions as a rotating reference frame.

In practical terms, a navigator might take a “sight” of Polaris to confirm how far north they are, or track the arc of the sun at noon to fix their latitude. The night sky’s seasonal rotation also provided a celestial calendar that guided agricultural cycles and religious festivals. The reliability of these lights, despite their vast distances, gave ancient peoples a profound sense of order. To read the stars was to hold a conversation with the universe—an idea that Made in Abyss channels into every layer of the pit.

Celestial Navigation in the World of Made in Abyss

Within the narrative, celestial navigation is not merely a backdrop; it is a survival skill. The Abyss is a vertical world with no surface-level landmarks. As delvers descend, magnetic fields distort, and conventional compasses become useless. The only constant appears to be the faint glimmer of the sky far above—or the strange, localized celestial phenomena that inhabit the deeper layers. The characters consistently use the positions of heavenly lights to determine direction, track time, and make life-or-death decisions. More than that, the series twists these classical methods into something uncanny, because the Abyss itself seems to generate its own celestial rules.

The Unique Sky of the Abyss

From the rim of Orth, the sky looks normal—an infinite blue dome by day and a familiar starfield by night. But each layer of the Abyss distorts this ordinary sky. By the time a delver reaches the Great Fault or the Goblets of Giants, perspective shifts drastically: the sun appears to move in unfamiliar arcs, and the stars may twist into patterns that do not match surface constellations. The Force Field, a luminous curtain of energy that permeates the entire chasm, refracts light, creating aurora-like veils that alter how celestial bodies are perceived. This means a navigator cannot simply rely on memorized star charts; they must constantly recalibrate their understanding of the heavens based on the layer they occupy. The sky becomes a living document, rewritten by depth.

The Star Compass and Other Navigational Relics

One of the most iconic artifacts in the series is Riko’s Star Compass, an Artifact left behind by her mother, Lyza the Annihilator. Unlike a magnetic compass, this relic does not point north; it points toward the bottom of the Abyss, no matter where you stand on the planet, as if it is locked onto some immense cosmic signal emanating from the Netherworld. The compass’s needle is said to be made of a mysterious, otherworldly metal that resonates with the Force Field. In many ways, the Star Compass is a perfect melding of celestial navigation and the Abyss’s supernatural physics—it functions like a sextant combined with a GPS that only knows one coordinate: the very heart of the chasm. According to lore found on the Made in Abyss Wiki, the relic is classified as a Grade-4 Artifact with unique properties that blatantly violate ordinary science. It serves as a narrative lodestone, always reminding Riko that her journey is inextricably tied to a destination mapped in the heavens.

Other navigational tools appear as well: delvers use depth gauges, intricately drawn maps that celestial observers update, and even echo-location-like techniques in the lightless deep. Yet the Star Compass remains the most potent symbol that the Abyss answers not to the surface world’s physics but to a deeper, cosmic order.

Symbolic Celestial Bodies

In Made in Abyss, the sun, stars, and moon are far more than physical light sources. They operate as narrative symbols that track the emotional and spiritual arcs of the characters, giving the journey a mythic dimension.

The Sun: A Beacon of Hope and Despair

Throughout the early layers, the sun represents warmth, safety, and the promise of return. For Riko and Reg, ascending to catch a glimpse of sunlight at the Seeker Camp or the Inverted Forest reaffirms their connection to the human world. However, the deeper they go, the more the sun becomes a source of torment. The strain of ascent—the Curse of the Abyss—manifests as physical and psychological damage directly linked to moving against the flow of the Force Field. The sun, once a guide, becomes a distant, almost mocking reminder of everything they’ve lost. In the Fourth Layer, the Golden City’s eerie perpetual twilight shows that sunlight itself can be twisted into something alien, mirroring the characters’ own transformation.

The Stars: Maps of the Uncharted

Stars in the Abyss serve dual roles. On the surface, they are the constellations by which cave raiders map the rim and plan expeditions. The series frequently shows characters pausing to stargaze, using the familiar patterns as psychological anchors. But in the depths, entirely new stars—glowing creatures, bioluminescent fungi, and the Eternal Fortunes’ light—create false skies. These celestial impostors force delvers to question what is real and to navigate by intuition as much as observation. The stars become a metaphor for the unknown: they are fixed points that move, promising knowledge that always retreats just out of reach. For more on how real-world cultures used stars for navigation, the Wikipedia entry on celestial navigation offers a deep dive into the techniques that inspired these elements.

The Moon: Illuminating the Hidden Truths

In many mythologies, the moon governs the hidden, the emotional, and the transformative. Made in Abyss captures this through lunar imagery, particularly during Nanachi’s backstory and the Idofront arc. The moonlight often illuminates Bondrewd’s morally opaque experiments, casting long shadows that disguise the true horror of his “blessing.” The moon’s phases also correlate with pivotal moments: waxing as hope builds, waning as despair sets in. The duality of light and darkness it represents echoes the series’ core theme—every blessing comes with a curse, and every illumination reveals a deeper darkness.

Character Journeys and Celestial Guidance

Each major character relates to celestial navigation in a unique way, reflecting their personal struggles and growth. The cosmos becomes a psychological mirror.

Riko's Relentless Search for the Eternal Sun

Riko’s entire life has been oriented around a single, fixed point: her mother Lyza. That point is as unreachable as a star, yet she uses it as her guide. Her Star Compass embodies this relationship—a tool that forever points to the place where she believes all her questions will be answered. Riko often pauses to look upward, not merely to navigate but to gauge her emotional distance from that goal. Moments of doubt are always countered by a renewed sighting of her “star”: a memory, a relic, or a brief ray of sunlight breaking through the canopy. Her journey is a literal descent guided by a celestial fix that no one else can fully perceive, making her both a classic explorer and a deeply spiritual pilgrim.

Reg's Mechanical Clock and the Cyclical Heavens

Reg, a robot of mysterious origin, contrasts sharply with organic celestial navigation. His body contains an internal power source that recharges in cycles, almost as if governed by a mechanical star clock. When his Incinerator cannon is depleted, it returns after a set period, similar to the predictable return of a heavenly body. Reg’s inability to remember his own origins parallels the way ancient navigators might see the stars as eternal but ultimately unknowable. He systematically learns to read the surface world’s signals, yet the deep cosmic machinery that created him remains hidden. This tension makes him a bridge between the technological and the cosmic, suggesting that even the most advanced mechanics are subject to the Abyss’s celestial law.

Nanachi's Wisdom and the Night Sky's Embrace

Nanachi, a Hollow who has survived the Curse, is the party’s emotional and practical navigator during the Fourth Layer and beyond. Their relationship with the sky is almost shamanic. Having lived in the Seeker Camp, Nanachi learned to interpret the flux of the Force Field and the subtle shifts in the light as indicators of safe paths and predator territories. For Nanachi, the night sky is not a map but a living entity whose moods must be read. During the duo’s lowest moments, Nanachi uses stories of the surface constellations to comfort Riko—a practice that parallels how ancient navigators used star lore to preserve morale on long voyages. This nurturing use of celestial knowledge shows that navigation is as much about psychological survival as physical steering.

The Deeper Symbolism of Cosmic Mechanics

Beyond individual character arcs, the entire structure of the Abyss can be understood as a grand cosmic machine. The series’ worldbuilding layers scientific concepts with myth, creating a cosmology that feels ancient and terrifyingly new.

The Abyss as an Inverted Cosmos

Many real-world philosophies, from Dante’s Divine Comedy to various shamanic traditions, describe a multilayered underworld that mirrors the heavens. Made in Abyss inverts this: rather than ascending toward light, seekers go down into darkness to find truth. Yet, curiously, each layer seems to generate its own celestial order—the Force Field mimics the aurora, glowing crystals create underground “stars,” and the creatures themselves often display bioluminescent patterns that resemble constellations. This suggests that the Abyss is not simply a hole but an inverted cosmos, a place where the laws of the universe are folded inward. The deeper you go, the closer you come to a primordial “sun” at the center—the ultimate source of the Curse and the Blessing. Celestial navigation thus becomes a journey toward the heart of the cosmic engine itself.

Each layer of the Abyss represents a different relationship to the celestial. The first layer, the Edge of the Abyss, still offers a clear sky, symbolizing innocence and the surface world’s dominance. By the time delvers reach the sixth layer, the Capital of the Unreturned, daylight is a memory; the only “stars” are the eerie lights of the native creatures. This descent strips away the familiar celestial references one by one, forcing explorers to find new guides. The ultimate expression of this journey is the Star Compass, which never stops pointing down—a constant that remains even when all other celestial bodies vanish. In this way, the navigation system of the Abyss tells a spiritual story: you must release attachment to the known heavens to find the deeper truth that lights you from within.

Lessons from the Stars

What can audiences, and perhaps even real-world explorers, learn from this fictional marriage of celestial navigation and existential horror? The series offers several timeless insights, wrapped in a darkly beautiful package.

  • Embracing Uncertainty: Just as a sailor cannot control the weather, delvers cannot predict how the Abyss will warp the sky. The constant recalibration demanded by the Force Field reflects life’s inherent volatility. Riko and Reg adapt not by eliminating uncertainty but by learning to navigate within it, a lesson for anyone facing uncharted waters.
  • Finding Direction When All Lights Fade: The deeper layers of the Abyss often lack any natural celestial reference. In those moments, the characters turn inward—to memories, promises, and the bond they share. The true guiding star is internal. This radical shift from external navigation to internal intuition is the series’ most profound commentary on the human spirit’s resilience.
  • Community as a Celestial Network: Historically, navigators shared star charts and observations across cultures. Similarly, the delvers’ society thrives on the exchange of knowledge—maps, relic logs, whistle ranks—that collectively form a human constellation. Ozen, Bondrewd, and even the humble Guild of Orth all contribute to this living atlas. The series argues that no explorer navigates alone; the heavens are populated with the wisdom of those who came before.
  • The Peril of a Fixed Gaze: Riko’s obsessive focus on the bottom of the Abyss, mirrored by the Star Compass’s unwavering needle, is both a gift and a curse. It provides purpose but also blinds her to dangers and ethical complexities. The story cautions that a fixed celestial goal, untempered by situational awareness, can lead to destruction—a warning as relevant to modern ambitions as it is to cave raiders.

Conclusion

Made in Abyss transforms a niche survival skill into a narrative axis that supports everything from worldbuilding to character psychology. Celestial navigation in Orth is never just about finding the way; it is about measuring the distance between hope and despair, memory and reality, the surface and the abyss. The sun, stars, and moon are reinterpreted through the Force Field’s eerie lens, the Star Compass becomes a holy relic of absolute direction, and each character’s relationship to the sky maps their soul’s trajectory. By weaving actual navigational techniques with incomprehensibly alien cosmology, the series delivers a story about the human need to orient ourselves—physically, emotionally, and morally—even when the universe refuses to stand still.

For those wishing to explore the real-world traditions that inspired this fantastical system, resources such as the Natural History Museum’s guide to stargazing or historical analyses of ancient Polynesian wayfinding provide a fascinating complement to Riko’s descent. In the end, Made in Abyss reminds us that the most important maps are not drawn on paper; they are etched into the light of distant suns and carried in the heart of every explorer determined to see what lies beyond the known world.