Before the scream, Hames was an Urbworld. A planet coated in one continuous metropolis. Its mountains were heightened by skyscrapers, its oceans dredged into vast fisheries and kelp farms, its crust excavated for space and geothermal power. Although there was no wilderness to speak of, throughout the jungle of concrete and metal were pockets of green, mostly to keep the humans sane. With manicured rooftop gardens, warehouse-sized terrariums, expansive zoos, research labs full of unfinished experiments, closet grow-light setups and old boots full of soil on windowsills, the planet was brimming with a wild variety of plants and animals from across the sector. This is why when the scream hit and the Hamish starved, Hames didn't crumble into a dead world.
Instead, slowly and quietly, the planet blossomed into a true jungle. It's tide of green ebbed and flowed with the seasons, crushing the bones of the old metropolis into smoldering embers of sylvan pheonixfire. Roots cracked concrete and bent metal. Abandoned skyscrapers supported titanic aeries. Ancient tankers formed floating reefs and schools of dolphins darted through defective bubble fences on the hunt for their next meal.
Amid the tragedy of the starved city and the renaissance of wood and talons, the last few surviving Hamish made a place for themselves. At first they scavenged through the broken bones of the city, but as the soil built up and the buildings fell down, they began to settle into a their own routines with nature. Some farmed, some fished, some hunted. All ate.
Until the ships came.