New Horizon Funeral Services was founded in mid-2626 by Joe Schmitz, the younger of the Schmitz twins. Originally, Joe and his brother Ernest had established the first funeral parlor on VOI 700 D together: the business that would later become Ernest’s Schmitz Funeral Home. But the partnership lasted only a short time. The twins clashed over almost every detail — architectural style, burial philosophy, interior atmosphere, and even how to speak to grieving families. Ernest wanted a somber, wood-and-metal sanctuary rooted in memory of the crash; Joe envisioned light, renewal, and a hopeful forward gaze.
The tension escalated until Joe made his declaration of independence: he cleared the old Hoo stable on the right-hand side of the property and moved in to open his own funeral home.
What he lacked in resources, he compensated with sincerity. His services emphasized calm tribute, shipboard memories, lavender scent, and a quiet belief in new beginnings — a direct contrast to Ernest’s darker, wood-scented rituals next door. Both brothers developed loyal followings, each aligned with their respective philosophies of remembrance.
Inside, skilled staff craft pale coffins from Morningstar wood and guide mourners through candle-lit spoken tributes that weave shipboard memories into each farewell ceremony. When services conclude, a silver-painted coffin cart — drawn by two docile white Veyras — carries the deceased along the short processional lane to New Horizon’s Rest Cemetery, completing a burial tradition that grounds Beta Age settlers in the soil of their new world.
The façade is dominated by Joe’s distinctive white-painted signage.
Ground Floor (Main Level)
Upper Floor (Second Level)
Rear Exterior
Although the building was opened in a former Hoo stable made of old spaceship parts and containers, New Horizon Funeral Service somehow feels inviting — even despite the fact that no one would actually want to be a customer or subject of treatment here if they had a choice.
A faint scent of lavender hangs in the air—Joe's personal touch—masking the sharp smell of sterilized metal and polished Morningstar wood that wafts up from the casket studio upstairs.
The Memory Room, the heart of the building, feels almost like a small star chapel: a quiet, bright room where grief is softened by light rather than shadow. The benches fold neatly against the wall when not in use, leaving the room open for intimate ceremonies.
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Automated staff:
Public Access: By appointment; walk-ins accepted for emergencies 8 AM – 8 PM.
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