A wheel turns around the one part that does not move: the hub. A character kept on a yearwheel card is hung at that hub. Described fresh at every job, she travels the rim instead — re-described a little further round each time, a hairstyle advanced, a signature detail left behind — and by the ninth frame the wheel carries two similar women instead of one. Written once and hung at the centre, the card simply stays put while the seasons turn around it.
The card holds five lines in fixed order. Age, a plain number. Hair — colour, length, one habitual style. Build in two or three words. Face — one or two enduring details. Signature — the detail that survives a tight crop. Beneath the card sits the season’s line: outfit, corner, light — the things meant to turn, sitting by sitting, around the fixed centre.
Paste the card word for word at the head of every prompt, whichever tool is running. Generate at the standard 6 credits, judge against the card, and let the editor, the swaps and the upscalers work only on what judging has passed — each of them taking the same card from the same hub.
Let the rim turn. The hub is not a place a character ever moves from. That is the whole yearly craft of this studio.