part of the fun of the original alien is the horror of the nostromo itself imo. itâs a cell of corporate greed ferrying narrowly-trained workers across barren space. itâs huge and yet claustrophobic, cockpits crammed with machinery giving way to yawning berths dripping chains and water. the supercomputer is named mother in a stroke of human anthropomorphization, but instead of providing comfort or protection, itâs only a courier between its creator and its wailing brood. ripley yells âmother! mother!â at a matronly-voiced computer that speaks calmly over her helplessness. the ship is full of endless details and patterns and unlabeled buttons and dials the audience canât entirely make sense of; to do anything on the ship is a rigorous, technical process, and we must depend on the characters to know it. the internal mechanics of the ship are so alien that a literal alien can hide among the bits and bobs and not be noticed. itâs great.