
Arknights: Rise From Ember Episode 1 Preview: Release Date, Time & Where To Watch
Arknights: Rise from Ember is the third anime adaptation of Arknights produced by Yostar Pictures.
In the wake of unknown Catastrophes in the heart of Terra, a mineral of unimaginable power has been discovered. As a terminal disease that crystallizes its victims spreads, Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals Inc. races to find a cure while trying to quell the Reunion Movement.
After a devastating fight with Skullshatterer, Amiya mourns her failure to save Misha. Meanwhile, Rhodes investigates an abandoned city near Lungmen and uncovers a disturbing new threat…
If you've been following this anime, you may be curious to find out when the next episode is releasing. Well, wonder no more!
Here is everything you need to know about episode 1 of Arknights: Rise From Ember, including the release date, time, and where you can watch this.
Where Can I Watch Arknights: Rise From Ember?
The Water Magician is airing in Japan on TOKYO MX. For those outside Asia, this one is also available to stream on Crunchyroll worldwide.
Arknights: Rise From Ember Episode 1 Release Date
Arknights: Rise From Ember Episode 1 will release on Friday 4th July in Japan at approximately 11:30pm (JST). Of course, this means that for most of the world, this one will debut at approximately 2.30pm (GMT) /7.30am (PT).
Arknights: Rise From Ember's episodes will drop in the native Japanese language with subtitles. Dubbing may well arrive later on down the line, but will largely be dependent on how popular this anime will be.
How Many Episodes Will Arknights: Rise From Ember Have?
It has been officially announced that Arknights: Rise From Ember will drop with a 10 episode season order, which is consistent with the other seasons.
One episode will be releasing a week, while each chapter will run for around 23 minutes long. So with that in mind, we've got 9 more episodes left after this week's chapter.
Is There A Trailer For Arknights: Rise From Ember?
Yes! You can find a trailer for Arknights: Rise From Ember below:
What do you hope to see as the series progresses? What's been your favourite moment of Arknights: Rise From Ember so far? Let us know in the comments below!
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


The Independent
32 minutes ago
- The Independent
First look at the world's largest Legoland resort built with 85 million bricks
A colossal Lego figure, named Dada, greeted visitors to the newly opened Legoland resort in Shanghai. Dada, who stands at over 26 metres (85 feet) tall, is a fittingly huge welcome to the resort - which is the biggest Legoland in the world. Opening its doors on Saturday, the Shanghai resort marks China 's inaugural Legoland. It is constructed from an astonishing 85 million Lego bricks. Its development was a collaborative effort between Merlin Entertainments, the LEGO Group, and the Shanghai government. Among the main attractions in the resort is Miniland, which replicates well-known sights from across the world using Lego bricks. It features sights from across China like Beijing's Temple of Heaven and Shanghai's the Bund waterfront. There's also a boat tour through a historical Chinese water town built with Lego bricks. On opening weekend, visitors were greeted by performances featuring Legoland characters. Tickets range from $44 (319 yuan) to $84 (599 yuan). Earlier this year in the UK, Fiona Eastwood was appointed the new boss of Merlin Entertainments, the company behind Legoland. She took on the job ahead of a number of key launches, including the Shanghai resort and a standalone Peppa Pig theme park in the US. Ms Eastwood said it was 'an honour' to take on the job. 'My task, as chief executive, is to lead Merlin to new heights, with a focus on performance, creativity, operational excellence and guest experience,' she said. Last year, a number of British Olympians and Paralympians were reimagined in brick form at Legoland to wish them good luck ahead of Paris 2024. Three model makers used 2,024 Lego bricks over 60 hours to create the exhibit, entitled Going for Gold. The creation included wheelchair racer Hannah Cockroft with the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower, heptathlete Katarina Johnson-Thompson holding a javelin outside the Louvre and Tom Daley knitting on a diving board.


Daily Mail
2 hours ago
- Daily Mail
I left Emmerdale stardom for a completely different job - here's how much soap actors REALLY get paid and why it doesn't go as far as you'd think
Former Emmerdale star Kelli Hollis has revealed how much soap actors REALLY get paid and why it doesn't go as far as you'd think. The actress, 48, who played Ali Spencer in the ITV soap between 2011 and 2015, recently ditched the showbiz life and relocated to Pattaya, Thailand. And she's doing something totally different to acting and is now the owner of a cannabis shop called La Choza Pratumnak. But a fan recently asked how much soap stars are paid, to which she said: '[On] Emmerdale I explained that you get an episode fee and you're guaranteed so many episodes a year... 'So if we're saying roughly £500 and up [per episode], and you were contracted to do 90 [episodes, that's 45k, it's obviously a good wage.' She continued: 'But it's not like the "rich, rich", you'd think famous actors would be earning.' The star added: 'Now, that's that sort of middle of the road [salary]. 'I'm not going to lie when I was at Emmerdale to my knowledge, one of the highest paid actors was on a thousand pound episodes.' The telly star also highlighted some fees that people in the industry wouldn't think about. Kelli said: 'It would only be 45, but then you get a buyout, which is pretty much the same as your wage, so I'll top that up to 90. 'Then, you've got the agent's commission, which is usually 12 and a half percent," she said. 'And because you're self-employed, you have to put 40 [per cent] away for tax.' Kelli owns her 'weed bar' with her partner Matt Dawson. Speaking to LeedsLive in 2023, Kelli opened up about her business, remarking: 'We'd been to Pattaya a few times on a holiday, we did a bit of island hopping and in June they legalised marijuana and we found this really cute little shop and got really good friends with the owner and decided to basically set up our own weed shop.' She went on to say of her shop, called La Choza Pratumnak: 'I'll be honest I've smoked weed since I was about fifteen but I'm not a hard-core weed smoker, I can't do full joints and edibles and all that so it probably bodes well or I'd probably smoke all the profits! 'It's definitely not something I envisaged but we've definitely made the right choice.' She's also opened up about her products that she sells. Speaking about her weed bar, Kelli said: 'I actually don't like the feeling [of being stoned]. "But to be honest, I have become a little partial to the edibles here, obviously, because I have to test the products. "But that is not to be stoned. 'I promote ours for rest and for aches and pains for people who don't want to smoke, so I will have mine before bed.' Kelli shot to fame in the late 90s. She played Yvonne Karib in Shameless between 2004 and 2010. The star also landed roles in Waterloo Road, Ackley Bridge and Clink. In 2020 she also played Rachel Edwards in Doctors.


Telegraph
4 hours ago
- Telegraph
Love emojis? Their history is wild and controversial
The history of emojis begins with love. In mid-1990s Japan, sales of pagers – poke beru, or 'pocket bells' – were thriving. The average teenager couldn't yet afford a mobile phone, but pagers were far cheaper. Almost half of Japanese schoolgirls had one. Every night, the networks hummed with adolescent yearning. Yet their communications were confined to a crude numerical interface. As a result, Japan's youth developed ciphers: '999', understood as 'three nines' or san kyu, sounded out the English 'thank you', while '888' or ha ha ha became a shorthand giggle. In 1996, to keep up with competitors encroaching on its market share, NTT Docomo, the country's largest mobile provider, produced a slew of new devices. And some of those allowed their users to send a cute graphic symbol: a tiny heart. It's hardly surprising that emojis caught on where they did. 'Japanese culture and public life are suffused with visual symbolism,' writes Keith Houston in his delightful history, Face with Tears of Joy. Hence, when the Docomo engineer Shigetaka Kurita sat down to design an initial batch of 176 rudimentary emojis, he was able to draw inspiration from existing pictorial systems such as emoticons – for example, ;-) – and the 'face-characters' known as kao-moji – for example, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) – not to mention the conventions of manga. Many of the emojis on your smartphone today descend from the manpu of Japanese comic-books: visual tropes that express states of being. By the mid-2000s, a decade later, Japan had become gripped by emoji-mania. Yet those little icons hadn't yet leapt across to the West. Only when Google prepared to roll out Gmail across Asia did its product managers recognise the importance of offering support for the symbols. The 'pile of poo' emoji – based, we learn from Houston, on a 1980s anime character called 'Poop Boy' – caused momentary queasiness in the boardroom, until executives studied the data, and saw that it was the most beloved icon of the lot. Apple had a similar epiphany. When the iPhone made its Tokyo debut in 2008, Masayoshi Son – CEO of Apple's Japanese partner, Softbank – convinced Steve Jobs that these smiley faces were a sine qua non for technology in Asia. Still, there were bigger problems to overcome than propriety. Emojis may appear as pictures, but in reality they're transmitted as numerical codes, interpreted on arrival by your phone, which then displays symbols with which its software is compatible. This makes practical sense, as true images are data-costly. But in the early days of emojis, the codes weren't yet standardised between service providers and mobile devices. One texter's 'face with cowboy hat' could therefore be another's 'meat on bone'. Enter the Unicode Consortium – the Linnaeus of emoji history. Back in 1987, the founders of this group, managers of multilingual projects at Apple and Xerox, had looked at the state of computing and seen it as Babel after the fall. A lack of industry-wide standards had led to mutually unintelligible systems of digital communication. Software couldn't speak to software. 'Sending a computer file from one part of the world to a different one,' Houston writes, 'often resulted in a mess of mangled text.' The experts therefore embarked on uniform encoding: a library of distinct tags for each character of every writing system on earth. Today, thanks to Unicode, whether an 'A' appears in Garamond or Comic Sans, bolded or italicised, beneath all the fancy dress it will always be U+0041. Two decades on, they wondered: what if a similar standard could be set for emojis? A rose would need no other codename than U+1F339. Global compatibility could bloom. Unicode 6.0, the first version to support emojis, debuted in 2010. Like botanists sorting and classing specimens, the consortium only included emojis already present in an ecosystem. This explains the initial glut of figures from Japanese culture and folklore, as well as the pleasant preponderance of cats. But as emojis became a global language, new communities sought representation. Pressure came from both individuals and corporate entities. The journalist Jennifer 8 Lee lobbied for a dumpling emoji; Taco Bell wanted its eponymous finger food; the Spanish comedian Eugeni Alemany, backed by a rice company, demanded that paella be immortalised in 16 bits. All three got their way, and had their emoji added to Unicode – and therefore your phone. Nonetheless, in an era defined by moving fast and breaking things, the mishaps also piled high. For instance, when in 2017 Google made the (frankly insane) decision to layer its emoji burger with the cheese below the meat, users pushed back en masse. Google's CEO Sundar Pichai was forced onto Twitter, doing his best 'man facepalming', and saying: 'Will drop everything else we are doing and address on Monday.' As emojis poured onto our screens, the 2010s seemed an optimistic time. The launch of an emoji-only social-media platform, Emojli, made international headlines; tennis star Andy Murray consecrated his wedding day with an epithalamion composed solely of emojis; a crowd-funded emoji translation of Moby-Dick went to press. But discontent was festering. Emojis promised to hold up a mirror to the world, but some users saw a past that they were trying to leave behind. The early emoji sets were rather old-fashioned. Men worked construction, served as police officers; women preened, got massages, visited hair salons; children were raised exclusively by heterosexual couples. Above all, there was the problem of ethnic representation: every humanoid emoji had, since Apple's adoption of the system, borne the skin tone of a lemon. There was precedent for this supposedly 'neutral' color: see Lego's sunny figurines or Harvey Ball's iconic 1963 yellow smiley, taken up by AOL Instant Messenger. But yellow, as The Simpsons proves, is very often code for white. 'Journalists and scholars alike concluded that emojis' yellow smileys represented not some race-free ideal but instead a sea of white faces,' says Houston. Unicode 8.0, an update launched in 2015, added a 'skin-tone modifier', allowing bodies to appear in one of five shades derived from the dermatological Fitzpatrick scale – a way of grading skin based on its reaction to ultraviolet light. Yet the choices for hair type and style remain less robust. The curly hair emoji, supposedly applicable to all ethnicities, has been widely critiqued as a poor representation of actual kinky hair. 'These new figures aren't emojis of color,' wrote journalist Paige Tutt in 2015, after the diverse emojis were rolled out, 'they're just white emoji wearing masks.' As Unicode hastened to emoji-fy everything under the sun – including a double-digit number of emojis featuring the Sun itself – a reactionary wing was forming inside the organisation. In 2017, as the consortium responded to proposals for more expressive variations of the beloved 'poop' emoji, the linguist and veteran contributor Michael Everson reached a breaking point: [This] should embarrass absolutely everyone who votes yes on such an excrescence. Will we have a CRYING PILE OF POO next? PILE OF POO WITH TONGUE STICKING OUT? PILE OF POO WITH QUESTION MARKS FOR EYES? PILE OF POO WITH KARAOKE MIC? Will we have to encode a neutral FACELESS PILE OF POO? He was right, in a way. Emojis' leporine birthrates have slowed in the 2020s, and new Unicode additions often prove unpopular. Despite the consortium's efforts to introduce 53 species of mammal, most of these creatures rarely see the blue light of digital day. Some of this has to do with competition: emotive alternatives are offered by messaging apps such as Line, whose 'Line Friends' stickers include Brown the bear and a rabbit named Cony. The company sells nearly £1 billion of these per year. Houston's history of emojis ends with a plea to gather your rosebuds while you may: 'I cannot shake the idea that emoji as they are right now might just be the best possible version of themselves.' But what, exactly, are they? 'Emojis are not a language, that much is clear,' Houston writes. 'They are something more intriguing and more disruptive than that – they are insurgents within language, a colourful and symbiotic virus whose symptoms we have only haltingly understood.' A writer whose previous books include histories of punctuation symbols and the pocket calculator, Houston is less interested in sociolinguistic details than telling stories. 'Just as Johannes Gutenberg's print press hammered spelling and punctuation into conformity by sheer multiplicative force,' he argues, 'so emojis act as a kind of straitjacket for language, smoothing out what we want to say by restricting what we can say.' According to Adobe, one in three members of Gen Z has ended a relationship by using an emoji. But are emojis actually 'restricting' us? Our writing may, as Houston suggests, become 'moulded to fit the emojis that we have been given', but these little icons in reality provide no proscriptions. 'We' don't use them in a consistent or coherent way. Indeed, though the emoji system is young, it's already clear that it'll never become a single language, an Esperanto for the internet age. Emoji syntax, for instance, varies with the user's mother tongue: studies show that although Mandarin shares the subject-verb-object word order of English, Chinese speakers are more likely to structure emoji phrases as 'You love I' rather than 'I love you'. And the use of emojis often resembles a local argot. Depending on the context, the snowman and horse emojis may be childlike symbols, suggestions for leisure activities, or drug slang. Even 'slightly smiling face' – the seemingly tamest icon – is often deployed as a harrowing expression of condescension. The result is that, even though around 10 billion emojis are sent every day, no one can say with certainty what many of them mean. Consider 'man in business suit levitating' – an emoji imported from the 1990s 'dingbat typeface' Webdings – originally based on a logo depicting the reggae artist Peter Tosh. Journalists trying to explain emojis to their readers have variously assured them that it connotes grumpiness, irony and enthusiasm. Indian users have assumed that it's a picture of the veteran actor Rajinikanth. It means nothing for everyone; it means something to some. All emojis do.