Journey to the Savage Planet is a science fiction adventure game developed by Typhoon Studios. Tasked by Kindred Aerospace, the fourth-best interstellar company, your job is to exploit a new planet in the name of capitalism, err, I mean, explore a planet for possible human habitation.
You play an unnamed astronaut, sent to an alien planet to catalog its features and inhabitants. You explore the landscape, scanning flora and fauna, while gathering resources. Back on your ship, these resources unlock upgrades. These upgrades provide additional mobility and options, which open up more areas and so on.
Journey to the Savage Planet includes some combat. However, it is not the game’s focus. Instead, combat is a series of puzzles to keep areas unique and challenging. The boss battles gate content, ensuring you have certain upgrades and know how to use them.
Lush, alien landscapes ripe for exploitation, err, exploration
The level design is also economical. While regions feel huge at first, explorable areas are actually compact and densely packed with secrets and interesting tidbits. Early regions have areas only accessible with later upgrades, encouraging players to revisit content with more experienced eyes. You unlock teleportation early, removing a lot of tiresome travel.
Journey to the Savage Planet offers co-op play, your in-game “meat buddy”, for assistance or more social play.
Mechanically, the above sounds like a standard 3D exploration/traversal game. This is true. The game gradually exposes you to progressively more difficult puzzles that build on previous experience, like any good puzzle game. Turorialisation is usually subtle, although the game sometimes shows applicable controls as a hint. Unlike more linear puzzle games, the game’s open world allows players to switch to a different puzzle or area and return later, along with freeform exploration.
However, Journey to the Savage Planet coats this well-implemented but otherwise unremarkable gameplay with a thick layer of absurd, satirical, anti-capitalist humour. Your ship bombards you with ads that use familiar tropes and techniques to peddle ridiculous products. Periodic messages from the self-serving and insincere Kindred CEO echo the worst of an egotistical cult of personality. He savours sushi on his private jet while you eat ooze-like grob on your decrepit spacecraft. Even the feigned encouragement from your shipboard computer is sarcastic.
The humorous context gives purpose while downplaying negative aspects. It is hard to take your character’s death seriously if your CEO and ship’s computer do not. Killing and exploiting the wildlife is OK because it is in the name of “science”.
Dopey-eyed pufferbirds hopping around
Journey to the Savage Planet‘s bright, saturated and cartoonish art style, creature design, and sound effects reinforce this. The cute, ball-like pufferbirds, for example, have large, anime-like eyes and emit high-pitched cheeps. Many-headed baboushkas scream comically as they dash around. Feeding aliens grob makes them fart collectable resources.
This art style also ensures plants, creatures and terrain features are recognisable, easy to differentiate, yet clearly alien. This style will not date as graphics capabilities improve and adapts well to lower fidelity devices.
The soundtrack is roots rock, heavy with guitars and stringed instruments. It gives the game a playful, blue collar, “Wild West” feel. I would have liked more variety between tracks, though, as it can become repetitive.
While there are challenging moments and your character will die often, Journey to the Savage Planet is not difficult. A new upgrade, using a previously overlooked environmental feature or rethinking the approach is usually the answer.
Even the various MacGuffins, such as orange goo to increase your health/stamina or alien alloy for upgrades, can eventually be detected using your scanner. These scanner upgrades replace a frustrating game of finding the obscure nooks and crannies with the fun traversal puzzles. You know where the desired objects are. You just need to find out how to get there. I usually find completing collections tedious, but Journey to the Savage Planet had me happily doing so without initially realising it.
Journey to the Savage Planet‘s anti-plutocratic and pro-environmental message becomes less subtle later in the game, particularly as you approach the last boss. It taps into the anti-“tech bro”, “save the planet” zeitgeist.
However, the game’s message takes a backseat to the fun, avoiding lectures and keeping things light. The game hides its message under an obvious corporate caricature. It avoids imposing moral quandaries or showing the heart-tugging broader effects on society, as in games with similar themes such as Cyberpunk 2077 or The Outer Worlds.
Journey to the Savage Planet takes around fifteen to twenty hours to complete and about five extra hours to find all the collectables. It will appeal to those looking for a light-hearted exploration and traversal puzzle game. However, those looking for genuine challenge or put off by satirical, cartoonish humour should look elsewhere. Many puzzles emphasise the vertical, giving sweaty palms for those afraid of heights, too.
Universe for Sale is a science fiction “point and click” visual novel with a distinct, hand-drawn art style. It was developed by Tmesis Studio and published by Akupara Games.
Universe for Sale follows Master and, later, Lila. Master is an ascetic monk from the Cult of Detachment. The Cult believes that physically separating parts of their body also detaches negative emotions or experiences. By the time we first meet Master, he is little more than a skeleton with ears. He wakes up each day, having slept on the ground in the market, and seeks out Lila.
Lila is more human, although her hair consists of blue-green tentacles after an accident where she lost her father. She wakes each day to sell custom universes in the market or use the proceeds to decorate her home. At least, she did until Master came along.
Universe for Sale‘s gameplay consists of walking around, exploring, conversing with different people, interacting with objects, and completing minigames. Most minigames are straightforward, although some, like the Lila creating universes, can take some experimentation. The minigames’ purpose is immersion, not challenge or mastery.
Assorted knick-knacks, with a few pop culture references for the keen-eyed
Universe for Sale’s setting, the colony, is a wonderful fusion of fantasy and technology, hanging precipitously in the upper atmosphere of Jupiter. Powered by rusting windmills and protected from acid rain with hydrophobic fabric sheets, every scene reveals more about how such a fantastical world exists and functions.
The hand-drawn art style, apart from minimizing development costs, keeps the tone light by avoiding squalor and “cartoonifying” Cult members with detached body parts. It also allows for easy exaggeration of features, making the various characters larger than life.
The colony’s inhabitants push the boundaries of humanity, from intelligent orangutans to robots. Neither Lila, with her tentacle hair, nor Master, a walking skeleton, are out of place.
The colony’s juxtaposition of technology and poverty feels familiar, but every scene’s bizarre or technological oddity reminds you of the futuristic, alien setting. Only in such a setting could Lila’s profound ability to create and manipulate universes be so minimised.
A visual novel game like Universe for Sale hinges on its writing. Thankfully, it delivers, mainly via nonlinear storytelling. Lila’s daily grind, Master’s enigmatic task and a children’s fairy story weave together as Master tries to order events into something coherent. The slow emergence of relationships while learning more about the world is intriguing. Each day brings curiosity, excitement, and some trepidation.
Universe for Sale is a story about spirituality and recovery. There are many ways to tell a story, impart wisdom or heal emotional trauma. Each person’s journey is unique. Focusing on one religion or method blinds you to others.
Universe for Sale contrasts the rigid control and doctrine of established religion with self-actualization and fulfilment. The dominant “church” in the game is probably meant to be fictional. While the futuristic and imaginative setting helps de-anchor it from reality, the cathedral-like stained glass windows and pews are hard to miss.
The Cult of Detachment’s teachings, by comparison, are initially alienating but then softened by including them in a children’s fairy tale. Master’s patience, sincerity and compassion contrast with the preaching, control and dismissiveness of the church.
Master shares a moment with Lomri
Meanwhile, some unspoken natural order or authority is patiently asserting itself. Plants continually grow into and infest buildings. The church cannot eradicate the cat-like “lomris” that nest near Lila. Lila’s octopus-like hair, her friendship with the colony’s animal-like inhabitants, and the Kraken gatekeeper between the physical and spiritual realms hint at animism. Metaphors and references abound.
Universe for Sale has limited replayability. There is a single ending and dialog choices only satiate curiosity. The game awards achievements for reaching story milestones, as well as for doing humorous or unexpected things, so a second playthrough may help fill any gaps.
For those intrigued with fantastical worlds, non-linear storytelling or unravelling mysteries, Universe for Sale is ideal. Universe for Sale is short, taking four to five hours to finish, but tells its story well within that time. Like the varied universes Lila creates, it encourages us to open our minds to myriad spiritual possibilities.
The Invincible is a science fiction thriller and adventure game developed by Starward Industries. Based loosely on Stanislaw Lem’s novel of the same name, published in 1964, does its premise still hold up after sixty years?
You play as Dr Yasna, an astrobiologist from the Interstellar Commonwealth spaceship Dragonfly. You awaken on a Regis III, a distant and desolate planet, with little memory of recent events. Your job is to discover what happened to your expedition while unravelling the planet’s mysteries.
The overused amnesia trope may dissuade some. However, given the source material’s age, the original novel likely inspired the trope. Yasna’s amnesia is also central to the story. Yasna regains some memories through flashbacks, but The Invincible‘s first hour or two asks more questions than it answers.
Regis III has some beautiful vistas
Mechanically, you walk and climb around the desert environment. You drive rovers, operate computers and navigate with a scanner and a metal detector. Dr Yasna automatically tracks important notes and maps in her journal, which you can refer to if lost. She talks over the radio with Novik, the Dragonfly’s “astrogator” or captain, getting context and guidance.
The Invincible has a fantastic retro-futuristic aesthetic, reminiscent of The Forbidden Planet, Gerry Anderson’s Thunderbirds or Space 1999. Controls are large and analog. Robots lack the modern pseudo-organic look. Spaceships are gleaming rockets. Technology is practical and grounded, electromechanical instead of electronic. Even futuristic inventions like force fields are just applied electromagnetism with bulky wires, magnets, and insulators.
The aesthetic makes The Invincible believable and distinct hard science fiction. It also reduces complex apparatuses to simple controls that require no instructions, which is perfect for a game.
The aesthetic grounds The Invincible to the late 1950s or early 1960s. The developers did not introduce modern sensibilities or conveniences. The characters smoke. They lack the equivalent of mobile phones, although you can find a bulky Pong game console. The developers even retained some esoteric names from the novel, like calling a spaceship’s captain an “astrogator”.
The soundtrack is unsettling, an often discordant mix of percussive and theremin-like synthesized instruments. It ensures you always feel on edge. Nothing is ever quite right. It recasts the barren scenery, often starkly beautiful, as alien and isolating. The instrument choice also reinforces the 1950s/60s science fiction feel.
Your microphone and nearby alien planets are a subtle but constant reminder of where you are
The Invincible generates a comic of Yasna’s progress and decisions. It summarises the story and highlights important decisions. The game shows you the last panel when reloading a save to give the player context quickly. Once again, it fits with the pulp comics popular during the 1950s and 60s.
Thematically, The Invincible deals with humility and hubris. Humanity’s Ozymandian discoveries on Regis III challenge our understanding of life and intelligence. Our anthropomorphization and existing taxonomies can hinder as much as help. For example, the separation between biological and machine is not always clear. Yansa’s isolation means she has to resort to her basic wits and grit.
The Invincible shows us some things will always be beyond our mastery. Humanity’s weapons, for all their might, assume human constraints and thinking. Even humanity’s advanced medical science cannot regain lost memories. The significance and irony of the game’s title slowly becomes clear toward the game’s end.
Despite its futuristic setting and existentialism, The Invincible is ultimately about human nature. Amidst the Cold War-like paranoia and mistrust between Yansa’s pseudo-European Commonwealth and the pseudo-American Alliance, our similarities outnumber our differences. The Commonwealth’s and Alliance’s different technologies are interoperable. Human touches like sharing cigarettes can potentially unite us, as can challenges like those on Regis III.
The Invincible is short, taking six or seven hours to complete, but it is about the right length. There is some replayability. Most of the game is linear despite appearances, although you can make decisions at key moments to steer the remaining story and reach different endings. Achievements reward attention to detail or acting unpredictably.
The Invincible will appeal to those looking for contemplative science fiction with a strong visual and audio aesthetic. The developers have been faithful to Stanislaw Lem’s vision, which still holds up today. While humanity has not visited other planets as in the game, it is easy to consider humanity the master of its domain. The Invincible reminds us that the universe may have other plans.
When I watched the trailers and read the synopses of The Creator, I thought this would be a movie about the dangers of artificial intelligence (AI). In an age where the technology sector has commoditized machine learning, calling it AI, this movie seemed to promise yet another warning about unchecked technological advancement and humanity’s negative tendencies. However, I was wrong.
The Creator is set in 2065. The global West wages war against AI after an AI nuked Los Angeles. It follows Joshua, an undercover US soldier sent to infiltrate AI society. Grieving for Maya, his dead wife, he pursues an AI superweapon while balancing his loyalties between his single-minded US military superiors and the AI community that adopted him.
If examining AI is The Creator‘s focus, it has a few premises the audience needs to accept. Humanity has also created artificial general intelligences (AGIs), AIs that are conscious and have emotions. AGIs can be housed in robots and control them to a human-like level of coordination and ability.
Humanity has also created life-like human robots called simulants. Their faces are clearly human, but a slight turn of their heads reveals their obvious ear canal-less artificiality. They have feet firmly planted on each side of the uncanny valley.
So far, this is standard science fiction fair. However, The Creator goes further. Human consciousness can be read, stored, and uploaded into a robot. Your soul can now be digitized. Add to this that humans are encouraged to lend their likeness to simulants, that damaging a robot destroys the housed AI and that simulants can eat and drink. The superweapon is a robotic child with a child’s presumed innocence, hitting parental instincts hard. Can the movie humanize AI more? Can you distance it from modern-day AI more?
That was when I realized The Creator is not a warning about AI’s dangers. It could have been a fantasy epic about souls and magic. The Creator merely adopts the current zeitgeist for broader audience appeal.
Instead, it is two things. The first is a critique of the West’s exceptionalism. Like the “War on Terror”, the war in The Creator is a battle for New Asia’s hearts and minds. The USA is not fighting the people of New Asia, only the AI they harbour. The alleged lie at the start of the war, that errant programming and not AI launched the nuke, hits hard. This lie parallels the lie that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction, necessitating its invasion. As his motives shift away from the West’s established truths, Joshua slowly becomes a “terrorist”. Nuance and sympathy are trodden underfoot by the unwavering West.
The movie’s war is also a new Vietnam War, one that the USA is determined to win. The new AI society is based in New Asia, spanning most of South East Asia today. The film juxtaposes jungles, rice paddies and longtail boats with towering megastructures. Technology and tradition are ubiquitous. Women joke as they construct new simulants just like they would weave clothing. Most of the movie was shot on location rather than using a green screen, giving the movie a natural, tangible feel.
Unlike in the Vietnam War, the USA does not put thousands of troops on the ground, endangering its citizens to suppress a resistant populace in rugged terrain. Instead, the space station, the USS NOMAD (North American Orbital Mobile Aerospace Defence), looms in the skies. It is a miniature version of Star Wars‘ death star, poised to rain nuclear freedom. It becomes a symbol of technological and industrial superiority but also oppression.
When the USA fights on the ground, it uses its industry. The huge tanks rumbling through the jungle, large enough to make a Warhammer 40K player envious, epitomize the American approach to warfare: technologically lead and ruthlessly efficient. Their telltale thunderous sound and size intimidate and deter as much as their weapons do.
The Creator portrays US soldiers as bloodthirsty and uncaring. “It is only programming,” they say as they slaughter enemy robots indistinguishable from humans a few moments before. Contrast this with the AI, who lack weapons larger than small arms. They seem a minuscule threat against the disproportionate might of the West. They constantly lament the war, claiming they only want peace.
This confronting portrayal reinforces Joshua’s plight. Seeing the USA’s military-industrial complex from the receiving end is something few Western viewers have likely considered. Seeing near-religious fervour on the faces of what traditionally are the rational good guys is startling.
However, if you humanize the West’s enemies beyond that of humans and present them as homogeneously pacifist and constantly sympathetic, you risk a straw man fallacy. The Creator tries to shatter the USA’s self-image of a perfect, altruistic world policeman. However, this is a well-trodden path and more complex than the movie’s simplistic portrayal. Geopolitics is about shades of grey, not black and white.
Secondly, The Creator examines Joshua and his grief. His robotic arm and leg, lost when the nuke hit Los Angeles, make the war personal. The movie’s initial scenes and copious flashbacks see him in a loving relationship with Maya, his pregnant wife. Her apparent death at the movie’s start sends him into depression.
However, the prospect of Maya’s survival lures him back. He forges a Faustian bargain with his US military superiors to help find Nirmata, the AIs’ head architect. The child-like AI superweapon, Alphie, could be a facsimile of his unborn child. Pursuing love is a noble ideal, but has fate given Joshua a second chance or is he delaying hurtful acceptance with a technological substitute?
Meanwhile, The Creator is full of religious allegories. Technology offers the ability to be reborn and live forever, albeit in a robotic body. The AIs’ reverence for Nirmata and the saffron-cloaked monks’ inability to harm it borders on worship. The USA’s bomb robot bows before Alphie’s deific ability to control machines remotely. The final scenes depict a battle in heaven, and the grief-filled survivors return to earth weary from their pyrrhic victory. These and Hans Zimmer’s operatic soundtrack add gravitas and impetus, if not a slight unreality, to Joshua’s journey. The Creator is not merely a story. It wants to be a modern-day fable.
Ultimately, The Creator wants to say a lot, possibly too much. I applaud the vision and scope. It is dense and ambitious, and its special effects are fantastic. However, The Creator reduces complex issues like Western hypocrisy and AI’s potential to forces of nature, nearly overshadowing its examination of grief. The movie juggles many ideas and metaphors simultaneously but almost drops a few.
Starfield is the latest action role playing game (RPG) from Bethesda, the developers of Skyrim and Fallout.
Starfield, the first new RPG setting from Bethesda in a long time, is set in 2330. The Earth’s magnetosphere dissipated over a century earlier, rendering it lifeless. Thankfully, humanity mastered faster-than-light travel via the gravity drive. They rapidly evacuated to the star systems near Earth, deserting old nations and building new institutions.
You start Starfield as a lowly asteroid miner, listening to your coworker’s banter. You unearth a seemingly alien artifact that gives you strange visions. After an attack by space pirates, you are inducted into a quaint, exploration-focused organization called Constellation and whisked off onto an adventure.
Structurally, Starfield has a similar “in media res” style introduction to Skyrim. It quickly teaches you the basic mechanics, gives you a short fight to get the blood pumping, establishes you as the “chosen one”, sets you on the main quest, and then gets out of the way. Much of the exposition happens later.
Starfield‘s strength is the breadth, if not depth, of game loops. Its gameplay is fun, but only exploration is remarkable. The combat is standard first person shooter fare, although melee could be more varied. The stealth mechanics are good but not up to Deus Ex or Cyberpunk 2077. Bethesda nailed the sci-fi feel of lock picking, but once you understand it, less player skill is required than in Skyrim. Your scanner is helpful for exploration, identifying enemies, or satiating hoarding instincts by finding things to pick up.
The gameplay is repetitive but not grindy. You do not need to repeat boring activities to enable more enjoyable gameplay. Sufficient variety in the quests and randomly generated or placed content prevents boredom. Once you exhaust the scripted quests, Starfield offers randomly generated versions to pass the time or continue adventuring. Alternatively, land on a planet and start exploring.
Starfield‘s main quest line is suitably epic and galaxy-spanning, providing mystery and motivation. It draws you above the drama occurring elsewhere in the settled systems. However, this distance means the main quest line loses some emotional grounding and gravitas. Starfield‘s setting and side quests provide the most content, variety and potential like most RPGs.
Starfield contains many visually and thematically diverse places. After leaving the dusty, decrepit asteroid mine and a short detour, you first visit the city of New Atlantis. It is the capital of the United Colonies. Visually, it resembles the citadel from the Mass Effect series: clean, bright, organic curves, open spaces with water and greenery integrated seamlessly with technology.
New Atlantis contrasts with other places like Akila City, the capital of the Freestar Collective. Its mud roads and stone buildings make it feel like the Wild West in space, complete with a bank robbery. As its name suggests, Neon is a cyberpunk (the genre) style metropolis on a rain-drenched water world. It is where to indulge in less savoury activities, like gang warfare, corporate espionage, or elicit substances.
Neon’s exterior in all its multicoloured glory.
Exploration is integral to Starfield, being the primary mission of Constellation. Mechanically, it is similar to No Mans Sky or Elite Dangerous. However, Starfield does it better. Starfield supports multiple biomes per planet, adding variety. Starfield is about exploring a known, finite universe, not the near-infinite set of random ones no one else will ever visit. Planet surfaces intersperse improbably frequent natural phenomena and enemy-filled bases to break up the gameplay. You can improve your exploration skills, like increasing scanner range, sprinting further, or learning more about scanned species.
A misty sunset with trees in the foreground and mountains in the background.
Starfield is visually better than games like No Mans Sky and Elite Dangerous, and “sense pleasure” is integral to exploration. Not just because Starfield is newer. While all generate terrain procedurally, most of everything else in Starfield is hand-crafted. Starfield‘s alien flora and fauna are more plausible, not just a random assortment of limbs. Think Star Wars, where humanity is not at the top of the food chain. Starfield‘s designers often placed moons and planets to create picturesque views, like ringed planets filling the sky. Starfield also has weather, like dreamy mist-filled sunrises, savage dust storms, or dreary rain.
A beautiful ringed planet viewed from a moon.
You need a starship to explore. Your starting ship, the Frontier, is a masterful example of worldbuilding. From the venting gas from its landing thrusters, whose exhaust is ignited by sparks like modern rockets, to its white, vaguely aerodynamic shape reminiscent of the space shuttle, it anchors the setting to a believable near future.
Unfortunately, you pilot your ship rarely. It is either in space, docked or landed. Docking and landing are automated. Flying between planets or systems is “fast travel”, using a short cutscene.
Approaching the starstation “The Eye”.
Starfield has ship combat, but it is arcade-like and closer to No Mans Sky than Elite Dangerous. It devolves into building ships with better shields and weapons. Manoeuvring is all but useless. The camera views block too much with either the cockpit or your ship’s back. Power management is awkward, particularly in the heat of battle. Macros would be helpful. The targeting mode loses any situational awareness.
However, once you master the clunky interface, the shipbuilder is a beautiful avenue for self-expression. Like the Galactic Civilization franchise, you customize and assemble ships using modular components. In a clever touch of worldbuilding, different vendors’ modules have different styles, such as the blocky, angular Deimos or Taiyo’s almost organic curves.
You can also walk around your ship, board enemy ships and add crafting stations and containers. However, to prevent punishing those with large ships, you can board into or leave directly from the cockpit. Elite Dangerous‘s designers should take note.
The back of a Stroud-Ekland cockpit.
Starfield allows building outposts on different planets to store excess equipment, gather resources, craft materials, and refuel ships flying past. You can also create trade links to automate the transfer of materials between them. Starfield almost rivals factory games like Satisfactory with its web of materials and resources.
However, the capacity of even the largest storage buildings needs to increase. A lot. No Mans Sky offers more variety, including positioning individual walls, roof and floor tiles.
In terms of companions, there are dozens that you can hire or find around the galaxy. Of these, four companions have unique quest lines. Each quest line companion follows roughly the same moral compass: generally good and favouring exploration. Although not my thing, this limits the potential for less noble playstyles.
Some want Vasco, your robot companion, to have a quest line and opportunity for growth or change. However, with the world currently enraptured by the potential and danger of AI, seeing a robot follow its programming is a welcome piece of sanity.
Thankfully, Starfield does not take itself too seriously. Catching up with your parents in an alien petting zoo or watching them pretend they did not try illicit substances is touching and amusing. Various “inspirational” posters line the walls of shady secret research labs. Chunks, the ubiquitous cubic fast food of the 24th century, “meet all minimal nutritional requirements”. Vasco has some innocent but cuttingly insightful wit. Your adoring fan’s flattery never gets old.
Hmmm. Appetizing.
Starfield‘s music is orchestral, reminiscent of Star Wars or Star Trek. Most tracks are slow and use periodic gradual crescendos to emphasize the wonder and grandeur of Starfield‘s universe. The soundtrack is composed to support a game with lots of voice dialog and critical sound queues, such as in combat. It does not call attention to itself. For example, the restrained, almost mournful menu theme is the opposite of Skyrim‘s rousing call to action. Rather than assaulting the player with aggressive emotion, Starfield‘s version hints that the player has to come to the game (or music), not vice versa.
My main criticism of Starfield is not that it is too easy, at least on “normal” difficulty. I may have played many Bethesda RPGs, but even “hard” provided little challenge. Assuming you do not intentionally engage in challenging content, there is little pressure to specialize your character’s skills, ship, outposts or use consumables for temporary buffs. These become more role playing opportunities.
My main criticism is also not that Starfield is the usual Bethesda RPG oxymoron. Starfield empowers you, creating a feel-good power fantasy where you are important and can make galaxy-affecting changes. However, as the conveniences in your favour accumulate, like free ship fuel or unkillable companions, immersion and suspension of disbelief get harder. Starfields‘ roots in points-based mechanics mean large level differences between you and your target can create unrealistic bullet sponges.
I do not mind that, despite Starfield having the best facial and hair animation of any Bethesda RPG, it still falls into that uncanny valley. NPCs wander aimlessly and still get stuck in walls occasionally.
My main criticism of Starfield is an absent central or recurring theme. For example, in a world where AIs are more intelligent and capable than humans, and the powerful are unshackled from laws and ethics, Cyberpunk 2077 examines humanity. The Fallout series deals with the difficulties of survival and that the best choices are often hard or impossible. The Witcher series shows that, when monsters walk among humans, humans are sometimes the most monstrous of all. The Nier series deals with loss.
In fairness, a game does not need to be profound to be good. Making action movies or games requires skill. Bethesda more than demonstrated it with careful level design, regular mixing of gameplay modes, managing tension, and catering to familiar sci-fi tropes and fantasies. The usual meme-worthy glitches are thankfully absent. The greater attention to quality after Cyberpunk 2077‘s problematic launch is apparent.
Instead, Starfield is pure, fun sci-fi escapism. It is a series of concurrent action movies. RPGs are defined by how well they let you play out fantasies. Starfield delivers on that.
For example, the Vanguard quest line plays like a rerun of Starship Troopers. The Ryujin quest line is a sci-fi James Bond or Mission Impossible coupled with corporate espionage and intrigue. Completing the Mantis quest allows you to play as a space Batman. The Sysdef/Crimson Fleet quest line has palpable tension as you play a double agent, playing criminals and the law against each other. Join the Rangers and play as a space cowboy.
A “Neil Armstrong moment” standing on the surface of Luna, the moon, looking toward the Sun.
Starfield is unoriginal. Almost everything in the game is “heavily inspired” by something else. That is OK. Successful RPGs help players fulfil fantasies by immersing players in familiar tropes. Where Skyrim opened the fantasy genre to a broader audience, Starfield attempts to do the same with science fiction.
That said, I was disappointed there were not more overt references to other movies, shows or games. Many will pick the few references to Skyrim‘s sweet rolls and Meridia quests. Yes, there was some well-known voice talent from Star Trek: Deep Space 9 and a subtle reference to the 1986 Transformers movie. Cyberpunk 2077 did this comparatively better.
Without strong themes and notwithstanding a few minor nods to modern sensibilities like same-sex relationships, there is little to offend or demand too much of its players. Perhaps Bethesda wanted to play it safe and avoid controversy.
However, Bethesda missed the opportunity to do something more. So many quests touch on real-world themes. For example, the war between the United Colonies and the Freestar Collective that ended 20 years before the game’s start still has lasting social and economic impacts. The United Colonies has to deal with the compromises and the demands strict order creates. The Freestar Collective juggles freedom with the criminal behaviour it facilitates. The Rangers’ quest line deals with the place of veterans in a postwar society. Meanwhile, the wealthy flatter themselves on luxury space cruises.
DLC or the modding community may fill the gap. Like Skyrim and Fallout, Starfield is as much a gaming platform as a game. Much of the work establishes content for future expansion or use. Outposts and shipbuilding, for example, go far beyond what Starfield currently needs. The Va’ruun, relegated to mysterious bogeymen, have much potential.
If you enjoyed Fallout or Skyrim or like science fiction games, you have probably already played or plan to play Starfield. You can race through key quests in 30 hours, but the complete experience takes at least 100 more. Starfield is fun, emphasizes exploration and knows its target audience well. However, the lack of anything original, introspective or thought-provoking may limit its long-term impact on the gaming landscape. Playing Starfield is like eating Chunks. It tastes good and you want more but the nutrition is questionable.
Deliver Us Mars is an interactive fiction game developed by KeokeN Interactive. While some consider it an adventure puzzle game, Deliver Us Mars focuses on story over puzzles and mechanics.
Deliver Us Mars follows on from the prequel, Deliver Us the Moon. Earth’s resources are exhausted and its environment is rapidly degrading. You play the teenage Kathy Johannson as she travels to Mars with her crew. They want to find the three ARK ships that fled the moon in the prequel, then use the ARKs’ technology to fix Earth.
Mechanically, Deliver Us Mars shifts between three modes. The first is engine-rendered cut scenes, where the game tells much of its story. Deliver Us Mars shows off the facial animation features of the Unreal engine, not to mention the animators’ skills.
The second is exploration, walking or travelling around near linear maps. You often find objects to scan or read that flesh out the world. This is natural to those familiar with RPGs and adventure games. However, finding them all will likely require multiple playthroughs.
The third is mini-games. Some mini-games require traversal, including climbing or driving a rover across the Martian surface. The climbing mechanics are designed well, requiring coordination to survive palm-sweating moments. Some mini-games are puzzles, like using energy beams to power doors or machinery.
The mini-games are mostly easy, although their controls or intended results are sometimes unclear. Most have an additional achievement for fast or exceptional completion, yet another reason for subsequent playthroughs.
Mini-games and exploration are also not the game’s central focus. They supplement and reinforce the story. Instead, the success of a game like Deliver Us Mars relies on the quality of the storytelling and the characters. Thankfully, the game delivers.
For example, Deliver Us Mars periodically revisits Kathy’s youth. These flashbacks are initially tutorials, such as swimming teaching how to manoeuvre in zero gravity. They momentarily break the tension, reminding the player of less stressful times in Kathy’s life.
However, later flashbacks exacerbate the tension and add context. For example, the game hints at the death of Isaac’s wife and Kathy’s mother early. However, the game delays the event to maximize the emotional impact.
Deliver Us Mars also uses subtle analogies, such as Kathy’s home on Earth. It represents the family dynamic and Earth’s perilous state. Initially, it is inviting with a warm sun and a loving, successful family, albeit with subtle hints of external unrest. As flashbacks recur, disagreements boil over, and dust storms darken the sky. Eventually, a storm destroys the house while Isaac, the father, must leave Kathy in the hands of Claire, her sister. It then gets worse.
Deliver Us Mars is pessimistic. Superficially, it is about how humanity’s talent for internal conflict often sabotages our best efforts. It examines how decision-makers can lose context and grounding, succumbing to revenge, narcissism or paranoia. It highlights the unreconcilable sacrifices some make. Even the worst climate prediction models do not show the Earth becoming inhospitable in the game’s timeframe.
The character of Kathy Johannson is one exception. The first flashback shows her irresponsible playfulness as she swims with her new and not waterproof moonbear toy. She grows over the game, watching the mantle of responsibility pass from her father to her sister and finally to herself. When Isaac first sees Kathy on Mars, he remarks how she has grown, and this is not just physically. Players presume and impose a default heroism on her, and she does not disappoint.
Delver Us Mars hinges on theemotional connection between Kathy and Isaac. Like in Deliver Us the Moon, Kathy and Isaac show how family and close relationships often motivate us the most. A single word from Isaac, “moonbear”, is enough to spur Kathy onward. The love of his daughter also inspires Isaac when all seems lost.
Isaac Johannson is initially sympathetic, torn between duties as a father and saving Earth. However, unlike Kathy, Isaac plays a tragic role. Time will tell whether Kathy or Isaac represent modern-day governments trying to appease their citizens while protecting the environment.
It may be my inherent optimism, but Deliver Us Mars is more about not running away from problems. Like the sacrifices people make. Like the relationship between Kathy and Isaac. Like the environmental problems on Earth.
Even when things seem grim, there is always time and more opportunities. This is a pre-apocalyptic setting, not a post-apocalyptic one, and there is still a chance to prevent it. Deliver Us Mars believes that human ingenuity and hard work can solve significant issues.
Aesthetically, Delver Us Mars is influenced by near-future science fiction like Gravity, Interstellar, Ad Astra or 2001: A Space Odyssey. Most technology is slightly ahead of our own, making the game relatable. Some models are superb, particularly the detail in the crashed ARK Lados. The blue Mars sunset is also realistic.
However, Deliver Us Mars skims over many dangers of living on Mars. Its dust is abrasive and toxic. It receives more radiation than Earth. However, I suspect the game designers wanted space or the hostile, desolate Martian environment for spectacle and impact. A game set in safe but sterile metal corridors would quickly feel dull and mundane.
Playing Deliver Us The Moon first is recommended. Like the flashbacks, the prequel adds gravitas and emotional context. For example, Deliver Us Mars almost ignores Sarah Baker, the expedition leader. Appreciating Sarah’s importance and perspective from her small part in Deliver Us Mars is difficult.
While the realistic graphics are gorgeous, they are sometimes inconsistent. It is a minor criticism, but little things can break immersion, like a buggy not leaving tire tracks or the sprite-based thrust from a manoeuvring spacecraft. Higher resolutions are unkind to some of the models and textures. Stylized graphics like cell-shading may have been a better choice. It would have simplified the art and given better cohesion.
Deliver Us Mars is about the right length at about ten hours to complete, more if you want to get all the achievements. It is darker than its prequel but worth it for science fiction or interactive fiction game fans. Hopefully, KeokeN has a sequel planned to continue or conclude the story.
The Artful Escape is a rock opera masquerading as a musical platforming game from the Australian development studio Beethoven & Dinosaur.
The Artful Escape follows Francis Vendetti, a teenage guitar prodigy bristling under others’ expectations. An improbable encounter catapults him into a universe-spanning, mind-expanding adventure. Francis sheds his past and discovers who he wants to be.
The gameplay shifts between three loops. The first is exploration and conversations with NPCs. The second is light platforming. The third is playing music by copying button presses, emulating playing different notes.
However, the gameplay is almost unimportant. It is more something to do while gawking at the supersaturated visuals and basking in the music. Holding “X” on the controller allows Francis to improvise on the guitar (“shred”) as he runs, leaps and slides through alien landscapes. I could not wipe the grin off my face from the sheer joy and spectacle.
The Artful Escape‘suniverse has a Douglas Adams-like absurdity and comedy. For example, Francis Vendetti flies a warp turtle through the cosmic extraordinary to a starship called The Galactic Lung. He visits the Hyperion Wailzone, where the danger level is “dolphin”.
The game’s music is a love letter to the 1980s, particularly psychedelic rock. Much of the inspiration and music come from Johnny Galvatron, one of the developers. He fronted the band “The Galvatrons” in Australia and the UK in the late 2000s. The Artful Escape is part celebration, parody and critique of the music industry.
Unfortunately, The Artful Escape is short, taking about five hours to finish. Those looking for challenges or meaningful choices will be disappointed. Sometimes holding “X” while jumping or moving is awkward.
However, The Artful Escape is bursting with spectacle, absurdity and glee. Its message is hopeful and empowering. It is a fairy tale for the rock era, a monument to the joy of music and self-actualization.
My wife and I saw the second Michael Bay Transformers movie about fourteen years ago. She hated it and swore that, if they ever made a Barbie movie, I had to see it with her. So I did.
Barbie is a movie of its time. It is superficially absurd – a story of dolls in a pink plastic world that need to break out of it. It introduces and then preemptively answers criticisms of Barbie and the culture wars that surround it. It is self-aware enough to be fourth-wall breaking.
The Barbie movie also helped me understand why I resent the early Transformers movies.
The early Transformers movies are the embodiment of boys’ fantasies. They focus on militaristic themes of honour and sacrifice, plots revolve around saving the world or galaxy, and the villains are often alien or evil corporations.
There is nothing inherently wrong with this. I love escapist military science fiction. I enjoyed seeing the toys I played with fight as I had imagined. I cheered for Ironhide’s rocket jump in the 2007 movie and Optimus Prime regularly kicking butt.
However, the boys that first played with the toys and the world around them have grown older. As subsequent Transformers movies were released, they merely revisited the same ground.
Frustratingly, the Transformers universe has the potential to tell meaningful stories. Immigrants fleeing persecution to fight for their adopted country speak to core American values. The benefits of industrialization, coopting technology to work against us, and the challenges of alienation promise much.
The Transformers movie’s characterization is also poor. Most Transformers are unmemorable robotic cannon fodder. If only the toys had “tech specs”, including personalities, relationships, strengths and weaknesses.
No characters grow or change in any significant way. For example, take the audience’s point of view character, Sam Witwicky. He is constantly caught between ogling and saving Megan Fox’s damsel in distress while real men fight around him. He is a child thrust into an adult world.
One could argue that Transformers plays it safe with its plot and characters. Staying away from anything remotely political means not alienating your audience. Much of the franchise’s revenue has come from China. American values have much less of an appeal there.
However, contemporary Marvel movies demonstrated how to write Transformers movies better. For example, “soldier” and “leader” are roles, not personalities. Flaws make heroes relatable, not unworthy. You can write compelling stories that appeal to Transformers‘ target audience and markets, have relevant themes and good characterization.
Part of the problem is Transformers comes with age-appropriate lore and narrative. Autobots wage war against Decepticons as they flee their homeworld, Cybertron. Michael Bay had to retell the expected stories.
Barbie lacks established lore, and any girl-friendly story would likely devolve into another unremarkable, saccharine kids’ holiday special.
However, the Barbie toy has been a centrepiece in the ongoing debate around women’s rights, self-image, commercialization, sexualization and the competing pressures to excel and conform. Ample social commentary is the only way such a modern Barbie movie could be made. Besides paid car and milk placements, Transformers can happily exist in an almost pretentious bubble.
The Barbie and Transformers movies were created for the generations that grew up with the toys. The Transformers franchise is happy to replay and recreate that world. It appeals to boys and boys-at-heart alike.
Barbie is aimed at women, particularly mothers playing with their daughters. These women are caught between Barbie‘s seductive simplicity and innocence and the impending complexity of adulthood that will shatter them.
For some, particularly men, these different views of nostalgia can feel threatening. Barbie‘s poignant feminist monologues can feel like clumsy lectures.
However, Barbie‘s themes are close to real life for many. As much as Margot Robbie’s Barbie would like to, you do not zone out into fantasy and return at the movie’s end, as with Transformers.
The silly, shallow portrayal of men like Ryan Gosling’s Ken or Will Ferrel’s CEO of Mattel can also feel disingenuous. Thrust into a matriarchy, some feel the satire punches down at them.
However, most characters in Barbie are disarming caricatures, allowing frank criticism. It is similar to the fawning regulator and blind rating agency in The Great Short.
The Barbie movie is as much a journey for Ken as it is for Barbie. Ken evolves from an accessory to someone not defined by his relationship with Barbie or his superficial understanding of masculinity. It is more than Sam Witwicky ever did.
While profound, Barbie says nothing we have not heard before. Acknowledging feminism and Barbie‘s place in it does not devalue other concerns or issues. The movie uses feminism to advance the plot like the power of honour or duty regularly used in Transformers.
I will remember early Transformers movies with boyish glee for their special effects and escapist fantasies. However, from the opening scene that subverts 2001: A Space Odyssey, I will remember Barbie treating its audience as adults.
The Michael Bay Transformers movies seem content to fool a generation of men that mindless shooting is sufficient entertainment. Even the 1986 animated Transformers movie had more heart and memorable characters. Transformers fans deserved better.
Deliver Us the Moon is a first-person interactive fiction game similar to Tacoma, Event[0], The Station or Stardrop. You play an astronaut blasting off an environmentally-devastated, near-future Earth to restore the energy transmission from the moon after it mysteriously shuts off.
Deliver Us the Moon could be called a walking simulator, a genre uncharitably named for its simplicity and monotony. Like many walking simulators, much of Deliver Us the Moon involves the lone player exploring their immediate area, finding notable objects to scan or historical scenes to review then solving simple puzzles to unlock progress to the next area. There is no branching narrative or progression.
However, unlike some walking simulators, Deliver Us the Moon packs variety. It includes multiple mini-games like docking spaceships, driving moon rovers, repairing robots or aiming radar dishes. Its space scenes impart the feeling of weightlessness, potentially disorienting the player with “up” only denoted by the occasional sign, screen or seat. Limited oxygen makes scenes in space or on the lunar surface tense. Sometimes you lose yourself staring at the desolate but beautiful lunar surface. Sometimes you are just desperately surviving. It is more What Remains of Edith Finch than Dear Esther.
Like many interactive fiction games, Deliver Us the Moon is short, taking seven to eight hours to finish. However, given its weighty story, it feels about the right length. Its brevity and economy contrast with unending contemporary live service games. It also becomes more accessible – you complete it in a few gaming sessions.
The success of an interactive fiction game depends on how well it resonates with the player. The key is the adage, “Show, don’t tell”. Rather than telling you how you or some player surrogate acted or felt, it places you in that situation, drip-feeding you background and context. When the game finally asks you to care, it feels natural after surmounting challenges and discovering lore organically.
At first, Deliver Us the Moon‘s setting and premise may seem far-fetched. Climate change is a genuine problem. However, Deliver Us the Moon‘sworld exhausts natural resources and desertifies sooner than even pessimistic climate projections. Extended stays in space or on the lunar surface require huge, Earth-side teams to support them. Given our understanding of physics, beaming sufficient energy from the moon to power the Earth is impractical.
However, Deliver Us the Moon is not a game about environmentalism, technology or space. Its puzzles are never hard enough to frustrate or block progress.
Deliver Us the Moon is about how personal connections drive us, such as protecting family or camaraderie. It is about how alienating disconnection can be, even when the world is a stake. Amidst space’s vastness, alienness and hostility, the small things matter.
Deliver Us the Moon will appeal to those who enjoy empathising with a good story and can relate to its themes. You will enjoy Deliver Us the Moon if you enjoyed Firewatch or Gone Home but want more interactivity, some tense moments or a science fiction setting. Like other interactive fiction games, those looking for something challenging, action-filled or longer should look elsewhere.
Greedfall is a third-person, action role playing game set in a unique world reminiscent of colonial, magical-filled seventeenth century Europe. You, de Sadet, accompany your cousin to Teer Fradee, a newly discovered island. You act as an ambassador, investigator and troubleshooter to help him manage and expand the colony while dealing with other factions and native inhabitants. You also seek a cure for the Malichor, a disease ravaging the continent’s populace.
The standout aspect of Greedfall is its setting. Beyond the tricorne hats, flintlock pistols and galleons, colonial Europe is a time of contradictions. Great advances in science and technology promise much, but religious and social views evolve much slower. Greedfall embraces this contradiction instead of safely shying away from it.
Greedfall‘s world contains several main factions. These include the Bridge Alliance, a mix of Arabia and India that pursues science above all else. It wars with the highly devout Theleme, which has clear influences of Spain and Italy. The Congregation of Merchants, de Sadet’s faction, is a pseudo-France, sitting politically between and trading with each. Teer Fradee is an England-like island populated by natives with a Celtic-inspired language.
The setting and factions create a stage for Greedfall’s cutting commentary. The Bridge Alliance grapples with the ethics of its research, Theleme struggles with zealotry and the Congregation with bureaucracy. Watching Theleme’s Ordo Luminous slaughtering innocent people under the false accusation of heresy, the Bridge Alliance comparing human test subjects to lab rats, and wealthy merchants from the Congregation dismissing laws as obstacles bypassable by modest bribes are all confronting.
Greedfall is also clever and respects its inspiration. It depicts organized crime as intelligent and insidious, not something solved by defeating the nearest “bad guy”. The native inhabitants of Teer Fradee have different reactions to the newcomers. Some fight them. Some ignore Some trade with them. Some use them as pawns in their own political games. This pluralism creates interesting dynamics between the various tribes and factions.
Greedfall also knows that constructing emotional investment in characters and a setting takes time. It takes time to build relationships and drip-feed exposition. When the game finally asks you to care, it feels natural and not forced.
Many play RPGs for their tactical combat. You control persistent characters through multiple combat encounters who improve over time. The enjoyment comes from mastering the mechanics and overcoming the challenge.
Unfortunately, Greedfall does not deliver in-depth combat. It hints at a more action-oriented parry and riposte-style melee combat. However, at least when playing as a magic-wielding character, abilities like Stasis and Storm quickly relegate most fights to mere speed bumps — fun but probably not what the designers intended.
The exceptions are the fights against Nadiag (“guardians”). These add an unexpected, welcome, but initially frustrating challenge. When you first encounter one, none of the fights beforehand prepare you for discerning telegraphed attacks, careful positioning and resource management.
A higher difficulty setting will likely flatten the difficulty curve or increase the challenge. A melee-oriented character might have been a different experience, too. However, those seeking a combat-oriented RPG should look elsewhere.
Between quests and fights, you spend much time exploring Greedfall‘s world. Teer Fradee is split into discrete areas, unlocked as you reach the edge of known ones. Crafting ingredients are spread liberally around the map. Alleys and scaffolding in cities reward the curious.
Your character, de Sadet, is joined by several companions. Each hails from a different faction and fulfils a combat archetype. Each also has a unique quest line and can be romanced. You can have up to two at a time but can switch them when fast travelling or at camps. However, their perspective and hints are most useful, especially when taking a companion on their faction’s quests.
Non-combat skills, or talents, provide multiple ways to solve most quests. For example, you may rescue someone from prison by using your “lockpicking” talent to pick the lock, “intuition” to convince the jailor he should let the prisoner go or by using your “science” talent to brew and place an alchemical mixture to blow a hole in the wall.
However, talents are all about early- and mid-game trade-offs. While some items, upgrades, and befriending companions help, you obtain talents slowly, and not every one is helpful in every situation. Otherwise, you may be forced into reputation decreasing threats or violence.
Graphically, Greedfall is no Cyberpunk 2077. It lacks ray tracing and DLSS. A 4K display resolution is unkind to some models and textures. Looking down on grass reveals three flat surfaces arranged like an asterisk.
However, for a non-AAA RPG initially released in 2019, Greedfall is still a pretty game. The game uses light/dark contrast heavily, such as the moment it takes to adjust to the dim lighting indoors or the pale shards of light illuminating caverns. I often stopped to admire the detailed rigging on the moored tall ships. Sunbeams shone down from the golden afternoon sun through the trees or buildings, shedding a warm red glow between the shadows or reflecting from puddles.
Greedfall‘s music is ambient and atmospheric. The encounter music with Teer Fradee’s native inhabitants focuses on percussive and woodwind instruments, giving a musical shorthand to help identify who and where you are. The voice casting is excellent, and only a few strange pronunciations using native accents mar the collective vocal performance.
Some have complained about Greedfall‘s glitches and bugs. Post-release patches may have fixed these, but I counted only a few in my playthrough. Most were low-resolution textures or an NPC struggling to walk around an obstacle – nothing significant or immersion-breaking.
Some have also complained about the lack of animations for minor events. Instead of an NPC drinking a potion or a magic seed growing into a tree, the game fades to black and then shows the result. I do not see this as significant. There needs to be sufficient cost benefit for a small studio to animate these.
For a non-AAA RPG, Greedfall focuses on its strengths to punch above its weight. Greedfall will not satisfy those seeking boundary-pushing graphics, a thumping soundtrack or consistently challenging combat, at least not at the normal difficulty level. However, the novel setting, meditative exploration and great quest design made my sixty hour playthrough thought-provoking and reflective.
The Single Player 