No Man’s Sky (NMS) might be the most belated success story in gaming history. Contrived as an ambitious space exploration, survival experience, NMS neglected to generate the 18 quintillion worlds with an equivalent diversity of activities or organisms to document. A severe limitation on interactivity was devastating for NMS and the resulting vitriol from the wider gaming firmament was almost ceaseless. With the game subsequently enduring the collective anger of the PlayStation community for not being another Sony aligned success, and thus promptly dismissed by the community.
My initial introduction to NMS came a couple of years after its divisive excretion, by which time the game had been significantly bolstered by quality of life updates. And it’s only in recent weeks that I’ve returned to these procedurally generated ecosystems, to rediscover a neglected rapport I briefly shared with this striking jaunt into the celestial vastness.
The games emphasis on exploration and discovery is further complemented by the necessity of extracting resources from the environment, that can be synthesised into requisite components that generate artificial protection from a hazardous atmosphere, such as radiation or poison. Or fuelling your ships thrusters, that when consumed leaves you stranded on a potentially hostile planet. Player agency is very much dependent on player preparation and management of inventory. An aspect very jarring to someone that readily submits to their hoarding persuasions. But if you can assuage that instinct and prioritise the more salient material’s, NMS becomes a much more therapeutic experience.
That’s the thing too, it’s so deceptively calming. Almost meditative. Despite the perennial scavenging of minerals and habitual item management, the precipitation of these resources occurs in such a passive controlled manner, that it’s necessity is actually therapeutic rather than exasperating. Once you’ve begun building a little homestead, methodically establishing a modest colonisation, with convenient access to local amenities, resources and hopefully an exquisite view of a crystal clear lake, the serenity of your humble settlement will seem like a palatial haven. With the most significant thing being that it will likely be YOUR haven.
With the almost infinite planetary aberrations, chances are no one has breached the atmosphere and set foot on the planet before you. All the indigenous species will be discovered by you and accredited as your discovery. You aren’t just a space explorer, you’re a botanist. An entomologist. A zoologist. A pioneer of a new frontier. Constructing a new province on a planet, replete with previously undiscovered species and indigenous flora, all named after you. That that sounds tyrannical, the experience is wonderfully validating.
NMS is probably the only game I’d ever describe as pleasant. In the absence of an overarching objective, purposeful narrative or even a central conflict to propel the exploration, much of the games incentive hinges on player autonomy. An intentional desire and inquisitiveness from the player to deviate from the designated course and explore that little green planet on the edge of the galaxy, simply because you can. Very few games facilitate such freedom or even tranquillity, whilst still remaining compelling. Despite substantial updates, NMS still won’t appeal to everyone. But its exactly what I needed.
Game, Complain, Repeat 