What Silence Leaves Behind
A short reflection on not enjoying, yet being moved by Outer Wilds
Writing is cathartic for me. When I feel something I can't quite understand, I pick up the pen and start dissecting myself on the paper. I just don't usually do it in public.
I don't think I've ever written about a video game before, but Outer Wilds left me feeling something I'm still struggling to comprehend. So this is me trying to make sense of it.
If I had to define my experience with this game in one word I'd probably say: weird. I experienced a lot of frustration during my playthrough, both in some game mechanics and, most importantly, in the fact that I wasn't connecting with it the way I expected. Yet at the same time, I could appreciate many things in it.
I'd define Outer Wilds as a space archeology game, with a very original narrative, and an amazing soundtrack. A soundtrack that only plays in very few key moments—which feels fitting for the silent, lonely vastness of space. This morning, listening to it in my headphones, the soundtrack started shaping what I'm trying to put into words now.
The repeated melancholic motifs broke me.
Suddenly, all the reviews from other people—and how this game became a transcendent experience for them—started to resonate. But weirdly enough, I don't think my case is exactly the same.
If I try to grasp what I'm feeling, it resembles loss, grief, mourning. Yet I felt like the game leaned more towards acceptance. Which is close, but not quite. Or maybe acceptance is exactly what I'm doing right now in writing this.
Outer Wilds cannot be replayed. Well, not in the way that it's meant to be played at least. Once you've played it once, you must make peace with the fact that you will not be able to experience it again. The sense of wandering in ignorance is gone. Only an echo of what it's been remains. An echo that I can now only relive through its soundtrack.
I didn't enjoy Outer Wilds, but it moved me. And I’m realizing these contradictions can exist. Not everything that touches you needs to feel good.
Comments
New here, so I'm cruising around, trying to figure out why Fika seems so quiet- too quiet. Then I saw your words about Outer Wilds and had to check it out. It is a bit morose or surreal or isolated- or whatever the right word is, but it reminded me of Entropia, a Swedish company named MindArk. I got lost in that game for months, wandering around in areas where I was either outgunned, or stuck in an isolated area, my only means of escape being to call for a ride from some rescue outfit. I finally had to leave the game, as it was costing me too much time and money. But it was a good experience. I got to travel from planet to planet, and the map was HUGE. And the scenery was beautiful. But now I'm at a point where the only game play is Balatro, because I'm starting to write again after a year and a half of grieving my departed wife- and need to devote much more time to essay and story writing. But games help me unstring my "bow," when I get too wound up by Life's pressures.
Suddenly, all the reviews from other people—and how this game became a transcendent experience for them—started to resonate.
-> I feel you. So often had the same experience when I suddenly understood all the hype which was first so alien to me.
It's quite the trip, and a bit of an epiphany when everything finally clicks!
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