The Outer Worlds, the first entry in a new franchise from Obsidian Entertainment, belongs to a particular subset of computer role-playing games I play with great enthusiasm—right up until I hit a threshold. At that point, I realize I’m completely burned out. If I haven’t finished the game by then, I rush the main quest with no intention of ever returning. Every Fallout and Elder Scrolls game I’ve played has followed this exact pattern.
Experiences like these are driven by curiosity above all else. The Outer Worlds offers a wealth of things to explore: maps, characters, skill trees, loot, combat systems, and branching narratives. You’re constantly planning ahead, juggling dozens of goals at once. It’s as if your mind is stuck in the future while your actions struggle to keep pace. But as curiosity is slowly satisfied, the driving force fades. Your mind returns to the present, and you realize that the mechanics alone aren’t strong enough to compel you onward.
In the specific case of The Outer Worlds, that threshold arrived just as I finished the main quest. I rarely encounter RPGs so adept at pacing their rewards. A steady stream of new locations, quests, mechanics, levels, and lore keeps the engine running smoothly from start to finish—only to sputter out exactly as the game ends. It’s like an intense romance: I loved every minute of it, but let’s not do it again.
EARTH CORRUPTING SPACE
The events of The Outer Worlds unfold in an alternate future where megacorporations have set out to colonize distant worlds. Ten different companies compete for control, despite all being subsidiaries of the same parent organization, Halcyon Holdings. They answer to The Board, a group of corporate executives functioning as the colonies’ government, enforcing tyrannical rule and demanding absolute obedience from their workforce.
Much like BioShock, The Outer Worlds depicts free enterprise taken to grotesque extremes. It is political, but also satirical, dressed in a Raygun Gothic aesthetic reminiscent of Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers. Each corporation hawks its own branded food and equipment, aggressively seeking your approval—and your money. Their vending-machine jingles echo through the strangest places, a reminder that greed knows no boundaries.
The humor dulls the bluntness of the message without blunting its edge. Through hacked terminals and whispered conversations, you learn of workers trapped in an Orwellian nightmare so blatant it becomes darkly amusing. Corporate slogans and hollow reassurances attempt to mask systemic cruelty, and fail spectacularly.
YOUR PART IN THIS NIGHTMARE
You begin as a crew member aboard The Hope, a Halcyon Holdings ship that vanished seventy years earlier. The opening cinematic finds you drifting in cryogenic sleep at the edge of the galaxy, among the titular “outer worlds.” You know nothing of this universe, and it knows nothing of you.
Everything changes when Phineas Welles, a brilliant—or unhinged—scientist, revives you. Out of thousands of frozen colonists, he chooses you, quickly briefing you on the situation before sending you off to gather the means to revive the rest of the crew. This becomes your overarching goal. For reasons initially unclear, The Board is vehemently opposed, which explains the warrant out for Phineas’ arrest. He ejects you safely toward the nearby planet Terra II, and your journey begins.
A BRAVE NEW WORLD
Spread across several maps, the game world encompasses multiple planets, a large ship, and a modest space station. Each planet sits at a different stage of terraforming, with unintended consequences giving rise to bizarre new flora and fauna. The result is an uncanny blend of the familiar and the alien—purple space gorillas roaming fields of man-sized cotton flowers beneath looming gas giants.
The settlements are where The Outer Worlds truly shines. Here you collect quests, engage in conversations, hack terminals, outfit your character, and absorb the culture of the colony. Dialogue skills come to the forefront, and the narrative deepens. The writing is sharp enough that you may hesitate to ever leave these hubs behind.
This is also where you recruit most of your six companions, each with a fully realized personal arc. Their stories don’t always intersect with the main quest, but they share a common theme: breaking free from the weight of the past.
Many players seem especially fond of Parvati, the socially awkward engineer whose personal quest revolves around preparing for an expensive and time-consuming date with another mechanic. I found it trying. My favorite companion, instead, is Vicar Max, a preacher of scientism whose personal journey forces him to confront and dismantle his own worldview. I’m forty, and yes—this is deep.
The dialogue system deserves special praise. Conversations flow more naturally than in most comparable RPGs, with many lines existing purely to express personality rather than advance the plot. Even low intelligence can be role-played through unique dialogue options. While these choices rarely affect the story’s outcome, they succeed in turning the player character into something more than a blank slate.
A PLETHORA OF SYSTEMS
Outside the settlements, hostility is constant. Animals, malfunctioning automatons, and deranged raiders populate the wilderness. Combat offers a serviceable variety of weapons and armor, all customizable, alongside a handful of unique science weapons whose absurd effects must be seen to be believed. One skill allows you to slow time, a clear boon for sniper builds.
Unfortunately, combat rarely rises above adequacy. With most variation tucked away in stats, perks, and mods, The Outer Worlds relies heavily on numbers beneath a thin layer of action. Fights tend to blur together, offering few opportunities for improvisation beyond trading damage.
Thankfully, Obsidian’s trademark quest design offers alternatives. You can often talk your way out of violence, sneak past danger, or let companions handle the fighting. Since most experience comes from quest completion rather than combat, avoiding fights carries little penalty.
That said, the game’s skill grouping system discourages versatile builds. Early progression requires investing points into broad skill categories rather than individual abilities, and these categories are grouped by mechanic rather than theme. Dialogue skills cluster together, steering you toward talk-heavy playstyles; the same applies to combat, stealth, and leadership. A more eclectic grouping might have encouraged experimentation and hybrid characters.
TOUGH LOVE
This is something to consider for a sequel—one I hope is coming, since this story ends less with a conclusion than with an opening. Saving the colonies is a thankless task. Victory is always partial, and triumphs are undercut by compromise. In a world governed by The Board’s cruelty, resources are scarce. Saving one life often means condemning another.
Your moral compass is repeatedly tested, and rarely rewarded with clarity. No choice feels entirely right. Instead of reinforcing your beliefs, the game frequently muddies them. In the end, the answers you’re looking for may lie beyond the framework you started with.
Obsidian has once again crafted a compelling universe, rich enough to support multiple perspectives and interpretations. With strong quest design and thoughtful writing, The Outer Worlds feels like the opening chapter of something larger.
Even so, I closed the book when the credits rolled. I have no desire to revisit alternate outcomes. I made enough meaningful choices to make this experience my own. The world I shaped is my canonical version of The Outer Worlds, chapter one—and I’ll remember it with pride and fondness. Let’s leave it there. For me, this story is finished.
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