'So this life of man appears for a little while, but of what is to follow or what went before we know nothing at all.’
– Bede, Ecclesiastical History of England, 731.
In order to ruin the pleasure of discovery as little as possible, this review, although spoilerless, is written in a slightly unusual way. It is an experience that does not deserve to be dissected too minutely, and I urge you to try it for yourself.
In his Ecclesiastical History of England (731), the Venerable Bede tells how Edwin of Northumbria decided to embrace Christianity in 627. This passage is well known and has been commented on extensively for its poetic qualities and as a commonplace in literature. After the priest Coifi has urged the king to convert, one of his advisers compares human life to the passage of a sparrow through the dining halls of the nobility: 'The present life of man upon earth, O king, seems to me, in comparison with that time which is unknown to us, like to the swift flight of a sparrow through the house wherein you sit at supper in winter, with your ealdormen and thegns, while the fire blazes in the midst, and the hall is warmed, but the wintry storms of rain or snow are raging abroad. The sparrow, flying in at one door and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry tempest; but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, passing from winter into winter again. So this life of man appears for a little while, but of what is to follow or what went before we know nothing at all.' [1] This ephemeral nature of secular life is reflected in traditional historiography, which has long seen Edwin as an indecisive king, unable to make decisions for himself: indeed, paganism always resisted Edwin's half-hearted attempts at conversion.
A poetry of peace and disquiet
Just as the sparrow takes refuge in the warm halls of the thanes of old, the player begins the epic of Outer Wilds around a campfire. The crackling flames have a restful overtone, and the few marshmallows that burn so easily have a sweet, childlike nostalgic quality. The guitar notes, flowing like the village's great waterfall, accompany this dreamy atmosphere. But the horizon is elsewhere: the player understands that today is the day of their departure. They have been chosen as a pilot to explore the great void, as part of the Hearthians' space programme. Despite the warmth of the hearth, the spectre of the night, the cold and the otherworldly grips the player, who wants to take off and visit the planets they see dancing above their head. The preparations are in full swing and the whole community cheers the protagonist on in this rite of passage. But when the player is confronted with the Nomai bust just before leaving for space, a strange tension arises. It is at this point that Outer Wilds becomes a unique experience.
The rustic atmosphere gives way to something of a different dimension. Exploration is the anxiety of not knowing where one is going, not knowing how to get home. One thing leads to another and the player is tasked with gathering information, not really knowing why at first, apart from learning more about the Nomai. With each layer revealed, a few discordant notes are offered as a reward, wrapping the exploration in a rare poetic beauty: the search for truth promises no concrete gratification. The emotions it triggers are to be sought within. Outer Wilds is bathed in an aesthetic of apocalypse: not that of anarchic destruction, but the quiet but firm reminder of the grip of entropy.
The loneliness of space archaeology
In the course of the many loops the player goes through, in the course of the several minutes that pass again and again, the player's perception is altered by the various clues found. Even the most innocuous and comfortable things hide their secrets. Despite the fact that Timber Hearth, the protagonist's village, has been built as a tutorial, mysteries abound and give this peaceful haven, a kind of fantasised United States, a distinctive flavour. The player explores the solar system like an archaeologist, searching for documentary fragments that will allow them to better understand the surrounding world. Strange architectures and written sources are brought into play as support for memory. The various messages found throughout the solar system are not necessarily intended for the player. But they are understood as a witness to what has been, be it sorrows, joys, jealousies or angers. The artistic tradition has long been attracted to ruins, in which some seek to see a mirror of themselves. By observing the fragility of others, the traveller becomes aware of their own existence, hic et nunc, here and now: 'I live as you have lived'.
As each time loop returns the player to the initial state, the player is treated as a witness. The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask (2000) is cited as a direct inspiration for the game, but its approach to time regression was different: Majora's Mask focused on reaching fixed checkpoints before the moon crashes into Termina. To achieve this goal, a dungeon must be solved in the allotted time, and its completion remains even after the game is set back in time. In Outer Wilds, the experience is of a passenger nature. If, in practice, the result is similar to going back in time, the protagonist is never the same. They are always forced, in spite of themselves, into a world on the verge of collapse. Drawn by a consciousness almost stronger than their own, they keep moving away from the campfire into the dark oceans of space in search of new emotions. The exploration of Dark Bramble is one of the most striking passages, with such oppressive silence and only the sounds of the radar to guide the player through milky Escherian molasses, arguably the most dangerous place for them. Why would anyone go there? Majora's Mask was an experiment in empathy, a social tapestry with a colourful cast. Outer Wilds is a journey into loneliness. Not that there are no social bonds, on the contrary, but how relevant is that given the vastness of the universe and its entropy?
To live, die and know
Just as the Nomai statue absorbs the protagonist's memories, the player absorbs what happens on screen. Outer Wilds manages to immerse the player in a truly organic exploration. Each planet provides clues to other locations, as well as answers to some crucial questions. It is possible to learn the same secrets in more than one place, because the solar system was not created for the protagonist to discover its history, like Hop-o'-My-Thumb leaving pebbles to form a single line, but because individuals leave traces of their existence by necessity. The Projection Stones offer glimpses of distant places and, through repetition, reinforce some of the key points in the grand design behind the solar system. Even at the end of the journey, some ideas remain elusive, some questions unanswered. The traveller is a later witness to events, not the clerk of a galactic court. In Stanisław Lem's Solaris (1961), Kelvin's experiments and final exploration provide only incomplete answers about Solaris and its protoplasmic ocean. When the player finally discovers how some obscure rules operate within the solar system, there is a real sense of satisfaction. Why do these rules work on these particular objects? The question remains unanswered. The whole tragedy and beauty of Solaris and Outer Wilds is that Earthlings and Hearthians, although complex creatures, are not at the centre of the universe. They know too little of what came before or after them, only bits and pieces at best.
Outer Wilds succeeds in communicating its intentions through an atypical artistic touch: the clay appearance reinforces the strangeness of the discoveries, while the musical moments always beautifully underline the player's journeys. They evoke the works of the late Jóhann Jóhannsson, especially Orphée (2016), with the same sense of contemplation. As much as the exploration is organic and well thought out, with many details that the most attentive players will notice, some sequences make the subsystems interact in a rather unstable way. The player's mobility remains erratic, and some sequences that require precise movements can prove frustrating: this may or may not be a deliberate choice. While it reinforces the theme of the game, it may alienate some players.
Whenever the player wakes up, a satellite will fire a projectile into infinity against the backdrop of Giant's Deep. This blast destroys the satellite, which explodes in a cloud of purple energy. When the truth of this familiar and innocuous scene is revealed, a unique emotion arises from each time the same spectacle unfolds before the player's eyes. In 634, Oswald was crowned King of Northumbria and began anew the Christianisation of the region, aided by the indefatigable Aidan, who preached throughout the country until his death in 651. Although Edwin's experience was temporary, it served as a lesson and stepping stone for later attempts. Roman Christianity was endorsed at the Synod of Whitby (664) and the 'Northumbrian Renaissance' began, an exciting cultural development to which the Venerable Bede contributed. Existence is a beginning.
__________
[1] A. M. Sellar, Bede's Ecclesiastical History of England, George Bell and Sons, London, 1907, p. 117.
– Bede, Ecclesiastical History of England, 731.
In order to ruin the pleasure of discovery as little as possible, this review, although spoilerless, is written in a slightly unusual way. It is an experience that does not deserve to be dissected too minutely, and I urge you to try it for yourself.
In his Ecclesiastical History of England (731), the Venerable Bede tells how Edwin of Northumbria decided to embrace Christianity in 627. This passage is well known and has been commented on extensively for its poetic qualities and as a commonplace in literature. After the priest Coifi has urged the king to convert, one of his advisers compares human life to the passage of a sparrow through the dining halls of the nobility: 'The present life of man upon earth, O king, seems to me, in comparison with that time which is unknown to us, like to the swift flight of a sparrow through the house wherein you sit at supper in winter, with your ealdormen and thegns, while the fire blazes in the midst, and the hall is warmed, but the wintry storms of rain or snow are raging abroad. The sparrow, flying in at one door and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry tempest; but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, passing from winter into winter again. So this life of man appears for a little while, but of what is to follow or what went before we know nothing at all.' [1] This ephemeral nature of secular life is reflected in traditional historiography, which has long seen Edwin as an indecisive king, unable to make decisions for himself: indeed, paganism always resisted Edwin's half-hearted attempts at conversion.
A poetry of peace and disquiet
Just as the sparrow takes refuge in the warm halls of the thanes of old, the player begins the epic of Outer Wilds around a campfire. The crackling flames have a restful overtone, and the few marshmallows that burn so easily have a sweet, childlike nostalgic quality. The guitar notes, flowing like the village's great waterfall, accompany this dreamy atmosphere. But the horizon is elsewhere: the player understands that today is the day of their departure. They have been chosen as a pilot to explore the great void, as part of the Hearthians' space programme. Despite the warmth of the hearth, the spectre of the night, the cold and the otherworldly grips the player, who wants to take off and visit the planets they see dancing above their head. The preparations are in full swing and the whole community cheers the protagonist on in this rite of passage. But when the player is confronted with the Nomai bust just before leaving for space, a strange tension arises. It is at this point that Outer Wilds becomes a unique experience.
The rustic atmosphere gives way to something of a different dimension. Exploration is the anxiety of not knowing where one is going, not knowing how to get home. One thing leads to another and the player is tasked with gathering information, not really knowing why at first, apart from learning more about the Nomai. With each layer revealed, a few discordant notes are offered as a reward, wrapping the exploration in a rare poetic beauty: the search for truth promises no concrete gratification. The emotions it triggers are to be sought within. Outer Wilds is bathed in an aesthetic of apocalypse: not that of anarchic destruction, but the quiet but firm reminder of the grip of entropy.
The loneliness of space archaeology
In the course of the many loops the player goes through, in the course of the several minutes that pass again and again, the player's perception is altered by the various clues found. Even the most innocuous and comfortable things hide their secrets. Despite the fact that Timber Hearth, the protagonist's village, has been built as a tutorial, mysteries abound and give this peaceful haven, a kind of fantasised United States, a distinctive flavour. The player explores the solar system like an archaeologist, searching for documentary fragments that will allow them to better understand the surrounding world. Strange architectures and written sources are brought into play as support for memory. The various messages found throughout the solar system are not necessarily intended for the player. But they are understood as a witness to what has been, be it sorrows, joys, jealousies or angers. The artistic tradition has long been attracted to ruins, in which some seek to see a mirror of themselves. By observing the fragility of others, the traveller becomes aware of their own existence, hic et nunc, here and now: 'I live as you have lived'.
As each time loop returns the player to the initial state, the player is treated as a witness. The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask (2000) is cited as a direct inspiration for the game, but its approach to time regression was different: Majora's Mask focused on reaching fixed checkpoints before the moon crashes into Termina. To achieve this goal, a dungeon must be solved in the allotted time, and its completion remains even after the game is set back in time. In Outer Wilds, the experience is of a passenger nature. If, in practice, the result is similar to going back in time, the protagonist is never the same. They are always forced, in spite of themselves, into a world on the verge of collapse. Drawn by a consciousness almost stronger than their own, they keep moving away from the campfire into the dark oceans of space in search of new emotions. The exploration of Dark Bramble is one of the most striking passages, with such oppressive silence and only the sounds of the radar to guide the player through milky Escherian molasses, arguably the most dangerous place for them. Why would anyone go there? Majora's Mask was an experiment in empathy, a social tapestry with a colourful cast. Outer Wilds is a journey into loneliness. Not that there are no social bonds, on the contrary, but how relevant is that given the vastness of the universe and its entropy?
To live, die and know
Just as the Nomai statue absorbs the protagonist's memories, the player absorbs what happens on screen. Outer Wilds manages to immerse the player in a truly organic exploration. Each planet provides clues to other locations, as well as answers to some crucial questions. It is possible to learn the same secrets in more than one place, because the solar system was not created for the protagonist to discover its history, like Hop-o'-My-Thumb leaving pebbles to form a single line, but because individuals leave traces of their existence by necessity. The Projection Stones offer glimpses of distant places and, through repetition, reinforce some of the key points in the grand design behind the solar system. Even at the end of the journey, some ideas remain elusive, some questions unanswered. The traveller is a later witness to events, not the clerk of a galactic court. In Stanisław Lem's Solaris (1961), Kelvin's experiments and final exploration provide only incomplete answers about Solaris and its protoplasmic ocean. When the player finally discovers how some obscure rules operate within the solar system, there is a real sense of satisfaction. Why do these rules work on these particular objects? The question remains unanswered. The whole tragedy and beauty of Solaris and Outer Wilds is that Earthlings and Hearthians, although complex creatures, are not at the centre of the universe. They know too little of what came before or after them, only bits and pieces at best.
Outer Wilds succeeds in communicating its intentions through an atypical artistic touch: the clay appearance reinforces the strangeness of the discoveries, while the musical moments always beautifully underline the player's journeys. They evoke the works of the late Jóhann Jóhannsson, especially Orphée (2016), with the same sense of contemplation. As much as the exploration is organic and well thought out, with many details that the most attentive players will notice, some sequences make the subsystems interact in a rather unstable way. The player's mobility remains erratic, and some sequences that require precise movements can prove frustrating: this may or may not be a deliberate choice. While it reinforces the theme of the game, it may alienate some players.
Whenever the player wakes up, a satellite will fire a projectile into infinity against the backdrop of Giant's Deep. This blast destroys the satellite, which explodes in a cloud of purple energy. When the truth of this familiar and innocuous scene is revealed, a unique emotion arises from each time the same spectacle unfolds before the player's eyes. In 634, Oswald was crowned King of Northumbria and began anew the Christianisation of the region, aided by the indefatigable Aidan, who preached throughout the country until his death in 651. Although Edwin's experience was temporary, it served as a lesson and stepping stone for later attempts. Roman Christianity was endorsed at the Synod of Whitby (664) and the 'Northumbrian Renaissance' began, an exciting cultural development to which the Venerable Bede contributed. Existence is a beginning.
__________
[1] A. M. Sellar, Bede's Ecclesiastical History of England, George Bell and Sons, London, 1907, p. 117.