Six different planets orbit a dying star.

One is collapsing in on itself.

You hear a banjo play. The man on the rock tells you he's scared. He doesn't want to die. It's homely twangs ring through the indifferent universe. The universe does not care that he is scared.

One has winds, winds so violent they fling islands into space.

A man plays his flute, and stares into the basil clouds, waiting for something to happen. He meditates. The universe waits along with him.

Two have sand that pours in between and up and down and in and out of nooks and crannies of places long forgotten.

The rhythm of drums from an idle mind and itchy hands echo into space. A scientist thinking, wondering about the secrets of the stars. The universe keeps her secrets.

One is wooden filled with impossibly large places in impossibly small seeds. Silence. white, red, light piercing through the fog.

The reeds of a harmonica cut through the eerie atmosphere, and the sounds reverberate through marrow and bone. The universe is oblivious of the horrors it houses.

A tiny moon spins around a planet filled with green and life, wood and houses, science and spaceships.

A lonely fish sings a tune by a campfire in his solitude. He sits there, roasting marshmallows. He whistles a familiar song that the others remember. His voice cracks along with the flames that caramelise his tasty treat.

And the universe listens.



It's been a long time since I've played outer wilds. I think it's hard to put into words how much the game means to me. I'm glad this game was made, and I'm glad that I played it.