This game is not a game, it's an experience. Outer wilds is nothing at the start but at its end, it becomes a humongous world. Everything is connected and has meaning to what is happening/what happened TO everything. This expirence makes you think not on just puzzle solving but literally on life itself, it makes you think hard and it rewards you with secrets, amazing characters, beautiful settings, all this good hiding underneath the truth that everything will just erase in the end. It's a beautiful experience that made me cry at its end and it's safe to say that this is up there as one of the more perfect things you can purchase.

I like Space stuff. I like Time-travel. I like Exploration. I love this game.
This is one of those games that you'll get the most out of it if you go play it blind, because it relies on your curiosity, and your curiosity alone to finish it.
There's no combat, there's no enemies, there's only 6 unique planets full of mysteries to unravel, and 22 minutes to do it, because when those 22 minutes pass, the sun turns into a supernovae, and you'll star over again. And don't take this time limit wrong, this game is open world, you are free to go wherever you want in those 22 minutes, because you'll have more knowledge when in restarts. It purely relies on your curiosity to explore, and you knowledge of what you discover along the way to finish the fame.

Outer Wilds is the only game I can think of where within its first moments, I knew I was in for something very, very special without really understanding why. The title screen is already so inviting, with its gentle acoustic glow fading in over a collage of shimmering stars. The game opens, I wake up on my back, looking up into the sky to see something explode in the distant orbit of a giant, green planet deep in space, and my imagination is immediately captured. I feel an intangible warmth as I speak to my fellow Hearthians and wander our village, a sense of wonder and anticipation as I walk through our peoples' museum, learning about things that I realize I will inevitably have to face or utilize in the adventures ahead. All this before even seeing my ship, let alone blasting off with it into the far reaches of space.

The expectations and tone of Outer Wilds are set up pitch perfectly in this opening. On the whole, the game captures the innate desire we all have to learn more, to reach out for what's next, even if we have no idea what it is we are searching for or why we seek it. It's the only thing Outer Wilds relies on to lead players forward. There are no objectives or goals, no waypoints to show you where to go next; there only those which you create for yourself. What drives us forward is the need to understand the world(s) around us, or at least attempt to understand. Is there a more human desire than that?

Outer Wilds is a masterpiece for its many balances: of warmth and intimacy with the melancholic loneliness of space; a constant sense of wonder with an equally constant fear of the unknown; its charming, colorful art style with its hard, scientific approach; its reverence for the teachings of both classical and quantum physics; its personal, micro-level character stories set against the fate of the universe. The list goes on. And that's without even mentioning the game's emotional linchpin: Andrew Prahlow's incredible score, a healthy mix of folk, ambient and post-rock that is a delicate tight-wire act in and of itself, managing to capture both the vastness of space and the intimate glow of a campfire without compromise.

Whatever feelings Outer Wilds brought out of me in its opening moments were only further heightened and more deeply understood as I began unraveling the mysteries of its clockwork solar system, spiraling faster and faster towards an ending that left me in awe of everything that came before it and soon yearning for other experiences that could fill the black hole that the game's sudden absence left in place of my heart. Outer Wilds is not only a perfect game, but also one of the medium's purest expressions of its most inspiring possibilities. If only I could breathe out a sigh of relief and wake up on Timber Hearth for the first time again.

I wish I had anything meaningfully original to say about this. It's daunting, in more ways than one. I could stumble through praise for its clockwork construction, the heartrending setpieces, and its admirable, probably unjustified confidence that you're going to figure this out—whoever you are, whatever "this" is. But that shit rings hollow, because there's nothing I can say that captures how important I think it is.

Outer Wilds is one of the most beautiful experiences I've ever had. It's going to stay with me for the rest of my life.

its a humbling feeling to find a game that feels bigger than you

i dont even know where to start describing it. at its core, its a game about not understanding. the gameplay revolves around trying in vain to learn about your surroundings - to piece it all together and find a solution to a problem - only to die not because of a lack of trying, but because we just dont have the time.

the beauty of Outer Wilds lies right there. its galaxy is small, yet feels huge and only gets bigger the more you dig. by all means it should feel like a hopeless venture to continue exploring, but its too engaging not to. there is no end goal, and it makes no promises other than the fact you will die.

and the magic is that we did anyway. even if i didnt know what for, i kept exploring its planets to find its secrets. i felt giddiness meeting every character and hearing their stories. i pat myself on the back after solving puzzles once i asked the guy at the starting campfire how to.

Outer Wilds - despite playing as an alien - is a deeply human game. a journey about facing adversity through sheer willpower despite not having all the answers, and knowing youre not alone in that.

i cant do this game a service with my $5 speak and someone else could do a much better job, and thats ok. because like i said, this game - like its setting - is big. theres so much to talk about, yet its message is so precise. its mysteries are so complex, yet so simple in retrospect. games like these remind me how special this industry is, and what kind of art it can produce. Outer Wilds is a profound experience i likely wont forget for a very long time.

There's been enough talk on this site praising Outer Wilds that I don't think I have much to add. I'm going to shill this vid to watch at least before I continue:

https://youtu.be/H-yTZFi-_eY

I think, in short, it's probably the most beautiful game I've had to experience as a cohesive whole. An archeological space exploration that brings introspective thought and self consideration of where we are in the scope of the universe, how we search for truth in the stars, and what we take away from the end of everything.

On top of that, it's built on a brilliant puzzle route structure, that ends up with a whole tree of different routes through the game dependent entirely on which planets you explore in what order, how and when you solve the riddles of the universe, and with the inclusion of sequence breaking and freedom of options. It's so tightly designed with scenarios that come organically like the first venture into Dark Bramble, or the first tornado sending you high in Giant's Deep that every replay I find myself seeing the whole series of planets as living worlds rather than just strict clockwork which is what it ultimately is.

It's all backed by an insanely good soundtrack, great visuals, and actually genuinely good writing. There's so many surprises in store that it's hard for me to go any further than this. I 100% completed it thrice over, and every single time was almost a dream. Please play Outer Wilds. (10/10)

With its humble origins as a Master's thesis that eventually matured into the best possible iteration of the (arguably narrow but not inherently contemptible) Annapurna ideal of the Artistic Indie Title, Outer Wilds is a milestone in curiosity-driven game design and an utterly brilliant marriage between the sheer cosmic awe of 2001: A Space Odyssey and the warmth of a cozy campfire on a clear summer night. The heavily physics-inspired design of the game world and the way it incorporates these numerous interlocking mysteries that all point towards something much greater feels genuinely boundary-pushing and is something that no one with even a passing interest in the medium should miss out on.

While I don't want to evoke the impression that this game is only for physics buffs such as me (it is every bit as much for people into archeological exploration or simply great adventure game storytelling), I do want to emphasize that the game's fidelity towards its real-time orbital physics simulation is downright incredible. I highly recommend the excellent videos by Noclip and Super Bunnyhop to learn more about the game's scientific background once you've completed the game (it's best to go into it as blind as possible). This is genuinely fascinating stuff to me—it's safe to say that never before have I wanted to talk with a development team about the technical details of their work as much as in this case. I even respect the game's enthusiasm for the wilder side of modern physics, and while its portrayal of quantum mechanics quickly maxed out my Quantum Bullshit Detector, I didn't really mind that the game's use of artistic license was doing more heavy lifting in some cases than in others, thanks to its overall more than solid scientific foundation and highly creative use thereof. In fact, Outer Wilds's (somewhat misguided) conception of the uncertainty principle was incorporated so brilliantly into one of its many bizarre and exotic locations that it ended up as one of my favourite moments in the game.

With this physics preamble out of the way, there is another aspect that I quickly want to discuss here. Namely, people who have a low tolerance for frequent deaths should probably get a fair warning before trying this game. I've seen some players mistake Outer Wilds for a relaxing adventure game, only to then become frustrated when confronted with its harsh setting. Expecting this to be about relaxed exploration would be a vast disservice to what the game is actually going for, but this point requires some nuance and elaboration, so bear with me for a second.

Death comes quick in Outer Wilds. Many of these deaths I personally found to be very memorable and genuinely amusing, such as crashing into the sun while still learning how to properly fly my spaceship. The controls are a bit tricky, particularly because the game fully respects momentum conservation (meaning accelerating in any given direction for a certain period requires an equal amount of deceleration to come to a full stop again), but the game provides sufficient flying aids to make mastery of the ship well within reach of the early game. But having said that, of course a few of the deaths in Outer Wilds did nonetheless manage to frustrate me at times (and I say that as someone who considers FromSoftware their favourite developer). Particularly problematic are the handful of platforming sections in this game, which, due to the tricky movement controls, can lead to more setbacks than necessary. Moreover, there will also be players who will find the game's time loop mechanic to be an additional source of frustration, since the time limit it imposes might result in a stressful experience that clashes with their idea of a relaxing adventure game. Although I can somewhat sympathize with that perspective (I too had similar apprehensions at the very beginning of the game), overall I loved the time loop mechanic and consider it an essential ingredient in what makes this game so special.

I need to reiterate that Outer Wilds is not trying to be a relaxing adventure game, at least not exclusively. It presents a universe that is cold, bizarre, hostile, and uncaring. Its apocalyptic premise is very much intended to make you feel stressed out... at first. The point is, however, that amidst all that cosmic hostility and indifference, you can always discover these small niches to relax, to appreciate the majestic beauty before your eyes, to roast a marshmallow while one of your fellow space explorers is strumming a cozy tune on their banjo. The game wants you to let go of the idea of doing everything at once and instead realize that it's okay to take an occasional break and marvel at the wonders of the universe despite (or because of?) your limited time. And if you fail every once in a while by flying too close to the sun or comically crashing into a planet? It's not the end of the world! (Of course, in a delightful bit of irony, it sort of is.) The important thing is to keep at it. Persistent progress is key. Whether the resulting experience is stressful or relaxing depends in large part on your frame of mind.

I'd be lying if I said that I had reached a state of Zen-like harmony with the universe by the end of the game; of course I also had my little frustrations every now and then, even in the late game. But by and large, I was able to embrace the game's philosophy and adapt to its rhythm, which I don't expect will work out for everybody, and that's fair. For me, however, the end result was a truly awe-inspiring and unique video game experience that still lingers on my mind long after having reached the ending. And, oh boy, what an ending indeed!

One of the most unique and memorable experiences I have ever had with a game. The first couple hours or so were a little awkward - you're juggling coming to grips with the game's controls, the game's structure, & trying to figuring out what exactly you should be focusing on.

What's wonderful about Outer Wilds is that no matter what direction you choose - you'll end up stumbling upon compelling world building and design. The story that unfolds so elegantly before feels so compelling because it feels that you are discovering. It doesn't feel like the game is just presenting information arbitrarily to you - you feel like you're making true discoveries.