Perhaps FTL's most understated strength is how well it toys with tension. As the last hope of the federation, it's your job to carry the final warning to your base and build up a reliable arsenal of weaponry, crew, and tools, all while navigating this seemingly hostile and unpredictable interstellar landscape. There's so much that could potentially go wrong regardless of your boons; mantises could teleport onto your ship and slaughter your teammates, hull breaching missiles could starve your ship of oxygen while your shields are disabled by ion shots, ionizer drones could barge in and randomly disable your systems while under fire from beam weapons, and so much more. Peace and stability are fragile, fleeting things in this universe; every decision you make, every shot you take and dodge, feels like yet another roll of the dice. It's only a matter of time before you stumble into another nearby star where solar flares turn the ship into a sporadic furnace, or that distress signal you thought to help out was actually a rebel honeypot, or negotiations break down and Hacking Malfunction's sinister and eerie exploration theme flips like a switch to its battle counterpart and the war drums begin thumping in sync to the opening shots of yet another engagement. Safety is merely a formality in the eye of the storm, and the only certainty that is nothing feels certain when jeopardy is just one click away.
Yet, I never felt alienated by how RNG-heavy FTL often appears to be, because somewhere in the back of my mind, I was constantly reminded that there was always some degree of a solution. The intricacies of the systems and mechanics involved in the turn-based real time hybrid combat as well as the many factors regarding map navigation always seem to lend some degree of freedom when it comes to tackling new problems, considering the depth of interaction created when so many different ideas and concepts intertwine. Boarders and ship fires can be painfully snuffed out by opening the ship's airlocks and corresponding doors to temporarily deoxygenate parts of your ship. Enemy defenses such as heavy shields can be bypassed with missiles and bombs to properly disable corresponding systems, or perhaps you'd rather overwhelm shields with flak cannons before using Bio-Beams to destroy enemy crew members instead and gain more scrap from empty ships. Even random events within galaxy maps can often be affected by your current toolkit; for instance, one random event lets you disable a rogue cannon on a whim if you happen to have ion weaponry aboard, while another random event might allow you to have your Slug crew member assess the mental condition of a stranded human to see if it's worthwhile picking him up while avoiding any potential sabotage. Alternatively, many potential "dangerous" events can be spotted from afar with long-range sensors so you're not just walking into asteroid fields and falsified distress signals left and right. It's not perfect of course; rarely will you ever have all the necessary equipment and crew at your disposal to mitigate or avoid every negative externality, and many times, it just comes to yet another case of making tight judgement calls and internalizing the natural push and pull of just how much you're willing to put at stake before you end up getting the short straw.
Nevertheless, there was something at play that kept me trying over and over again even though it ultimately took me over five years of playing on and off to finish the game on easy mode. It always felt like I could progress further had I just done this instead, or now that I've made these mistakes I could try again and just change a few habits or prepare more adequately, or as djkoutsos put it, there was more to the situation at hand that I had missed at first that was worth another run to explore more thoroughly. It's this constant enigma as well as this sensation that I could always do better or at least have done something to better my situation, that drove me forward. I've resigned myself to the fate that something will inevitably go wrong, but by doing so, I've also accepted that my efforts don't feel like they were vain when it seems like all hope is lost. Perhaps the RNG will overwhelm me at the worst possible time as usual, but I think it's just as important that FTL manages to consistently preserve the illusion of control so the game never genuinely feels too unfair or aggravating.
There's one exception to this rule unfortunately, which makes it stand out as FTL's most glaring weakness. As implied earlier, difficulty spikes in FTL arise from losing the luck of the draw, which happens so often that there's a certain satisfaction to playing it cool and Macgyvering your way out of the seemingly impossible. However, one difficulty spike stands out above the crowd, in the form of the final boss. The rebel flagship in sector 8 is essentially a gauntlet of every strategy thrown at you at once: tons of firing weapons, drone support, Zoltan shields, cloaking, energy surges that fire a billion lasers at you at once, you name it and they've got it. It is almost humanizing fighting each separate enemy ship in FTL, because everything that they've got up their sleeve, you can respond to in tandem, and vice versa; it's why personal growth and knowledge of the game's systems is so fundamental to fulfilling progression. That's also why the final boss sticks out like a sore thumb; it's this grueling three part encounter of navigating the encyclopedia of FTL, with each part most likely right after another because chances are that all nearby beacons have been taken over by rebel anti ship batteries and you won't have any meaningful opportunities to repair your ship, much less drastically alter your load-out. As such, conquering the final boss is often a matter of keeping the final destination in mind during the initial trek with little room to improvise during the denouement, which can unfortunately make the bulk of the game feel like all prep work for a final confrontation that overshadows many of the quick skirmishes prior. It's most likely an intentional design decision considering how much the rebel fleet is gassed up by friends and foes alike during your journey; I just wish that the final boss was balanced more accordingly so that my failures didn't feel tinged with disappointment of "wasting" a couple of hours only to get wiped by a slew of hazards in ten minutes or so.
I think I'll always have a soft spot for FTL regardless. It's been almost nine years since I've cracked open the game for the first time, and there's just something enthralling about constantly balancing on the precipice of danger and carefully mashing the space bar to squeeze every bit of leeway from every possible in-game second. If you're looking for a game that you'll constantly keep learning from yet never truly "master" due to all the curveballs it keeps throwing at you, this is prime material right here. Just heed my advice: don't fuck with the alien spiders, as nothing good will come of that. Unless you've got fire beams, in which case, fire away.
Yet, I never felt alienated by how RNG-heavy FTL often appears to be, because somewhere in the back of my mind, I was constantly reminded that there was always some degree of a solution. The intricacies of the systems and mechanics involved in the turn-based real time hybrid combat as well as the many factors regarding map navigation always seem to lend some degree of freedom when it comes to tackling new problems, considering the depth of interaction created when so many different ideas and concepts intertwine. Boarders and ship fires can be painfully snuffed out by opening the ship's airlocks and corresponding doors to temporarily deoxygenate parts of your ship. Enemy defenses such as heavy shields can be bypassed with missiles and bombs to properly disable corresponding systems, or perhaps you'd rather overwhelm shields with flak cannons before using Bio-Beams to destroy enemy crew members instead and gain more scrap from empty ships. Even random events within galaxy maps can often be affected by your current toolkit; for instance, one random event lets you disable a rogue cannon on a whim if you happen to have ion weaponry aboard, while another random event might allow you to have your Slug crew member assess the mental condition of a stranded human to see if it's worthwhile picking him up while avoiding any potential sabotage. Alternatively, many potential "dangerous" events can be spotted from afar with long-range sensors so you're not just walking into asteroid fields and falsified distress signals left and right. It's not perfect of course; rarely will you ever have all the necessary equipment and crew at your disposal to mitigate or avoid every negative externality, and many times, it just comes to yet another case of making tight judgement calls and internalizing the natural push and pull of just how much you're willing to put at stake before you end up getting the short straw.
Nevertheless, there was something at play that kept me trying over and over again even though it ultimately took me over five years of playing on and off to finish the game on easy mode. It always felt like I could progress further had I just done this instead, or now that I've made these mistakes I could try again and just change a few habits or prepare more adequately, or as djkoutsos put it, there was more to the situation at hand that I had missed at first that was worth another run to explore more thoroughly. It's this constant enigma as well as this sensation that I could always do better or at least have done something to better my situation, that drove me forward. I've resigned myself to the fate that something will inevitably go wrong, but by doing so, I've also accepted that my efforts don't feel like they were vain when it seems like all hope is lost. Perhaps the RNG will overwhelm me at the worst possible time as usual, but I think it's just as important that FTL manages to consistently preserve the illusion of control so the game never genuinely feels too unfair or aggravating.
There's one exception to this rule unfortunately, which makes it stand out as FTL's most glaring weakness. As implied earlier, difficulty spikes in FTL arise from losing the luck of the draw, which happens so often that there's a certain satisfaction to playing it cool and Macgyvering your way out of the seemingly impossible. However, one difficulty spike stands out above the crowd, in the form of the final boss. The rebel flagship in sector 8 is essentially a gauntlet of every strategy thrown at you at once: tons of firing weapons, drone support, Zoltan shields, cloaking, energy surges that fire a billion lasers at you at once, you name it and they've got it. It is almost humanizing fighting each separate enemy ship in FTL, because everything that they've got up their sleeve, you can respond to in tandem, and vice versa; it's why personal growth and knowledge of the game's systems is so fundamental to fulfilling progression. That's also why the final boss sticks out like a sore thumb; it's this grueling three part encounter of navigating the encyclopedia of FTL, with each part most likely right after another because chances are that all nearby beacons have been taken over by rebel anti ship batteries and you won't have any meaningful opportunities to repair your ship, much less drastically alter your load-out. As such, conquering the final boss is often a matter of keeping the final destination in mind during the initial trek with little room to improvise during the denouement, which can unfortunately make the bulk of the game feel like all prep work for a final confrontation that overshadows many of the quick skirmishes prior. It's most likely an intentional design decision considering how much the rebel fleet is gassed up by friends and foes alike during your journey; I just wish that the final boss was balanced more accordingly so that my failures didn't feel tinged with disappointment of "wasting" a couple of hours only to get wiped by a slew of hazards in ten minutes or so.
I think I'll always have a soft spot for FTL regardless. It's been almost nine years since I've cracked open the game for the first time, and there's just something enthralling about constantly balancing on the precipice of danger and carefully mashing the space bar to squeeze every bit of leeway from every possible in-game second. If you're looking for a game that you'll constantly keep learning from yet never truly "master" due to all the curveballs it keeps throwing at you, this is prime material right here. Just heed my advice: don't fuck with the alien spiders, as nothing good will come of that. Unless you've got fire beams, in which case, fire away.
2 Comments
Absolutely agree, the sheer depth of interaction present from all the different ideas basically allows you to outmaneuver enemies even if you're clearly at a disadvantage. Doubtlessly it can feel like an uphill battle at times, but there's no satisfaction quite like getting up over and over again even while the game relentlessly beats you down with disaster after disaster.
Bojangles4th
1 year ago