Outward
Finally, the survival game I’ve been looking for
when I travel to its second region, visit
the city of Berg for the first time, and
buy my first proper backpack. Strange
to say that buying a backpack feels momentous,
but damnit, it really is. I feel triumphant discarding
my primitive satchel and shouldering
a real pack on my back.
Notonlydoes it fitmore loot, but I can
hang a lantern from it, so I can have both
hands free and still see in the dark. That’s
the kind of game Outward is, one where
the things you take for granted in other
games feel like a real accomplishment.
I’ve also been humbled repeatedly in
my 12 hours. I’ve been battered
unconscious by large birds and angry
deer, gouged by hidden spike traps, and
pummelled senseless by scruffy bandits.
One time I even ran into the wrong castle
and was imprisoned in a mining colony
beneath it, from which I only escaped by
first convincing the guards to let me work
in the kitchen, stealing back my precious
backpack from the fort’s storage room,
then leaping into a pit and washing up
later on a beach, freezing, confused,
wracked with pain, and dying of thirst. I
had to build a fire for warmth, chow down
on some dried mushrooms, tear my hood
into linen scraps to use as bandages, and
brew a potion with my alchemy kit to
regain my senses. Outward is a fantasy
game with monsters and wizards, but it’s
also an engrossing survival experience.
I tend to enjoy the beginning of RPGs
more than the endings. I love to start
Oblivion or Skyrim over with a new
character, penniless and talentless,
relishing the early hours of play when
every rusty dagger and basic leather boot
is a treasure. I find the hardscrabble life
more satisfying than hours later when I’m
dumping complete sets of armour out of
my inventory because I simply don’t need
them and can’t even be bothered to sell
them, that’s how damn rich and powerful
I’ve become. I also love games like Stalker
and DayZ where no matter how many
hours I put in, and no matter how much
great gear I collect, I’m essentially no
stronger or sturdier than the average
person. I remain fragile and mortal, where
the slightest misstep can leave me inches
from death. It makes every encounter a
tense and memorable one.
I find those same feelings pervade in
Outward. You play as an ordinary,
common person who can contract a cold
and suffer from indigestion and can easily
lose a fight to a large crab.
I get genuinely excited at every piece of
new gear I find or buy, even knowing they
won’t turn me into a superhero. And this
feeling of being a common mortal is
especially interesting here, because you
don’t actually die in Outward.
FIGHTING ON
Similar to games like Mount & Blade,
losing all your health in a fight results in
you falling unconscious to the ground.
You’ll wake up again, bruised, battered,
often hungry and thirsty, and suffering
other negative effects.
Sometimes you’ll be thrown in a
bandit’s camp or fort and have to find your
gear and make an escape. Other times a
mysterious, unseen benefactor will have
dragged you to safety and you’ll awaken
next to a burning campfire with a helpful
potion and a friendly note. Sometimes
you’ll be unceremoniously dumped
outside the dungeon you were defeated in,
other times you’ll wake up in the safety of
the nearest big city so you can put
yourself back together.
This sounds like an extremely forgiving
system – and some might say it’s not a
true survival game if you can’t actually die
– but at times it can feel pretty punishing.
Typically, upon losing a fight in a game, I
want to reload my last save and plunge