Your ships are vast, space is vaster,
planets are pretty big, but then quite
often they’re not. If Kirk flew the
Enterprise into a sun at faster-thanlight
speed he’d most probably be
warped into the past and end up
having sex with Cleopatra. We flew
into a planet and… nothing. Not a
crash, not a klaxon. Nothing. We just
bonked off it thus destroying the
illusion. It wasn’t a planet any more
– it was just a painted basketball and
we were in a model kit. When flying
in close formation you’ll bonk your
other ships, too. And space stations,
and Klingon Birds-of-Prey. There’s a
genuine thrill in taking a desperate
fight into a nebula and feeling dwarfed
by the size of the universe, then you
bonk into a model and just feel daft.
Of course, the game isn’t just about
broadsiding ships like a sneaky pirate
and so missions require more of you
than just battle skill – you have to
conform to mission criteria. These
missions break down in a similar style
to any classic spaceship-fighting game
such as Wing Commander or TIE
Fighter, so you’ll be escorting, tracking,
scanning planets and shifting around
a system countering threats. This helps
conform your actions to a narrative,
but too often you can work dashed
hard for 40 minutes only to be told
that the mission has been failed and
no one will tell you why. For all the
confused yet ignorable scale problems
and time it takes you to get used to
piloting for full weapon effectiveness,
it’s the mission structure that causes
most alarm. Such epic combat should
take time but when not even a lowly
ensign speaks up to tell you that you’re
in danger of failure, you will find that
space can be a cold and indifferent
place in which to play.
Will Johnston