Starfield: Taking you on an engrossing and unpredictable cosmic journey despite its flaws

Suddenly, we discover that space pirates have set their sights on the object. Instead of engaging in battle, we swiftly exterminate these less-than-bright enemies. We then embark on a mission to transport the artifact to another planet, taking on our first spaceship and robot companion. Suddenly, an ordinary day becomes an exciting adventure, and we find ourselves humming, "Just me and my space" as we plunge into the vast cosmos.

I apologize if my plot description lacks sparkle. However, the more engaging matters occur outside of it. Let's begin with the less appeasing aspects; there are quite a few. These range from an unreadable map to seemingly endless loading screens. I demonstrate this as I approach the ship. I am met with a loading screen. I sit in the cockpit and a short animation plays. I select a target on the cosmic map and then another loading screen appears. As I approach the planet and search for a landing site, yet another loading screen greets me. Exiting the cockpit and leaving the ship initiates yet another loading screen.

In time, we discover that some of these screens can be skipped, for instance, right after landing one can immediately exit the ship (loading included), but the game provides no indication of this. The inability to manually take off and land the ship ourselves is a disappointment. I envisioned this as an engaging endeavor. Granted, the world of Starfield is incredibly vast, and Bethesda's game engine has its limitations. However, it might be ideal to retire it before releasing the next game.

The complaints don't end there. The map isn't user-friendly, traveling through the systems is time-consuming, and finding markers on individual planets can be a chore. Whoever was responsible for the game's interface deserves a reprimand. The menus are unreadable, as if they were created by saboteurs intent on sabotaging Todd Howard.

Initially, Starfield repulsed me. An unattractive UI, lackluster visuals, and cliché missions were discouraging. I was the first to declare that Todd Howard should step down. Suddenly, a shift occurred. It started modestly; I ventured into a shabby bar. A man at the bar was hassling a customer. I intervened, he threatened me, but retreated with a promise of revenge. Soon after, the space police arrived, enquiring: are you coming peacefully with us? I complied. And before I knew it, a secret organization aiming to diminish the influence of star pirates needed someone to infiltrate their ranks. With no other option, I agreed. Thus began a side quest that absorbed me for many hours.

During this time, I officially became a space pirate, carrying out a series of missions. These missions varied greatly. From traditional courier assignments, plundering abandoned mines, to a mission reminiscent of Hitman where I changed my uniform repeatedly to obtain priceless technology. Ultimately, I engaged in a multi-stage and devilishly difficult space battle with entire squadrons of enemies. I was so engrossed in these tasks that I completely disregarded the main plot. This probably reflects poorly on the main storyline, but more on that later.

Once I let go and allowed the game to guide me, there was no turning back. I quickly fell victim to the "one more marker" syndrome, staying up all night multiple times. It was then that I truly understood Starfield's charm. It is the ultimate sandbox game. Bethesda gives players total freedom. Wish to become a pirate and smuggle contraband? Certainly. Desire to build ships (which requires a substantial amount of credits and resources)? Absolutely. Perhaps you want to construct bases and decorate them extensively? You're welcome. Have you ever dreamt of being an explorer gathering data from different planets? As the Yankees would say - "be our guest". Though it's worth mentioning that the lack of a vehicle for planetary surface travel is somewhat of a jest in poor taste. Marcin Daniec would be proud.

Despite the drawbacks, the game offers countless choices and hundreds of hours' worth of content. It's difficult to imagine anyone feeling shortchanged.

More so since the proverbial "side jumps" can yield surprising gains.

During one mission, I came across a note about a legendary spaceship. I decided to investigate the mentioned location. Here, I stumbled upon an abandoned research station where an unsavory group of individuals were waiting. Using force was the only way to communicate with them, so I sent each one to their demise. The greatest challenge proved to be a room filled with laser turrets. Too far to disable them, I began to search for a solution. I noticed floor tiles labeled with letters. So, I scoured the station for clues. Finally, all I had to do was step on the tiles spelling out the password to safely progress to the next room.

For my efforts, I received a powerful (for that stage of the game) ship and a legendary suit, which remained with me until the end. Besides its speed and substantial firepower, the ship had an additional advantage. It was widely recognizable. During space travels, occasionally someone commences an attack. Upon recognizing the Razorleaf (the name of the ship), most foes fired a single shot, swiftly apologized, and willingly gave up their credits as compensation.

Let's revisit the main plot. It's decent but starkly different from the side quests, making it difficult to immerse in. We find ourselves as the "chosen one" once more, gaining mysterious powers (remember the Dragon shouts in Skyrim?) and uncovering the secrets of the cosmos. This all sits right, but there's an overwhelming sense of safety in the writers' approach. Every plot turn is safe, somewhat familiar, so my reception was rather "lukewarm". It came and went.

Thankfully, there was no moment of boredom. It's crucial to note that nearly every companion has their backstory, leading to more intriguing missions. The relationships we forge with them yield tangible effects and benefits. There are instances when a narrative door opens while another slams shut, revealing the consequences of our choices.

To be clear, I'm not a fan of constructing outposts or decorating houses (yes, those too), but I appreciate Bethesda's extensive opportunities in these aspects. I also didn't particularly enjoy building spaceships, but marveling at the wonders that other players could create, I could only offer applause. The character development options are intriguing. One feature deserving special commendation is the challenge system, which must be completed to advance to the next level - for example, unlocking doors. Simply leveling up and selecting the next window in the development tree isn't sufficient, you also need to unlock a certain number of locks for the next level to be available. An applaudable mini-game is also tied to this endeavor.

The sheer enormity of options that Starfield provides astounds me, even if not all of them appeal to me. But pleasing everyone isn't necessary. What I may find mundane could keep others engrossed for hours. I acknowledge Starfield's shortcomings, mainly linked to its aging engine (though from an optimization viewpoint and the number of bugs, there's not much to criticize), while others originate from Bethesda and Todd Howard's legacy. Certain missions engross me entirely, while others repel me from the onset. But there's one aspect where Starfield excels — it's alarmingly addictive. "One more marker", "one more mission", "one more hour" - these phrases will become your mantra. In the cosmic infinity that is Starfield.

My Starfield experience took place on the Xbox Series X, the game key generously provided by its producer, Bethesda.