I find myself on an undiscovered planet, bathed by a sickly yellow sun. The atmosphere is hazy, and all around me pustulant trees rise in the murk.
I start to explore, keeping a watchful eye for indigenous wildlife. It doesn’t seem like the kind of planet where friendly creatures gambol and frolic.
As I crest a rocky ridge, a strangely unnerving vista comes into view. The pustulant trees, evil green globules attached to the rock by fleshy stalks, stretch off into the distance. Standing sentinel among them are other growths. Giant mushrooms, tower over the trees. Instead of a stalk, the cap sits atop a mass of tentacles. For a moment I think they’re moving, but perhaps it’s only a lone explorer’s imagination playing tricks.
I hear a cry. There’s something alive here, but I can’t see it. Off in the distance, half hidden by a low hill and cluster of tentacled mushrooms, an ancient crumbling spire rises through the yellowed air. Some species made this place home long ago.
Toxic rain starts to fall as I set out for the ruin. My shielding will not last long and I’m forced to run through fleshy stalks and tentacles.
The spire belongs to some kind of temple. Words crawl over the cyclopean ruins. My shielding has almost been burned away by the toxic rain so I don’t get a clear look. But I saw the word ‘Interloper’ repeated among many strange words I don’t recognise. I have the sense that the words may appear different depending on who’s looking. Were they speaking directly to me? Warning me?
I crash through a dilapidated archway and into the base of the spire. The pattering of deathly rain on stone is deafening. The cry comes again. Something is out there.
There are no stairs up the spire, but rotten floors have given way. I clamber up, floor by floor until I’m inside the cupola. Round windows look out, portholes on to this alien world.
From this new vantage point I can see globulous trees and tentacled mushrooms stretching away in the toxic mire. Nothing can survive here, surely. I find myself feeling sorry for whatever species created this temple, wondering what elder gods it was meant to appease. It didn’t work.
The cry comes once more. I inch round the cupola and there! High in the sky, wheeling over this forsaken landscape are three creatures. They ride the currents on bat-like wings. They’re huge but far away. As they soar and circle I try and get a better look, try to see what kind of monster can call this place home, but it’s no good. They fly away on their ragged wings.
Perhaps it’s just as well.
Landed on a new planet. A few trees. Another ruin. Nothing good to mine. No interesting animals. Toxic, so didn’t stay long. Waste of time.
No Man’s Sky – you get out of it what you put in.
This post relates to a discussion of narrative in games on the podcast I co-present. If you’re interested head here or look up The Conversation Tree Podcast on iTunes.