Game of the Year - #1
Starfield shouldn’t win. It’s not right! There are four other games on my list— an incredibly tight list— that should come before it. And yet, when I pushed past the logical reasons and into how I emotionally responded to this year, no other version of this list felt right without Starfield at number one. So, knowing full-well that this list will probably look absurd in retrospect, I present to you my number one game of the year. Welcome to Chunks, please choose your Chunks.
Get ready folks, the mixed feelings about this pick don’t stop there! Throughout my time with Starfield I haven’t known what to think. So many people are rightfully pushing back on this game— it’s the same formula, it’s structure isn’t great (both true)— and yet I’ve been content to tootle along. Skyrim, as I’ve mentioned before in these lists, holds a special place in my history. I know that I know can’t ever replicate my connection to that game (at least, not intentionally) but I still hold out hope with every new Bethesda release. When Fallout 4 came out I was initially a bit cold on it. After some time with (and away) from the game, I settled into a deep groove and it’s become another of my most played games. It seems like I’m replicating that with Starfield.
One of the long-term draws of Bethesda games for me is the process of gaining complete mastery over a world. I don’t mean the kind of mastery that comes from practiced execution of mechanics or a carefully manufactured build, I mean the uniquely Bethesda ability to learn a game’s systems, skills, and world enough to completely bend and break it. I’ve been fascinated by this since my first time making a 110% invisibility armor set in Oblivion. I don’t give a single shit if something isn’t balanced— I feel powerful. Give me the opportunity to learn the nuances of a game and then completely bend it to my will in a way the designers didn’t intend and I’m happy. Of course, that isn’t for everyone. I wish I had the refined palette of a Renata Price or other stellar critic who hasn’t been impressed by this game— but I don’t. I’ve enjoyed my time with Starfield and trust that in the next few years my connection with it will only continue to grow.
Even expecting a slow burn, there’s no way around some of the design issues that could make Starfield less appealing in the long term. The biggest hurdle is the compartmentalized design of the its world. One of my favorite parts of past Bethesda games has been the spaces in between any given objective. Cutting out that space kneecaps the Bethesda design staple of stumbling across a million intriguing things on the way from objective to objective. Everything you interact with has to be a destination, it rarely can be an accidental find. There are moments where I genuinely appreciate the desolation of the random planet landings— Skipping across the icy low gravity surface of an unforgiving moon, rifle in hand, on my way to engaging a mercenary base freaking rules— but those are experiences are part of the build-up to an objective. The line from inception to execution is so direct that there isn’t the usual room for plans to get shelved by a new discovery, derailed by an unexpected event, or blown away by a harsh encounter. In short, there aren’t great incentives to mosey and I miss them dearly.
Bethesda has definitely improved the player’s ability and reason to linger in its major urban areas. The cities in Starfield are more elaborate, complex, and densely packed with content than past games. I really enjoyed hunkering down in one of the capitals and roleplaying a life in those spaces. These sprawling (for a Bethesda game) urban spaces are where the mission writing has a chance to shine a bit brighter. The writing in Starfield can be wildly uneven— I think this is due to the generic locales so much has to take place in— but when given a true sense of place and context the mission writing starts to click. The Ryujin corporate quest line leans on Neon’s best characteristics and tells an entertaining cyberpunk-adjacent tale. Even better, it sends you to a plethora of other locations that aren’t just another outpost on a procedurally generated world. It functions as a great tour of some of the more interesting corners of Starfield’s Galaxy.
Not every bit of Starfield’s world is interesting, and I can’t wait to see what community members can do with that space. Bethesda game modders are some of my favorites and I’m psyched to see what changes can be made to make things quantifiably better. I worry that the community might not take to Starfield modding, but I trust that there are enough talented folks about there with my sick curiosity to facilitate some cool stuff.
This brings me to the biggest ‘controversy’ surrounding Starfield, the big narrative and structural loop. I cannot understand why people are being such whiny doofuses about a feature that you don’t have to engage with. Starfield’s infinite new game plus provides an interesting narrative hook alongside a chance to take a favorite character (or, at least, their levels and perks) forward as you enter a fresh copy of the universe. I like it! I may not play with it when I create new characters, but I think it’s a nifty idea. The folks complaining that it devalues or tosses aside the effort they put into base-building… I understand to a point, but aren’t there a million alt characters you can make to experience the loop? Don’t you end up making a million 10-hour outposts? Well, maybe that’s just me, but I still think the complain is a bit hyperbolic.
At the end of the day, I think that Starfield is perhaps the coldest, least narratively engaging game Bethesda has made in a while and… I just. don’t. care. There’s only one game this year that I want to vivisect and lay out on the table to see what makes it tick: this one. Like with its predecessors, I intend to spend the next few years doing so. Here’s hoping that the next Elder Scrolls can provide a worthier subject.
