In my life, I have experienced three pieces of media which redefined my outlook on the world.

One was the book Merlin's Dragon. It taught me how to wonder. Another was the movie Spirited Away. Its resolute melancholy was beyond me, and perhaps still is.

This game is the third. It is no small task to give "life-changing" to a work of art; any less than your full heart behind that statement, and you run the risk of oozing pretentiousness. But this game didn't change my life; Outer Wilds saved it.

It is a game about hope. The most raw essence of that word - its power, its strain, the fight for it and the need to overcome it. It is a game where dying is so inevitable that it may well seem to be the goal. You will explore a thousand little moments of wonder in just 22 minutes, and then repeat the process until it turns to frustration; then further, until that turns to catharsis.

It is a game with no advancements, upgrades, unlocks, levels, or even a status quo. It has no formal progression; yet by its end, you will feel you have completed something more material than any other game could give you.

There's a reason this review is a ramble of emotions and philosophy; I cannot describe the game in a practical manner. It looks pretty; it runs well; it has great dialogue - that's about it. Any details beyond that would spoil the game, taint a never-repeatable experience, and in the age of endless information and a torrent of opinions from people you will never meet, perhaps a bit of blindness - and a leap of faith - is what we deserve.

In my life, I have experienced three pieces of media which redefined my outlook on the world. One was the book Merlin's Dragon. It taught me how to wonder. Another was the movie Spirited Away. Its resolute melancholy was beyond me, and perhaps still is. This game is the third. It is no small task to give "life-changing" to a work of art; any less than your full heart behind that statement, and you run the risk of oozing pretentiousness. But this game didn't change my life; Outer Wilds saved it. It is a game about hope. The most raw essence of that word - its power, its strain, the fight for it and the need to overcome it. It is a game where dying is so inevitable that it may well seem to be the goal. You will explore a thousand little moments of wonder in just 22 minutes, and then repeat the process until it turns to frustration; then further, until that turns to catharsis. It is a game with no advancements, upgrades, unlocks, levels, or even a status quo. It has no formal progression; yet by its end, you will feel you have completed something more material than any other game could give you. There's a reason this review is a ramble of emotions and philosophy; I cannot describe the game in a practical manner. It looks pretty; it runs well; it has great dialogue - that's about it. Any details beyond that would spoil the game, taint a never-repeatable experience, and in the age of endless information and a torrent of opinions from people you will never meet, perhaps a bit of blindness - and a leap of faith - is what we deserve.