The score reflects the ultimate user experience, though there are really two games here: your initial intrigue as it unravels itself from nothing, followed by a masochistic grind that sabotages any lingering goodwill. As an opening the first game is fantastic. Fundamentally it’s an idle clicker game with multiple timers. You feed each timer with slowly materialising cards, so your “work” timer might consume your “passion”, eventually spawning money. You are presented with very little initially, and the story mostly plays out in your imagination through colourful card prompts. The flexibility of the system works brilliantly- many cards have multiple applications, and once “dreaming” is unlocked they can be used in creative metaphorical ways. “Dreaming” of “health” or “studying” “vitality” for instance. Slowly you acquire occult knowledge and magics, and your side-job of founding a mystical society can begin. This curiosity is then dramatically undercut by the second game, the Grind. You need money and followers to explore and expand, which you can barely keep supplied by repeating your in-game job. However you are constantly being thrown arbitrary obstacles. Suddenly a countdown of “dread” is ticking that kills you unless fleeting, difficult to acquire cards are fed to it. A timer literally called “time passes” consumes your funds lest it punishes you with hunger and death. However it randomly causes you injuries even if well-stocked, costing you more funds (or death). These artificial stumbling blocks, some completely unprovoked (expeditions need a random amount of funds, sometimes seemingly infinite), eat up your resources and crush any sense of progress. It’s a downward spiral that feels completely unwarranted. Truly it is INFURIATING game design, more infuriating as it sabotages the first game, the one with the fun sense of wonder. Because the second game is actively obnoxious to the point that I don’t want to play further.
As a World War Two operations manager this is unmatched. You must be conscious of your weak points and exploiting encirclements, as well as maintain supplies and Command and Control from Brigade to Army Group. Pulling off your planned strategy feels earned: spamming units will be hindered by stacking penalties, terrain, weather, leadership, moral and a host of other penalties. In the long term your research decisions can have long-term repercussions, and naval manufacturing takes years to bare fruit. Where you sit yourself diplomatically amongst nations can also shape the outcome of the war. This is a Paradox title and as such learning the intricate web of (completely unexplained) mechanics is a game in itself. The Wiki and Paradox forums are basically indispensable, and I’ve been discovering new aspects of the game constantly. You can let the A.I take over much of this decision-making, but masochistic micro-managers will thrive on it. The complexity does reach hilarious points when some mechanics are so byzantine that they’ve had to be tested repeatedly by forum members (the supply system in particular) or literally no one understands (some aerial and naval techs). Others have immense depth but can be almost entirely ignored, such as your internal politics and elections. It’s bizarre then that espionage, a crucial aspect of WW2, is glossed over with very few options to perform. Intelligence and reconnaissance are crucial during war, but you’ve no way of tracking it in peace. I’d taken to keeping a spreadsheet of spotted units, particularly the naval units which each all bare their historical names. This leads to another Hearts of Iron extracurricular activity: the history you can glean from the encyclopaedic systems at play. Or at least you can if you’re a passive-autistic grognard like me!
Shuffling across the deserted landscape pushing a shopping trolley. Shivering in an abandoned mobile home, boiling river water in a soup can. Ecstatic at the discovery of a worn-out croc and discarding bullets so you can carry a cigarette lighter. The initial ambiance of NEO Scavenger is un-matched. It’s a true survival simulator where drinking dirty water can lead to slow death. Your starting attributes can help or hinder: botany helps identify edible or poisonous flora; trapping helps you fashion tools to assist in the wilderness. The mechanics for performing this are clunky but that feels appropriate. Combat is desperate, rolling around in the mud as you bash at each other with shards of glass or repurposed kitchenware. The ramifications of an untreated wound are infection and sepsis. Then, once you’ve just balanced your ability to survive, the world opens up and you come in contact with a semblance of civilisation. Eating your first cooked meal feels tangible, as does the bewilderment at interacting with non-rabid humans. Your quests, just a tick box in any other game, take on new weight as you take on supplies and equipment to journey once more into the wild. All this is from my opening impressions. However once you die again and again, especially from a random dog bite during a long run with much accumulated gear, the permadeath becomes frustrating. You’re forced to repeat the opening moments so often that they become routine, breaking the immersion. You recognise that some skills are indispensable, or that the RNG can basically demand a restart. This game is dying a checkpoint system- particularly once you reach the first settlement and story missions. Ultimately your harrowing opening experience is hindered without it.
It's difficult to be unbiased about KSP. Your enjoyment of the game is directly related to your slow accumulation of basic rocket science. Your first orbit, your first docking (may the spirit of Buzz Aldrin guide you), the incomparable sensation of your first 'Mun' landing, your mastery of inter-solar planetary phase angles: each step is immensely satisfying because YOU figured it out. All while the endearingly gormless Kerbals grin at you from their view-screens. This expansion pack fills the gaps previously left to your imagination in regards to endgame content. Previously there wasn't much to physically do once you landed on the planetary bodies, now your exploration is rewarded with new ground and rover focussed missions. Plus despite the ingenuity of /r/KerbalSpaceProgram users (an indispensable companion to this game over the years) making bespoke combustion engines and robotics in the past, now you can program various pistons and hinges. Your interplanetary robot spider army dreams can now be fulfilled.
Treat this game as a curiosity and nothing more, the two-man team have unfortunately abandoned the project in it's current state. I'm giving it two stars for those first few hours you'll experience poking around with your ship, as I felt myself lost in the verisimilitude. Experiencing the weight of the ship drifting between nebula, sparks of sensor data flashing in the dark, hearing the creak and hum of the various components that you can uninstall and repair. OIS also has a charming sense of humour and irreverence clearly inherited from it's Australian developers. This is apparent in the scattering of NPC's you'll meet on the stations, most of which are veiled tutorials. So you figure out your optimal trade route, earning enough to buy the three available ships. Then... that's it. No more story, no more new experiences. Almost all the reviews here are for the game's POTENTIAL, and now that it is finished it should be judged as it is, which is unfortunately thin and featureless.
