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Author's note: Just a little stream-of-consciousness attempt to summarize my feelings after completing Outer Wilds. MINOR SPOILERS for Outer Wilds below!! I highly recommend staying as unspoiled as possible if you haven't played the game.
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I thought I could stop it.
The first time I died, I had to make sure it wasn't a dream. I spent most of my time seeing if anyone else remembered what I had. They didn't. Then it happened again.
There must be a purpose, I thought. Maybe the Nomai knew this would happen. Maybe they were giving me a chance to figure it out.
The Attlerock led me to Brittle Hollow, which led me to the Twins, which led me back home and then far off to the outer reaches of the system. And every twenty-two minutes, I woke up again across from Slate, gently browning their marshmallows.
Sometimes I stopped to toast one for myself. After dying a few times, something as basic as chewing reminded me that I exist, imaliveimaliveimalive.
Sometimes, after chasing dead ends or dying horribly for too many cycles, I would spend those minutes at home. Play hide-and-seek with the kids. Stop Marl from chopping down that tree. Hike down to the geysers. Look into the eyes of my friends and hear their familiar words.
Every time, whether I stood on grass or on stone, bobbing in the sea or floating with a black hole at my back, as the sky lit up, I thought, I can stop this. I can fix it. I can save you.
Until I finally made my way to the Sun Station, I kept believing that.
At first I was angry at the Nomai, but that faded quickly. They were desperate, our sun was dying, and there was no reason for them not to try. And once the anger was gone, the only thing left was the terrible hollowness of grief.
I can't save the Nomai. I can't save my friends. I can't save myself.
I considered stopping. Letting the loop keep going as long as it could. I could have infinite time for myself. But every 22 minutes for the rest of my life, I would watch my people die.
It took only one more cycle of watching their shock, their fear and incomprehension, as blue light tore through the planet, to cure me of that urge.
It's one thing to be aware of your own mortality. But how do you describe the burden of knowing the entirety of life as you know it will be obliterated in under half an hour?
Who do you describe it to?
I scoured the system, filling in details in my log. I puzzled my way through the Quantum Trials, finally putting rules to the strange rocks scattered across the planets. Once I finally noticed the Quantum Moon, I couldn't believe we hadn't paid attention to it before. Getting there was a bit of trial and error, but braver and smarter souls than I had gone first.
And there, as I stepped onto the pitted quantum surface at the sixth location, I met Solanum.
Our communication was limited, but we were awed by each other's presence. Despite knowing they weren't alive, presumably knowing their people were long dead, their calm acceptance soothed me.
If you've come here looking for answers, they said, I hope you find them.