So, it turns out The Outer Worlds 2 spent 95% of its runtime mocking me for a purchase I didn’t make

My review from The Outer Worlds 2 begins with a retelling of the first unexpected curve ball the role-playing game threw at me. Having barely left the introduction and having made exactly two vending machine purchases, I was offered the disadvantage of consumerism. This puzzled me. As it turned out, this event had good reason to puzzle me.

You see, since the game went into early access late last week (a time during which it can only be played by those who paid around £30 for the premium pre-order edition), other people have encountered this flaw, and guessed it must be dunking on them for purchasing this more expensive edition.

It makes sense, and honestly, I'm a little mad at myself for not making the connection right away. In my defense, this shortcoming is not listed among the additional features offered premium version on showcases as far as I can tell. Nor is it clearly marked with the words “premium” or “deluxe” like the corporate premium Moonman gear pack that's been hanging out in my inventory for the entire 40 or so hours. So, since my character was given dialogue that told him to just be really dumb for accepting this flaw, meant to make fun of my overspending, I think you get my point, Outer Worlds 2. Touché, Obsidian. Well done.

But wait one second. While the flaw was meant to be a fun little Borderlandsy meta-dunk for premium edition buyers, it takes on a whole different meaning in this case. You see, as is usually the case with reviews, unless companies decide not to send out codes for whatever reason, publishers Microsoft provided me with an early copy of the all-singing, all-dancing premium edition of The Outer Worlds 2 for free. We, of course, did not specify which edition we wanted, so, as often happens, it was an understandable decision by the publishers to send me, the person who would criticize the game and publish thoughts, the most luxurious version of it.

99% of the time this boring backroom admin isn't worth telling you about, but in this case he created a set of circumstances that completely turned the Obsidian joke on its head and into something that I honestly find a little funnier. I promise it wasn't just because fate didn't make it a joke at my expense. I love jokes, good, bad or indifferent. As long as the circumstances/company are right, I'm generally all for making jokes, even if they're tired punchlines that are doomed to fail.

There's something unique and fun about it. A studio that, whether by choice or pressure from its corporate overlords, creates a snazzy premium edition that offers the chance to play early and have a few laughs at the people, er, buying what they're selling. It then unintentionally pings back. Cue this is a cover of Faith No More I love. After all, even if my position as a journalist not buying this game was not expected, what about people who could get the premium version for free through competitions or just wait until sales eventually make it cheaper than the standard edition of the game at launch?

I know I'm overthinking the implications of this harmless and funny joke, but having realized what happened, I can't help but feel like it rather sums up the Outer Worlds 2 experience in a way I didn't intend. Instead of a script promising something that could have been New Vegas-level great, but ultimately I feel like it's closer to RecognizedAt the “good” level, you get something distorted by reality, into a version of yourself that is not quite what was expected or hoped for. This is very similar to many of the lines spoken in jest and parody by the insidious corporatists in Aunt's Choice, which sound similar to what you might find in very real notice of dismissal or marketing ploy from Obsidian's parent company Microsoft.

People may well still laugh if your jokes are funny or self-aware enough, but it's much harder to make fun of or make fun of something if you're part of it without risking the effort seeming a little hollow. Especially if you're intentionally working hard, wink wink, pushing a corporate knockoff to a more expensive version of the product you're trying to sell.