Ubisoft’s open world Star Wars adventure succeeds at the little things, but not much else shines.
Ubisoft has the reputation of a trend-chasing collection of studios that make the same types of open world games over and over, but not enough people talk about the cool, unexpected, or just plain weird little touches its games have that no other massive publisher would ever greenlight.
I’m talking about the good stuff, like Assassin’s Creed Mirage’s robust codex of ancient Baghdad museum pieces, Rainbow Six Siege’s overkill destruction engine, Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora’s ambitious exploration mode that turns every waypoint into contextual directions so you develop a real sense of mastery over the planet’s geography. I’m talking about designing an entire Watch Dogs sequel around the concept of plucking any citizen off the street—randos with simulated interests, relationships, and schedules down to the hour—and turning them into the protagonist.
Star Wars Outlaws is both sides of Ubisoft: it’s conventional and safe in ways that really get on my nerves, but it’s also ambitious enough to be more than just a third-person shooter in a sandbox. Outlaws is a game where nearly every story mission involves crawling through a vent that leads to a ladder that leads to a hallway. It’s also a game with a reactive reputation system that matters, ludicrously detailed cities I didn’t want to leave, and maybe my favorite open world side activity ever.Street urchin
One of those good ideas is Kay Vess, Outlaws‘ wide-eyed protagonist with a background that reads like every D&D party’s rogue: She grew up on the streets of Canto Bight (the casino planet from The Last Jedi), running jobs and taking scores from a young age. Kay is smart and arrogant in a Solo sort of way, but she’s also less impulsive and slower to solve every problem with a blaster. She’s instantly likable, and scores extra points with me for having nothing to do with lightsabers or the force. There’s a distinct lack of self-importance to Outlaws that I appreciate. This game doesn’t cover any important backstory or even attempt to juice up Kay’s importance in the canon—she’s an unimportant speck in a galactic war she couldn’t be less interested in (Outlaws takes place between Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi).
Outlaws‘ best moments tend to happen between quests when I’m walking through a city looking to make some Credits or spend everything I just earned. I love how easy it is to fall into the scoundrel roleplay in Outlaws—picking up odd jobs, shopping for obscure blaster parts, playing arcade machines in a cantina, betting on races, cashing out in Sabacc.
Man, I can’t stop thinking about Sabacc, easily Outlaws‘ strongest minigame. It’s basically simplified poker where every player tries to make the smallest possible pair, but with variables that add surprising depth. Special cards, like one that copies whatever card is next to it, can save Kay from a bad draw at the last second. Players can also play special medals that trigger instant effects, like forcing all players to throw another chip in the pot or preventing them from drawing more cards. You actually have to collect these medals in the world by tracking them down at vendors or stealing them from vaults. Kay can even employ her pet Nix to glance at other players‘ cards through a timing minigame.
A lot of effort for a minigame, right? That’s something I picked up early about Outlaws: it takes its side stuff seriously, so much that I was often more invested in my Sabacc deck (it’s Gwent all over again) and pile of incomplete sidequests than Kay Vess‘ main story. Well, that and food.
Each of Outlaws‘ four major cities has a unique street food spot where Kay and Nix can take a break from all the vent crawling and skull cracking to sit down and have a meal. I expected the interaction to be as quick as buying anything else in Outlaws—that I’d press X on a picture of an alien steak and Kay would get +2 damage for an hour or something. Instead, I was treated to a three-minute interactive cutscene starting with the droid chef cooking and presenting the dish: Che Mosska, described as „slow-grilled sweet mosska on the cob, freshly picked from the steppes of Toshara. Served with mashed deikko root and jera peppers.“ It looked delicious, but it wasn’t nearly over yet. I watched Kay and Nix eat every part of the meal, chiming in with quick-time events for bites and scoops.
It felt kind of silly at first to „control“ something so basic as biting down on some corn, but the whole sequence was so warm and inviting. Watching the way Nix sniffed each element of the dish before scarfing it down, and how Kay intentionally backed off to let her little pal eat as much as she wanted, told me everything I needed to know about their relationship: They’re inseparable. They love trying new things together. They’d do anything for each other.
I’ve never seen anything quite like it in an open world game—the closest I can think of is spooning soup into Arthur’s mouth in Red Dead Redemption—but it still wasn’t done. Nix collapsed backwards with a full belly and satisfied grin as the Che Mosska became a new gear slot, a „Nix Treat“, unlocking her ability to kick away grenades in a firefight. I was already happy to have dropped 200 Credits on the adorable slice of life, but like so many elements of Outlaws, worldbuilding feeds directly into progression.Rogue ones
I wish I had as good of a time with the story as I did goofing around in cities. Outlaws‘ main thread follows Kay assembling a crew for a heist, the spoils of which would allow her to clear the bounty on her head and finally live free of the Empire. It’s a fun Soderbergh-style setup, but it flattens out early on and never really picks up. A majority of the main quests are spent looking for potential crew members, not actually interacting with them, so once they finally join the Trailblazer, they become silent NPCs with only occasional ship chatter. The only consistent voice in your ear is ND-5, a prequel-era droid assigned to Kay by the heist’s architect to help.
