The word ‘lonely’ comes up often when discussing Sunless Skies, which seems like an odd thing to say about a game in which you haul yourself around the stars in the company of up to two-dozen crew members. But that’s the tone of Failbetter’s twisted sci-fi Victoriana roguelike: feeling desperately alone and vulnerable, in a desperately large and lethal place. Those crew? They’re all nameless, faceless, hired only to die on your dime. In Sunless Skies’ merciless vacuum, care is a luxury you cannot afford.
Sunless Skies, the cosmic horror, spacefaring roguelite, splits my brain like a log beneath an axe.
On the one hand, a certain ennui – I have seen all this before, I have made these long, fraught voyages before, many times, in its fine predecessor Sunless Sea.
On the other, late at night my thoughts drift, unbidden, back to its dark places, its lonely ports and clockwork suns and frozen voids. Places that left impressions, places that told me unsettling stories and implied many more stories still.
I don’t want to do it all over again. I don’t want anything except to do it all again.