While I didn’t find myself in a Sarlacc pit of despair over Star Wars Outlaws’ reveal—like angrier parts of the Internet—I still entered my demo like one might a dark cave on Dagobah. Certainly, none of my caution and concerns stemmed from the developer chosen—Ubisoft Massive smashed it with the MP-centric Division series, and I‘m stoked they’re trying their Han at a Solo adventure.
Likewise, most of the worries I had about Outlaws being overtly and obnoxiously game-y were dissipated within minutes of my 4-hour hands on. One look at the systems revealed a progression system rooted in conversation choices and sub-quest completions, not grindy XP-busywork against blaster-sponge, numbered enemies.
Furthermore, one zip through the Display options provided a minimal approach to HUD elements. Throw in some (optional) horizontal bars to simulate a theatre view, and Outlaws takes an AT-ST-sized step away from “paint-by-numbers game design” towards “an interactive film that’s slicker than bantha poodoo.”
Looking back, my anxieties came from other recent Star Wars media. I’m an OG fan who’s been more on-again-off-again with this universe than the Falcon’s hyperdrive in Empire. I absolutely went in bracing for more damage to my childhood; I emerged much later on feeling Outlaws might actually be a big bacta shot for the franchise.
Let’s get the overwhelming good news out of the way first: Outlaws looks gorgeous in the flesh, and the framerate was flawless during my four-hours with it. The second I crash landed into adventure on the planet Toshana, I was mightily impressed by the highly-detailed appearance of our heroine, Kay Vess.
Not only is developer Ubisoft Massive leveraging its slick animation systems from The Division 2, but its clearly spent some R&D on hair, dust, and wind tech as well. Exiting my stolen freighter, The Trailblazer, thrust me into a splendid squall of high winds, dust devilry, and, of course, a hail of incoming blaster fire.
That’s right, space cowboys, I had barely started conversatin’ with a tweaker Rodian mechanic when it came time to start ventilatin’ bandits. As expected, Kay moves responsively and can cover pop like the best Special Agents of the SHD (i.e., The Division). What I didn’t see coming: getting a Dead Eye insta-kill function that fills whenever Kay’s stressed or suppressed.
The resulting Adrenaline Shots, triggered by L3+R3, were all sorts of satisfying, and I suspect they’ll never get old. The only downside I could mention is that their aiming is quite general—locked to body outlines—so no specific crotch-shots for you. Be that as it may, my disappointment at this was lessened by the inclusion of a post-murder, blaster-twirl-to-holster animation that’s pure scoundrel swagger.
One other thing I should like to reiterate before move on from sexy graphics and solid gunplay—do as I mentioned earlier and take the time to give yourself a filmic experience. Immediately set the HUD to Minimal and disengage the Threat Sense and Enemy Status Icons. Modern games smear our screens with too many markers, tutorials, and gauges—I opted out from the get-go, and it was like playing some sort of long lost, interactive half-sequel between Empire and Jedi.
Oh, and one last factoid for the purists chasing a clean screen experience: I couldn’t seem to fully escape subtitles in the build I played. Your options are Full or Translated. So whenever some NPC on your periphery barks something in Huttese, you’re always going to cop some text.
And you better believe there’ll be tons of incidental chit-chat to eavesdrop on, intentionally or otherwise. When I entered the bowels of a Mos Eisley-esque strip mall of Mirogana City, I was pretty shocked by how lively the place was. It’s just a heaving mass of weirdo NPCs going about their scum and/or villainy.
Better yet, it brings the dank with sumptuous smoke and light/shadow tech that makes every alley a mystery worth peering into and every Imperial checkpoint a piercingly bright warning sign. Basically, the atmosphere here is top-notch, and every corner I poked my nose into yielded a remarkable Wookieepedia-degree of attention to object authenticity.
This dedication to minutiae even extended to the audio. When trying to start a bit o’ poodoo by deliberately butting against some patrolling Pyke gangsters and/or Imperial checkpoint troopers, I was delighted to hear their “bugger off” voice lines come in three or four different flavours per group. You don’t often see that level of VO variation.
Unable to start a ruckus, I befriend a local ne’er-do-well Calamari, Danka, who seems to have a flipper in a lot of different pies. Soon enough, I’m slinking through back alleys, lockpicking dual-purpose warehouses, and platforming my way up into the presence of a big deal crime boss, Gorak.
If I’m being perfectly honest, my ascent to a higher-paying employer was a solid, not thrilling, bit of jumpy-jump. Obviously, Kay hasn’t the circus acrobat skills of Jedi Cal Kestis, so go in expecting contextual point-to-point leaping like an Uncharted. That being said, there was one puzzle where I clearly knew the “run-leap-attach” move required of me—thanks to obviously hatched and coloured grates—but it took three (near death) attempts for Kay to latch on.
There’s a fair chance that was an isolated issue, because I had much more pleasing results with the grappling hook platforming later on. Once again, it’s a highly contextual piece of equipment that nevertheless comes with decent physics and a bit of swashbuckling satisfaction, which, I think, trumps those wall-run-to-triple-flip solutions of a Jedi.
Speaking of getting hooked, I liked where the gunplay is at in Outlaws. The basic pop-n-pew-pew works well, and those aforementioned Adrenaline Shots are gratifying, but I’m quite taken by the unlockable Fast Talking skill. In order to salvage some stealthing gone wrong, you can throw up your hands and momentarily confuse your aggressors by spouting some Grade-A bullshit.
Meanwhile, you’ve since exited cover, and everybody’s now within range and angle of a gunslinger solution. *Ka-chow-chow-chow*. Boring conversation anyway…
Beyond that, Kay has an unlimited ammo pistol that’s bound by overheating, and you’ve got a health bar that refills in segments. Clearly, most bad situations can be salvaged if you bail and regroup, and I encountered medium-sized suburb style environments that encouraged a mix of loud and quiet killin’. That’ll go better if you’ve whipped out the electrobinocs to pre-tag patrolling guards beforehand.
In ninja mode, I enjoyed the usual alarm disabling, long grass camping, last-known-location luring, and insta-shank mechanics one would expect. There’s also novelty in contextually directing Nix—your axolotl BD-1 equivalent—to distract, momentarily disable, or sqipe ammo off unsuspecting enemies.
Handy little bugger, but I must say I’d pay good money for a Salacious Crumb skin and sound pack for him.
What I didn’t like about getting down to business was how secondary weapons are handled. The useful rifles I snatched up had finite ammo and kicked like a tauntaun, but Kay staunchly refused to hang onto them. And that is both in a “chuck ‘em in my inventory for later” sense, or sometimes, frustratingly, in a “I’m entering a vent or grabbing a ladder now, may as well drop this” fashion.
The focus is on building one’s scoundrel skill set as opposed to beefing up a magic pockets arsenal, but how does one do that? Partially by getting your Yojimbo on—strategically questing and making conversational decisions that let you play some scumbag groups off against one another. Ubi Massive calls this process the Criminal Network System, a trackable favouritism mechanic that should make for tons of gameplay variation and reasons to replay.
For example, you might wish to appease the Pykes over the Hutts or Crimson Dawn. You’ll start with a Poor rating, and this can then seesaw from here to two levels of positivity or two levels of “shoot this idiot on sight.” Staying on a relatively even keel with everybody should be easy enough, but pursuing extreme approval with one benefactor will seriously anger their competitors.
You’ll risk that ire for faction specific rewards. “Good” rep nets you a blaster cosmetic. “Excellent” rep comes with a perk-like crest (e.g., better stealth) or a big chunk of crafting materials to soup up your speeder/ship. “Max” rep for each faction comes with a gang-specific Jacket, Gun Belt, Pants, and Nix Collar cosmetics that are also imbued with two powerful perks apiece.
Though I went in with expectations lower than the undercarriage of an MSE-6 imperial mouse droid, I’ve all but flip-flopped on Star Wars Outlaws. It looks gorgeous, it plays well (despite a few mynocks in the platforming), and Massive is nailing a replication of the ideal era sweet spot of the ’80s (Star Wars date: 4 ABY).
While I have some minor concerns, I’m cautiously all in. I can’t wait to invest dozens of hours on the review process, many of which will probably be spent at those in-game Sabbac tables. Am I expecting a big score? The cards seem promising, but it’s too early to call. And besides, I’d never tell you the odds.
