WARNING: CONTAINS A LOT OF RAMBLING NONSENSE.
Am I alone in getting some sense of excitement and intrigue from exploring unknown worlds, but in a game? Solar systems named with Greek letters and numbers after them? I hope I'm not.
My affliction first hit when I was about 7. My school had a copy of
Project Space Station for the numerous C64s they'd bought. It was brilliant - you planned the entire (then 'Freedom') Space Station program: you recruited astronauts and scientists, planned a budget, designed a station, bought equipment and set out a launch schedule. You then got to fly the shuttle into space to deliver the bits, use a EVA pod to assemble the parts into a working station, and then land the shuttle safely to load more parts. You then got to set up research programs, launch satellites, clear debris and slowly make money and expand your station. All done in lovely crude 8-bit graphics and sound.
When I got the PC version from a computer fair a year or two later, my life began to revolve around my little space program. Half an hour in the morning, come home for lunch and another 20 minutes, and then hours in the evening and on weekends. The compulsive nature of running my station aside, the crude graphics still gave a great feeling of being out in the cold awfulness of space when you were out in the EVA pod, attaching solar panels and collecting space debris (deb-riss, as my friend Chris called it).
My next close encounter was with
Star Control 2. While the original had offered a degree of exploration, Star Control 2 offered DOZENS of star systems. Each was unique, and had believable arrangements (the outer planets were either tiny planetoids or huge gas giants, while the inner planets got hotter, more mineral rich and more dangerous as you moved in) to boot. You cruised through these dozens of systems (quite likely only seeing a fraction of them during the game), sending down a little lander to mine ore, subdue the local wildlife and explore. With the eerie music as each planet span on the scanner screen against the blackness of space, I really felt millions of miles from home, in orbit about an unknown world.
This, naturally, made Frontier: L33t 2 all the more astonishing to me. Blorping out of David Braben shortly after Star Control 2 (though, living in Canada, nobody had heard of it, and I didn't get to play it until 1998 when I moved to the UK), this provided all of the above and more. Vast amounts of planets, loads of exploring, and a real sense of just how insignificant my little Adder ship was as it blasted off from a spaceport and ascended to airport, the ground shrinking away beneath me. Visiting all the weird and (mostly in text form and my imagination, alas) wondeful worlds occupied me for weeks.
Playing Arse Effect (I still haven't forgiven its stupid bugs, though I have played it all day and am finally past where I was when I got screwed over) has just rekindled this spark for me as I hared along the surface of the Moon, firing my rover's jets to hop over rocks as the Earth hangs overhead. Wisely, no music is being played - just a white noise howl (undoubtedly of my machinery) and the atmosphere is palpable. I haven't felt this much like I was on the surface of another planet since the very first level of
Battlezone where you were essentially free to blast around on the vast lunar landscape in any vehicle you wished until you decided to start the mission proper. Being able to get out and walk around (as in Battlezone) only makes it better. Granted, none of the other planets so far have yet captured the sense of place as the barren Moon (and I know they'll all be rocky planets in varying colours).
So, any else out there share this bizarre fondness for astronomy?