Starfield’s depiction of Earth is weirdly emotional
12.09.2023 - 21:53
/ destructoid.com
/ Sarah Morgan
It seems a bit odd that I would want to spend any time in Starfield visiting Earth. Humanity is wide-eyed with dreams of discovering new planets, colonizing homesteads among the stars. Our science fiction texts are overflowing with the lofty possibilities of leaving our home world behind to seek a future elsewhere.
Yet, I was intrigued. I knew the backstory of Earth – or at least Starfield‘s version of it – so I wasn’t hopeful about seeing any level of detail. I wasn’t expecting, for example, to land on my street and see how Bethesda had modelled my home. This isn’t Microsoft Flight Simulator, after all.
But still, I wanted to see what it looked like. I wanted to see what kind of outcome one of the world’s biggest video game developers had in store for humanity.
So I landed on Earth. Brazil, in fact. A bizarre choice for someone who’s lived all their life (nearly 40 years) in the UK and has never set foot in any of the Americas. But it didn’t matter. What I was greeted with was a desolate plain of non-life, a barren outstretch of what was once our collective home.
It was then I was struck with a couple of thoughts.
First of all, I understand this version of our planet does have iconic landmarks you can visit, albeit now ruined. However, my time on Earth in-game was short, so I didn’t get the chance to seek out any recognizable or historically significant buildings.
What I saw in Starfield could easily have been any other place besides Earth. As far as Bethesda is concerned, Earth is almost a non-entity in the future, a player who’s exited the universal playground. This is, for want of a better phrase, a grim reality that Todd Howard and his team saw fit to actualize.
I don’t intend this article to be a preachy warning about the inevitability of climate change. However, popular fiction often chooses to depict Earth in the future as a planet no longer habitable. Starfield saw fit to lay out our home as one that only had 50 years of livability before its atmosphere vanished into the cruel darkness of space.
To quote Sarah Morgan: “Earth is more or less a dust ball now.”
And that’s exactly what I saw. To really drive the point home, I relocated myself to what used to be the United Kingdom. The outcome was the same. The vast emptiness, a kind of visual foretelling of what lies in fate for us here on the real Earth. There wasn’t even a Wetherspoons nearby.
I may have had a couple of beers by this point, but stepping out of my spaceship onto a planet I should have recognized – only to be greeted with a radial plane of nothingness – was sobering. Even if climate change wasn’t a thing, to see a fictionalized facsimile of your home world reduced to a ball of dust delivers a feeling of isolation that’s hard to