Mass Effect: Magnificent Desolation

I have strong memories of the Mass Effect trilogy both good and bad, such that I still haven't touched the more-recently-released Mass Effect: Andromeda. Who's this "Ryder" character? What's a Pathfinder? As far as I'm concerned, you'll never be better than Commander Shepard.

The first Mass Effect game in particular delivered to me a unique experience that no science fiction game, not even No Man's Sky, was able to reproduce. Despite being firmly in the "space opera" subgenre rather than the exploration subgenre, it was perhaps the only game where I felt like an astronaut. Mass Effect 1 is notorious for its side-quest segments where you and your teammates traverse remote planets in a ground-effect vehicle known as the M35 Mako.

Raising gamers' blood pressure since 2007 or 2183.

The sequels focused more on combat and less on the Mako's unwieldy controls and the long barren stretches between mission objectives, and while this may be an improvement from a game design perspective, I think something is lost when you can't take the time to appreciate the scenery, the "magnificent desolation" that Buzz Aldrin described when standing on the Moon.

Not pictured: the planetoid that's due to crash in a few hundred years.

In a genre where most focus is given on habitable planets, and little consideration is given to biological or chemical barriers between planets and explorers, Mass Effect devotes a fair portion of its extensive background flavor text to the attributes of the lifeless planets that vastly outnumber the "garden worlds" of the Milky Way. Every solar system you visit is explorable; you can't land on every planet, but you can at least visit each one. You might expect that this gets old fast, but it doesn't; there's a surprising level of variation; the few dozen planets in this game feel more distinctive than the 18 quintillion in No Man's Sky. I've referenced before how much I love the colorful names given to the different regions of space accessible in the trilogy. Taken altogether, the series is, however you may feel about its storytelling missteps, a masterclass in worldbuilding.

Below are a few of the in-game encyclopedia entries on some of the planets, to give an idea of what I'm talking about.

Casbin is a classic 'pre-garden' terrestrial world, with conditions similar to

those on Earth millions of years ago. Its hot, humid atmosphere is mainly

composed of nitrogen and carbon dioxide. An increasing amount of the surface

is covered by simple lichen and algae. Should no unexpected calamity occur,

these tiny planets will change the atmosphere into an Earth-like nitrogen-oxygen

mix over the next few millennia.

Due to its potential for future habitability and sapient life, Casbin has

been designated a Sanctuary World by the Citadel Council. Landing is

prohibited by law, and any disturbance of the fragile young ecosystem will

result in harsh fines and imprisonment.

At present, the planet is passing through the debris trail of a long-period comet.

Antibaar is a cold terrestrial world with an atmosphere of methane and argon.

Its frozen surface is mainly composed of iron with deposits of magnesium. The

world has been noted as a possible target for long-term terraforming; if the

atmosphere could be increased to the thickness of Earth's, the global average

temperature would rise by 10 degree Celsius.

Antibaar's combination of low temperatures, high speed surface winds, and low

visibility make it dangerous to explore on foot.

Agebinium is a small terrestrial world with an extremely thin atmosphere of

carbon dioxide and krypton. Although the planet has a sufficient mass to

maintain a thicker atmosphere, much of it has been blasted away.

The red giant Amazon is a long-period variable star, currently at the nadir of

a 16-year cycle. At peak, its energy output doubles, lashing Agebinium with

intense heat and radiation.

The crust is mainly composed of aluminum with deposits of tin. Much of the

surface is coated with a fine silicate dust, which easily penetrates the

smallest cracks to foul machinery.

Edolus is a terrestrial planet with an atmosphere of carbon dioxide and

nitrogen. Edolus's surface is covered in wide deserts of silicate sand, with

only a few areas of igneous rock highlands to break the abrasive, dust-chocked

wind.

Edolus's orbit is congested with debris thrown inwards by the gravity of the

gas giant Ontamaka. Due to a high rate of meteor impacts, exploration is

highly dangerous.

Chohe is a terrestrial planet whose surface is mainly composed of aluminum, with numerous deposits of calcium. Though it has enough mass to retain a dense atmosphere, Chohe is nearly a vacuum. This lack of atmosphere allows a moderate average temperature, but the differences between night and day are extreme.

The surface of Chohe's sunward-facing side is usually covered by a haze of volatiles (mainly water vapor and carbon dioxide), which return to the ground as frost over the course of the long, cold night.


The Sirta Foundation has established a research outpost on Chohe to investigate the native subterranean life of Chohe, which shows incredible resilience to extremes of heat and cold.

Amaranthine is a chilly rock world with an atmosphere of carbon dioxide and nitrogen. Its frozen surface consists largely of light titanium and aluminum oxides, with deposits of thorium and other heavy metals located in the deep crust. Amaranthine was named by the human poet Sofia Cabral during her tour of duty aboard the Alliance surveyor ship Kupe. Under the dim light of the red dwarf Fortuna, the surface of this world is lit in rich twilight blues and purples even at midday.

Nodacrux is a verdant world with abundant water, temperate climate, a thick oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and a rich ecosystem. It would seem to be perfect for life. The relatively high percentage of oxygen makes humans feel energized and alive, though it has also allowed insect analogues to grow to frightful sizes.


Unfortunately, Nodacrux is a case of "almost but not quite." Thunderstorms are as common as on Earth, but in Nodacrux's thicker, oxygen-rich atmosphere, they are deafening and spark constant wildfires. More damning, however, are the large and ubiquitous tufts of pollen that float in the high-pressure air. In humans and other oxygen-breathing species, they cause severe or lethal allergic reactions.

On a separate topic, I know it's been a long time since I've last posted. I guess the more "novelty" you find in science fiction, the less it stands out to you. A kind of "novelty inflation." I started this blog to seek out new ideas in science fiction, and I've definitely found some.

The thing about novelty is that it shouldn't be confused for genuine quality. I think I'm done with my search for novelty, and will probably re-tool this blog to be a more general "stuff I like" blog. I'm still a fan of cool world designs and creature designs, and so those will be appearing on here. But I probably won't be restricting myself to space-based sci-fi. I've got something in mind for October and Halloween, so stay tuned.