Among the most enjoyable things to do in No Man’s Sky, money making ventures rank pretty high. Discovering a planet for the first time and surveying its mercantile potential is dwarfed only by what the RNG russian roulette will churn out.
Though the trusted Radiant Pillar BC1 had sentimental value, the limited 15 slots had become cumbersome and didn’t fit in my plans to become a quick millionaire. In somewhat of a Catch 22, a larger ship was required to rake in the units, yet units were needed to buy said larger ship. With few options, I was resigned to a long slog of gathering and ferrying resources.
Warping into a new system, I spot an orange-tinted planet not far from the space station. Pulse engines are fired up and a trajectory set towards a nondescript point on the surface. Tearing through the clouds, the air is bathed in a swirling storm of thick yellow dust.
The Radiant lands and I take a first look at what is on offer. Drab flora. A decent amount of fauna roam around, which I eagerly scan. A few copper deposits, but not much else other than stagnant radiation easily remedied by an occasional sodium recharge. I’d recently become the proud owner of an S tier scanner module. It multiplies fauna scan returns by nearly 10,000%, meaning creature scans are worth upwards of 50,000 units. I scan a winged monstrosity reminiscent of Uma from The Witcher 3. I feed him a little carbon as payment for its unwitting aid, happily pocket 62,000 units, and move on.
A yellow icon catches my eye. I read the description; metal fingers. Intrigue getting the best of me, I jet pack over. Globulous plinths packed with uranium and gold protrude from the hillside. Both fetch a nifty price on the galactic market.
Wary that mining the fingers may require an advanced laser setup – which I don’t have – I start firing more in hope that anything else. Lady luck shows her benevolence. It takes a while; a least two minutes for each finger, but it’s worth it with a reward of around 250 gold. I continue mining until I have near enough 750, stopping only when my exo suit chirps that all-too-familiar ‘inventory full’.
Things are looking up. I launch back into space to sell my wares. Performing a clumsy maneuver to avoid a late rendered clump of asteroids, a peculiar red-blue planet comes into focus. A quick scan recognizes it as a flourishing planet. A promise of abundant resources. Emboldened by the proposition of a new source of income, I chart a course to Odorksaw X.
The Radiant kicks up a cloud of dust as it lands. The visual overhaul bears its fruits. Grassy expanses sectioned with venous creeks foster earth-like trees and bushes. Odorksaw X is deceptively alluring. Superficial beauty veiling a wicked underbelly. A militia of overly aggressive sentinels prowl the land. Movement of any kind is met with a discharge of shoulder-mounted pistol fire.
I quickly figure out that a choreographed running and jetting jig keeps the majority of the metal beasts at bay long enough to avoid serious damage. In a rare moment of respite, I scan creatures and plants, then come across huge grouped quantities of sodium and oxygen. In a frenzy, I get my fill until the inventory chirps again.
Further afield, strange cocoons litter the ground erupting in a blinding white light when approached. The HUD identifies them as gravitino balls. Spurred on by the day’s successes and mesmerized by their light, I rid my inventory of non essentials; a rarely used level 1 Atlas Pass, an easily replaced refinery, and a ship slot packed with navigation data.
This is when things go to shit. I begin to spam-gather the balls and within moments I’m swarmed by a battalion of drone and four-legged sentinels. Death comes quickly, dipped in sour tasting regret. My greed had gotten the better of me. Lesson learned. Beware the gravitino balls.