There's something profoundly humbling about standing alone on an alien planet, watching two moons rise over a horizon dotted with impossible flora, knowing that no other human being has ever set foot on this exact world before. That was me, just yesterday, in my first few hours of playing No Man's Sky.

I've heard about this game for years – the endless planets, the space exploration, the controversy at launch, and its phoenix-like redemption arc. But nothing prepared me for what it actually feels like to play it.

First Contact

The game starts with a crash. My ship, a sad collection of broken technology and sparking wires, lies embedded in strange soil. Around me, alien plants sway in a gentle breeze while bizarre creatures wander in the distance. My exosuit helpfully informs me that I'm slowly dying from radiation exposure.

Welcome to No Man's Sky, indeed.

What followed was a frantic scramble for resources. "Mine ferrite dust," the game suggests casually, as if I should know what that is or where to find it. Turns out, it's in rocks. Of course it's in rocks. I point my mining laser at a nearby boulder and watch it dissolve into components.

This is satisfying in a way I wasn't expecting.

I repair my scanner, and suddenly the world explodes with information. Icons appear everywhere – sodium plants that will recharge my hazard protection, oxygen-rich flora to keep me breathing, and mysterious question marks beckoning me to explore.

The First Mission: Don't Die

My immediate goal becomes laughably simple: don't die before fixing my ship. I bounce between resource nodes like a caffeinated honeybee, collecting carbon, oxygen, and various metals I've never heard of before.

"Warning: Extreme storm approaching," my suit announces with all the emotion of someone telling me we're out of milk.

I look up to see dark clouds gathering, and suddenly my first alien weather experience begins. The wind howls, visibility drops to mere feet, and my radiation protection starts draining at an alarming rate. I frantically scan the area and spot the glowing entrance of a cave.

Note to self: Caves are good. Caves are safe. Caves are where I won't dissolve into a radioactive puddle.

Inside the cave, I discover glowing plants and strange underground creatures. I'm safe from the storm, but now I'm lost in an underground labyrinth. It's both terrifying and thrilling – I've been playing for less than an hour, and I'm already having an adventure that feels uniquely mine.

To Infinity and Beyond (But First, This Space Station)

Eventually, I repair my ship enough to take flight. The moment my starship lifts off from the planet's surface is nothing short of magical. I watch the ground fall away, clouds part, and then – the planet's atmosphere gives way to the star-studded blackness of space.

My jaw literally drops. The transition from ground to space is seamless. No loading screens, no cuts – just a continuous journey from dirt to stars.

Following the game's guidance, I pulse-drive toward a space station looming in the distance. As I approach, I feel like a country mouse visiting New York City for the first time. The space station is massive, a spinning cathedral of technology with a glowing entrance that swallows my tiny ship whole.

Inside, I meet other travelers. Some are aliens speaking languages I don't understand (yet), and others are ships piloted by unseen captains. I wander around in first-person view, marveling at the scale and detail. When an alien merchant tries to communicate with me, I can only choose random dialogue options, hoping I'm not accidentally insulting their mother or agreeing to some bizarre space contract.

The Universe Awaits

As I write this, I've barely scratched the surface of No Man's Sky. I've visited exactly one planet and one space station. According to veterans, I have yet to experience:

• Building my own bases
• Commanding fleets of freighters
• Underwater exploration
• Discovering new species and uploading my findings
• Learning alien languages
• Reaching the center of the galaxy
• Whatever the heck the "Atlas" is that everyone keeps mentioning

What strikes me most about No Man's Sky isn't just its scale – though the idea of 18 quintillion planets is mind-boggling – but how it creates moments of genuine wonder. Standing on a cliff watching an alien sunset or seeing strange creatures interact with their environment, or that first moment breaking through the atmosphere into space... these are gaming experiences that feel transformative.

I don't know what lies ahead in my journey through this digital cosmos. I'll probably die a few more times, get lost frequently, and continue to make questionable economic decisions with alien traders. But that's part of the appeal – this universe feels boundless in its possibilities.

So if you're on the fence about trying No Man's Sky, especially after its rocky launch years ago, let me be the voice that says: jump in. The water (or, rather, the interstellar void) is fine. Come get lost among the stars.

See you in the cosmos, fellow travelers.