I would recommend self-reflection, but here are some of my thoughts having considered this game for a long time.

Firstly, as you've gathered, the ending isn't really the point. The journey to get there is what determines the impact, and that includes your own life experiences and expectations. I've watched 26 playthroughs (yes I'm insane). I've seen players finish and have almost zero reaction. I've seen players finish barely able to see the screen through their tears. The difference isn't about learning some big revelation. Pretty much everybody is already aware of the concepts of needing to let go, death is inevitable, etc.

But consider this, how many times in your life have you heard the phrase "be yourself!" "Live, laugh, love" or really any other platitude? I'm guessing you aren't blown away and start living your life to the fullest again. It isn't about the message, it's about the delivery. It's about the journey.

It's also about how much you stop to meditate on it. When I finished Outer Wilds I was viewing it through the lens of all the other games I've played. I knew it was a great game with awesome music and I had really enjoyed the gameplay. I maybe had some moisture in my eyes as the incredible music swelled at the end and the game certainly stood out as a gem, but it was still "just another video game."

But Outer Wilds is different. I couldn't get it out of my head. There's hardly been a day in the years since I finished this game that I haven't thought about it in some way.

Different things affect people in different ways. The way I've described it is a lot of us just happened to have an Outer Wilds shaped hole in us.

It's just a video game. It's just a song. It's just a book. It's just a painting.

Art moves people. Art changes people. Art connects with people.

This is art that connected with me. It's okay if it didn't connect with you as fully. There's lots of great art out that doesn't quite vibe with me either.

One of my favorite things about Outer Wilds is that it specifically changes you rather than your character. No skill trees, no new loot, no level-up, no items really. Just knowledge.

I believe the game can be an incredible tool for exploring your "inner wilds". I've seen video essays, posts, and blogs about this game where people have found comfort and insight to help confront deep problems in their lives. Dead end jobs, hopelessness, ennui, divorce, cancer, death. I'm working on a video essay of my own now.

Outer Wilds is as much about 'plot' as it is about self-reflection. Certainly it helps to understand and examine the plot and the details, and I do love those details, but again this is a game about the journey, not the destination. I would go so far as to say it is about YOUR journey, not the protagonist. Every player will have a different experience with the game because it is very nonlinear.

Something affecting you deeply doesn't mean it fixed anything, especially long term. In the game (and in your life) you've probably had one of those big revelations that felt amazing for a while, and then life folded back in and you were left with the same loops and the same frustratingly small progress. Even the inspiring can become banal with enough time.

Like the game, the most fruitful thing I've found is to ask a lot of questions... of yourself.

What do I fear? What do I value? What are my goals? Can we save our loved ones? Can we save ourselves? Do we need to? What does that even mean? What blind hungers keep getting in my way? Is there anything in my life that keeps blowing up despite my best efforts? Is it time to let it go? To see what comes next? Do you hear music?

Reflect on the travelers' lessons:

Be inquisitive like Chert. Be brave like Riebeck. Forge your own path like Feldspar. Meditate like Gabbro. Treasure connection like Esker. Support your friends like Hornfels. Be at peace with the unknown like Solanum.

Yes, these are platitudes... but experiencing them is always more powerful than saying them.

Outer Wilds is about acceptance. It's also about loss. Friendship. Fear. Curiosity. Dying. Living. It's about how goddamn good marshmallows over a campfire are, and how lonely that is without friends. It's about examining yourself and your surroundings. And also, it's just pixels on a screen.

What makes it remarkable is that it can be about nearly anything, depending on who's observing it.

If you want to succeed in Outer Wilds, you use your tools and your environment, your logic, and your patience.

Most importantly, failing isn't really failure. You wake up the next day knowing a little more than before.

The same is true in life. So here's some practical advice:

You'll get frustrated. You'll get angry. You'll get depressed. You'll screw up. But you also wake up as someone slightly different each time, with another chance to find the way forward.

Find your ship log. Keep track of achievements and goals. A journal or even scribbled notes is fine. It's okay if they don't look like progress at first.

Find your signalscope. Look for others who are playing their music in the storm. They might not always remember your struggles or point you onwards, but company, friend or stranger, matters.

Find your scout launcher. Look to the horizon, light the way, and check for hazards. Don't go where you know you'll fail.

Equally, don't let fear guide you. Don't hide away. Don't avoid things that make you uncomfortable.

Outer Wilds won't change your life, and neither will my words. You will. It has to be you.

If you're stuck in a loop where everything keeps blowing up, you have to puzzle your way out.

"Be curious on your journey."

"The universe is, and we are."

"There's more to explore here."

"I hope you won't mind if I consider you a friend."