Скачать или смотреть Star Citizen VR: Not Here for Combat, Here for the Awe

What is Star Citizen?    • The Future of Gaming: StarEngine  (4K)  

Before I take the Carrack out into the black, I’m doing the sensible thing and checking that I’m not rusty.

Star Citizen is not the kind of game where you can wing it and expect the universe to forgive you. A sloppy approach, a bad landing, a moment of tunnel vision in traffic, and suddenly you’ve turned an evening into a recovery operation. Losing a big ship is always upsetting, even with insurance, because the loss is not just the hull. It’s the time you invested, the momentum of the run, the supplies you stacked, the vehicles you staged, and the whole plan you were building as you went.

So this video is a warm-up run above microTech and New Babbage. A quick road test before the real trip starts. I’m getting my hands back into the rhythm, checking that my HOTAS muscle memory is behaving, and making sure my decision-making is clean before I commit an expedition platform to a long journey. This is me doing the boring, responsible part first, so the cinematic part doesn’t end in a smoking crater.

For the shakedown, I’m flying the Gatac Syulen, a ship born from alien-human collaboration. It’s ideal for this kind of session. It’s agile enough to let you feel immediately whether you’re sharp or sloppy, but still grounded enough to keep it practical. It’s also a reminder that even the “smaller” ships in this game can feel like a real vehicle with real presence, especially when you’re looking out over microTech’s ice and cloud layers.

And I’m staying paranoid, because out here paranoia is not anxiety. It’s posture. It’s the price of staying alive.

Space has the obvious dangers: Rocks, terrain, gravity, bugs, NPC nonsense, and the occasional moment where the game decides your ship is now a liquid. But the most dangerous variable is always other players. They’re the wildcard you can’t model. Some will ignore you, some will help you, some will shadow you to see if you’re careless, and some are simply here to ruin someone’s day for sport. That’s not a complaint. It’s part of what makes the verse feel real. The environment is harsh, sure, but humans are the part that changes the rules without warning.

So I fly like I’m being watched, because sometimes I am.

But let me be clear about one thing. It’s been years since I deleted another player and blew up their ship, and that’s not why I’m here. I’m not playing Star Citizen for combat. I’m not chasing kill counts, and I’m not trying to “win” the verse. I’m here for the awe. The scale. The silence. The moments where you cut the engines and a planet hangs in front of you like something sacred. The feeling that you’re small, and the universe doesn’t care, and somehow that makes it even more beautiful.

That’s why I avoid trouble instead of hunting it.

That means I don’t loiter in obvious lanes. I don’t hang around at popular points of interest. I keep my exits clean. I pay attention to radar contacts and behaviour, not just distance. I don’t assume safety just because the sky looks calm. And if something feels off, I leave. No pride, no “one more minute,” no gambling a big ship because I wanted to finish a thought.

This is step one of the expedition. A test flight, a systems check, a mindset check. If all of this feels solid, then the Carrack comes out properly. We load up, we pick our route, and we go quiet into the black.

If you’re coming along, welcome aboard.