The Outer Worlds 2 gjør premiumspillerne sine til spøk med «forbrukerisme»-feilen

In The Outer Worlds 2, Obsidian Entertainment’s taste for dark comedy has found a new target: its own players. Those who purchased the $100 premium edition—granting five days of early access, two future DLCs, and digital extras —discovered an unexpected bonus: a flaw called “Consumerism.” The game quietly adds this trait to their character, describing it with brutal precision: “Promotions and sales have riddled your brain, and you're more interested in buying the next big thing than financial planning.”

The effect isn’t severe, mechanically speaking. It reduces the value of all sales to vendors by 10%, but discounts all shop prices by 15%. The net result is a mild advantage disguised as mockery—a five percent gain wrapped in satire. Yet its real impact isn’t in the numbers. It’s in the line that precedes the perk:

“You’re the reason our marketing works.

That bite, half-smile and half-sneer, reflects a familiar Obsidian rhythm. The studio has long used its RPG systems to comment on the world outside them. The first Outer Worlds was built on a foundation of corporate absurdity, where slogans and profit margins outweighed morality. This time, the critique has folded inward. Instead of satirizing fictional brands, it’s aimed squarely at the player’s wallet.

It’s a strange kind of honesty—one that acknowledges the economics sustaining the very industry it mocks. Early-access incentives and premium editions have become standard practice across major releases, from shooters to RPGs. They generate strong returns despite years of backlash. The Outer Worlds 2 doesn’t ignore that reality; it weaponizes it for a joke.

To Obsidian’s credit, “Consumerism” isn’t a paywalled advantage or a hidden penalty. It’s optional and self-contained, offering little more than a wink at those willing to pay for the privilege. But its existence also underlines an unease that runs through the game’s marketing. The premium edition, while generous with its add-ons, embodies the very systems the series ridicules. The contradiction isn’t lost on anyone—including the developers.

Obsidian’s writing team has long treated player disadvantages as opportunities for humor. Earlier previews showed off a range of character flaws that distort play in absurd ways. One, called “Bad Knees,” makes every crouch and rise sound like breaking glass, alerting nearby enemies to your location. Another, “Sungazer,” simulates cataracts, washing the screen in blinding light until basic navigation becomes a challenge. These aren’t just jokes—they define the studio’s approach to immersion through imperfection.

“The problem is, any time you stand up, your knees are gonna make a loud popping noise that makes it so that, well, everyone around you is gonna hear you,” explained an Obsidian developer during a showcase earlier this year.

The line was delivered straight, without irony, which somehow made it funnier.

The studio’s affection for this kind of self-defeating humor runs deep. The Outer Worlds 2 leans harder into chaos than its predecessor, treating failure as part of the story rather than a condition to avoid. Where the first game often hesitated to punish the player too much, the sequel seems comfortable with discomfort. That design choice aligns with Obsidian’s broader philosophy: choices are only meaningful when they come with pain attached.

Still, there’s an irony in seeing that philosophy extend to marketing. The “Consumerism” flaw may read as a wink, but it also functions as a mirror. It turns the act of preordering—a routine transaction—into a role-playing decision. Buy early, and the game calls you out for it. Laugh it off, and you’ve joined the joke. Feel stung, and you’ve confirmed it.

For Obsidian, this circular teasing is part of the fun. The studio’s acquisition by Microsoft has done little to blunt its self-awareness. In fact, some of the premium edition’s item names, such as “Commander Zane’s Anti-Monopolistic Battle Pack,” make the irony explicit. It’s gallows humor from a team now owned by one of the largest corporations in the industry.

Whether this satire softens or deepens the contradiction depends on the player. On one hand, it’s refreshing to see a major studio acknowledge the absurdity of selling anti-monopoly bundles through a corporate parent. On the other, it risks feeling like deflection—an inside joke that leaves the system intact.

Still, the gesture fits The Outer Worlds’ lineage. The series has always been more about observation than moral clarity, letting laughter fill the space where outrage might go. In that sense, the “Consumerism” flaw isn’t just a gag at the expense of premium buyers. It’s an emblem of the entire franchise: aware, self-critical, and still willing to play along.