Lightyear Frontier review: The Chill Frontier Where No Farmer Has Gone Before
We’re diving headfirst into the cosmic rodeo that is Lightyear Frontier, where your space boots will get more dirt on 'em from farming than from kicking alien ass. This ain’t your grandpappy’s space journey; it’s more like Stardew Valley had a steamy affair with MechWarrior, and their lovechild decided to become an interstellar farmer instead of a galaxy-trotting warrior.
Welcome to Space Farmville – Minus the Annoying Facebook Invites
First off, let me set the record straight: if you’re looking to pew-pew your way across the galaxy, you’re barking up the wrong asteroid. Lightyear Frontier is all about swapping those blasters for planters and turning your battlefield prowess into agricultural awesomeness. It’s like the game devs decided that space could do with more greenery and less graveyard.
The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of Space Horticulture
Here’s the skinny: you’re a mech pilot. But instead of shredding through enemies like a hot knife through space butter, you’re ploughing fields and sowing seeds. The game throws you into a lush, alien world that’s so damn beautiful you’ll wanna frame screenshots of it and hang 'em on your wall.
But Here’s the Catch – Farming Ain’t Always Peaceful
Just when you think you can relax with a cold one and watch your space carrots grow, the game tosses in evil seed pods from the cosmos, because why the hell not? It’s like Mother Nature went to a rave, popped some bad pills, and decided to crash your party. Luckily, your mech comes equipped with the galaxy's version of a Dyson vacuum to suck those troublemakers up before they wreck your zen garden.
Your Mech: A Farmer’s Best Friend
Let’s talk about your ride. This ain’t no sleek, futuristic war machine. It’s more like the lovechild of a tractor and a tank with a dash of sci-fi flair. Piloting this bad boy feels like you’re a space cowboy riding a metal stallion. Sure, it handles like a drunk elephant on rollerskates when you first get behind the controls, but give it time, and you’ll be doing space donuts around your crops like a pro.
Now, It Ain’t All Moonlight and Magnolias
Lightyear Frontier has its fair share of “What the actual fuck?” moments. For starters, who in the cosmic council decided keybindings were overrated? And the mech, bless its heart, has the stability of a one-legged droid in a bar fight. You’ll spend more time tipping over and flailing around than a toddler in a bouncy castle.
And the map? It’s like someone decided to make a galaxy-sized corn maze without an exit. You’ll find yourself wandering around, wondering if the game is a subtle punishment for sins committed in a past life.
The Visuals: A Feast for the Eyes
On a serious note, the game is a visual masterpiece. The colors pop like a neon sign in a dingy alley, and the landscapes are so breathtaking, you’ll forgive the game’s quirks and bugs. It’s like someone took your childhood dream of space, dipped it in LSD, and turned it into a video game.
The Verdict: Stellar or Just Space Junk?
Lightyear Frontier is like a weird, beautiful dream where you’re not sure if you’re having the time of your life or if you’ve just inhaled too much lunar dust. It’s a game that dares to be different, trading laser guns for lettuce guns and proving that there’s more to life in the cosmos than just blowing shit up.
It’s a solid 8/10 for me – a breath of fresh space air in a genre cluttered with the same old star wars (pun absolutely intended). If you’ve ever fantasized about ditching the hero gig to become a space farmer, this game’s for you. Just remember: in space, no one can hear you scream... unless you forget to water your plants.
We at NLM received a key for this game for free, this however didn’t impact our review in any way.