I blast my way through another hulking dragoon, and run off down a corridor, companions breathlessly in tow. Surrounded by doors, I pick one before the next platoon of goons can descend upon us. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Nirvana. A rare breather from The Outer Worlds 2‘s rollercoaster of shooting and talking.
For a moment, I just take it in. Breathing deeply, my nostrils fill with the scent of fresh bleach. My mouth waters at the sight of surfaces you could eat your lunch off of. My eyes widen at the brilliance of the gold trim. Somehow, I can hear the fact there mush be a fresh roll in each perfectly-maintained cubicle.
