Orbital Blues is a game that wears its theme proudly and delivers on it beautifully. From the moment you open the book, you’re struck by how the art perfectly captures the “sad cowboys in space” aesthetic—lonely drifters, smoky starports, and the melancholy beauty of the frontier between the stars. The visual design isn’t just window dressing; it pulls you into the mood before you’ve even rolled a die. The layout supports that aesthetic as well, balancing evocative illustrations with clean presentation so that every page feels atmospheric yet still approachable for reference at the table.
Mechanically, Orbital Blues strikes a sweet spot between simplicity and depth. The rules are streamlined, intuitive, and easy to learn, but they also give players plenty of freedom to lean into character-driven storytelling. The system supports both the thrill of daring heists and the quieter, more introspective moments of life aboard a beat-up starship. Nothing feels overcomplicated or bogged down—everything from character creation to conflict resolution flows smoothly, letting the narrative and the theme remain front and center. For a game so steeped in mood and tone, having mechanics that never distract from the experience is a huge strength.
Finally, the book itself is a pleasure to use. The organization is thoughtful, with rules and guidance laid out in a way that’s both logical and easy to reference during play. The marriage of text and illustration feels deliberate, guiding the reader’s eye without ever overwhelming the information. It’s clear that care went into making sure this wasn’t just a rulebook, but an artifact that reinforces the world it’s inviting you into. As a whole, Orbital Blues is one of those rare RPGs where the mechanics, art, and theme are in complete harmony. It’s not just a game—it’s an experience.