I like the steam communities. I really do. Plenty of the games I play have something in their hubs, forums and so on.  And in cases like mine, there are usually tips and complete walkthroughs I can dig up with quick ease. Better yet they can help me solve problems I can't tackle like; 'what the hell am I missing in Cargo Commander, and where can I f@$king find them!?'  So far there're at least two guides that help guide you the infinite sectors without spending roughly (sigh) thirty hours slogging your way through yourself. And it certainly does give a nice structure that the game doesn't already have. It's also my preferred way of playing it now.  And with that said, that's all there is to Cargo Commander. Which is a shame really.  Playing it again to get the snapshots was certainly enjoyable. Unsurprisingly my skills hadn't rusted, so I was able to have fun collecting space debris while looking for the best photoshoots.  But boy I did forget about the game's atmosphere.  It was far more grim then I remembered it to be. Oh sure I remembered how looting the skeletons of cargo commanders past could be worthwhile, and then, of course, all the monsters. But I had entirely forgotten about what the AI intercom systems in some of the cubes would say. "- Last message from Cargo Commander. So cold, so cold, so cold." (repeats a little longer) "-Notice from the board. The void is coming, the void is coming...it's here."  There were other things it would say too but I ignored it. Probably for good reason.   The atmosphere even affected my fictional family. The letters I got at the beginning were so bad I suppose, but there was definitely subtext about grim times back at the home. The best example I can think of actually took me by horrified surprise.  As I was looking through the kid's drawings I collected throughout the game (to show in one of the posts) I noticed that one of them wasn't just a blank sheet of paper. The fact that my fictional son had used the back of an eviction notice to draw a picture for me was... distressing, to say the least. Although it does hammer home what I said last time.  And it makes me hope that becoming the cargo commander supreme will save the day.  Until then I'll just sit back and let a certain song soothe my nerves. In many ways it reflects my current situation out here alone in space, with a flowing rhythm and bittersweet twang. Reminding of my homesick blues.  "It's a cold dark night in October~           As I wander till the morning light.                   I don't mind it's getting colder~                            Because my whole life is October night."  "Down the drain we'll go~              That is all we know, that we know.                           Into the great unknown~                                    That is all we know, that we know."

 Collecting random junk hidden inside blue little boxes is the staple bit of the game. And it can be fun as I know from first-hand experience.

You drill through a wall and enter into the mysterious cube to find not one, but TWO little blue boxes nestled next to a hulking monster. Swapping over to your shotgun you blast the beast until it is dead, collect it's cap (which is the game currency for upgrades in the level) and take your prize. Jumping back into the vacuum of space, which I just realized doesn't suck out the oxygen from any structure, you drift back to home base to discover that your priceless cargo is none other than a right sock, and a cracked mug.

 And the worst part is that I was thrilled about it too.

That's actually the weird thing in all of this. While most of what you find is either junk or everyday stuff, collecting it for the first time feels amazing. Each new find cranks up your status and unlocks automatic perks that you can use for the rest of the game, leading to the greatest perk which is to go home. But of course getting to that level isn't easy.

 There's a large number of things to collect to begin with, but as each sector only has a max of five unique items, you will have to explore the infinite cosmos which has been expanded by the players.

 And this is where you can separate 'just having fun' with 'beating the game naturally'. As one who has beaten it, I can say with all honesty that when the end credits started it was to my locked grimace and thousand yard stare. What I had done was not something I was proud of, but it was something that had needed to be done.

 Not that it started out that way.

For the first several sectors I had a blast. Everything was still most or less new to me and there was still plenty of unknown cargo out there. But as I collected more and more cargo I started hitting a wall.

 Since sectors are based on popularity and nothing else, the excitement for adventure gets dowsed pretty quickly when you're aware that the next sector could be the same as the last. And while there is a limited way of finding cargo you've already found in new sectors, there's no way of finding sectors that contain cargo you're missing.

This means you have no choice but to blinding explore sector after sector, hoping, praying, that this will bring you one step closer to completion. And if I haven't made this clear enough, this only happens when you're no longer playing just for fun. After a certain point it's a matter of pride.

As to how I managed this, if it isn't obvious already, then you'll have to wait for another day.

For every monumental decision that's made, there is often a smaller action that was its cause. Case in point for Cargo Commander.

From what I gleaned from the story, at least, from what little there was, I used to be your everyday average Joe working a boring nine to five job down at Box Co. (Ah yes Box Co. For all your rectangular cardboard needs, look no further than your local Box Co.) Anyway, all this came to an abrupt end when I discovered my five-year-old son was disappointed about having a boring dad.

Welp. Can't have that, now can we?

Naturally, my first response as a sensible and responsible parent was to quit my stable job, chucking out my hard earned 401K in the process, and applied for the most dangerous job in the whole universe.

 All to earn the respect of a child whose age hasn't even reached double digits.

I really wish I was making this up by the way. But I'm not. Throughout the course of the game you're spoon fed bits of the backstory from your wife in her letters, who apparently is ok with the whole thing. This either means the paycheck I bring in now must be massive, or, could indicate that impressing my son wasn't really the reason I left to become a cargo commander.

 But in either case, it makes me question the sanity of my character. And the worst part is I'm really hoping that reason is because of Tim from accounting and a failing marriage, and not because of a kid with undeveloped world views.

I mean seriously. I'm stuck in the middle of space fighting for survival against murderous crystal things because my son thought I was "boring"? Even though I know he's part of a fictional family that's not mine, I just can't get over that!

No! Not even the heartwarmingly bad crayon drawings (which they send me whenever I complete an achievement) makes up for that... Well, actually there is one I find pretty sw-, Goddamnit NO! NOT EVEN THAT ONE!

Of course being stranded in space isn't permanent. Eventually, once you climb through the ranks and become the Cargo Commander, you're finally allowed to go home for some much needed vacation leave as end credits roll by. But to do that you'll need to collect every conceivable piece of junk in space first... and that's harder than you think.

 Being a cargo commander has very easy to follow goals. Wake up. Drink coffee. Think about where you are, have a sudden epiphany, ignore it and get to work.

  Okay it doesn't happen exactly like that but you get the idea. In reality, I travel to a sector and then flipped cargo corps patented magneto field which attracts all nearby cubes towards it. As there's a delay between incoming cubes I then have to charge through, collect all the useless crap I can find, and get to the next cube. And mainly  that's due to the fact that after a period of time a black hole opens up out of nowhere and sucks all but my cube into it.

 Funnily enough, considering how frequently it happens, I've come to the conclusion that my magneto field might have something to do with this. Crazy right?

 Anyway, once the black hole appears it's time to charge back home in a hurry. The incentive being that the cubes begin to disintegrate in the reverse order they arrived in, regardless if you happen to be inside it or not.

 Not that it mattered much for me. It was always more effective to drill my way out and glide through the vacuumous void then waste my time retracing my route...and it was more fun.

Who needs a stupid helmet in space

 Space hopping (at least that's what I'm calling it) is all part of the game. In some cases, that would be the easiest way of getting inside an abandoned cube safety. I'd carve a hole through my home, leap out into space, glide to the cube and find a spot to drill. All while nervously watching my air bar, which when depleted starts wearing down your health.

 Walls were not the only things you could destroy in the game, floors too. In essence, you could carve your way out of a potential labyrinth just by drilling up, and it was a time saver too. The only thing the drill didn't harm was the mutant things. Although there have been many times I flushed out them into space by drilling through the floor they were standing on.

But death by questionable asphyxiation isn't the only way of dealing with the mobs. There's also the company issued nail gun, which I instantly traded out whenever I found a better weapon. And for good reason.