The Outer Worlds 2 Removes a Key Player Choice to Make Role-Playing More Meaningful

Earth Directorate Commander Ash was dispatched to handle a labor dispute on behalf of Auntie’s Choice, a move meant to curry favor with the powerful corporate entity. Ash wasn’t exactly a model officer—she leaned more toward the outlaw end of the spectrum—but she excelled at shooting, lockpicking, and talking her way through tense situations. Going in, I felt confident that my character was well-equipped to reach a resolution that favored the workers without things getting too messy.

I managed to infiltrate the restricted factory with little trouble and even uncovered some valuable blackmail material on the manager overseeing the operation before confronting her about the strike. I laid out the workers’ demands clearly and expected the discussion to end in my favor. After all, I had invested heavily in speech skills, and persuasion had served me well up to that point.

That confidence didn’t last long. It quickly became obvious that dialogue alone wasn’t going to resolve this situation. From the manager’s perspective, meeting the workers’ demands would put production quotas at risk, and that was non-negotiable. A character built around engineering or hacking might have sabotaged the factory systems to force a compromise, but that wasn’t who Commander Ash was. My skillset was narrow by design, and I had already exhausted the options it provided.

With no other paths available, Ash handled the problem the way she knew best. She put a bullet in the manager’s head and told the striking workers to handle the rest themselves. What could have felt like a design shortcoming—being denied a more diplomatic solution—ended up feeling appropriate, even satisfying, given the character I had created.

The limited number of skill points available in The Outer Worlds 2 forces players to specialize rather than dabble.

In earlier RPGs of a similar style—including modern Fallout titles, Cyberpunk 2077, and even the original The Outer Worlds—I often struggled to fully connect with the narrative. Not because the stories were weak, but because of how I tend to play games. I like to see everything in a single playthrough, avoiding the need to replay content just to experience different outcomes.

That mindset usually led me to create unfocused characters. I’d spread skill points across combat, inventory management, and utility skills, ending up with someone who was capable in many areas but excelled in none. High-level skill checks were often out of reach, and if respec options existed, I’d use them liberally. If not, I’d grind until I could brute-force my way through. While this approach let me see most of the content, it also made the experience feel flatter and more predictable.

The Outer Worlds 2 actively resists that style of play. Outside of a single respec opportunity early in the game, your choices are permanent. Progression is deliberately paced, and each level grants only two skill points across a large and varied skill list. For someone like me, that meant committing to a build and living with the consequences.

Because of that, I went into character creation with a clear plan. I chose an outlaw background and focused almost entirely on guns, speech, and lockpicking. I envisioned Ash as a fast-talking space gunslinger—someone who could talk her way into restricted areas, break in when words failed, and rely on her weapon when things inevitably went south. I even invested a couple of points into medicine, though doing so meant falling just short of a crucial lockpicking requirement later in a main quest.

Not every obstacle can be bypassed with lockpicks alone.

While my speech skills frequently got me out of trouble, they weren’t a universal solution. Some NPCs simply couldn’t be persuaded, and certain doors demanded hacking or technical expertise I didn’t possess. Still, I was rarely stuck outright. I just had to approach problems using the tools I had chosen, rather than the ones I wished I had.

This design pushed me into a deeper role-playing mindset. Without the safety net of respecs, every decision carried weight. I had moments where I talked low-level guards into realizing their employers didn’t care about them, sending them fleeing instead of fighting. Other times, when a villain launched into a long-winded speech about the galaxy, choosing to attack immediately felt completely justified.

It may seem obvious to praise role-playing in a role-playing game, but many modern RPGs dilute that experience through flexibility systems that erase consequences. Earlier this year, while playing Avowed, I frequently reshaped my character’s abilities to suit new weapons or situations, even though I had a clear idea of who my character was narratively.

In The Outer Worlds 2, I often had to accept outcomes that weren’t ideal because they were the natural result of my earlier choices. The flaws system reinforces this philosophy. My habit of constantly reloading weapons became something I could lean into, granting bonuses as long as I avoided emptying my magazine entirely.

These choices also influenced my companions. Niles, once an optimistic Earth Directorate loyalist, gradually adopted Ash’s worldview. Through my actions, he learned that massive organizations rarely protect individuals, and that sometimes violence is the only effective solution.

So while executing that factory manager might sound like a blunt or unsatisfying resolution on paper, it was entirely consistent with the character I had built. Instead of undoing my decisions or chasing an ideal outcome, I was forced to act within my limitations. In doing so, a simple moment became one of the most memorable experiences I had with the game.