Warning: Spoilers for Starfield lie ahead.
I’m playing Starfield. My wife’s leaving me.
Or, at least it feels like she should be. None of the toilet paper I’m hoarding has been thrown at me. None of my other shitty belongings have been angrily flushed out of an airlock. No one’s crying. All she’s doing is glaring at me through narrowed eyes, a look of distaste carved across her perfectly-proportioned face.