The Banished Vault review: an awesome, brutal management simulation in space

As I entered my 23rd solar system, I knew this was the end. My small group of exiles is running out of faith — a pillar of their monastic identity, as well as a core game mechanic. At a glance, planets in this region of space don’t have the resources or land masses for me to build important outposts or craft important items. I don’t have enough stasis—a liquid matrix that allows the exiles to survive the harsh intersolar hibernation. Eventually, they will become tired and lose the ability to perform any action, which is the equivalent of curling up in a ball and waiting to die.

Banished Vault is essentially a single-player tabletop scenario that has been honed into a brutal, sinister tool for survival and resource management. Each solar system is a procedurally generated experiment with spiritual vibes like the one that required moving a group of people and a hungry lion between two islands in a boat. That is war art for logisticians written by a Spacegoth Dune spirit. Mentally, I call the game The vault is punished. It’s the most exhausting thing I’ve played in years and I love it.

I was in charge of the Auriga Vault, one of many mysterious interstellar monastery cities that charted the universe. Somewhere on the edge of space, it encountered a planet-eating entity called Gloom, which decimated its inhabitants. The surviving skeleton crew, now known as the exiles, devoted the rest of their lives to documenting their journey. To complete the game, I had to help the exiles complete four Chronicles entries in a structure called a Scriptorium, which can only be built on a specially sanctified planet.

Each solar system has its own random conditions, some of which resemble the work of the cosmic devil himself: Young systems can have small asteroids with just a single resource, while old, dying systems have increased interplanetary travel times. Faced with an ink-black abyss dotted with small stars, I direct my team to gather resources, build outposts, craft items, unearth artifacts to unlock abilities, and whenever possible, head to the Divine planet (if any) to write the next chronicle.

Image: Lunar Division/Bithell Games

Fuel and iron are important, but things like titanium and silica can be a gamble — sometimes I find myself diving into a system that lacks a resource I need, with no way to move forward, meaning having to start the whole game over. I roll the dice to make my way through the hazards, which grow and strengthen in humorously cruel ways as my ordeal continues. It was inevitable that Gloom would come upon us. After 30 turns, it begins to devour pieces of the geological map; more often than not, it also devours my exiles.

I spent hours in a state of fascination with fuel calculations and daring maneuvers while the universe contracted around me; My state of intense concentration is aided by a brilliant atmospheric soundtrack with deep reverberations and the vocals of the cosmic choir. Overall, I’m bad at math, but because of the Vault, I get every cell in my left brain working. Every click is a commitment to its consequences, because there’s no undo button—when I mess up, I have to start a new game. Every slightly misplaced building or small miscalculation caused a panic because I knew I would pay dearly for it. With each reboot, I wonder if the game is over-tuned, or if my exiles are dirty heretics with no intention of writing their stories. My most successful plays were strung tighter than a tripod, pumping out as much stasis and confidence potion as possible without me risking too much.

My frustration melted away as I accepted the harsh, exacting reality of survival in space; Banished Vault not a territorial struggle or a cozy terrain where I can settle down and make a home. There is no conquest or diplomacy. I don’t have an army and a bunker to stock up on a safety net – I don’t even have a lucrative year to reap from, much less seven. I just need to collect the minimum amount to get to the next solar system.

Image: Lunar Division/Bithell Games

With all these extreme hardships, it made sense to reflect on who or what I was suffering. The 46-page game guide is just a click away, so I can get a quick reference on building materials and mechanics, but it also includes very selective lore passages. The beautiful black and white illustrations evoke the gothic sensibilities of William Blake’s engravings and the unknowability of these. drawing in 1906 for War of the Worlds. The intricate diagonal gives the manual a type Victorian times, an almost anthropological quality, like a meticulously crafted companion to the exiles’ monastic duty to the Chronicle. The four entries in the Chronicles themselves offer no answers or specific details about the exiles – only tantalizingly vague bits and pieces mixed with esoteric religious allegory. If the monks of Auriga believed in a god or a specific higher power before Gloom, it forgot them.

After I finished my first playthrough, I was both horrified and delighted to find two new modes: Hard and Intense. I’ve been playing Normal the whole time, which is a revelation for my inner masochistic gauge. I may not have signed up to play brutal 4D chess yet, but I’m not giving up now. Five minutes later, with only two turns until my first Tension match, I was ready to take the exiles out of the airlock into the arms of a kinder fate. Every difficulty provides the same amount of resources initially (fuel, iron, elixir, etc.), but the number and intensity of hazards and complexity at this level increase – my skull is leaking.

After many reboots, I spend all 30 turns creating just enough stagnation for everyone to survive; Just as I was about to put the party into hibernation, I realized that we had left one person behind at the outpost. I didn’t get a chance to gather the knowledge to upgrade my exiles and forge them against the atrocities of the next solar system, the one that is sure to be tougher than this one. Intense isn’t for me, but I enjoy my brief time in its sweltering conditions creating dramatic end-of-life obviouss for my crew.

Image: Lunar Division/Bithell Games

If the civilization of the exiles established this monastic exploration program as a means of colonization (a la the Alien Engineers), the Auriga Vault is the inevitable result of human arrogance meeting cosmic entropy. There’s a hint of sly interest in the reverse dynamics of these soon-to-be colonists fleeing before a total attrition force annihilates them. It makes no sense to ponder the taste of their imperialism or the exact nature of their religion and its rapid spread across the universe through these huge colonial vaults. I’ll never know anything meaningful about their house – which is said to be where the Chronicle was transmitted. The narrative is deliberately sparse, but elegant in both form and function: The omissions and negative space here work to bond me to the exiles more than any store of lore could.

Banished Vault if yes, be a master class in the economy and cruelty of survival in space where every movement matters. It is completely uncompromising in molding the player to its will and vision, and it is right to do so. I realized that my vague, inability to hold my exiles together had become fused with my own confidence in what I was doing; I’m not interested in analyzing the minutiae of their civilization, I’m more interested in having a chutzpah and half-hearted math to get us through.

Banished Vault will be released on July 25th on Windows PCs. The game has been evaluated on PC using a pre-release download code provided by Bithell Games. Vox Media has an affiliate partnership. These do not affect editorial content, although Vox Media may earn commissions for products purchased through affiliate links. You can find Additional information on Polygon’s ethics policy can be found here.