The Unfinished Journey of the 'Dust Cleaner'

Stardust Odyssey is a game I had previously experienced in its short version, which ended after just three turns. Whether by fate or mischief, when I returned to play the full version, I ended up with the same character—“the Dust Collector.” The only difference was the longer playtime. Yet, the feeling of frustration remained when the game ended.

The short version served as an introduction to the world of “Dust City.” We were introduced to the four characters and their initial status stats, which made it immediately clear who stood where in the social hierarchy. Part of me felt unlucky to be assigned what seemed like the lowest-status role, but another part wanted to take on the challenge—to win, just to smirk in satisfaction.

At first, I was worried about the variety of cards and the seemingly complex rules from the brochure. But once I started playing, I understood the system from the first round. The game is divided into routine-based phases like working and leisure activities to increase various stats. There are two types of victory: collective victory, which unlocks benefits and makes the city easier to live in—akin to improving welfare; and personal victory, which is unique to each character.

In the short version, the Game Master selected just one example of each type of victory. The personal victory chosen was “Happy Dust City,” which happened to be the Dust Cleaner goal—the character I was playing. In the full version, this would be my target objective.

But then came the “Stars Collector”—the capitalist born with the best starting stats in the game. He was able to take high-level jobs right away, unlike us who had to drive around as delivery riders. He seized our dream from the very beginning and completed his goal, ending the game. However, curious to keep playing, he chose to unlock the collective victory instead—allowing everyone to continue. But it didn’t feel like real progress. In the disaster event phase, our city was struck by a storm, and my friends and I ended up in the hospital. From then on, our game looped endlessly between doing rider jobs and going back to sleep boxes (the hospital), never once getting close to touching the stardust again.

In the full game, I drew the same character again. But this time, I understood how the game worked, so I went straight for personal victory. That goal never left my mind. However, I knew it wouldn’t be easy without good welfare in the city. The full game offered more job options, and I chose dust sweeping as my first job. At the beginning, I was both vacuuming and sweeping the city’s dust. I focused on work, keeping my health just high enough to survive the next round, spending money sparingly. Yet misfortune struck again when a storm hit the city in the first round.

Two things were hard to believe: one, how was this déjà vu happening again? And two, the capitalist—the “Stars Collector”—ended up helping me the most. Everyone needed to take out loans, and I knew I couldn’t afford to borrow too much—I wouldn’t be able to take C-level jobs to pay it off. The capitalist loaned the most out of everyone. I knew he could help more, but he said, “I already helped a lot.” And in that situation, I couldn’t really argue. If he hadn’t helped, I would’ve been done for.

After a few turns, everyone started realizing that collective victory was the key to opening up opportunities and easing the game. We collaborated on unlocking every collective victory card—getting good public transport, cheaper goods, and recognition (the Memory stat, crucial in gameplay). Even though I helped build these welfare systems with everyone else, I never forgot my personal goal.

In the full version, I also encountered a new mechanic: People cards. When traveling to different locations, you can meet new characters—some friendly, some not. You have to maintain relationships with them for mutual benefit. Then I met one companion, a teacher. His card’s back said something like “I caught the outcasts ,” along with other lines I didn’t note down, but I sensed he was proud of what he did. I paused while reading because I realized what or who he represented in society. No matter how useful he could be, I just couldn’t bring myself to befriend him.

Another moment that triggered a twinge of irritation didn’t come from a character card but from the player who was the Stars Collector (the city’s capitalist). He said, “Unlocking the collective victory feels refreshing.” His voice was sweet, his demeanor cheerful. At that moment, he had climbed up and sat on the table. Actually, he had been in that position for a while. As I looked up at him, I felt like I was receiving his divine blessing.

It shouldn't feel like this.

I was genuinely happy to have improved welfare and easier living conditions. Everyone had equal opportunities to build their lives. I contributed to making that happen—even just a little, with a few coins and some votes.

But somehow, that one sentence stung.

In the end, our game didn’t reach a final conclusion. We spent too much time discussing things, and it ended at turn 5. I was confident that in the next turn, I would unlock my personal victory and be the only one to win the game. But we never got that far.

Even so, I know I definitely want to play again. It was so fun—both entertaining and eye-opening. It made me see certain social structures more clearly. And if I end up as the Dust Cleaner again next time, I’ll try a new tactic: take out a loan to buy food and gear to upgrade my status right from the start—just to see if I can beat the capitalist at his own game.