Star Trek: Voyager – Across the Unknown reader review – Reader’s Feature

There’s never been a truly great Star Trek game, but one reader is impressed by this new roguelike and management sim based on the Voyager TV show.

Star Trek’s roguelike interpretation of Voyager’s journey across the Delta Quadrant has arrived on PC and home consoles, as both a tribute and a trial. It cloaks itself in the reassuring tone of the franchise’s most optimistic series, evoking the spirit of exploration, resilience, and moral resolve that defined Voyager’s long voyage home. Yet beneath that familiar veneer lies a far less forgiving experience – one that demands preparation, adaptability, and careful decision-making.

This is not merely a nostalgic return to a beloved era of Star Trek but a gruelling test of survival where every misstep carries consequences and the journey home must be earned rather than being assured. The game serves as both a gentle rebuke to those who questioned Janeway’s decisions and a mechanical re-examination of them, using the roguelike format to demonstrate that not every choice leads to the outcome you remember.

It is tough, uncompromising, and capable of turning a single poor decision into a cascade of failure that ends your journey long before Earth comes into view. It captures the aesthetic and charm of the series with remarkable authenticity – but it will pull the rug from under you without hesitation.

Across The Unknown splices together two of gaming’s most compelling modern genres: the relentless attrition of the roguelike, exemplified by FTL: Faster Than Light, and the layered personalisation of the bunker builder, as seen in Fallout Shelter – all infused with the distinct flavour of the Final Frontier.

This hybridisation becomes apparent almost immediately through the game’s approach to customisation. The pristine, orderly vessel, familiar from the early seasons, is gone, replaced instead with something far more fragile and uncertain. Voyager is no longer an untouchable symbol of Federation engineering but a compromised, scavenged vessel more akin to the battered survivor depicted in the reimagined Battlestar Galactica.

You are not simply commanding Voyager – you are rebuilding it, piece by piece, before time, scarcity, and hostile forces conspire to finish what the Caretaker began. That process fosters a deeper sense of ownership and emotional investment. This is no longer the series as it was written; this is your ship, your crew, and their survival rests entirely on your judgement.

Every system repaired, every resource rationed, and every life risked becomes part of a personal narrative shaped through play rather than memory. In many ways, it represents the harsher interpretation of the premise that fans long imagined but rarely saw realised: a lone Federation ship flung across an unforgiving galaxy, not merely encountering the unknown but enduring it.

This is not a multi-million dollar AAA spectacle but something more modest in scope, yet no less sincere in its intentions. It carries an aesthetic and charm that feel unmistakably authentic to the Star Trek universe, while never disguising its foundation as a roguelike. That identity informs every layer of its design, from presentation to progression.

The game alternates between two distinct perspectives. The first is an intimate, side-on view of Voyager itself, where the slow and methodical process of reconstruction unfolds. Here, every repaired system and reassigned crew member reflects incremental progress against overwhelming odds.

The second shifts outward, allowing you to guide the ship between planets and points of interest across each sector. Navigation in these moments adopts a style reminiscent of the deliberate, measured traversal seen in Mass Effect, where the Normandy moved with purpose across a strategic map rather than through continuous cinematic spectacle.

You won’t find sweeping fly-bys or dramatic camera flourishes here. Instead, Voyager is represented in a simplified, top-down form as you chart your course from one uncertain encounter to the next. It bears resemblance to the presentation style of Star Trek Fleet Command, albeit with greater polish and a stronger sense of atmosphere. It may lack grandeur, but it reinforces the underlying tension – the sense that every movement carries consequence.

Ship-to-ship combat appears intermittently, introducing another shift in perspective and pacing. These encounters employ a streamlined targeting system inspired by Star Trek Online, allowing you to focus attacks on specific enemy systems while leveraging the unique traits and abilities of your crew. It is mechanically simple, yet effective enough to create variation and urgency. There is an immediacy to these confrontations, even if they occasionally drift into the familiar rhythms of space dogfights – a tonal departure from the more deliberate engagements that defined Star Trek: Voyager itself. Yet within the context of its rogue-like framework, this abstraction feels forgivable.

Across the Unknown is less concerned with spectacle than it is with consequence. Every damaged hull plate, every failed escape, and every narrow victory reinforces the same truth: this is not Voyager as you remember it, but Voyager as you must fight to preserve. That sense of vulnerability extends beyond the ship and into the lives of the crew themselves. They are no longer protected by narrative inevitability.

Key characters can perish along the way, lost to the accumulation of small failures or sacrificed in moments of desperation. Their absence is not symbolic – it is permanent, and felt in the systems they once sustained and the decisions they once influenced. Away missions reinforce this fragility. You assemble landing parties from those available, weighing their strengths, traits, and importance to Voyager’s continued survival.

You will almost certainly fail – often, and early. The crew will mutiny if you don’t keep them fed and entertained, leaving you sidelined to contemplate ‘what if’. Yet each attempt leaves you with a greater understanding, new priorities, and a revised plan. You emerge, not discouraged but resolute, already imagining the next configuration, the next route, the next set of decisions that might carry you further. It is this cycle of loss, learning, and quiet determination that defines Across The Unknown: an aesthetically charming experience that punishes without hesitation, yet compels you to return, convinced that next time you might finally bring Voyager a little closer to home. Or die trying.

The motivation to continue, as with many roguelikes, can at times feel artificially sustained by the promise of incremental improvement, rather than narrative progression. Moments of stillness are rare. The constant pressure of depleting food, failing systems, and declining morale ensures that even curiosity feels like a luxury you cannot afford. You may find yourself longing to simply pause, to explore a distant system without consequence, to observe rather than survive. But that denied comfort is precisely the point.

The game refuses to grant you the certainty that defined so much of Star Trek: Voyager. Instead, it replaces inevitability with fragility. Every small success feels meaningful because it was never guaranteed. Every narrow escape feels personal because it was earned through judgement rather than destiny.

As Star Trek approaches its 60th anniversary, an extraordinary milestone for any franchise, it is quietly fitting that one of its more overlooked chapters receives this thoughtful, if unforgiving, tribute. Voyager never enjoyed the universal acclaim of The Next Generation nor the moral complexity and darker introspection of Deep Space Nine. Yet it carved out its own identity, defined not by certainty, but by distance. It was a story about endurance, about preserving ideals in isolation, and about the quiet determination to keep moving forward when the destination felt impossibly far away.

Across The Unknown understands that premise intimately. Its roguelike structure transforms Voyager’s long journey into something tangible, forcing players to live with the uncertainty the series could only imply. Every system repaired, every ration distributed, and every officer placed in harm’s way carries weight. It evokes the same uneasy calculus found in The Banner Saga, where progress is measured not in victory, but in survival.

Each new planet feels less like an opportunity and more like a test, one that may offer salvation or quietly hasten your collapse. In doing so, the game sacrifices some of the optimism that defined Voyager’s tone. Hope is present, but fragile. It is something you must actively protect, rather than something guaranteed by narrative design. And yet this harsher interpretation aligns with the version of Voyager many fans long imagined: not a ship comfortably exploring the unknown, but one struggling against it.

But along the way, should the opportunity arise, I will engage with the Borg, finally promote Ensign Kim, and, without hesitation, make the same decision that still divides fans decades later: Tuvix will not survive. The Star Trek community may disagree on many things, but there are some choices that feel inevitable. In a roguelike such as this, where survival demands clarity over sentiment, it is a decision I can make and live with.

Formats: PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X/S, Nintendo Switch 2, and PC
Price: £34.99
Publisher: Daedalic Entertainment
Developer: Gamexcite
Release Date: 18th February 2026
Age Rating: 12

By reader comfortablyadv (Facebook/Instagram/X/WordPress)

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