I have a confession to make, readers. I’m mildly obsessed with Starfield‘s cuboid food brand Chunks. In all honesty, I’m kinda obsessed with Starfield’s food in a more general sense, and I have almost as many screenshots of its tube-like meal boxes, stale toast slices, vacuum-packed sachets of rice balls, steak slabs and spiced worms – and, of course, Chunks – as I do its planets and NPCs. I’m weirdly fascinated by what Bethesda think our future meals will look like when we eventually start travelling across the stars, and not just because I like ragging on their somewhat plastic-looking textures and marvelling at how everything from orange juice to beer and wine comes in kid’s size cartons with a little straw on the side.
Chunks are my favourite food of the lot, though. These cubes of faintly glistening organic matter are bite-sized monstrosities that are quite possibly some of the most unholy things I’ve ever seen. How this became the dominating foodstuff across the known galaxy is a mystery worthy of its own sidequest, because let’s be honest, I’m all for eating wonky fruit and vegetables, but would you truly go to shop, sit down at a table and order an apple that’s been squeezed into a perfect cube? Or a cube with yellow skin that professes to call itself grilled chicken? I would probably try them once for curiosity’s sake (it’s the food of the future, of course I want to know what that tastes like!), but it’s also exactly the kind of thing I’d swear off immediately because nope, nuh uh, I just can’t even contemplate it anymore. And then it dawned on me: this is exactly how I feel about Starfield as a whole.
