The most expensive house in Starfield is a rip-off
Recently, I came into a lot of money. A whole lot of money. More cash than I've ever seen in my life. I won't go into detail about how I came across t...
Recently, I came into a lot of money. A whole lot of money. More cash than I've ever seen in my life. I won't go into detail about how I came across this fortunate windfall, but let's just say an abandoned GalBank ship needed to unload its cargo. Certainly, my wife had a disagreement with me due to the innocent blood that might have been shed as a result of my actions, but she will understand my perspective when she sees the beautiful penthouse apartment I'm buying for us in the heart of Neon. After all, Andreja has her own secrets as well.
Anyway, I worked hard for my share of the loot - sorry, I mean my regular salary payment of a quarter million credits. I knew exactly what I would spend it on. A bartender who sold me some completely legal party enhancements (honestly, that stuff is perfectly fine on Neon) mentioned that he was accepting offers for a penthouse apartment. I bought myself a fancy ship and upgraded it with better engines and a secure cargo hold, so I don't need another vehicle - I need a place to hang my space hat.
With burning credits in my pocket, I headed to Neon and paid for the penthouse in cash. The bartender is a good person and didn't ask any questions; he dutifully handed me the key. It's the most money I've ever spent and cost me more than my fancy ship and my best rifle combined. But I wanted a nice apartment, so I didn't even flinch when almost 250,000 credits were deducted from my account. I went to the elevator, excited to explore my fancy new apartment for the first time. But I had no idea of the horror that awaited me.
The elevator made a "ding" and signaled that I had reached the top floor. I imagined the expensive furnishings, a luxurious bed to rest my head, and the view. The view. The vibrant cyberpunk lights of Neon, seen from above for the first time. You can't fly directly into the city without a generic cutscene, but this would have been the next best view, like a plane on Bonfire Night. I entered the apartment, expecting to experience an electric Northern Lights display. But what I got was the Christmas lights of Birkenhead.
That's an insult to Birkenhead. The one-bedroom apartment was bare, without furniture, personality, or anything else. I hadn't expected that I would have to furnish it myself. However, that could be fixed. What was worse was the layout. It's essentially a two-room apartment. There is a bathroom, but other than that, the space consists of one large area divided by a staircase. The kitchen was tucked away in a corner, which is practical, but it would be an exaggeration to even call it a duplex.
The kitchen and bathroom are located on the upper level next to each other (strange, I know, but I can't change the layout) with an awkward space in between. There isn't enough room for a table or a living area, but it feels empty if there's nothing there. Additionally, the elevator door opens directly into that area, so it can't be too cluttered. Going downstairs the small staircase, there's the large rectangle that is presumably meant for everything else. It's empty and too small for a living area and a bedroom, but I suppose it'll have to do.
The worst part is the window, or rather, the lack of it. Instead of a large window where one should be, there's metal installed. You can't look outside. No view, no neon, no "Neon." Do you think the balcony will change that? Wrong. Even if you endure the loading screen to access the balcony, Neon is practically hidden. You can see some sort of dock or loading area with huge cargo containers, but the actual city is completely concealed. All you can glimpse from the vibrant main street is a faint glow through the transparent roof.
At that moment, I felt like throwing myself from the crappy, gray balcony onto the crappy, gray floor below. All those credits, all that work, for this? After a minute of taking a breath and maybe contemplating a failed suicide attempt, I decided to make the best of my situation. I thought about all the hours I had spent playing The Sims 3 and watching Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen on TV and decided to make something out of it. The problem was that I hadn't invested any skill points in interior design.
My options were dull. I crafted plenty of houseplants, which was a start, but all the furniture looked like they belonged in evil hideouts deep beneath the planet's surface. Shelves were all metal constructions you'd find in a hardware store, and my bed options were sleeping bags or bunk beds. I managed to repurpose a "Caution: Hazardous Waste" sign to hang it above the toilet and find some humor in it, but my options were dull, and my apartment was run-down. Toilet humor wasn't what I had promised my wife in our expensive villa.
I laid down carpets to cover up the dreadful gray flooring and made the most of shelves and display cases. I hung some artworks on the walls and plastered the faux window with posters of alien planets, allowing me to imagine I wasn't sleeping in a 250,000-credit cell. At the end of my efforts, it looks somewhat better, but I'll need to level up to unlock more furniture, and that's something I don't want to deal with.
If you're embarking on a journey that could bring you a lot of money, whether through piracy or more legitimate means, heed my advice: Do not buy the Neon penthouse. It doesn't matter how many hours you've invested in The Sims or how many skill points you've put into crafting luxurious sofas, this penthouse is beyond redemption. Instead, I suggest staying at Vladimir's accommodation on X. It's breathtaking, and I'm sure he won't mind.