Playing Star Wars Outlaws on the Switch 2 felt strange at first. I had already seen the conversations that surrounded the game when it launched on other platforms, the debates about whether it lived up to the Star Wars name or not, the mixed reactions that never really lined up with the excitement people had before release. Sitting down with it on Nintendo’s newest console, I expected to feel that same ambivalence. Instead, what I got was a game that may never reach legendary status but still finds a way to carve out its own corner in this galaxy. The port is stronger than I expected, the story is more grounded than most Star Wars tales, and the experience as a whole left me with that odd mix of respect and affection that makes me want to come back.
The Switch 2 itself is still a novelty, and this game is one of its best showcases so far. Docked, the visuals look sharp, more detailed than I honestly thought possible, and performance holds steady enough to make me forget at times that I was playing on hybrid hardware. Handheld mode has its compromises, the resolution dips, and the frame rate sometimes flutters, but even then, the sense of scale remains. This is a full Star Wars adventure in your hands, not a stripped-down version or a cloud experiment. That fact alone is impressive, but it wouldn’t matter if the game underneath didn’t hold its weight.
What struck me early on is how different the tone feels compared to the usual Star Wars stories. This isn’t about Jedi or Sith, not about saving the galaxy or destroying it. It’s about surviving in the cracks between those big battles, about making a name for yourself when no one else is looking. Kay Vess is not a hero in the classic sense. She’s a thief, a hustler, someone who’s just clever enough to stay alive in a system that wants to crush her. Traveling with Nix, her little companion, she sneaks, steals, and bargains her way through a galaxy that doesn’t give second chances. I liked that perspective. It made the world feel more dangerous, more human, and more relatable.
The writing leans into that underworld feel. Crime syndicates matter as much as the Empire. Your reputation shifts depending on who you help and who you betray. I played Kay as someone who never fully trusted anyone, always looking for the next opportunity, and the game reacted. Factions remembered my choices, missions played out differently, and slowly I felt like I was writing my own version of Kay’s story. That freedom might not be endless, but it was enough to give weight to decisions. It made conversations and contracts feel like more than simple objectives.
Combat and stealth are the main pillars of gameplay, and this is where the game grew on me. Early on I found the stealth sequences frustrating. Get caught and you’d often face an instant fail, a sudden break in the flow that felt unfair. But once patches smoothed that out, the whole design started to click. Stealth became an option rather than a requirement, a way to approach situations differently instead of a punishment for being spotted. Combining sneaking with Nix’s distractions and then shifting into firefights when things went wrong gave missions a fluid, unpredictable rhythm. I appreciated that freedom, because it let me play the way I felt in the moment rather than sticking to one prescribed path.
Gunfights themselves are solid if not revolutionary. Kay isn’t a soldier, and the shooting reflects that. Blasters have weight, cover matters, and enemies go down with a satisfying crunch of shields or armor breaking. I found myself moving constantly, never settling in one place too long, which gave combat a scrappy quality that fit the character. Sometimes the AI stumbles, leaving enemies frozen in place or charging without sense, but for the most part the encounters kept me on edge without overwhelming me. The balance felt right for someone who’s supposed to be out of her depth yet still capable of pulling off the impossible.
One of my favorite discoveries was how much time I spent away from fighting. Cantinas, mini-games, and side quests flesh out the galaxy in ways that main missions alone couldn’t. Sabacc is more than a distraction; it became a part of how I thought about Kay’s identity. Sitting at a table, bluffing my way through hands of cards, felt as important to the story as any firefight. Speeders added another layer, letting me race through wide stretches of land just for the thrill of it. These moments don’t reinvent anything, but they add texture, and texture is what makes the world believable.
Space travel is limited compared to something like Starfield, but I liked the restraint. Outlaws doesn’t try to give you an endless galaxy. Instead, it focuses on a handful of distinct locations and makes sure they feel alive. The jumps between planets are cinematic, the transitions quick, and once you’re in orbit you can dogfight or explore enough to scratch that itch without drowning in empty space. I never felt bored, and that is more important to me than scale for the sake of scale.
Technically, the Switch 2 version impressed me. The environments are full of small details, crowded markets buzzing with chatter, dust storms rolling across canyons, neon signs reflecting off puddles. Performance dipped occasionally, but it held together far better than I feared. In handheld mode especially, I caught myself forgetting this was a portable experience. That is maybe the biggest compliment I can give: the immersion never broke, even when I noticed the seams.
Story pacing has ups and downs. Some missions are tightly designed, pulling you through tense infiltrations or dramatic escapes that feel ripped from the best scoundrel tales. Others drag, padding objectives with extra steps that don’t add much beyond time. Still, the overall arc kept me hooked. I wanted to see where Kay would land, who she would double-cross, and whether she could carve out a place for herself in a galaxy stacked against her. By the time credits rolled, I wasn’t thinking about the missteps, I was thinking about the small victories that defined her journey.
What makes Outlaws resonate isn’t any single system but the way it all comes together. The reputation mechanics, the grounded combat, the side activities, and the scoundrel-centric narrative merge into something that feels consistent. It doesn’t try to be the ultimate Star Wars experience. It tries to be this Star Wars experience, focused on one woman and her survival, and that clarity makes it stand out.
Looking back on my time with the game, I think about the moments that defined it for me. Creeping through a syndicate hideout, heart racing as guards passed inches away. Blasting across a canyon on a speeder with the sun setting behind me. Winning a tense game of Sabacc that made me laugh out loud in relief. Standing in a crowded cantina, listening to the hum of voices and feeling like I was really in that world. Those moments add up, and they outweigh the flaws.
Of course there are flaws. AI hiccups, platforming that occasionally misreads your intent, missions that drag on longer than they should, performance dips that remind you this is still a port. But they never destroyed my enjoyment. They were bumps in a road that was still worth traveling.
Conclusion:
Star Wars Outlaws is not perfect, but it is memorable. It is a Star Wars story that doesn’t lean on lightsabers or destinies, but on grit, luck, and charm. On the Switch 2 it becomes even more impressive, proof that Nintendo’s hybrid can carry an open-world Star Wars game with confidence. If you care about this universe, if you want to live in its margins and feel the thrill of scraping by, then this game is worth your time. For me, that’s the highest praise I can give.
