Video games usually treat "choices" like a binary light switch. You save the orphanage or you burn it down. But I Was a Teenage Exocolonist is different. Honestly, it’s kind of terrifying. Developed by Northway Games and published by Finji, this isn’t just some cozy life simulator set on a distant planet called Vertumna. It’s a grueling, beautiful, and often traumatic exploration of what it actually means to grow up while everything around you is literally trying to kill you.
You start at age ten. You’re a kid stepping off a spaceship into a world of vibrant, alien flora. By the time you’re twenty, you might be a soldier, a scientist, a governor, or—if things go south—dead. The game uses a deck-building mechanic to represent your memories and skills, but that’s just the engine. The soul of the game is the relentless passage of time.
Why I Was a Teenage Exocolonist Isn't Your Average Deckbuilder
Most people see the "card game" tag and think they're getting Slay the Spire in space. They aren't. In I Was a Teenage Exocolonist, your deck is your autobiography. When you learn how to forage for sponge-wood, you get a card. When your best friend dies in a horrific alien attack because you weren't fast enough to stop it, you get a card for that, too.
The mechanics are deeply intertwined with the narrative. You have to balance your stats—Bravery, Biology, Engineering, Creativity—to pass skill checks that determine the fate of the colony. But there’s a catch. You can’t be everything. If you spend all your time in the classrooms of Stratos, you’ll be a genius, sure, but you’ll be useless when the Shimmer (a seasonal pollen-like event) causes the local wildlife to go berserk and tear through the colony walls.
It’s about trade-offs.
The game forces you to reckon with the "optimality" of a human life. Is it better to be a happy farmer who ignores the political corruption in the colony, or a miserable soldier who sees the truth but loses their soul in the process? The writers, led by Sarah Northway, don’t give you easy answers. They just give you more cards.
The Groundhog Day Effect and Vertumna's Secrets
Here is where the game gets weird. You’re going to die. Or, at the very least, you’re going to finish your first twenty-year life cycle and realize you messed everything up. You’ll see characters you love succumb to famine or the dreaded "Dusty Lung" disease.
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But your character remembers.
In subsequent playthroughs, your protagonist has "visions" of their past lives. This isn't just a gimmick; it's a core gameplay loop. You can use knowledge from a previous life to prevent a death that seemed inevitable the first time around. It changes the genre from a coming-of-age story to a cosmic puzzle. You start asking yourself: if I know the famine is coming in Year 13, do I push the colony toward hydroponics now, even if it means sacrificing our defense budget?
Survival is a Low Bar
Most players spend their first run just trying to keep the colony from starving. It’s hard. Vertumna is beautiful, painted in lush, pastel watercolors by a team of incredible artists, but the ecosystem is hostile. The "Snapjaw" predators aren't just monsters; they are part of a complex biological web that the humans are actively disrupting.
The game tackles heavy themes like:
- Colonialism: Are the humans the heroes or the invasive species?
- Environmentalism: Can we coexist with a planet that doesn't want us there?
- Genetic Engineering: How much of our humanity should we trade for survival?
The characters—like the rebellious Dys, the high-strung Anemone, or the gentle Cal—grow with you. They age. Their portraits change. Their traumas deepen. If you don't spend time with them, they drift away. It feels remarkably like real high school, just with more carnivorous plants and existential dread.
Breaking Down the Cards: More Than Just Numbers
The card game itself is a poker-style matching system. You're trying to build straights or flushes with your memories.
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Let's look at how a simple interaction works. You’re trying to study "Xeno-Botany." You have a hand of cards representing your experiences. A "Red" card might be "Wrestled a Vace," giving you a high numerical value but maybe not the "Blue" logic you need for botany. You have to decide if you want to use "Stress" to discard cards and redraw. Stress is a finite resource. If you redline your stress, you have a mental breakdown and lose months of precious time.
It’s a perfect metaphor for burnout.
You’re constantly redlining. You want to save everyone, but you also want to get an "A" on your engineering exam, and you also want to sneak out past the walls to see what the aliens are actually doing. You can't. You have to pick a lane.
The Moral Ambiguity of the Gardeners
Eventually, you'll encounter the Gardeners. I won't spoil the specifics, but they challenge everything the colony stands for. Some players find the late-game reveals frustrating because they subvert the "humanity first" trope seen in most sci-fi.
But that's the point.
I Was a Teenage Exocolonist asks if a culture built on survival at any cost is actually worth saving. There are over 25 distinct endings. Some are peaceful. Some are tyrannical. Some involve leaving humanity behind entirely. To see the "true" endings, you have to be willing to fail, repeatedly, and learn from the wreckage of your past mistakes.
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Essential Strategies for Your First Decade on Vertumna
If you're jumping in, don't try to be a perfectionist. You will fail checks. You will lose people. Here is how to actually handle the first few years without losing your mind.
Prioritize Perception Early
In the first few years, your stats are low. Investing in Perception allows you to "see" better outcomes during exploration. It’s the difference between finding a cache of ancient technology and getting bitten by a radioactive worm.
Don't Ignore the "Forget" Mechanic
As you age, your deck gets bloated with useless memories. Use the "Relax" or "Spa" actions to remove weak cards from your deck. A lean deck of powerful memories is always better than a hundred mediocre ones.
Watch the Seasons
Each year has months. Some months provide bonuses to specific activities. Don't waste "Quiet" months (where study is easier) on manual labor. Plan your life like a calendar, because that’s exactly what it is.
Talk to Everyone
The "social" cards are often the most powerful. Building a relationship with Tangent gives you insane science boosts, while being friends with Nem makes you a terror on the battlefield. The game is won or lost in the relationships you cultivate.
Why This Game Hits Different in 2026
We live in a world where the future feels uncertain. Climate change, political instability, the feeling that the "adults in the room" don't have a plan—these are the exact themes I Was a Teenage Exocolonist explores. It resonates because it treats the anxieties of youth with immense respect. It doesn't pat you on the head; it hands you a rifle or a microscope and says, "Good luck, the oxygen is running out."
The replayability isn't just about seeing different scenes. It’s about the emotional catharsis of finally getting it right. When you finally save that one character who died in your first five playthroughs, it feels like a genuine victory.
Actionable Steps for New Players
- Commit to the first run: Don't restart when things go wrong. The game is designed for you to live with your consequences. The narrative pay-off for a "failed" run is often better than a perfect one.
- Focus on two main stats: Trying to be a "jack of all trades" will leave you under-leveled for the difficult endgame checks. Pick a career path and stick to it until age fifteen.
- Explore the Ridge: As soon as you're allowed to go outside the walls, do it. The best cards and the most important plot points are hidden in the wilderness, not the classrooms.
- Read the card flavor text: It seems small, but the descriptions of your memories provide the context needed to make the "right" moral choices later.
To get the most out of the experience, check out the official Northway Games developer logs for insights into the branching narrative paths. You can also find community-driven spreadsheets on Steam that track the requirements for the rarest endings, though I'd argue you should avoid those until at least your third life. Vertumna is best experienced when you're slightly lost and totally overwhelmed.