I built a starship to play video games in

Around the middle part of 2024, just as a dire political season kicked off in earnest, I realized I needed to change my diet. Not the kind of food I ate, but the kind of news media I consumed and, most importantly, how frequently I consumed it. I badly needed stronger firewalls to keep the outside world from intruding on my private time, and the solution I came up with was to surround myself with the most pleasant things that I could imagine — to literally transform my living space into something that felt more special, just for me. That’s how I ended up turning my basement into a starship, and I don’t think I’m ever going back to the way it was before.

I have a knack for crafting and tinkering, which you’ve probably picked up on if you’ve been reading my work here at Polygon over the last dozen years. I’m the guy who showed you how to rebuild your PS4 controller, how to paint miniatures and use an airbrush, and how to build a flight simulator pit out of a 2002 Ford Taurus. So I imagine that it comes as no surprise when I say I also collect old computers and LCD monitors, among other electronic things. Most of them are mine, of course, but I have some orphans here from friends and neighbors as well. 

This week on Polygon, we’re looking at games that feel like vacations for your brain in a package we’re calling Retreat Week.

When I had fully committed to my nerdy nesting, one of the first things I thought about all that computer hardware was: What would happen if I just plugged everything in? So after a long weekend futzing with BIOS, wiping drives, and updating operating systems, I had five monitors stood up across three different devices. Suddenly my basement workshop was humming with activity, and that was before I even thought about getting the old sim pit up and running.

With all that hardware idling next to the furnace and the water heater, the space began to develop a bit of a vibe. There was a hum inside the room, and I leaned into it. Suddenly every monitor had a different space scene running on loop — an asteroid field there, a space battle here, a docking procedure there. It felt like the nerve center on the bridge of a starship, each little screen a porthole to some activity going on elsewhere in the larger vessel. 

Then came the Bluetooth speakers, and I began curating a tapestry of obscure audio on a loop. On one device I brought in radio chatter sourced from a live-fire military helicopter range; on another I had the engine noise from Star Trek: The Next Generation; on another, ambient soundscapes inspired by Alien. A trip to Aldi’s Aisle of Shame netted me half a dozen strings of LED lighting on the cheap, and from there things just sort of spiraled out of control. There are at least two dozen little lights set up all around the room, most tucked away in corners or behind stacks of books. Others are threaded around the HVAC system, where they utilize the shiny metal sides to throw soft light all around.

Of course, that all means the space doesn’t photograph very well. We like it dim here in the Hall household as a rule, and the basement is the dimmest bit of all. But trust that with the overhead lights off and all the effects turned on, the room truly looks like the inside of a rickety old starship full of pipes, wires, and tubing — something a Belter crew might use to run a blockade in The Expanse. Bright lights play in the corners and along the edges of the room, casting model ships and miniatures as heavy silhouettes. Meanwhile in the middle the larger shapes of our old kitchen table and chairs are amorphous and indistinct. The speakers drone on, half-forgotten after months on loop, while LCD screens pump in futuristic scenes from Elite Dangerous, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, and scores of other great science fiction settings. The sim pit sitting in the corner, complete with one of Polygon’s VR headsets when you want it, completes the illusion while thankfully taking up very little room when not in use. I’ve been using it all week to spin up a new freighter for a big push in Elite.

I love it.

Yes, I agree that it’s weird to have a starship in your home. But the folks I’ve shown it to so far have all enjoyed the reveal. It’s almost like a secret room, a space entirely unexpected while also strangely welcoming. I’ve taken to doing my modeling and hobby work down there, along with my airbrushing and some painting. The kids like it enough that they’re spending time down there doing their crafts, too. My wife and I have even hosted a few cocktail parties, all centered around the secret starship we have hidden in our home.

Working remotely can be hard, and so too can be trying to find time and space to fuel your particular hobbies and special interests. I’m lucky to have enough space for all my crap and the little extra I found at Aldi. I acknowledge that it’s a luxury — even if it is just a bunch of stuff that other people would have thrown away by now. But having a physical space to retreat to, a place in my world that feels unlike anything else, suddenly feels both necessary and essential. You might see an eyesore, but I see an oasis.

Maybe it’s something you can find for yourself as well. Maybe there’s a corner, or a closet, or someplace small where you can clear away the clutter of everyday life to move in the clutter of another sort — your loves, your passions, or the projects that you like to tinker with. Find the things that feel like home to you, and then surround yourself with as many of them as you can get your arms around. 

For me that’s a bunch of old computers and blinky lights used to simulate the darkened interior of a phony starship. That’s my home within my home, and now that I’ve made it for myself I wouldn’t give it up for anything.