You fly into battle, a lone, fragile fighter, against numerous enemies, many of which can one-shot you. You kill them. Feel awesome?

You're not, you're garbage.

You build up a fleet as you hop from assassination to assassination. It's taking longer to complete your mission, and the enemy is sending in powerful, escorted Flagships to try to mop you up before you can escape. You still make it out alive, even if the rest of your fleet didn't. Feel awesome?

You're not. You're expected to survive.

You beat the game at around 45 minutes to an hour if you tried to challenge yourself at all, but you know you're just getting started. You can't even have everything until you beat the missions on the third of four difficulties. And even when you do that, you know, you just know by now, that getting this far wasn't actually that hard. You've been learning and growing and you have the odds on your side.

But you're still not good.

Your fleet comes with three interceptors (with you flying one of them at any given time), three hardened destroyers, and a mighty frigate.

But a true scourge will accept the challenge of forgoing the destroyers and the frigate. A real warrior would seek the honor of the hunt.

A real warrior would also make the choice not to run when the Flagships come in, prepared to shred your little ship with stubborn homing missile salvos, guns everywhere, thick shields, and freshly spawned escorts.

A real warrior would annihilate their foes.

That is what playing House of the Dying Sun feels like.