A Step-by-Step Guide on How to Withdraw in Playtime Successfully

Let me be honest with you—I’ve played more than my fair share of open-world games over the years, and one thing I’ve learned is that pulling off a satisfying withdrawal, whether from a mission, a narrative arc, or even the game itself, is harder than it looks. I’m not just talking about hitting “save and quit.” I mean exiting a situation in a way that feels earned, emotionally resonant, and consistent with the story being told. It’s something I think about a lot, especially after spending dozens of hours in sprawling titles like Star Wars Outlaws. And honestly, that game’s struggle with character relationships—particularly between Kay Vess and the droid ND-5—is a perfect case study in how not to handle an exit, emotionally or structurally.

Typically, this wouldn’t be too much of an issue for me. A lot of Star Wars games have bland protagonists with wonky character arcs—Cal Kestis in Jedi: Fallen Order, for example, or Iden Versio in Battlefront II—but these are often offset by deeply compelling or intriguing supporting characters. Think Merrin in Fallen Order, or Del Meeko in Battlefront II. They give the protagonist someone to play off, someone who makes their journey matter. Outlaws doesn’t have that crutch, because the supporting cast around Kay just isn’t all that interesting. Except, maybe, for ND-5. He’s a BX-series droid commando, initially cold and robotic, tasked with watching over Kay. By the story’s conclusion, he’s warmed up to her and become a friend. On paper, that’s a strong contender for emotional weight. There’s even a late-game story development that almost—almost—tilts the game into a horror-like narrative space, which honestly could have been incredible. But the way the game rushes Kay and ND-5’s relationship undermines everything. The story doesn’t earn their partnership, and that’s at the core of ND-5’s entire arc.

So what does this have to do with withdrawing successfully in Playtime? Everything. Withdrawal isn’t just a mechanical step—it’s an emotional and narrative checkpoint. If you’ve built a connection, the exit should feel meaningful. If you haven’t, it falls flat. In my experience, whether you’re disengaging from a game session, wrapping up a quest, or saying goodbye to a character, there are layers to doing it right. Let’s break it down, step by step, with Outlaws as our cautionary tale.

First, recognize the emotional stakes. Before you even think about withdrawing, take stock of where you are in the story. Are you at a high point? A low point? Somewhere in between? In Outlaws, ND-5’s shift from cold overseer to trusted ally should have been a slow burn. Instead, it happens in what feels like two or three major scenes. That’s not enough time for players like me to buy into the relationship. When I reached the end, I didn’t feel like I was saying goodbye to a real friend—I was just checking a box. So my advice? If you’re going to withdraw, make sure the emotional groundwork has been laid. In practical terms, that means engaging with side content, replaying key moments, or just sitting with the characters a little longer. Don’t rush.

Second, plan your exit around narrative pacing. This is where a lot of games—and players—stumble. If you withdraw too early, you miss crucial development. Too late, and you’re just going through the motions. In Outlaws, the late-game horror tease I mentioned? It happens around the 85% mark, based on my playthrough notes, and it lasts for maybe 20 minutes. That’s not enough time to explore such a tonal shift, and it certainly doesn’t help ND-5’s arc feel earned. When I play, I always try to identify the narrative peaks and troughs. If a game has 40 hours of content, I’ll usually aim to complete major character beats between the 70% and 90% completion markers. That gives me enough runway to sit with the emotions before the credits roll. With ND-5, the game crams his transformation into the final 10%, and it shows. The payoff feels unearned, and my withdrawal from that storyline was more relief than satisfaction.

Third, use mechanics to your advantage. This might sound obvious, but so many players ignore the tools games give them to make exits smoother. Dialogue choices, companion affinity systems, even something as simple as pausing at the right moment—all of these can help. In Outlaws, there’s a light affinity system between Kay and ND-5, but it’s underdeveloped. I’d estimate it only triggers 5-7 meaningful interactions in a 25-hour playthrough. That’s nowhere near enough. When I’m preparing to withdraw from a game like this, I max out every possible interaction. I’ll replay missions, seek out optional dialogue, anything to make the relationship feel real. It’s a bit like curating your own experience, and it makes all the difference.

Finally, don’t underestimate the power of reflection. After I finish a game—or even a major section—I take a few minutes to just think about what happened. How did I feel? Did the characters’ journeys resonate? With Outlaws, I walked away feeling like ND-5 had potential, but the rushed pacing left me cold. That’s a withdrawal failure, in my book. A successful exit should leave you thoughtful, maybe a little sad, but ultimately satisfied. It’s why I still remember saying goodbye to Merrin in Fallen Order or Del in Battlefront II—those felt earned. ND-5? Not so much.

So, if you take anything from this, let it be this: withdrawing successfully isn’t about following a rigid set of rules. It’s about paying attention to the story, the characters, and your own emotional engagement. Learn from games that do it well, and learn even more from games that don’t. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find that the exit is as memorable as the journey itself.