It was inevitable, wasn’t it. A Valve-shaped cube was always going to end up interred within a Valve-designed Companion Cube, even if the Steam Machine’s weighted storage buddy is the work of mildly chaotic peripheral makers Dbrand.
Now, Dbrand make a bunch of good stuff, especially for the Steam Deck. I should say up front, though, that the Companion Cube? Not for me. Assuming you can get past the fact that it’s trading on a memorable but terminally over-memed moment from Portal, a game eight years older than Valve’s entire hardware business, sliding the Machine into its waiting void is to instantly make the whole package about 25% bigger. Friends, half the reason I like the Steam Machine is because it’s so flippin’ piccolo.
Image credit: Rock Paper Shotgun
It still fits on the edge of my TV stand, just, but encroaches an injection-moulded corner into the view of the screen, like my head does at any given rock concert. Then there’s the price: the Steam Machine and Dbrand’s Companion Cube make such a good match that the latter is also uncomfortably expensive, while still not yet being ready to ship. The case by itself is $100, enough to buy Steam copies of Portal for yourself and nine real-life companions, and goes out in October. Only plumping for the $130 option will secure September shipping, plus some some fancy Aperture-inspired packaging, a Portal gun skin for a Steam Controller, and a red button base thing that both looks and feels like a cake was meant to be served on it. Great, now I’ve said “cake” in a Portal post, and all.
The most annoying thing, mind, is that I still can’t bring myself to chuck it into the furnace, and/or my self storage unit. I am instead forced to concede a grudging respect for the build quality and design nous, bulk notwithstanding, that have gone into this hundred-dollar in-joke.
For one thing, it feels weirdly nice? It’s plastic, but all the chunky parts are made of that thick, almost dusty-feeling premium plastic you get on ruggedised walkie-talkies. There’s also something profoundly satisfying about how the Steam Machine smoothly, almost softly descends inside, sliding down rubbery rails for a millimetre-perfect fit.
Getting in there first requires the removal of a rear frame, with the appropriate Allen key conveniently stored in a tiny hole on the same panel. It’s one of several clever little touches, along with the removeable port covers at the front – leaving an unbroken Companion Cube visage when they’re not in use – and the reversible feet, which can pop out and flip around to give the Machine a dab more table clearance.
Adequate airflow cutouts also ensure it doesn’t compromise the Steam Machine’s impressive thermal performance. Compared to my original, undressed readings, there were no meaningful CPU, GPU, or RAM temperature increases while wrapped in the Cube, and the Machine’s external hot spot – the rear fan grate – only rose a single degree, from 40°c to 41°c. And that might just have been because my flat got slightly warmer.
Again, I wouldn’t buy one of these myself, and not just because I’d already be bankrupt from buying the Steam Machine. But someone, somewhere out there, is wearing the same Party Associate t-shirt they’ve owned for nearly two decades, and is counting down the days until they can have both. That’s probably fine. At least they’re getting some decent craftsmanship out of it.