Subnautica, the ocean-themed survival/exploration game from
developer Unknown Worlds, captures a mood better than any other game I’ve
played. That mood is a vibrant mix of awe, tension, and fear—probably the same
emotions I’d be feeling if I actually did crash-land in a dangerous but
beautiful ocean on an alien planet. After playing several hours, I realized
that I would immediately and invariably take a deep breath of relief whenever I
returned to safety in my lifepod or underwater bases. I
honestly can’t think of higher praise for a game about surviving a perilous
underwater world.
Official screenshot from the game's Steam page. |
So how does Subnautica manage to create such a powerful and
pervasive mood? Obviously, audio and visual elements both play a key role. But I
think it comes down to two important design decisions: embracing the setting
and balancing risk with relief.
Subnautica fully embraces its setting. Because the game
takes place almost entirely underwater, you feel constantly exposed. Danger can
come at you from any direction, and tunnel vision could quickly get you killed.
The shallows feel safe not only because less dangerous fish spawn there, but
because you have ground beneath you and open air above you, limiting the field
of threats and orientating your character. In sharp contrast, some of the most harrowing moments in Subnautica come as you
explore caves or wreckage and lose your sense of direction. Oftentimes the path
back to air isn’t all that complex, but even memorizing a few turns gets
complicated when you can move freely in three dimensions. The “floor” of the
wrecked spaceship might be at a 45-degree angle above your head when you enter,
and that gets disorienting, especially when under stress.
An interesting
distinction between Subnautica and other survival games I’ve seen is the use of
what I’d call “true relief.” Your starting lifepod and the underwater bases you
eventually construct are (from what I’ve seen) entirely safe from the watery
depths’ denizens. But the game’s other systems force you to move out of that
comfort zone. Hunger and thirst will eventually force you to risk leaving the
safety and oxygen of your base, and expanding your living arrangements will
also require you to leave and gather resources. This creates a natural rhythm
of risk and relief that perfectly captures the mood of diving into the water.
At early levels, the comparison is clear. You have less than 30 seconds of
oxygen in your tank, so you dive down from the surface to maybe catch a couple
fish, and then you have to swim back up. Over and over. However, even when a
miniature submersible and larger oxygen tank allow you to explore more freely,
your longer expeditions still maintain that rhythm of leaving comfort,
gathering supplies, and returning with a deep breath of relief.