Subnautica and Solitude: The Sunbeam
The previous article explored the second main element of Subnautica’s story this series will explore: the Degasi’s sub-plot. This article continues the exploration of Subnautica’s story with one of the other main sub-plots in the game, the Sunbeam, and how it relates to the overall game’s exploration of player agency and control.
The final element of the story which I think is essential to mention is the other main sub-plot, that of the Sunbeam. The Sunbeam is one of the most tragic parts of Subnautica’s otherwise quite hopeful story, and it perhaps creates the most powerful moment of loneliness in the game, by contrasting it with the closest hope the player gets for rescue. The ‘Sunbeam’ is a small spacecraft which happens to have been passing nearby when the Aurora was shot down, and deviated from its route in an attempt to answer the ship’s distress call. The crew is noble: they know there is little hope of survival for the ship’s crash, and that deviating course to unknown parts of the galaxy is dangerous, but they choose to do so anyway. The player first comes into contact when the ship sends out a message to all radios still working on 4546B, giving the coordinates of a rendezvous point, at which the Sunbeam will attempt to land and rescue anyone who is still alive.
Here, the player feels a sense of hope which so far has been fairly limited: the macabre image of the devastated Aurora, and their only interaction with others coming through lifepod distress signals from other survivors, means that the ship, coming from the safety of mapped and secured space, holds a crucial opportunity of genuine escape from the planet, otherwise a total impossibility at this stage in the story. Even so, if the player has already encountered the Degasi bases, there might still be a sense of unease. The Degasi being shot down confirms to the player that the Aurora’s destruction was not a one-off event, and so the glimmer of hope that the Sunbeam (fittingly named) represents could easily be snuffed out. Yet even with this awareness the excitement of the Sunbeam’s message is palpable: for the first time, the player is not merely trying to survive the hostile world they have been thrown into. Instead, they have a genuine chance at escape.
It is this sense of excitement, anticipation, and real hope, which makes the cruel irony of the Sunbeam’s plot so effective: the rendezvous indicated by the Sunbeam is one of two islands which exist in Subnautica’s playable area. Both islands are obscured by clouds, and so aren’t visible to the player, and the island in question likely won’t be found until the Sunbeam’s message points it out. So, the horror for the player is so much more when they follow the coordinates and find their way to the island, only to find a huge weapon installed and active on it. The Quarantine Enforcement Platform, its official name in the game, is a gargantuan, monolithic artillery weapon of ancient alien design, the cause of both the destruction of the Aurora and the Degasi.
Concept Art of the ‘QEP’, the great weapon that destroys the Aurora.
The devastating irony for the player is immediately clear – the Sunbeam’s only potential landing spot is also the location of its biggest threat, but there is nothing they can do. If the player has arrived at the rendezvous early, they might take the time to explore the weapon facility, and perhaps find another way, but there are no solutions. The aliens who designed the weapon created it out of an almost indestructible material, with a huge, self-sustaining power source, and there is no clear way of deactivating the weapon. There is certainly a power to the racing urgency the player feels, making their way through the QEP as the timer runs out, slowly losing hope of escape.
However, the moment is perhaps more poignant for those players who arrive at the rendezvous at the time the Sunbeam expects. For them, finding the QEP creates a sense of shock, and a crucial sense of powerlessness: All they can do is watch with dread from the shore as the pinprick of the spaceship flies towards the planet. The ship sends out another one-way message, the pilot excitedly calling out that he can see the player on shore, but as the QEP powers up, the message shifts to one of confusion, and then fear. The player can simply watch and listen as their only chance of escape, and the human which the player can get closest to in the whole game, erupts in a ball of fire above them.
A screenshot of the Sunbeam’s destruction by the QEP, as the player watches from the shore.
Again, the fact that the player is totally alone is reasserted, but it is not just the player’s loneliness, but also their lack of agency which makes this moment so powerful. Agency, and how it is used, is an essential part of any video game: arguably it is what makes video games so unique as a medium: they are the only artistic medium to give their audience so much power over the story that unfolds in front of them. And in Subnautica, generally the player does have a lot of agency, at least in theory: there are no real ‘railroads’ which force the player down certain paths or to certain areas. The entire game is a sandbox, and how the player works through the story and discovers different places is entirely up to them. And it is the manipulation of what is technically total freedom that gives Subnautica such a powerful, scary atmosphere. Moments like this, where the player has no power, and can do nothing but watch a tragedy play out before them, are the most painful parts of Subnautica, because the player’s lack of control matches exactly the emotions of the character within the story. The gameplay reflects the story you are playing out, deepening immersion and building a stronger relationship between the player themselves and the character they play within the game world.
It is thus clear that the story of Subnautica is one of the key elements of creating horror in the game: not just in the sense that the story intentionally isolates the player and reinforces a sense of profound loneliness throughout the game, but also because the story carefully manipulates player agency, giving them both a huge amount of freedom, and frequently taking that freedom away from them for emotional effect.
The next article in this series will explore another important aspect of Subnautica’s overall design: the creation of Subnautica’s atmosphere through visual design, sound design and behavioural design.
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