The original Subnautica was secretly a brilliant horror game, and as I splash around in the abyss of its sequel, I’ve been delighted to discover that Subnautica 2 makes the terrors of the deep far more overt. It leans heavily into the fear of the unknown, creating a genuinely unsettling atmosphere. I apologize to anyone in Paisley—or elsewhere in the world—who has heard my shrieks over the last week while playing.
However, for every nightmarish encounter, harrowing near-death experience, or existential crisis, there are frequent moments when the spell is completely broken. The culprit? Audio logs. So. Many. Audio logs.
The Burden of Constant Companionship
I should note that I do not hate audio logs. For decades, they have been a popular narrative device used by horror games to build tension and provide context even when there are no NPCs around. They allowed games like System Shock and BioShock to fill the void of their ghost towns and ghost ships, giving us windows into the final moments of their denizens while still maintaining a sense of isolation.
This is a tightrope walk, though. An overreliance on them can actually shatter that sense of isolation that developers are attempting to preserve. As is the case in Subnautica 2.
In Unknown Worlds' sodden misadventure, you appear to be the sole survivor of a failed expedition on an alien world. You come to after a disaster, alone and discombobulated. The sole survivor scenario is a compelling fantasy: with only your wits, you can keep yourself alive in even the most challenging of situations, and maybe even flourish in a place where you should be dead.
Subnautica 2 does not leave you alone on this aquatic world, however. Like the original game, you've got a PDA spitting out notifications that initially might seem helpful but soon become infuriating. On your lifepod, and dotted around ruined bases, you'll also find NoA, an AI helper who is also kinda your boss.
NoA doles out hints, tips, and objectives, and it really doesn't like being ignored. As I dive deeper into the planet's enigmatic depths, I am never alone. I'm constantly being reminded that I need oxygen, food, and water, and that NoA wants to chat.
The Tyranny of the PDA
If I decide that, no, NoA can wait, my PDA will just keep reminding me. For some unknown reason, NoA is unable to actually talk to me unless I'm standing in front of it, despite the fact that it's clearly capable of interacting with my PDA at any distance.
In these cases, I have two options:
- Incessant alerts that break immersion.
- Hoofing it back to the lifepod to talk to an AI I despise.
Both of these choices suck. But these chatty AI companions are not the only things beckoning for me to sit and listen.
Environmental Storytelling vs. Forced Narration
Scattered throughout the ocean are black boxes and audio logs, offering insights into the now-dead human explorers who were attempting to chart the planet and dissect its mysteries. These were present in the original game, too, but now they are all interruptions, auto-playing as soon as you find them. This completely transforms the tone of the outings they force themselves into.
When I'm exploring an abandoned base while hiding from a huge predator patrolling outside, I do not want to spend two minutes listening to a scientist discussing an argument they'd had with a colleague. All that work Unknown Worlds put into building up the tense atmosphere is flung out the airlock.
Early on, when you can't stay underwater for long, the audio logs are even more frustrating. I'm not the sort of person who can juggle a bunch of tasks and follow a diary excerpt. If I'm exploring a ruin while managing a very limited oxygen supply, that's taking up all of my attention. The audio logs, then, just devolve into an annoying buzz in my ear.
If I stop to listen to them, I'll probably drown—with my PDA's alerts adding to the noise. Any I ignore can be listened to later, but that's not really the point. The damage to the game's atmosphere has already been done.
A Horror Game Suffocated by Exposition
Subnautica 2's set-up is perfect for a horror game. Alien mind control, cults, and an AI with the ability to simply reprint you with parts of your memory carved out to make you more compliant are all great stuff. Unfortunately, the narrative is entirely reliant on these audio logs—spilling everything as you just float around listening.
While there is a fair amount of environmental storytelling, Unknown Worlds never lets the environment speak for itself. It's always got to be coupled with a voice note from some dead person you don't know. And it's all so explicit.
You're not piecing things together on your own—to the point where NoA actively directs you towards specific black boxes to move the story forward.
It's such a shame, because you can make all sorts of incredible discoveries by just going out and exploring the world, but chances are you'll already have had these discoveries spoiled for you by the last words of some dead guy. It just feels like Unknown Worlds doesn't trust us to figure anything out on our own.
Early on, you'll start to occasionally hear a ghostly voice. Given the absence of living human beings on this alien world, that's pretty disconcerting. Discovering the source of the voice and what it means should have been an unnerving adventure, filling your mind with questions and concerns. Instead, you'll rapidly have all your questions answered in the most boring way possible.
It's not even that the audio logs are bad. They're mostly fine, occasionally funny, and sometimes pretty evocative and creepy. But it's the difference between hearing a ghost story and being chased by a ghost. I don't want to hear a story; I want to be part of the story.
The limit of my patience was reached when I visited the Hot Caves. This is an incredible biome filled with magma and the corpses of giant crabs. When you reach it, your PDA announces that there are a multitude of black boxes down there. Now that's some good storytelling, and a good use of the black boxes
