está copado y no hay juego igual. Jamás el sound design ha tenido tanto protagonismo como en Subnautica. Realmente sentís que sos un extranjero en un mundo para el que NO estás hecho, así que la progresión se siente satisfactoria, pudiendo cada vez explorar más y sobrevivir de forma eficiente
lamentablemente cuando desbloqueas el prawn suit se pierde toda tensión y al final haces una fetch quest muy aburrida
y comprarlo en early access no valió la pena pero esa es otra historia
lamentablemente cuando desbloqueas el prawn suit se pierde toda tensión y al final haces una fetch quest muy aburrida
y comprarlo en early access no valió la pena pero esa es otra historia
A really cool game in what it tries to be and what it accomplishes. I think there's a bit too much exploration for the sake of it in the midgame, because I think the game truly shines while it dripfeeds you schematics as you get deeper into the depths. The climax of the game is also a bit grindy. But it conjures an atmosphere in a way very few games do. I hope below zero is near as good.
pocos juegos me engancharon como subnautica aunque a veces me tenia que poner el godmode porque la re baja tener tan poco aire onda estas explorando re piola y tenes que volver a la nave cada nose 30 segundos a respirar por mas que tengas el super tanque de oxigeno de diamante 3000 dejate de joder paa
Uno de los mejores indies que he jugado.
Gran juego con gran inmersión (chistaco), la libertad que te proporciona este juego es indescriptible, explora, descubre, investiga, crea, sobrevive.
Las herramientas disponibles en el juego son una pasada, sobretodo los 2 últimos vehículos que puedes crear, proporciona un ambiente al juego que te hace querer seguir, al igual que descubrir que está pasando en el planeta.
En conclusión, este juego merece muchísimo la pena, por su jugabilidad, diseño de artístico y exploración, son unos euros muy bien invertidos y el juego te dura lo que tu quieras. Si tengo que decir algo malo es la optimización de algunas zonas.
Gran juego con gran inmersión (chistaco), la libertad que te proporciona este juego es indescriptible, explora, descubre, investiga, crea, sobrevive.
Las herramientas disponibles en el juego son una pasada, sobretodo los 2 últimos vehículos que puedes crear, proporciona un ambiente al juego que te hace querer seguir, al igual que descubrir que está pasando en el planeta.
En conclusión, este juego merece muchísimo la pena, por su jugabilidad, diseño de artístico y exploración, son unos euros muy bien invertidos y el juego te dura lo que tu quieras. Si tengo que decir algo malo es la optimización de algunas zonas.
As someone who has a fear of the deep, this game actually took longer for me to get into than any horror game in my Steam library. The immersion and scale of the world is real. Even as a survival game, it's got a really cool story. The worldbuilding is fantastic and the music is very suiting to the atmosphere. Base building and vehicle customization is a cool way to give players a way to personalize their playthrough. However, I will knock a star off because even though it is a finished game, it still has its fair share of bugs and wonky movement (specifically when the player walks on land). Another reason for a star knocked off is because there are a lot of aspects in the game that you will need to search things up for, and are nearly impossible to find out on your own. Very large emphasis on exploration, even after 100 hours I haven't explored the entire map (gotta say that's mostly because my unexplored areas are non-essential to the plot and are home to the scarier creatures of the game). If you want to conquer your fear of the ocean, this is the game to do it in.
For what this wants to be this is perfect. A peaceful exploration game with cool tech, collecting and making aquariums, crafting, base building and a beautiful world with a fantastic story that is not in your face. It won't be for everyone but it's not trying to be.
My singular complaint is that it would be nice to carry both the sea moth and the prawnsuit in the cyclops as they have different uses situationally.
My singular complaint is that it would be nice to carry both the sea moth and the prawnsuit in the cyclops as they have different uses situationally.
Incredible, one of the best survival/exploration games I have played. A lot of people seem to get low-key horror vibes from this, which is understandable (godspeed to players with thalassophobia), but I was mostly just in awe this entire time. The atmosphere is to die for, the underwater scenery is breathtaking, the gameplay systems have just the right amount of depth without being convoluted, the sense of player progression is continuously strong and contrasted nicely with the increasingly bizarre and hostile deep sea biomes, even the writing and scenario are impressive. I wish I had a PC to play this, however, because the game has a few frame rate and asset pop-in issues on the PS4 Slim. Even so, this was a winner from start to finish, a source of countless, unforgettable moments of confronting the unknown.
This game really requires your first playthrough to be completely blind. It can be a bit unintuitive and a fucking lot buggy but this game is worth it. This is one of the most worth it games of all time. That magical feeling of wonder and discovery you feel in the first playthrough is something that I haven't felt since playing Minecraft for the first time back in 2013. I'd be willing to concuss myself just to feel what it's like to play this for the first time all over again.
The terror of open water. The panic of caves. Always this tethering, to surface, to Seamoth, any pocket of air. I drink fields of color. I dive into the wreck. And I float here in space, this alien lightness, like I once did in pools, to hide my thick body. Dawn breaks just above, on the underside of waves, a sea-wrinkled sky.
For forty hours I hold my breath. I’m overwhelmed, transfixed, in perpetual disbelief. Water is so intimate, the way it envelops you, holds you. And tries to get in. It’s hypnotic but treacherous. And it is this exact combination of trance and threat that makes Subnautica not only exactly a videogame but the most beautiful game of the year.
How long can you last in this suffocating beauty? You’re always in danger of overextending yourself, and complete absorption will kill you. So you plan, you calculate, you hone your OCD and cultivate your humility. Because you will never dominate this ocean world. You’ll barely get a foothold. Forty hours in, it never stopped being mysterious or terrifying to me. I never tired of gazing out the viewing window I built just below the surface. I never stopped feeling vulnerable to it all.
What’s shocking is that a game this beautiful and intimidating also makes so much sense. And not just videogame sense. It has a natural logic and coherence throughout that is incredibly rare. From initial crash to progression via wreckage and fabrication to the revealed geography of its alien world, the game does not cheat. It makes a commitment to materiality and storage and all the struggles of liquid space. And it binds this vigilance to the most basic player motivation: the desire to explore. You make new tools not because the game forces you to but because each tool will help you see more. And you always want to see more. This focus is so compelling, and so completely realized, that even a few serious technical issues cannot detract from the final experience.
None of these qualities capture the quiet of this game, though. The stillness it draws out of me. Some nights I couldn’t play it because I didn’t have the calm. Driving my Cyclops submarine through Lost River and into the lowest depths required my complete preparation and attention. Extracting myself and all my materials afterwards somehow required even more. It was an ordeal, like any real journey, and it weighed on me. Floating there in the deep, so far from the surface, I would often think of the end of Jane Campion’s The Piano, one of my favorite movies. I would think of the ocean’s weird lullaby, of the buried selves floating below, of how part of me wanted to stay “in the cold grave — under the deep, deep sea.” Not death overcome, as in most videogames, but death contemplated and dwelled in. My usual voices hushed. This silence in me.
I’m back now, but like with any powerful experience, part of me is still anchored there. Still floating in the silence below. My speaking voice here on the surface, though, wants others to know: Subnautica is not only the greatest deep, deep sea game I’ve ever played, not only the greatest survival and exploration game I’ve experienced, it’s one of the greatest videogames of this generation.
For forty hours I hold my breath. I’m overwhelmed, transfixed, in perpetual disbelief. Water is so intimate, the way it envelops you, holds you. And tries to get in. It’s hypnotic but treacherous. And it is this exact combination of trance and threat that makes Subnautica not only exactly a videogame but the most beautiful game of the year.
How long can you last in this suffocating beauty? You’re always in danger of overextending yourself, and complete absorption will kill you. So you plan, you calculate, you hone your OCD and cultivate your humility. Because you will never dominate this ocean world. You’ll barely get a foothold. Forty hours in, it never stopped being mysterious or terrifying to me. I never tired of gazing out the viewing window I built just below the surface. I never stopped feeling vulnerable to it all.
What’s shocking is that a game this beautiful and intimidating also makes so much sense. And not just videogame sense. It has a natural logic and coherence throughout that is incredibly rare. From initial crash to progression via wreckage and fabrication to the revealed geography of its alien world, the game does not cheat. It makes a commitment to materiality and storage and all the struggles of liquid space. And it binds this vigilance to the most basic player motivation: the desire to explore. You make new tools not because the game forces you to but because each tool will help you see more. And you always want to see more. This focus is so compelling, and so completely realized, that even a few serious technical issues cannot detract from the final experience.
None of these qualities capture the quiet of this game, though. The stillness it draws out of me. Some nights I couldn’t play it because I didn’t have the calm. Driving my Cyclops submarine through Lost River and into the lowest depths required my complete preparation and attention. Extracting myself and all my materials afterwards somehow required even more. It was an ordeal, like any real journey, and it weighed on me. Floating there in the deep, so far from the surface, I would often think of the end of Jane Campion’s The Piano, one of my favorite movies. I would think of the ocean’s weird lullaby, of the buried selves floating below, of how part of me wanted to stay “in the cold grave — under the deep, deep sea.” Not death overcome, as in most videogames, but death contemplated and dwelled in. My usual voices hushed. This silence in me.
I’m back now, but like with any powerful experience, part of me is still anchored there. Still floating in the silence below. My speaking voice here on the surface, though, wants others to know: Subnautica is not only the greatest deep, deep sea game I’ve ever played, not only the greatest survival and exploration game I’ve experienced, it’s one of the greatest videogames of this generation.
For Subnautica to transcend its design, too many things would have to be changed. And it doesn't matter because it's the closest videogames have come to touching the sea anyway :
We dive deep and surprise! The ocean's floor is not a bland limitation but instead a rich plateau that keeps on giving. Death and discovery in equal measure.
We dive deep and surprise! The ocean's floor is not a bland limitation but instead a rich plateau that keeps on giving. Death and discovery in equal measure.