Category: Submerged

Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 10: Power Problems, Progress, and Valentino

Submerged Log 10: Power Problems, Progress, and Valentino

Platform: Steam Deck

Video: Base building, Moonpool construction, and Seamoth upgrades (no commentary)


The game congratulated me on reaching 100m deep while I was standing in my own base, which is impressive,
considering my floor doesn’t even have a depth rating.

The first thing that happens today is Subnautica having a small moment. I get the “passed 100m” message like
I’ve just descended into the abyss, when I’m very much indoors and pretending my base is a real home and not
a glorified underwater shed. I chalk it up to another glitch. The peeper-in-the-lifepod incident still lives
rent-free in my head.

Glitches aside, I’ve got one job today: make this new base functional. “Presentable” is ambitious. “Not
embarrassing” is the real target. Step one is a fabricator, because I’m done doing the lifepod commute every
time I need to make a wire.

Weather / Loot / Mood

  • Weather: Clear enough to trust solar power. Briefly. Foolishly.
  • Loot: Diamond, cave sulfur, titanium (so much titanium), quartz (eventually).
  • Mood: Productive, then annoyed, then productive again. Standard survival rhythm.

A Base Without a Fabricator Is Just a Bad Camping Trip

Once I’m out gathering materials, the game finally gives me a little kindness: another diamond. That’s the
missing piece that turns “soon” into “today,” and suddenly the Laser Cutter isn’t a distant dream anymore.

I head back to the lifepod, dig out my other diamond and the cave sulfur, and just like that: the Laser Cutter
is mine. The Aurora is officially back on the menu, and the Captain’s Quarters is finally starting to look like
a real plan instead of a brave lie I tell myself.

But not yet. Today’s obsession is still the Moonpool. I can taste it. I can also taste salt water. Both feel
inevitable.

Another Distress Signal, Another “Not Today”

I catch another distress signal, and it’s immediately obvious it’s outside my comfort zone. It’s not a “never,”
though. It’s a “give me five minutes and a better module.”

That’s the thing about Subnautica. The game doesn’t lock doors — it just points at the ocean and says,
“You can go there whenever you’re ready.” And then it laughs.

Moonpool Madness (And the Corridor Betrayal)

With the fabricator up and running, the base finally feels like mine. Not long after that, I scrape together
enough titanium for the second ingot I need, which means there’s nothing left between me and the Moonpool
except… building placement drama.

I try to be sensible. I build a corridor so the Moonpool can connect neatly, like a planned base and not a
panic build. The game disagrees. It refuses to attach, refuses to cooperate, and refuses to respect my desire
for symmetry.

So I remove the corridor, try again, and suddenly it’s happy. Of course it is. The Moonpool finally goes down
and I don’t even hesitate — I dock the Seamoth immediately and give it the charge it deserves.

Power: The Problem I Created on Purpose

The moment I dock, reality hits: the Seamoth is now drinking my base power like it’s a free refill station.
And my base power is currently solar.

Which means when the sun goes down, my base turns into a very modern art installation: “Darkness, But With
Regret.”

I need another solar panel. Simple. Easy. Except for one tiny detail: quartz.

I know where quartz is. I just can’t find the routes to the places I know have it, which is a very
specific kind of frustration. Eventually, I stumble into the right area, collect what I need, and the second
panel goes up. The base breathes again.

Mobile Vehicle Bay: Why Is It Like That?

Next up is the Mobile Vehicle Bay. I get it crafted and deployed, and immediately have to accept a hard truth:
it will never be centred the way my brain wants it to be.

I take the win anyway, because I’m here for upgrades — and the one I’ve been eyeing for a while is finally
within reach: the Seamoth Depth Module MK1.

The Depth Module, and My Sudden Forgetfulness

Another salvage trip follows. I grab the titanium, head back, and in the excitement I immediately forget the
part where titanium becomes an ingot.

So I do an unplanned little jog back to the fabricator like I’m running errands in a shopping centre, except
the shopping centre is the ocean and the parking lot is trying to kill me.

Once the ingot is made, the depth module goes in, and suddenly 300m is on the table. That’s not just a number.
That’s permission to go looking for trouble in places I previously pretended didn’t exist.

Valentino, Paint Jobs, and Immediate Karma

With the Moonpool built and the module installed, I decide it’s time to make the Seamoth feel like it belongs
to me. It needs a name. It needs a fresh look. It needs… not to be treated like a bumper car.

I take it out to repair it, because it has a few dents from my usual “precision docking.” I fix it up, feel
proud, immediately damage it again, repair it again, and dock it back in the Moonpool like nothing happened.

The name, at least, is locked in. I called it earlier in the series and I’m sticking to it:
Valentino.

The colour, though? No idea. I know it’s possible. I just don’t know how to do it yet. Hopefully by next time
I’ll have figured it out, and Valentino can stop looking like a default rental.

Next Steps

  • Head back to the Aurora and finally use that Laser Cutter like it wasn’t made for decoration.
  • Figure out how to change Seamoth colours, because I refuse to be beaten by a paint menu.
  • Start tracking down rocket blueprints, because “escape” is technically the goal. Allegedly.

Continue the journey

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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 9: Beacons, Blueprints, and a First Proper Home

Submerged Log 9: Beacons, Blueprints, and a First Proper Home

Platform: Steam Deck

Video: Beacon run, Mushroom Forest scavenging, and first base module (no commentary)

When you hit a brick wall in Subnautica, the game doesn’t give you a hint. It gives you more ocean.

I’ve stalled out. Upgrades are half-finished, blueprints are dangling just out of reach,
and my “plan” has become a list of things I’d like to do once I stop being poor in titanium.
So I do the only thing left: explore.

My memory is decent, but this planet is an endless blue maze, and I’m done pretending I’ll remember
where anything is. It’s finally time to start using beacons properly.

Beacon Therapy (Mushroom Forest Edition)

I craft a beacon, head out to the Mushroom Forest, and deploy it the second I arrive.
The logic is simple: if the radio nudged me here once, there’s probably something useful nearby.
I name the beacon, mark the spot, and start searching with actual purpose for once.

The theory pays off fast. I find another piece of the Cyclops puzzle, and — more importantly —
the second Moonpool fragment.
That one moment flips the entire run. Base building isn’t a “someday” thing anymore.
It’s now.

Side Loot: Shale Outcrops and Surprise Diamonds

Since I’m already here (and my sense of direction has clearly been outsourced to a beacon),
I start checking what this biome actually offers.

The big win: diamonds in shale outcrops.
That’s the kind of detail Future Me will be grateful for, assuming Future Me survives
long enough to remember why diamonds matter.

Prep Work: Pin Recipes, Build the Tool, Commit to a Location

I head back to the lifepod and start doing the boring-but-important part:
preparation.
I pin the recipes I know I’ll need, craft the Habitat Builder,
and finally accept that I need a home that isn’t a floating tin can with a radio.

Of course, the radio fires off another distress signal mid-planning.
I add it to the list. I already know how that story ends: no survivors,
just another location stamped onto my growing collection of disappointment.

Base Site Picked (Mostly): “Somewhere Between Here and There”

I settle on a spot roughly halfway between my lifepod and the Mushroom Forest.
In theory, it’s a sensible compromise: close enough to my old “base” for convenience,
close enough to the Mushroom Forest for materials and fragments.

In practice, I’m eyeballing distance in open ocean, which is basically the same
as saying I chose the location by vibes.

I place the first module and immediately run into the first real base problem:
power.
No power means no oxygen inside, which is a fun twist for something that is supposed to be a shelter.

Power Decisions: Solar Wins (For Now)

I weigh up options and land on solar. It’s not glamorous, but it’s doable right now,
and “right now” is the only timeframe this planet respects.

I do some early prep for the Moonpool materials while I’m thinking about the future,
but the titanium math is brutal.
I’m going to need a lot more, which means a dedicated scrap hunt is officially coming.

Hatch Installed, Oxygen Not Included

I craft a hatch so I can actually get inside my new base, but until I get power online,
it’s basically a room-shaped hazard.
No power, no oxygen — and my base is currently doing a great impression of a death trap.

I do have an idea for how to work around that if I need to,
but first I want to solve the problem properly.

Radio Upgrade: No More Lifepod Commuting

One small quality-of-life win: I get a radio set up at the base-in-progress.
That way, I don’t have to keep swimming back to the lifepod every time the game
decides to hand me another “go here” message.

I also keep the Seamoth parked close by.
It’s doing double duty as a safety net and a temporary beacon until I can get a second
beacon made specifically for the base location.

Solar Online: First Breath in the New Base

Once the solar panel finally goes up, everything changes.
I step inside my newly powered base and take the first proper breath of “this might actually work.”

It needs a lot of work. It’s barely more than a shell.
But it’s mine, it’s powered, and it’s a start.
Temporary home or not, it’s the first thing on this planet that feels even slightly under control.

Continue the journey:
Previous Log |
Next Log
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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 8: Upgrades, Interruptions, and Half a Plan

Submerged Log 8: Upgrades, Interruptions, and Half a Plan

Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Will

Video: Lifepod search, blueprint checks, and radio message fallout (no commentary)

At this point, lifepods feel less like rescue and more like themed disappointment.

With another lifepod location handed to me over the radio, I decide that’s the next logical stop.
Based on my current success rate, I’m not expecting survivors — and I’m right.

Before heading out, I check my blueprints. This is a mistake. Or a motivation boost.
The Seamoth list is stacked: fragments, upgrades, and a solar charging module that promises freedom
from constantly babysitting power cells.

I pin what looks useful and head out, already planning upgrades I absolutely do not have yet.

The Lifepod (Again)

No survivors. No surprises. Just the ocean doing what it does best.

What I do find is lithium — which is genuinely useful. Several of my blueprints need it.
The problem is the usual one: I find one node, then spend far too long failing to find another.

Eventually, frustration wins. I abandon the search and head back to base,
completely forgetting that this trip was also meant to scout a future base location.
Seamoth upgrades take priority over long-term planning.

Alterra Checks In

Back at the lifepod, the radio crackles again — and this time it’s not another survivor.

The message sounds official. Alterra knows what happened. They know rescue will take a long time.
But they have an alternative.

The Captain’s Quarters aboard the Aurora is intact. There’s a black box.
I’m given the code to access the quarters and instructions that supposedly help me
“meet them halfway.”

All of this unfolds while someone in the background pesters them about a lunch run.
Apparently, ordering food is a higher priority than stranding protocol.

The Missing Step

On paper, escape now sounds possible. In practice, there are problems.
I’m still infected, and the giant alien laser hasn’t exactly signalled that I’m free to leave.

I turn my attention back to something I can control: the Seamoth solar charger.
I gather the materials. I go to the fabricator.

Nothing.

I check the Mobile Vehicle Bay. Still nothing.
I have what I need, but I’m missing a step somewhere — blueprint, fragment, or prerequisite.
Classic Subnautica.

With upgrades stalled and questions piling up, the next move is obvious:
back to the Aurora, into the Captain’s Quarters, and finally find out
what Alterra thinks “halfway” actually means.

Continue the journey:
Previous Log |
Next Log
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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 7: Islands Ruins, and the Question

Submerged Log 7: Islands, Ruins, and the Question

Game: Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary
Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Riley

Video: Southern exploration and island discovery (no commentary)

This log took longer than it should have. Not because nothing happened, but because I wasn’t ready to write it.

A brief peek behind the curtain: I wasn’t in a great place mentally for a while, and these logs stalled because of it.
Things are steadier now, and I’m ready to keep going.

The last time I stopped, the Sunbeam had been destroyed.
Not delayed. Not diverted. Gone.
Whatever hope I’d attached to rescue went with it.

After the Sunbeam

With no clear direction left, I returned to the lifepod and spent far too long doing nothing useful.
Eventually, the obvious thought landed: if there’s one island, there have to be others.

I chose to head south of the Aurora first.
If that turned up nothing, I’d sweep left or right until I hit land or found the island with the weapon platform.
It wasn’t a good plan, but it was a plan.

Limits of the Seamoth

I set off in the Seamoth, aware of its limits.
I want depth modules, but that means a Moonpool, and that isn’t an option yet.
Soon, hopefully.

I checked scattered wreckage along the way and came up empty.
No upgrades, no breakthroughs, just debris and reminders that others tried and failed here first.

Then I spotted something that wasn’t wreckage.

The Second Island

Another island broke the surface ahead of me.
Solid ground, at last.

The wildlife made it clear I wasn’t welcome.
I launched a couple of them into the sea out of necessity and irritation.
They were persistent. I was done negotiating.

The upside is food.
Real food.
For the first time in a while, I’m not entirely reliant on a fish-only diet.

More importantly, the island holds man-made structures.
Old ones.
Weathered, decaying, and clearly abandoned.

The PDAs fill in the gaps.
Whoever lived here didn’t leave recently, and they probably didn’t leave by choice.

Blueprints and Bad Construction Ahead

As I scanned the ruins, another idea took hold.
I don’t need to live out of the lifepod forever.

A new base is possible.
Not today, but soon.
I’ll need materials, a location, and a rough design.
I will almost certainly ignore that design halfway through.

If you thought my Minecraft bases were questionable, this will not reassure you.

The island does at least reward me with progress:

  • Stasis Rifle blueprint
  • Improved swim fins blueprint

Useful upgrades.
Comforting ones.
Which usually means the game is about to escalate.

A Message, Then a Voice

With nothing else pulling me forward, I head back toward the lifepod.
I’d received a radio message earlier and ignored it long enough.

Another lifepod signal.
Another reason to leave safety behind.

On the way, I notice something in the distance.
A shadow that doesn’t quite exist.
It moves, but there’s nothing there to see.

Whatever it is, it waits until the radio message ends.

Then it asks a single question:

“Who are you?”

Continue the Journey

Previous Log | Next Log

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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 6: The Sunbeam Falls

Platform: Steam Deck
Vehicle: Seamoth “Valentino” — maiden voyage
Objective: Reach the Sunbeam landing site
Status: Stranded indefinitely

“Turns out the cavalry isn’t coming — mostly because a giant alien cannon just vaporised them.”

With my Seamoth finally ready — Valentino’s first dive into open water — I headed toward the Sunbeam landing site. For once, I actually felt hopeful. Then the radio crackled again. Another distress call — this time from Lifepod 19. They could wait. If they were still alive, they’d understand. I had a rescue ship to meet.

The Island of False Hope

Reaching the site, I was greeted by something I definitely didn’t expect: a massive Alien structure that screamed “DO NOT ENTER.” A shimmering forcefield blocked the main door, and every instinct told me I was way out of my depth — both literally and metaphorically.

I parked Valentino nearby and started exploring on foot. The island itself felt eerily empty, save for the alien architecture humming with quiet menace. It wasn’t long before I found strange purple artifacts and terminals that told stories of technology way beyond anything I’d ever seen. One room even held a doomsday device — thankfully, deactivated.

The Infection Revealed

Eventually, I found what looked like a control terminal. My PDA hinted it might shut down the “cannon” perched above. I scanned it, ready to save the day — only for the machine to stab me with a robotic needle and announce, in the most clinical way possible: “Infection detected. Cannot deactivate.”

I scanned myself. Sure enough — infected. The planet was under quarantine, and I was part of the problem now. The only way out? Find a cure. Deeper in the ocean. Because of course it couldn’t be simple.

Fireworks at Dusk

With nothing else to do but accept my new membership in the “Forever Stranded” club, I returned to Valentino and made for the landing site once more. Another radio message came through — ignored. My focus was fixed on the sky.

And then, it happened. The Sunbeam dropped out of orbit, descending toward the island. A blinding green light surged from the alien structure. The cannon fired. And just like that, my rescue became a fireball.

I stood there in stunned silence, the sky lit up with debris and despair. The PDA chirped calmly in my ear, reminding me that rescue was “no longer an option.” Thanks, PDA. Really helps.

Guess I’d better make myself comfortable. It’s going to be a long stay on 4546B.

Video Log

Watch the Sunbeam’s final moments here once the video is live.

Continue the Journey

← Log 5.5: The Waiting Game |
Log 7: Coming Soon

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🌊 Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 5.5: Racing the Sunbeam

5.5

“Rescue was coming. Naturally, that meant it was time to start a new project instead.”

Platform: Steam Deck
Difficulty: Survival
Recording: Lost due to file corruption — because the ocean clearly wasn’t done messing with me.

Author’s Note: Unfortunately, my recording for this session corrupted before I noticed. So this entry is reconstructed from memory — a cautionary tale for all survivors who trust autosave more than their capture software.

Message from the Heavens

It begins with the crackle of static — another message from the Sunbeam. They’ve located a landing site. They’re on their way. Forty minutes until pickup.

Forty minutes until salvation.

Naturally, I decide to ignore the pending rescue entirely and go chase the final piece of the Mobile Vehicle Bay instead. Priorities.

The Hunt for Titanium and Sanity

I swim toward the Sunbeam’s coordinates, eyes peeled for fragments. Just as I’m starting to lose hope — there it is. The final piece.

I bolt back toward my lifepod like my oxygen tank depends on it (which, to be fair, it always does). The excitement of progress pushes me faster than any propulsion cannon ever could. I check the crafting requirements — Titanium Ingot, Power Cell, a few odds and ends I already have scattered in lockers. Easy enough.

And since I clearly have time before rescue, I think, “Why not go bigger?” Enter: the Seamoth. The personal submersible of my dreams.

Building the Dream

The Mobile Vehicle Bay is first on the list. Titanium gathered, ingot forged, power cell crafted from the remains of old batteries. When it finally deploys and floats proudly on the surface, it feels like progress — real progress.

I climb aboard, ready to build my Seamoth, and immediately realise I’ve made a rookie mistake. No Titanium Ingot. Again. The ocean mocks me with its silence as I swim off once more, scavenging every bit of wreckage I can find.

Eventually, success. The Seamoth blueprint completes, and the little sub rises from the water like a gift from the deep. She’s beautiful — and mine. I climb in, listen to the AI purr, and feel an unfamiliar thing: hope.

There’s still time before the Sunbeam arrives. I point my Seamoth toward the landing site. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it in time to see the sky light up with something other than plasma fire.

Next: The Sky Burns

I set course for the island, my Seamoth slicing through the water like it was always meant to be there. The radio says twenty minutes until the Sunbeam arrives. The ocean says otherwise.

Continue the Journey:
Log 5: Waiting for the Sunbeam | Log 6

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🌊 Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 5: Scanners, Stalkers, and the Elusive Bay

“Sometimes survival means chasing blueprints you’ll never find and pretending the ocean isn’t full of things that want to hypnotise you.”

Platform: Steam Deck
Objective: Wait for the Sunbeam transmission and maybe, just maybe, build something that floats.

Exploration (a.k.a. Avoiding Impatience)

With nothing to do but wait for the Sunbeam’s next message, I decide to make the most of my surface time. I remember having another lifepod distress signal stored, so I tag it on my HUD and head out exploring. At first, the ocean feels empty — just me, the waves, and a slowly draining battery supply — but that doesn’t last long.

After a bit of aimless swimming, I finally stumble upon the final fragment for the Laser Cutter. I can practically hear the sound of sealed Aurora doors opening already. Victory, thy name is “I can finally cut stuff.”

In the midst of my excitement, I make the questionable decision to scan a Stalker. It could’ve gone wrong in a hurry, but apparently it was too busy minding its own business to care. A rare win for curiosity over self-preservation.

The Hunt for the Mobile Vehicle Bay

With the Laser Cutter blueprints ready, I set my sights on something even more crucial: the Mobile Vehicle Bay. I want my Seamoth — freedom in miniature submarine form. I head toward Lifepod 17 again, the same one that’s been testing my patience since last time.

Luck strikes early — I find two out of three pieces for the Bay in fairly quick succession. Naturally, that’s where the good fortune ends. The third? Nowhere to be seen. I comb the seabed, check every wreck, and even chase shadows thinking they might be fragments. Spoiler: they weren’t.

In true Subnautica fashion, my HUD decides to stop showing the lifepod marker mid-journey. A quick reset fixes it, but it doesn’t help my sense of direction — or my growing frustration. Ten to fifteen minutes later, I’m still empty-handed.

Strange Fish and Stranger Plants

To add to the ambience, I discover a few plants with anger issues and meet a Mesmer — a deceptively pretty fish that freezes you mid-swim while whispering sweet nonsense. The first time it happened, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and then suddenly — WHAM. Out of the trance, face-to-face with a glowing fish that definitely wanted me gone.

Thankfully, the Propulsion Cannon was in my hands. A single blast later, and the Mesmer was forcibly introduced to the local wall. Justice served.

Calling It a Night (Reluctantly)

As darkness falls, I decide to call it a day. Nighttime on this planet is truly pitch black, and I’m not wasting my last batteries trying to play deep-sea Marco Polo with blueprints. Still, it wasn’t a wasted trip — I unlocked a few new crafting recipes and gathered plenty of scan data for the databank. Just not the one blueprint I actually wanted.

Tomorrow, the ocean and I will have words. Preferably near the wrecks that have Mobile Vehicle Bay fragments.

Video Log

Continue the Journey

⟵ Log 4: The Cannon and the Leviathan |
Log 5.5: The Sunbeam’s Shadow ⟶

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🌊 Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary — Log 4: Extinction Prevention (Mostly)

“Turns out nuclear safety training is optional when you’re the only one left alive.”

Mode: Survival | Platform: Steam Deck

Post-Reaper Priorities

After my last close encounter with the Reaper Leviathan, I decide that maybe, just maybe, going silver-hunting anywhere near them is a bad idea. I still need that silver for my Propulsion Cannon, but I’d rather not earn another traumatic underwater flashback. I remember some sandstone outcrops near Lifepod 17, so I head there instead.

Luck is finally on my side. I find the silver pretty quickly, head back to my lifepod, and get to work. A few crafted materials later, I’m officially armed with a Propulsion Cannon. I briefly consider testing it on the Reaper — just to see what happens — but deep down, I know it would end poorly for me and hilariously for the Reaper.

Back to the Aurora

Feeling brave (or foolish), I head back to the Aurora. Naturally, my Seaglide’s battery dies halfway there, because Subnautica loves timing like that. After swapping it out, I make my way inside and retrace my previous steps. The crates that blocked me before? One satisfying Propulsion Cannon blast later, and I’m through.

I’m not sure what I expected — treasure, danger, maybe another PDA full of corporate nonsense — but what I definitely didn’t expect was a locked door with a keypad. For a moment, I almost give up. Then I remember my PDA might know something I don’t (which is most things), and there it is — a door code: 1454. It takes a few attempts — because typing underwater is hard — but eventually, the door slides open.

The Reactor Room

Behind it lies the reactor room, complete with glowing warnings telling me not to enter without training. Fortunately, no one’s around to stop me — and the ship is literally falling apart — so I take that as an invitation.

Radiation warning blaring, I dive in. The place is crawling with those little aggressive sea pests who’ve apparently decided this nuclear chamber is home sweet home. I’m too focused on repairing breaches to care. Twelve welds later, the Aurora’s no longer in danger of turning the ocean into a radioactive soup. One crisis averted, and I didn’t even vaporise myself. I’ll take that as a win.

Lifepod 4 and the Sunbeam

On my way back to Lifepod 5, I spot something bobbing on the surface. It’s an upside-down lifepod — number 4, to be exact. Curiosity wins, and I investigate. Inside, I find a PDA and a Creature Decoy blueprint. Probably not a coincidence that this pod didn’t make it.

Back at my base of operations, I reward myself with some cooked fish and clean water before checking the latest radio transmission. It’s from the Sunbeam — they’ve heard my signals and are getting closer. They just need to find somewhere to land.

Awaiting Rescue

Not sure what I’ll do while I wait. I’ve got Seamoth blueprints now, but no sign of the Mobile Vehicle Bay fragments I need to actually build one. So for the time being, it’s just me, my Seaglide, and the ever-expanding ocean of things trying to eat me.

I didn’t expect preventing an extinction-level event to be this quick — though I suspect the planet has plenty more chaos in store. For now, I’ll gather resources, explore nearby wrecks, and keep an eye out for those fragments. And maybe go swimming, just… not too deep.

Continue the journey:
Log 3: The Reaper’s Warning |
Log 5: Scanners, Stalkers & The Elusive Bay
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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 3 | The Aurora Problem (and the Leviathan Bigger Problem)

Platform: Steam Deck | Difficulty: Survival

“The Aurora is going to explode…” — my PDA, several minutes before the actual explosion.

Apparently the end of the world comes with buffering. The PDA warned me of the Aurora’s imminent detonation, but the ship took its sweet time about it. Still, that gave me the perfect window to craft my shiny new radiation suit from some creepvine samples. Nothing like the warm embrace of woven seaweed to make you feel safe from lethal fallout.

Once kitted out, I stocked up on the essentials: food, water, fire extinguisher, medkits — the usual “I might die but want to look prepared” loadout. Then, off to the Aurora I went, scanning everything I passed: beacons, Propulsion Cannon fragments, office chairs (because if I’m stranded on an alien ocean planet, I’m at least going to sit comfortably).

The Aurora Expedition

I reached the crash site and was immediately greeted by its new inhabitants — aggressive little crab things who were less than impressed with my knife-waving diplomacy. My PDA informed me I’d need a laser cutter to get deeper inside. Excellent. Another tool I don’t have. Add that to the “future me” problem list right under “stop the Aurora from exploding in 24 hours.”

Current me, however, had a far more pressing issue: I’d lost my flashlight. Somewhere inside the Aurora. One second I’m lighting the way through twisted corridors, the next my light vanishes into the void. After several minutes of frantic backtracking and muttering, I found it lying on the deck. Then, like the professional survivor I am, I immediately dropped it again while trying to equip it. Future me might solve radiation — present me still can’t handle basic inventory management.

The Leviathan Encounter

Deciding I couldn’t progress without a Propulsion Cannon, I returned to the Lifepod to craft one — only to discover I was missing a wiring kit. Which needs silver. Which I didn’t have.
Silver lives in sandstone outcrops, and the area near the Aurora wreck seemed like a logical place to search.

That was a mistake.

Because instead of silver, I found something much bigger. A Leviathan. Don’t ask me which type — I was too busy screaming to file a report. It was fast, loud, and apparently decided I looked like lunch. I bolted. It chased. My health bar became a decorative sliver, and then, for reasons only it knows, it broke off the attack.

I didn’t wait to question my luck. I burned through medkits and bolted home, heart pounding louder than the Aurora’s reactor. The silver can wait. I’m alive, and that’s enough for today — though after my close encounter with the Reaper Leviathan (I finally remembered what it was called), I’m not sure how many more “near misses” my nerves can take.

Log 3 Summary (Steam Deck Edition)

  • Crafted the Radiation Suit before the Aurora explosion
  • Scanned multiple new blueprints, including the Propulsion Cannon
  • Lost my flashlight inside the Aurora (twice)
  • Confirmed: Leviathans exist, and they are very fast
  • Survived a close encounter with one — barely
Continue the journey:
Log 2 |
Log 4 Coming Soon
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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 2: The Depths of Progress

Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 2: The Depths of Progress

Difficulty: Survival (Steam Deck Survival)
Optional Features: Grav Trap Deployed for Science and Snacks

“Silver is rarer than common sense on this planet.”

After yesterday’s fire-fighting and frantic crafting, I started the day with a new radio message: Lifepod 17 had also crashed somewhere nearby — right next to the Seamoth Bay, apparently. But priorities are priorities, and since Lifepod 3 radioed me first, they got first rescue attempt.

Priorities, Podcasts, and PDAs

Lifepod 3 wasn’t exactly a rescue success.
I did, however, find a blueprint for a compass — the kind of thing that makes you wonder why your pod didn’t come with one pre-installed. I added it straight to the “to-craft-once-I-can-see-straight” list, along with a PDA I’ll read later when I’m not holding my breath underwater. No survivors… unless you count me, which I do, enthusiastically.

Back at my pod, I realised something important: I can’t see a damn thing once it gets dark. So I finally crafted a torch — apparently the galaxy’s most underrated invention — along with a survival knife because there’s nothing like a little sharp-edged comfort in an ocean full of unknown lifeforms.

Lifepod 17 and the Great Seamoth Discovery

Next stop: Lifepod 17.
Predictably, it was another empty seat arrangement, but I did strike technological gold — enough Seamoth fragments to unlock the blueprint. I just need a Mobile Vehicle Bay now, which sounds easy enough until you remember I’m surviving on cooked bladderfish and spite.

While exploring the wrecks, I also found the last few materials to upgrade my O₂ tank. More air equals more curiosity, and more curiosity usually equals more trouble, so that’s a win all around.

Incoming Messages and Explosive Warnings

Just as I was feeling productive, I got a new transmission — this time from the Sunbeam. They wanted a response, but my comms system is, and I quote, “irreparably damaged.” Translation: I’m talking to myself for the foreseeable future.

With no one to call and no Netflix subscription in sight, I built a Grav Trap and tossed it outside the Lifepod to watch it work. Instant sushi buffet. Fish helplessly drawn into an invisible vortex of doom. It’s oddly soothing.

Science in Motion

Full gameplay log below — forty minutes of exploration, crafting, and the occasional panic swim. Featuring Grav Trap testing, Lifepod 17 dives, and my ongoing battle with visibility and oxygen management.

Watch on YouTube

I even had enough parts for a Rebreather, further extending my underwater escapades. Everything was going fine… right up until the PDA told me the Aurora will explode in approximately two hours.
Sure. Two hours to stop a planet-sized reactor meltdown with nothing but a knife and optimism. Sounds totally achievable.

Silver, Sunbeam, and Sinking Realisations

I spent the rest of the day chasing one thing: silver. I’d convinced myself it didn’t exist anymore, that I’d mined the planet dry earlier. But after far too many dives and muttered curses, I finally found some glimmering salvation among the sandstone outcrops.

Back at the Lifepod, another message awaited — the Sunbeam again. They’ve spotted the wreckage of the Aurora and are coming to investigate. They’ll be here within the week.

So not all doom and gloom then. Just mild existential dread… and a new compass freshly crafted to help me get lost in the right direction next time.

Continue the Journey:
Log 1 |
Log 3
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