Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Entry 14: Return to the Aurora

Submerged Entry 14: Return to the Aurora

Platform: Steam Deck
Game: Subnautica

Video: Aurora return, Prawn Suit fragments, and Neptune Rocket plans (no commentary)

Before heading back to the Aurora, I once again spent some time off-camera scavenging for supplies. Mostly lithium this time, as I wanted to make proper use of the Modification Station. The result is a larger oxygen tank, upgraded fins, and a noticeable improvement in how long I can actually survive underwater without surfacing like a panicked fish every thirty seconds.

Three full minutes of oxygen changes a surprising amount.

I also crafted several fire extinguishers because, unfortunately, the Aurora is still very much on fire.

There were two reasons for returning. The first was the Prawn Suit fragments hidden somewhere inside the wreck. The second was Alterra’s supposed “backup plan” for getting me off the planet, which apparently waited behind a locked door inside the Captain’s Quarters.

Whether escaping is actually possible while infected and living under the watchful eye of a giant alien cannon is another matter entirely.

Approaching the Wreck

I climbed into Valentino and made my way toward the Aurora once again. The closer I got, the more the entire wreck seemed to dominate the horizon. Even after previous visits, the thing still feels less like a crashed ship and more like a warning.

At one point I seriously considered turning around altogether. A Leviathan was swimming nearby, somewhere beneath the waterline, and although I do not think it actually spotted me, I had no interest in testing that theory in open water.

Valentino survived the trip regardless, and eventually the familiar wreckage came into view.

Cave Crawlers and Corporate Fire Hazards

The first order of business inside the Aurora was dealing with Cave Crawlers, which mostly involved launching them into the distance using the Propulsion Cannon. I do not think that mechanic will ever stop being entertaining. There is something deeply satisfying about watching tiny hostile creatures suddenly achieve low orbit.

Beyond that came the usual combination of burning corridors, blocked pathways, and scattered debris. I moved crates out of the way, emptied fire extinguishers into active flames, and slowly pushed deeper into the wreck.

Along the way I found a code for a nearby door and, naturally, immediately abandoned all restraint and grabbed everything that was not physically attached to the walls.

Returning with upgraded oxygen capacity also made a noticeable difference. For once, I could actually stop to explore rooms properly instead of constantly checking my remaining air supply every few seconds.

I even found another flashlight, which is reassuring considering my current one has probably suffered enough abuse already.

The Prawn Suit Bay

Eventually I found what I had really come for: the Prawn Suits.

The bay itself was still partially on fire, which meant carefully weaving between flames while scanning fragments as quickly as possible. One by one the blueprints started coming together until, after four scans, the final piece clicked into place.

The Prawn Suit was now fully unlocked.

Which means at some point soon I am going to need to build one. More importantly, I am going to need to think of a name for it.

Somewhere during all this, I also noticed I had another radio transmission waiting back at base. Naturally, I completely forgot about it again until the recording had already finished.

Alterra’s Escape Plan

After securing the Prawn Suit fragments, I continued moving room to room through the Aurora, embracing my role as the ocean’s least qualified salvage expert. If something was not nailed down, it went into my inventory. If it was scannable, I scanned it.

Eventually I reached the Captain’s Quarters, although actually getting inside proved more difficult than expected because I somehow managed to forget where the code was stored despite knowing full well I already had it.

Eventually common sense prevailed, the code was entered correctly, and inside waited Alterra’s emergency solution to the entire situation:

Blueprints for a rocket.

I appreciate the optimism. Unfortunately, there are still several problems with this plan.

Firstly, I am infected with something unpleasant.

Secondly, there is still a giant alien cannon on the island that already demonstrated very clearly what happens to anything attempting to leave the planet.

So while the Neptune Rocket plans are useful, I would not exactly call them an immediate solution.

Return to Base

Eventually I fought my way back through the Aurora and returned to Valentino. The trip back to base was quieter, although the closer I got to home, the more obvious another problem became.

The current base is starting to feel small.

Between the Scanner Room, Moonpool, Bioreactor, storage space, and everything else I keep dragging back from expeditions, the operation is beginning to outgrow the original layout.

I am now seriously considering either heavily expanding the current base or establishing a second outpost somewhere further from the Mushroom Forest.

Before any of that though, I need to figure out exactly what components are required to craft the Prawn Suit.

And perhaps more importantly, I should probably listen to that radio message.

Continue the Journey

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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 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:
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