I dislike survival games. My nose is too buried deep in spreadsheets of item spawns to really surrender myself to whatever fun the game may offer. The only exception to this has been Subnautica, a game so immersive that I found myself totally engaged even with all the wiki scrolling.

I love the way this game sounds. Beyond the occasional melodic sting, the music in the game is sparse, making room for the rich sound design to take over. There’s the hypnotic lapping of the waves on the planet’s surface and the muted texture every sound takes as you dip your head below. Anything made of metal is wonderful to the ears. Your vehicles land in the water with a mighty crash and the heavy thunk of pressure sealed heavy doors is your only assurance that you won’t be swallowed up by the inky black waters.

Your only real companion is the tinny, modulated voice of your PDA chiming in about imminent death. Yes you hear human voices, but those warm naturalistic tones are always paired with the image of their bloated corpses sinking lifelessly at the bottom of the sea.

I love the touch and textures of the game. I’m reminded of all the feelings of a long day spent swimming when I was younger. The feeling of the waves gently rocking you here and there is probably the only amiable touch you’ll feel in the ocean. It’s a temporary comfort though because the seas are full of peril. Even in the shallowest waters, you’ll learn the terror of having no air to breathe. That burning sensation as oxygen starved arms flail to the surfaces and the desperate choking down of air as you try to beat back the black death encroaching from the corners of the screen. It’s not all bad though, the fear of the depths makes your bases feel more homely.

The unknotting of tension in the muscles when you finally make it back to safe harbour. The expansion of your chest as pruney fingers unclasp a tight and drenched wet suit, sea salt drying and flaking off the skin after hours spent in chilly waters. It’s like the relief of kicking off your shoes after a long day at work taken to the absolute extreme.

I love to imagine the tastes of the game. Think of the he unspeakably cruel monotony of eating fish day in and day out. Arms slack with ropey muscle as you try and choke down your fourth fish of the day. You force it down with a mouthful of water and try to remember the almost-sweet taste of your last ration bar. Imagine then the sheer elation when you get your food fabricators. The so-so chocolate bar from the vending machine feeling like a gift from God and your black coffee tasting like ambrosia on your terminally unrefined pallet.