A Whack to the head: Subnautica story
narfblat
Utah, USA Join Date: 2016-05-15 Member: 216799Members, Forum Moderators, Forum staff
Utah, USA Join Date: 2016-05-15 Member: 216799Members, Forum Moderators, Forum staff
Writer's note: I had an amusing experience in Subnautica toward the end of Early Access, and have had the idea to work it into a story bouncing around in my head. I decided I wanted to play again to make it accurate. This chapter is based on my new playthroughs, the experience will be worked into the story in a later chapter.
Personal log of Systems Maintenance Chief Ryley Robinson:
It’s been months, deep in the void of space. Peaceful, but boring. Our ship is the Aurora. It’s named after odd lights in the sky, but I find it fitting that the ship shares the name with an ancient fictional character who spent most of her time sleeping. The closest to excitement coming up is a slingshot maneuver around some water planet, happening in a few hours. The planet might be a good place to vacation, if it wasn’t so remote. I’ve double-checked all the computers and navigation sensors. There’s nothing else for me to do, so I sign off for a nap.
I wake suddenly to a horrible rumbling. Alarms are blaring, and an annoyingly calm voice is telling us to abandon ship. Some people act stunned, wondering if it’s just a drill, and others are frantically rushing toward lifepods. I grab my standard issue PDA from its nearby storage slot, then join the latter, though in a less frantic fashion. While they trip over each other, I move quickly to the nearest lifepod. I’m suddenly shoved to the side, banging my head a bit on the corridor, and someone hops in what was to be my lifepod. “7 is my lucky number,” I hear as the pod closes. Pod 6 fills while I recover from the nutcase in 7, so I run to Pod 5 and slide down. I start the jettison sequence, and a set of restraints closes to keep me seated. I launch just in time, and seconds later explosions from the Aurora rock my pod. The pod states shaking, knocking loose a panel and the pod’s fire extinguisher. I’m thinking dark thoughts about the jerk in 7 when the panel flies toward my head.
Blackness. Pain. Coughing. Fire! I awaken quickly and press the button to release my restraints, but it’s giving an error noise. Again, but nothing happens, except the annoying noise. Emergency fix: whack the whole panel! My restraints lift. The fire extinguisher has landed by me, in the first bit of good luck I’ve had today. I get the fire out, and then a nearby panel starts beeping. I open it to find a pair of environment suits. I can tell from my pod’s rocking that it landed on water, so the suit is a must regardless of what the air is like. After getting in the suit, I check the pod’s status readout. Summary: stuff is broken, but at least it floats, has power, and has a working fabricator.
The fabricator is worthless without my PDA, so it’s time to boot it up. The PDA does its meaningless Alterra company jingle, the kind that sounds kind of cool the first time, but tends to get annoying after repetition. The PDA greets me with “You have suffered minor head trauma. This is considered an optimal outcome.” I’m not sure if it’s being sarcastic or not. I prefer the version from the training exercise, “Great job not dying.” The PDA has now booted in emergency mode. This locks off technology that is deemed unnecessary or excessive. Very smart idea, except the PDA is telling me its tech database is corrupted, losing me 80% of stored tech. So, the Seaglide blueprint is corrupted, and the Powerglide version is locked because it is fast enough to be considered recreational-only.
Well, I haven't checked the pod’s storage unit yet, maybe it has a seaglide. The storage is larger than I expected, so it better have something good. Opening it, I am massively disappointed. 2 each of compressed ration bars, small water bottles, and flares. Not enough to last long, so I better check what this planet has to offer. I open the top hatch of my lifepod, scaring off some odd flying creature. The first thing I see is the Aurora. Over a fourth of the front is gone, the belly of the ship is underwater, and much of the rest is burning, pouring black smoke. Our ship is an awesome yet eerie sight, a majestic wreck, a symbol of both power and helplessness.
Personal log of Systems Maintenance Chief Ryley Robinson:
It’s been months, deep in the void of space. Peaceful, but boring. Our ship is the Aurora. It’s named after odd lights in the sky, but I find it fitting that the ship shares the name with an ancient fictional character who spent most of her time sleeping. The closest to excitement coming up is a slingshot maneuver around some water planet, happening in a few hours. The planet might be a good place to vacation, if it wasn’t so remote. I’ve double-checked all the computers and navigation sensors. There’s nothing else for me to do, so I sign off for a nap.
I wake suddenly to a horrible rumbling. Alarms are blaring, and an annoyingly calm voice is telling us to abandon ship. Some people act stunned, wondering if it’s just a drill, and others are frantically rushing toward lifepods. I grab my standard issue PDA from its nearby storage slot, then join the latter, though in a less frantic fashion. While they trip over each other, I move quickly to the nearest lifepod. I’m suddenly shoved to the side, banging my head a bit on the corridor, and someone hops in what was to be my lifepod. “7 is my lucky number,” I hear as the pod closes. Pod 6 fills while I recover from the nutcase in 7, so I run to Pod 5 and slide down. I start the jettison sequence, and a set of restraints closes to keep me seated. I launch just in time, and seconds later explosions from the Aurora rock my pod. The pod states shaking, knocking loose a panel and the pod’s fire extinguisher. I’m thinking dark thoughts about the jerk in 7 when the panel flies toward my head.
Blackness. Pain. Coughing. Fire! I awaken quickly and press the button to release my restraints, but it’s giving an error noise. Again, but nothing happens, except the annoying noise. Emergency fix: whack the whole panel! My restraints lift. The fire extinguisher has landed by me, in the first bit of good luck I’ve had today. I get the fire out, and then a nearby panel starts beeping. I open it to find a pair of environment suits. I can tell from my pod’s rocking that it landed on water, so the suit is a must regardless of what the air is like. After getting in the suit, I check the pod’s status readout. Summary: stuff is broken, but at least it floats, has power, and has a working fabricator.
The fabricator is worthless without my PDA, so it’s time to boot it up. The PDA does its meaningless Alterra company jingle, the kind that sounds kind of cool the first time, but tends to get annoying after repetition. The PDA greets me with “You have suffered minor head trauma. This is considered an optimal outcome.” I’m not sure if it’s being sarcastic or not. I prefer the version from the training exercise, “Great job not dying.” The PDA has now booted in emergency mode. This locks off technology that is deemed unnecessary or excessive. Very smart idea, except the PDA is telling me its tech database is corrupted, losing me 80% of stored tech. So, the Seaglide blueprint is corrupted, and the Powerglide version is locked because it is fast enough to be considered recreational-only.
Well, I haven't checked the pod’s storage unit yet, maybe it has a seaglide. The storage is larger than I expected, so it better have something good. Opening it, I am massively disappointed. 2 each of compressed ration bars, small water bottles, and flares. Not enough to last long, so I better check what this planet has to offer. I open the top hatch of my lifepod, scaring off some odd flying creature. The first thing I see is the Aurora. Over a fourth of the front is gone, the belly of the ship is underwater, and much of the rest is burning, pouring black smoke. Our ship is an awesome yet eerie sight, a majestic wreck, a symbol of both power and helplessness.
Comments
That and Diamond Crusade, that one's really good. And Dawning is a nice story too, but that one follows the Degasi.