Saturday 31 August 2019

This ecological biome matches 7 of the 9 preconditions for stimulating terror in humans

I've been thinking about Subnautica again, because I think the game has a couple more lessons to teach me. For one thing, it handles tension very well. It scared the willies out of me more than once, and not just because someone tapped me on the shoulder while I was exploring the deepest trench. The creators managed the environments, the creatures and the transitions very cleverly.

A lot of that effort was through visuals that wouldn't easily transfer over to a mostly-descriptive tabletop game, but I think I've distilled down a list of things Subnautica does that I could use in my GMing.

I'm going to avoid spoilers as much as possible, but there's a chance I'll reveal something I shouldn't.  Maybe you should play the game before reading this?

Put the pressure on


You always have to keep an eye on your oxygen gauge. If it ticks down to zero before you reach the surface or your vehicle, you're in trouble. In the early game, you also have to frequently go inside wrecks to salvage technology. Wrecks are mazes of similar-looking rooms sometimes connected by ducts that destroy your sense of up and down. There's technology that can help with that, but you have to unlock it. And you're often tempted to push your luck to grab that one extra piece of gear that can give you access to a new blueprint now instead of in a few hours time.

Put the shiny at the edge of the players' resources, to tempt them to take a risk.

Foreshadow danger


You often know about oncoming trouble before you reach it. And then you head into it anyway, because there are no other options. Subnautica's iconic monster is the reaper, a giant facehugger-eel that loves to chew on mini-subs.  You usually hear it before you see it and then it's undulating through the water in the distance, just visible in the murk. If  you're lucky, it's headed away from you.  It's the same with the sea dragon. You hear it roar before you ever see it and the noise shakes the walls.  Visual indicators are used the same way. Ampeels first make their presence known with their bioluminescent spots in the darkness, then with arcing electricity and then you get to see it.  You also manage to tap into alien communications as the game progresses. The messages you overhear are never encouraging.

The Angry GM has an article about this.  To sum up: if you want to trap your players in a maze with a monster, start by letting them watch from a safe distance while it slaughters a much tougher adventuring party than they are.

Your safety isn't safe


You can retreat to a safe place at almost any time.  You're generally protected inside a base, if only because metal walls will hide you from the creatures outside. But the creatures aren't the only threat, there's also the invisible but constant presence of kharaa. Which gets more serious the longer you're on the unnamed planet.  You could stay inside where nothing's going to poison, explode, crush, drain, shock, eat or drown you but the thought is always present that if you do that... in the end you die anyway.

Give the players a place of comfort and safety, then make it clear that in the fullness of time it won't help them.

You have the power until you don't


On your first visit to the Aurora crash site, you're threatened by crawlers. They're too fast and move too erratically to easily avoid them. Eventually you retreat or they kill you. On your second visit you have the repulsion cannon and you can simply kick them into the surf. You feel like a conqueror! — then you dive into a pool filled with bleeders where you have to put the cannon away and fill your hands with a repair tool. You can see them swimming out of the corner of your eye and just hope you spot them approaching in time to get your knife out.

Power the players up, then challenge them to put the power down.

Pile it on


There's a point in the game where you're trying to bypass a threat much larger than you could possibly handle.  Stealth is the only realistic option.  But while you're trying to sneak, there's a swarm of smaller threats ganging up on you.  You have to occasionally pause to take care of them before they can bring you down, but without alerting the larger threat.

Small close threats seem much more significant when they can trigger a large distant threat.

Don't look back


You can arm your mini-sub in the midgame, but until then if you're attacked while using it your only option is to run.  The creature may or may not chase you.  Checking behind means slowing down.  You have to run without looking back until you feel like you're probably safe, and even then you may be wrong.

Spring a danger, then withhold accurate information until someone's willing to take a risk for it.

No escape


Dying is the thing you spend all your effort to avoid in a game.  But when it happens, the threat is immediately past and you have a moment to settle yourself, check how much progress you've lost and what needs re-doing, then dive back in.

Most of the threats in Subnautica don't kill you outright.  Instead they take a chunk off your health, circle around and maybe come in for another bite.  You have a chance to escape if you make an immediate effort, and you're lucky.  Instead of one instant of "Sucks.  Oh well." you're suspended in the moment of "Aaaaargh no no no run away run away—".

Half-killing the characters and making a credible threat to finish the job can be more frightening than simply ending them.

1 comment:

  1. damn, good way of putting how subnautica puts the fear in people. props

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