The vast oceans of the video game Subnautica
and its sequel Below Zero teem with incredible life — some friendly, and some deadly. While
the series is focused on survival, the lifeforms of Subnautica are amazing even when they’re
trying to eat you: possessing fascinating biology, bizarre behavioral patterns, and
hidden mysteries. I’ve explored the various creatures of the series before on my channel,
and in this special compilation episode — you can get the full, documentary-style experience
in one video. From the sunlit shallows to the deepest abyss, we’ll explore the biology
behind these puzzling aliens, and discover the role they play in their larger ecosystems.
So, let’s take the plunge together, and see what awaits us under the surface… Beginning
in the safety of shallow warm waters, we find that stable conditions have led to a region
crowded with varied life. One of the first lifeforms we can spot are the Peepers… or
rather, they spot us, with their enormous, dinner-plate like eyes. These easily identifiable
creatures have evolved visual sensors capable of discerning colors not just in clear waters
but in a variety of lighting conditions. This, combined with their surprising speed, means
that despite being herbivores, Peepers aren’t at the bottom of the food chain. That distinction
instead belongs to these creatures, the rather unfortunate looking Garryfish. Docile herbivores
that are remarkably slow, the Garryfish make easy prey for most anything else in these
shallow waters. All ecosystems, including the oceans of earth, need something near the
bottom of the food chain, after all. Other common herbivores on 4546B include the Bladderfish,
which swims by contracting and expanding its translucent bladder, and the unusual Boomerang,
a horizontally symmetrical oddity that possesses a mouth full of sharp teeth to break down
coral. On the subject of coral, the landscape of the Safe Shallows is dominated by one particularly
unusual lifeform. These gargantuan tubes are large enough to swim through, and despite
appearances, are very much alive. Aptly called Giant Coral Tubes, they don’t look much
like the coral we know on earth. These tubes have evolved to filter nutrients that flow
through their center, and judging by their size and abundance, it’s a strategy that
has been quite successful. Gliding near the tubes is the elegant Rabbit Ray — the first
of many ray species we may encounter. The undulating motion that the Rabbit Ray uses
to swim through the clear seas is analogous to the underwater movements of various types
of earth rays. But it’s not the movement of the Rabbit Ray that gives it its curious
name. Instead, the Rabbit Ray’s most defining features are its twin orange appendages that
help it sense vibrations. These ear-like structures tangentially resemble the ears of rabbits,
and so the aquatic Rabbit Ray shares a name with an otherwise dissimilar terrestrial herbivore.
Beneath the shallows twist a network of underwater caves. While exploring one as I gathered this
footage, I heard a strange noise… And a fish exploded in my face. That short-lived
creature was a Crashfish — an evolutionary oddity that is difficult to study due to its
highly frustrating habit of exploding when anything gets close. The Crashfish is defending
the sulfur plant, that provides the Crashfish its home. While an animal exploding to defend
its territory might seem too outlandish to evolve, there’s a model of such behavior
on our own planet. Though uncommon, certain species of ants have been observed erupting
into goo to block tunnels when their nest is under threat. Truly, nature is highly unusual
— no matter the planet. Elsewhere in the caves, the far less bothersome Shuttlebugs
drift near the stone walls. Shuttlebugs are challenging creatures to make sense of: with
three legs and three mandibles that have evolved into fin-like tentacles. Despite looking slightly
unsettling, analysis suggests Shuttlebugs are too small to be a threat to most organisms,
and have instead adapted to feed on the waste products of the ecosystem around them. Leaving
the caves, you’ll see our first large species is waiting for us: the Gasopods. These rotund,
leathery beasts resemble Earth manatees, yet have a curious defense that is all their own.
Although not in any way hostile, when threatened, the Gasopods will nonetheless release a deadly
cloud of underwater mist… which I can’t recommend ingesting. Chemical analysis of
the Gasopods tells us the poisonous compound comes from the bulbous appendage at the end
of their tail. Since Gasopods are social creatures, it’s possible they even use these clouds
to communicate with one another. But while the Gasopods are the largest creatures in
the Safe Shallows, they are barely the tip of the proverbial iceberg when it comes to
planet 4546B. Venturing into the vast Kelp Forest, we’ll find a radically different
environment than the region we just left. Here, the light is low thanks to the high
volume of creepvine plants — creating a hidden ecosystem, just like kelp-heavy regions
in Earth’s oceans. Here and there, clusters of Creepvine Seeds cast shadows across the
environment like natural floodlights. I find myself wondering just what might be hidden
among the swaying fronds… That is a Stalker: the largest predator that makes its home in
the dense Creepvines. These fearsome customers possess a series of dorsal ridges to help
them make tight turns. Their long, thin snout is likely adapted for ensnaring fish, as it
greatly resembles the effective, slender snout of real-life gharials. Yet at the edge of
the Kelp Forest, one Stalker is behaving… rather oddly. This Stalker is picking up various
pieces of metal scrap with its snout, only to drop them after a short period. This behavior
seems to serve no practical purpose, and indeed the stalkers seem to simply have a fondness
for shiny objects. Puzzling as this behavior might seem, the barracuda — a predatory
earth fish — is also known to be attracted to shiny objects because it’s evolved to
spot the silvery glint of the fish it prefers to prey on. And when one considers the common
prey of the Stalker, this attraction to shiny materials makes perfect sense. In the murky
depths of the Kelp Forest, schools of fast-moving hoopfish light up the dark with their vibrant
coloring. A brief study of hoopfish anatomy reveals they get their name from their antennae,
which extends from the top and bottom of their heads and bends around their tails — forming
a hoop. Exactly why these stunning fish possess such intense and varied colors, however, is
a mystery. On the subject of mysteries, the last fish of the Kelp Forest we’ll see is
quite the enigma. Meet the Hoverfish: a peaceful herbivore that appears to ‘hover’ on the
pads at the ends of its six legs. Using these strange appendages, the Hoverfish glides on
the undersea currents in a manner quite dissimilar to any other fish on the planet. It’s surprising
to learn, therefore, that the hoverfish may actually be a distant relative of the nondescript
bladder-fish, with their ‘legs’ a highly derived form of the bladderfish’s primitive
vacuole tubing. It’s the kind of creature that could only exist in the Kelp Forest.
Just beyond the waving Creepvines, the landscape gives way to an alien Grassy Plateau. Here,
the sandy terrain is almost completely carpeted with Blood Grass, as the seafloor is too deep
for Creepvines to take hold. And in the open space, even larger lifeforms are on the prowl…
At the edge of the Grassy Plateau, a strange cloud of sand is gathering. Be cautious—as
we swim closer to the unexpected turbulence, a creature with a huge, fanged mouth lashes
out. This is a Sand Shark, a predator with a distinctive hunting strategy. The Sand Shark
burrows into the sand, then erupts out when unsuspecting prey swims by: ending the chase
with a snap from its massive jaws. With segmented body armor and six rows of fearsome teeth,
it’s little wonder why these predators are so effective. Alien as this behavior may seem,
some sharks on earth employ a similar strategy in swimming along the sandy floor near the
shoreline in search of food, although they don’t possess the extreme tunneling abilities
of the Sand Shark. A common target of the Sand Shark’s brutal ambushes swims overhead.
The Spadefish doesn’t look like much from most angles, but glimpse one from above and
you’ll spot its defining feature: a single, cyclopean eye. Closer analysis of the Spadefish
suggests it feeds on the sea floor, and its single eye allows the spadefish to spot predators
above it. Its mottled green coloration suggests it normally hides among sea grasses like many
fish do on earth. When a Spadefish wanders onto the Grassy Plateaus, however, it is hopelessly
exposed… On the far side of the Grassy Plateau, what appear to be tiny floating islands hang
miraculously in the water. Upon closer inspection, these chunks of rock are all suspended by
colonies of the same, curious lifeform: the Floaters. Transparent, gelatinous blobs, floaters
are at once oddly beautiful, and a little silly looking. Analysis of these creatures
reveal they’re actually multiple microorganisms living in symbiosis, which we can compare
to some deep-sea species of jellyfish. The floater’s ability to suspend such heavy
objects, however, remains something of a mystery. Swimming close by the floating islands is
a distant relative of the peeper called the Reginald. The entire back end of these oddly-named
fellows is composed of one large caudal fin, and the fin’s bright coloration appears
to be part of a mating ritual. Biologists believe the Reginald filters algae and other
plant material from the water via four gill-like, forward-facing orifices. While this is a noteworthy
adaptation, something looming behind the Reginald demands our attention. In the abyss beyond
the edge of the plateau, the largest organism we’ve yet to glimpse calls out through the
deep. This is a Reefback: a leviathan-class organism that exceeds lengths of 220 feet
or 70 meters, and is, thankfully, quite friendly. Swimming closer to these gentle giants, we
can see they’re unlike any lifeform we’ve yet to glimpse. Possessing a thick exoskeleton,
their shells have become an oasis of life. Adult Reefbacks can support mini-ecosystems
on their back: including many types of coral and small fish. And nearby this adult is its
baby: a much smaller creature whose shell is not yet ready to support an ecosystem like
its parent’s. I confess I spent some time just watching these creatures drift in their
pods, listening to them call out to each other with complex sounds that suggest a surprising
amount of intelligence. With the sun now getting low, it’s time to venture deeper into the
abyss, and enter the foreboding final biome of the Dunes. In this fast, empty expanse,
life often flocks near hydrothermal vents. These great fissures on the sea floor release
a rich chemical soup into the water, much like those that support life in the depths
of Earth’s oceans. But it’s not life among the vents that concerns me… A terrifying
roar comes from above. A Reaper Leviathan strikes out in the abyss. This aggressive
apex predator possesses four mandibles at the front of its maw to drag in large prey.
And at 180 feet, or 55 meters in length, a hungry Reaper Leviathan can take down almost
anything. Analysis of the organism’s biology suggests the deep roar emitted by the Reaper
is a form of sonar – meaning if you can hear it, the reaper can see you. Thankfully,
it seems this Reaper isn’t hungry. And as I watch the deadly leviathan vanish into the
darkness, I realize I’ve done enough field work for the day… The sun has now set on
4546B. Yet the wonders of this planet continue, as in the low light, various regions of the
sea are transformed by stunning displays of bioluminescence. Even the Reefback pod from
earlier is now giving off a striking glow. This eerie beauty suggests the many hidden
wonders we have yet to see. To the north, beyond the grassy plateaus, huge Tree Mushrooms
grow in abundance. Despite their name and appearance, mushroom trees are actually a
particularly long-lived species of coral. In the shade of these ancient giants, a new
classification of life is swimming. These are Jellyrays: an ethereal ray species with
highly translucent bodies. In Earth’s oceans, translucent lifeforms are quite common in
the lower-light depths. The jellyrays are a sign we’re getting closer to the deeper
— and more fantastical — regions of 4546B. Beyond the safety of the Mushroom Forest,
the twilight of the Bulb Zone awaits. Here, the luminescent Bulb Bushes dominate the landscape,
and have evolved to grow in this rocky, sandy environment thanks to a highly advanced system
of roots. And along the sea floor, raging volcanic geysers launch boiling liquid and
chunks of molten rock into the surrounding water. The extreme heat from these geysers
charbroils any fish that swims too close. An ominous light flickers in the murk. The
source is an ampeel: a huge, serpentine predator covered with glowing prongs that produce zaps
of electricity. These aggressive creatures use electric discharges to intimidate other
predators, and to kill their prey with a single deadly shock. Such living batteries might
seem biologically inexplicable, but the curious electric eel on earth might help demonstrate
how a creature could produce electricity. Electric eels use disc-shaped cells packed
into specialized organs to generate their electric currents — as incredible as that
might sound. It’s possible that the ampeel’s prongs contain similar cells: although the
bio-electricity of the ampeel is far more extreme. A series of screeches announces the
approach of a legion of Bonesharks. Highly aggressive and territorial carnivores, it’s
unlucky to encounter so many at once. Their thickly-armored exoskeletons which give them
their names are adapted not just to deter larger predators, but also other Bonesharks.
The distinctive segmentation of these exoskeletons suggests Bonesharks might share a distant
relative to the Sand Sharks we glimpsed on our last outing. If so, it’s a fearsome
family tree. While returning to the shallows to prepare for the next leg of my journey,
I spot a new type of colorful fish. Something about the way it looks is truly hypnotic,
and I want to swim closer, and closer… And then it bites my nose. That is a Mesmer, a
sneaky little creature that looks harmless while its four fins are folded up, but unfurled
can create hypnotic patterns that have evolved to distract prey while it goes in for the
kill. Thankfully, it seems I’m a bit too big to be swallowed up — but this is one
fish to avoid. With supplies replenished, it’s time to venture further into the unknown.
Under the seafloor, networks of caves lead deeper into the uncharted interior of planet
4546B. Some of these caves are massive — and contain entire ecosystems of their own. And
the Jellyshroom Cave is one of the most miraculous. Here, among the stalagmites, grow Jellyshrooms:
massive, highly luminescent ¬flora which might be distantly related to the tiny acid
mushrooms of the shallows. In the purple light of the Jellyshrooms shine the Biters: small
carnivores that stalk the caves for small prey. The antenna on their forehead seems
to resemble the deep-sea anglerfish’s lure at first glance, but the Biter’s antenna
actually serves an entirely different purpose. It contains olfactory organs that help it
detect bodily fluids in the water. In other words, the Biter can smell its prey anywhere
in the cavern. Unless, of course, the Biter becomes prey itself. Winding through the cave
is an unsettlingly lengthy Crabsnake: the apex predator of this environment. What makes
this predator so deadly is not just its size, but its ability to hide in plain sight. The
Crabsnake has a symbiotic relationship with the local Jellyshrooms: using their hollow
interior as the perfect lair from which to ambush prey. In behavior and appearance, the
Crabsnake somewhat resembles Earth’s Bobbit Worm: an unattractive predator that also ambushes
its prey. In the Jellyshroom caves, one needs to keep an eye out… Elsewhere on the seafloor,
another shadowy cavern beckons. After many hours navigating the cave system, I surface
in a cave that, strangely, seems to be lit by… daylight? I realize I’ve stumbled
upon something exceedingly rare for planet 4546B: dry land. This tiny island is the peak
of an undersea mountain connected to an aquatic cave system, and it’s one of the few places
on the planet you can encounter terrestrial life. Scuttling on the beach are Cave Crawlers.
As their name implies, these crab-like creatures have evolved to crawl along the sides of cave
walls: which is likely why they are able to adapt to this fleeting landmass relatively
quickly. Analysis of their biology suggests they possess a gas exchange membrane to breathe
air, instead of fully-functional terrestrial lungs. Soaring overhead is a lifeform that
has spent much more time adapting to life. This is a Skyray: an avian creature that has,
remarkably, evolved powered flight. Although its wings give it some resemblance to aquatic
ray species, analysis shows no particular genetic link. Instead, the Skyray appears
to have split off the evolutionary tree much earlier than most other species on the planet,
perhaps at a time when dry land was more prevalent… In any case, it seems we’ve now seen all
the island has to offer. Or… maybe not. On one end of the island is a tremendous artificial
spire. This mysterious monolith appears to be the work of advanced extraterrestrials
who, much like myself, came to this planet from afar. But did they come to study the
life here, or were their intentions more sinister…? In any case, it seems this planet’s greatest
secret is still waiting to be uncovered… To the south, the seafloor plunges lower than
ever before. We have come upon the Grand Reef. Here, orb-like blue plants called anchor pods
risk floating off due to their gas-filled membrane — only staying in place due to
their net-like root system. And nearby stomp a herd of Sea Treader Leviathans. These vast
herbivores roam the depths in search of plants on which to graze. The thunderous nature of
their rhythmic steps is truly something to experience. Perhaps the most curious thing
about these creatures is the fact they have three legs — something almost never glimpsed
in nature. Analysis suggests their front leg is actually an elongated snout, used to siphon
plant material from the sea floor, and to maintain balance. As alien as this might seem,
there are some species of Earth Tripod fish with elongated fins that they use similarly
to stand on the sea floor. Right now, it appears the Sea Treaders are migrating, so it’s
best not to disturb them… Beneath the Grand Reef, caverns take us further into the abyss.
Here, the intimidating Crabsquid waits to butcher prey with its ten limbs. Swim close
to one, and they’ll unleash a mysterious bio-electric discharge: which has the properties
of an electro-magnetic pulse. While they appear to have massive brains, analysis suggests
the large organ within their translucent sac is actually their stomach, which the Crabsquid
fill with their bio-luminescent prey. As a result, they seem attracted to light sources,
convincing me to make a hasty exit from my submarine. This turns out to be a good call,
as it drags my submarine into the depths. If there are other creatures like the Crabsquid
on the prowl, I’m going to need something a little larger... For the next perilous leg
of the journey, I’ll be piloting a ‘Cyclops’ submarine: a vehicle that should be able to
withstand the crushing depth of the abyss. Below the deep Grand Reef awaits a surreal
environment of eerie green fog. This is the Lost River, a region covered in alkaline brine
pools, which give the illusion of an underwater stream. Brine pools also exist in Earth’s
oceans, and are extremely toxic due to their high salinity. Best not to get too close…
Above these pools drift the haunting Ghost Rays. Relatives of the Jellyrays from the
Mushroom Forest, in these extreme depths, the Ghost Rays have become almost completely
transparent, to the point where you can see the red of their internal organs. Elsewhere
in the Lost River, Blood Crawlers — the spindly relatives of the Cave Crawlers — stride
above the brine on stilt-like legs. Rather unsettling forms of life… In the central
chamber, something truly horrifying is waiting. Or rather, it would be if this leviathan were
still alive. This ancient fossil belonged to a colossus far larger than any that currently
swims through the seas. Indeed, it is so massive that its ribs have become part of the Lost
River’s landscape. We should count ourselves lucky this unknown genus seems to have gone
extinct long ago… Yet still alive are the River Prowlers. These aggressive, transparent
predators haunt the gravesite of the leviathan like vengeful ghosts. Even more frightening,
their four head-tendrils can lash out when attacking, allowing them to pull in prey.
Not the sort of creature you’d like to encounter in the dark. But there is a strange beauty
to certain regions of the Lost River. In a cove under the central chamber, the brine
becomes a harmless blue, and Ghost Rays flock around a massive tree. This tree appears to
be an ancient nesting ground, as it has grown around a giant bio-luminescent egg. While
the egg is beautiful, whatever hatches out of an egg that size might not be… To find
the adult form of the huge creature that hatches from this egg, we must venture into the nightmarish
darkness of the Dead Zone. Here, at the edge of the habitable region for most fauna lives,
we’ve found our giants… or they’ve found us. These aggressive monsters are Ghost Leviathans,
and they’re a major threat to this expedition. Analysis of their jaws suggest they feed on
microscopic lifeforms that help them reach their massive sizes — although they also
seem fully capable of feeding on something larger. Time to head back the way we came…
The mystery of the giant egg has been solved, but that’s not the only strange thing in
the Lost River. These ruins of a massive alien structure resemble the one on the island.
The structure is guarded by these lifeforms, the Warpers — who possess a mind-bending
ability. At will, they can somehow fold spacetime and vanish into portals. This is not the ability
of a natural lifeform —it seems we are dealing with an artificial creation. Searching for
answers, I enter the ruined building. In here, we can see the unfinished artificial body
of a Warper — confirming that they did not evolve naturally, and are a creation of extraterrestrials.
But for what purpose? Translating a digital message, it seems these alien architects came
to 4546 B many years ago searching for a cure for a disease, and the Warpers are their artificial
quarantine enforcers. Given the lack of any living architects on 4546 B, it appears that
they were unsuccessful…On a table in a nearby lab, they’ve left behind the egg of a curious
creature. After returning to the surface to recharge my submarine, I hatch the egg and
this delightful lifeform emerges. This is a Cuddlefish: a friendly, rotund little creature
that displays high levels of intelligence and curiosity. I’ve also found it’s quite
a fan of treats. Analysis suggests it’s possible this creature has been imported from
another world — or even genetically altered to be extra friendly. It’s possible the
architect aliens kept them as pets just as we do with dogs. It’s tempting to stay with
the Cuddlefish in the shallows, yet I can’t help but feel that in the abyss, there are
more mysteries I’ve yet to solve… Beneath the Lost River, the landscape blazes with
the fiery glow of molten rock. We’ve reached the Lava Zone: the deepest environment of
them all. Here, incredible, heat resistant forms of life have evolved: like the Crimson
Ray — a ray species that has developed a mottled coloring to help it blend in with
the lava. And the Magmarang: a relative of the Boomerang with a beautiful glowing tailfin.
Another remarkable form of life is the Lava Larva, a grub-like creature that feeds off
geothermal and electrical energy. I first learned this fact when I found one stuck to
the windshield of my cyclops, draining its energy. While this behavior is somewhat annoying,
the energy-conversion capabilities of this creature are truly remarkable. On the molten
floor is something highly alarming. These skeletons belong to Reaper Leviathans. It
seems that somewhere in the Lava Zone is a predator so large it can drag Reaper Leviathans
into the depths. This doesn’t bode well... Basking in the red glow of the molten rock
are Lava Lizards. These predators are too small to be our culprits, but they’re nonetheless
quite deadly. For defense, they are able to cover their bodies with hardened lava like
natural armor. While such a behavior is far more extreme than anything on Earth, Scaly
Foot Snails — which I’ve discussed on this channel before — can survive in volcanic
vents by incorporating iron scales into their body like medieval armor. However, Lava Lizard
biology takes this to a new level. At the end of the Lava Zone lurks a massive chamber.
The loudest roar we’ve encountered on our voyage shakes the cavern. We’ve found our
Reaper Leviathan slayer. This is a Sea Dragon Leviathan. Possessing both arms and tentacles,
these creatures exceed 350 feet, or 112 meters in length. Sea Dragons get their name from
their ability to consume molten materials and expel them at their adversaries like they’re
breathing fire. I can only hope this absurdly deadly lifeform doesn’t notice me... no
such luck. A huge blow from the leviathan rocks the cyclops submarine. As a result,
there appears to be a… ‘minor’ leak. Out of options, I have to abandon ship. Luckily,
I have one last hope in the Prawn Suit: a deep sea mechanical walker that should make
an ideal escape pod. Ejecting from the cyclops, it’s a bit of a drop to the bottom. But
it appears my plan has worked, as the Sea Dragon Leviathan thinks its foe has been vanquished.
Here, at the end of our journey, lies a final mysterious building. With some difficultly,
I pilot the Prawn Suit over to it. Inside, locked in a containment facility, the largest
creature in Subnautica is waiting. This is a Sea Emperor Leviathan, and although it appears
to be a relative of the Sea Dragon, it is in no way hostile. Like real-world baleen
whales, the largest creatures on earth, its diet consists solely of microorganisms. While
the Sea Emperor Leviathan is so large that I am unable to get a proper scan of it, it
seems that it can manipulate neurons to communicate telepathically — as it told me of its plight.
The Sea Emperor was entombed here by the alien architects in the hopes it could provide a
cure for their disease — which I believe is in strict violation of the intergalactic
code of biological ethics. At the request of this intelligent creature, I agree to take
its hatchlings back to the surface with me. Watching the first moments of baby Sea Emperors’
lives is a truly wonderous experience: even after all the biological marvels I’ve glimpsed
thus far. Sadly, the Sea Emperor is at the end of its lifespan, and informs me it won’t
be coming with us. At the very least, I’m happy I can help their babies live on in freedom.
It is a bittersweet conclusion to a long and winding journey… With the Sea Emperor babies
returning to their natural habitat, our study of this region of Subnautica is at its end.
But there is another region of Planet 4546B. Sector Zero is a region of extremely low temperatures,
where organisms of all types have had to adapt to the cold. Beginning on the ice floats above
the shallows, a curious lifeform makes its home in this region where land meets the sea.
Huddled together on a float is a flock of waddling Pengwings. Pengwings are small, predatory
fauna which… aren’t the most graceful on land. When a Pengwing dives underwater,
however, the creature’s unique retractable tail allows them to twist through the currents
with remarkable grace. Despite their appearance, Pengwings are carnivores, and their beak opens
horizontally, revealing a rather alarming set of teeth. In their body shape and behavior,
Pengwings show a high degree of convergence with Earth penguins — with both species
adapting to an arctic environment in similar ways. And on any ice-float with Pengwings,
you will also find Penglings — the juvenile form of Pengwings who never stray far from
their parents. Even more than adults, infant Penglings are extremely awkward on land. But
what they might lack in overall balance, they make up for in endless enthusiasm. And while
Penglings might possess the same, somewhat alarming fanged mouth, they’re remarkably
docile creatures, perfectly content with being gently lifted up. As nice as it is to briefly
hold a baby Pengling, however, I don’t want to disrupt their natural routines… As we
dive into the polar waters, a shallow, surprisingly warm region awaits just under the ice floats.
The landscape of this coastal sea is dominated by Coral Bridges, great arches formed from
rapidly growing coral polyps that can exceed 600 feet, or 200 meters in length. Bioluminescent
blue barnacles grow on the Coral’s underside, which a scan suggests are actually a separate
species taking advantage of the bridges’ structure. But why would the coral bridges
grow into such strange, arching shapes? The answer lies in a phenomenon known as Thigmotropism
— a pattern of growth observed in Earth plants in response to touch. Thigmotropism
is what allows vines to wrap around and ‘climb’ up poles, and it’s the likely reason the
great Coral bridges always grow from one rock to another… Just beyond these coral bridges,
we encounter an Arctic Peeper, who watches for predators with its massive yellow eyes.
Relatives of the Common Peeper in the tropical seas, Arctic Peepers’ scales have evolved
a whitish hue for better camouflage against the ice. Other familiar herbivores also swim
here, like the translucent Bladderfish and the vibrant hoopfish. Together, these species
form an important base in the Sector Zero food chain for the larger, less familiar creatures
that lurk under the ice. Swimming northwards, I’ve reached a region known as the Sparse
Arctic. This entire biome is situated under thick ice shelves, and receives little direct
sunlight. On the underside of these icebergs, hazardous ice formations known as Brinicles
protrude like jagged fangs. Highly unstable, Brinicles frequently shatter and crash to
the sea floor. Yet as foreboding as the Sparse Arctic seems, some truly remarkable species
thrive here… This odd-looking fellow is called a Brinewing. With its rotund form and
beak-like mouth, it gives the impression of an ineffectual herbivore. But the Brinewing
is a powerful predator. To hunt, it unleashes a rapid-fire torrent of a supercooled saline
solution that freezes in the water, and can encase its prey in ice. A scan suggests the
Brinewing uses a highly-specialized bladder to produce this supercooled brine from the
surrounding salt water. As unusal an adaptation as this might seem, the Earth Archerfish can
shoot down insects using water jets launched from their specialized mouths… and are remarkably
accurate. Other species in the Sparse Arctic have very different survival strategies. Like
the enormous Titan Holefish — a slow moving herbivore with a strange hole in the center
of its body. The Titan Holefish is a relative of the tiny, guppy-sized tropical holefish
— and is so much larger than its cousin you can actually swim through the hole at
its center. But what is the purpose of this hole? A scan suggests the gel-like interior
is lined with hundreds of eggs, but curiously, their DNA doesn’t match that of the Holefish…
The mystery of the eggs is revealed when I spot a tiny lifeform swimming alongside the
Holefish. Soon, many others join in, swarming like a bee colony around a hive. These are
Symbiotes — small predators that have evolved to make their nests inside the hole of the
Titan Holefish, and in turn defend them at all costs — and even provide them with food.
This highly cooperative lifestyle is an example of a mutualistic partnership — one of the
few on Planet 4546 B. As a result, the Titan Holefish has evolved to be remarkably unintelligent:
swimming forward on impulse, fully trusting the complex ecosystem that supports its every
need. Just beyond the Sparse Arctic, the bare sand gives way to the teeming Arctic Kelp
Forest. Here, Creepvine Plants sway in the polar current, casting light into the depths
with their bioluminescent seeds. These Creepvine plants are close relatives of the green variety
which grow in the warm waters of the tropics, although the chemical composition of the polar
waters has turned them a pale yellow. Among the fronds, familiar fish like the boomerang
flit between the leaves... …And some very unfamiliar fish swim here also. These extremely
bizarre lifeforms are called Spinner Fish, and have perhaps the most peculiar method
of swimming ever conceived. Using three pairs of siphons on the side of their body, Spinner
Fish jet along like living waterwheels. At a glance, its bizarre body the plan somewhat
resembles the larval form of the ocean sunfish. But ultimately, the Spinner Fish is one of
a kind. Speaking of one of a kind, I soon spot an incredible lifeform. I’m just about
to scan it when it swims in and snatches the scanner from my hands. Frustrated, I give
chase, and find the creature looks back and waves the stolen scanner to mock me. Thankfully
I’m able to cut it off and snatch my tool back. Finishing the scan, I discover this
creature might be annoying, but it’s truly remarkable, with both a developed brain and
finger like appendages for object manipulation. It’s called a Sea Monkey — a nickname
it shares with Earth brine shrimp. Unlike those Sea Monkeys, however, the Sea Monkey
of Planet 4546 B seems about as intelligent as an actual primate — meaning it’s the
smartest lifeform I’ve found in sector zero. But given time, the Sea Monkeys might have
an incredible future trajectory. I just hope they evolve to be less annoying… With the
Kelp Forest thoroughly charted, it’s time to regroup on the surface. Sticking my head
above the water, however, I find the shallows are engulfed in a dangerous polar storm. Looking
around, I realize that the Pengwing flock from earlier might be in serious danger. Upon
arriving at their ice float, however, I find the Pengwings unbothered by the weather, simply
huddling for warmth and waiting out the rain. Truly, Pengwings are intriguing creatures.
With the sun thankfully returning, it occurs to me that there’s much I still have to
learn about Pengwing flock dynamics, but I don’t want to disrupt them with my presence.
Time for some innovation. I’ve devised an alternative, less conspicuous method of observation.
This machine is my Spy Pengling, and it will hopefully be able to keep an eye on the Pengwing
flock with its hidden cameras while I continue my expedition across Sector Zero. I’m uncertain
if the Pengwings will be fooled into accepting this robot as one of their own… but the
only way to find out is to test it. As inconspicuously as I can, I deploy the robot. Taking control
via an axillary remote, I navigate the Spy Pengling into the midst of the flock. It’s…
not a perfect disguise. But the Pengwings don’t seem particularly bothered by its
presence. Though it’s unlikely this robot is fooling them, it doesn’t appear to disrupt
their natural behavior. I’ll leave the flock under its watchful eye, and head deeper into
the unknown regions... Even further out to sea, the mysterious Lilypad Islands hang in
the water, seemingly by miraculous means. In truth, these floating chunks of rock are
held up by Giant Lilypads: an enormous type of plant that define this ecosystem. Giant
Lilypads are indeed so large that it’s possible to stand on their leafy tops without fear
of sinking. But it’s the bizarre life that swims in the lilypads’ shadows that make
this region truly unique… Take, for example, the hilariously named Noot Fish. With its
colorful markings and innocent, beak-like snout, the Noot fish can easily pass as a
herbivore. But any fish that makes that mistake is soon swallowed whole. The Noot Fish’s
beak is in fact a stretchy, extendable lip, lined with barb-like teeth it uses to envelop
prey. This kind of extendible mouth somewhat resembles that of the Sarcastic Fringehead
of the Pacific Ocean. Best to keep an eye out. But there are bigger predators here than
the Noot Fish. The Brute Shark is an aggressive predator that scours the depths with its ghostly
white eyes. With huge fangs and a massive, bony jaw, they feed on just about anything
they catch. Like many Earth sharks, they prefer to attack via ambush from above or below.
The only good news is that while they’re deadly, Brute Sharks aren’t particularly
fast. Still, if I don’t keep my distance, I might be on the menu... Closer to the surface,
I spot a remarkably colorful lifeform. Swimming nearer, the edges of my vision blur, and I
feel just a little dizzzzy. Huh. Has the sky always been that color? Everything feels…
floaty for a while. Eventually, the effect wears off, and with a clear head, I understand
what just happened. That lifeform, known as the Lily Paddler, possesses the unique ability
to disorient would-be attackers with the mesmerizing patterns on its colorful appendages. It's
an impressive defense, and a vital one for a creature like a Lily Paddler which is otherwise
quite vulnerable. I just wish it didn’t make my head hurt. A shadow passes overhead.
Just above me, a whale-sized leviathan opens its mouth to a tremendous size and swallows
an entire school of fish in a single gulp. This is a Glow Whale, and while they’re
highly effective at feeding on small fish, they’re thankfully quite gentle. At almost
100 feet, or 30 meters in length, they’re the first Leviathan class organism I’ve
encountered in Sector Zero — and a highly intelligent one. A scan of the Glow Whales
indicate they possess many organs that are capable of bioluminescence, most notably around
the corners of their eyes and the ends of their horns. Careful not to startle it, I
brush a Glow Whale under its eye, causing a faint glow. It’s difficult to interpret
whether this is a random response, or an attempt to send a message. In any case, the Glow Whale
is content with my presence. As I watch it rejoin its pod, I wish I could stay with this
specular lifeform longer. But before the sun sets, there’s one last region I need to
chart… Underneath layers of snow and ice, there are telltale signs that a permanent
land mass makes up a portion of Sector Zero. Dry land is so scarce on this ocean planet
that it’s impossible to guess what sorts of lifeforms might live further inland. We’ll
have to see for ourselves. Passing through a narrow canyon, I find strange plant-animal
hybrids that seem to be growing from the walls. These are Thermal Lilies, organisms that spend
most of the time tracking the Sun and absorbing its energy, but also turn to track my movement
as I pass. A scan suggests they aren’t dangerous, and thanks to the thermal radiation they’ve
absorbed, they’re actually a welcome source of heat in Sector Zero’s frigid interior.
Still, it’s unsettling the way they follow me… Beyond the canyon, a snowy landscape
far too vast to traverse on foot awaits. Luckily, I have an alternate method of transportation.
This is a Snowfox, a hoverbike designed for land-based expeditions. Zooming over the arctic
terrain, I find it’s got a bit of a kick. At these speeds, I should be able to chart
this region fairly effectively. A short time later, I spot a hairy creature in the distance.
The question is, is it friendly? …Not friendly. Putting the Snowfox in reverse, I discover
the creature gives chase with alarming speed. After several near misses, I back away to
a safe distance. That quadrupedal predator was a Snow Stalker, and while it nearly sank
its claws into me, I can’t help but be excited at the discovery of a terrestrial land animal
on Planet 4546B! With its white fur and imposing bulk, the Snow Stalker has converged on a
body plan similar to Earth polar bears. I’m curious about the lineage of such a lifeform.
A brief analysis reveals the Snow Stalker is actually a distant relative of the fully
aquatic Stalker I encountered in the tropical region. While these two species diverged a
long time ago, there are still some telltale signs of their relation in the shape of their
head and their dorsal spines. A fascinating genetic ancestry. Speaking of which, a short
way off from the Snow Stalker, I spot what appears to be its cub playing in the snow.
Just a fraction of the size of its parent, this baby Snow Stalker is far less aggressive
than its parent. Well, mostly… Trekking onward, I reach an icesheet marked by jagged,
towering ice formations. This region is known as the Arctic Spires, and it’s home to a
giant… A huge head bursts from below the ice. Seconds later, a massive, serpentine
leviathan rises into the air, and nearly takes me out with a swipe from its massive horn.
This terror of the frozen plains is an Ice Worm. At over three hundred feet, or 90 meters,
it’s almost twice as long as a Reaper Leviathan, and by far the largest creature I’ve seen
in Sector Zero. Its glowing horn is superheated through an exothermic chemical reaction — allowing
it to melt the very ice its prey is standing on. Time to make a fast exit. Speeding away
on my Snowfox, I spot the Snowstalker and its cub from earlier fleeing beside me. We
barely make it to safety. With creatures like the Ice Worm around, I think I might put off
doing more field work till tomorrow. While the sun sets overhead, I check in to find
my Spy Pengling has become a veritable member of the flock, and has done an excellent job
keeping an eye on its feathered companions. Together, my pengling bot and I sit and watch
the Sector Zero sunset. And with the night comes a final surprise. The sky is lit up
by a dazzling Aurora similar to the Aurora Borealis in the northern latitudes of earth.
On our planet, these ‘northern lights’ are a result of disturbances in the magnetosphere
caused by solar wind — and we can theorize they have the same origin on planet 4546B.
It’s a beautiful, imposing display that can make one feel a little isolated in the
universe. But with my Spy Pengling beside me, I don’t feel truly alone. A transmission
interrupts my thoughts. It seems I’m picking up a mysterious communication… but from
where? And who, or what, is sending it out? The mysterious transmission is emanating from
the murky waters of a region known as the Deep Twisty Bridges. Diving into these alien
depths, the only light comes from the bioluminescent coral bridges that spiral throughout this
cavernous abyss. The dimness of the deep has transformed all life that swims in the gloom.
Like pale ghosts, the skeletal Spinefish haunt the depths. A subspecies of the hoopfish,
the Spinefish have become nearly translucent, and possess rib-like markings that give them
a deathly appearance. The phenomenon of certain deep-sea fish becoming transparent is present
in Earth’s oceans as well — notably in the Barreleye Fish — an animal that possess
a head made of translucent tissue to allow it to look upwards and spot its preferred
prey. Truthfully, the Barreleye Fish is an animal that would seem right at home in the
oceans of Planet 4546B. But the Spinefish isn’t a carnivore, so despite its haunting
appearance, it’s no real danger. But there are genuine dangers here. A huge predator
swims, torpedo-like, among the bridges. With unexpected speed, it rushes in and attempts
to swallow me whole, a fate I’m barely able to avoid by prying its jaws open. The predator
continues to give chase, but I escape by swimming into a crevasse it can’t reach. That terror
of the abyss was a Squidshark — a highly aggressive fauna species that is the apex
predator of this region. Analysis suggests its terrifying burst of speed comes from two
vents on either side of its body, which provide jet propulsion. Through this adaptation, the
Squidshark, like its name suggests, combines the most formidable aspects of deep-sea squids
and macropredator shark species. The result is a deadly amalgamation I’ll have to keep
a wide distance from if I ever want to find the source of the transmission. Staying close
to the ocean floor, a curious, waving plant catches my eye. Swimming in for a closer look,
the lifeform lashes out with a long tendril and pulls me towards a mouth-like opening.
After a few frantic punches, the creature releases its tentacle and I swim out of range.
That was a Spikey Trap — which isn’t actually a plant at all, but a highly unusual form
of animal. This carnivorous lifeform blends into the terrain, camouflaging itself among
vegetation, and catching fish — and unwary explorers — with its adhesive tendrils when
they swim too close. And despite its lack of mobility, this strategy seems to be highly
effective. In the Deep Twisty Bridges, one must always stay alert. Elsewhere on the sea
floor, I discover a strange, glowing device near the signal’s source. This ruined fragment
matches the strange structures present in the tropics, which belonged to a group of
alien architects. I’d assumed all the architects had perished… but with the signal beckoning
me onwards, I wonder if I was mistaken… At last, I reach a mysterious undersea facility.
As I navigate through the halls, a mysterious voice urges me to hurry. Entering a central
chamber, I find the signal and the voice have been coming from this cube-shaped computer.
The voice turns out to be that of an architect who, thousands of years before, had stored
his consciousness within the computer. Speaking through the cube, the architect explains he
was a scientist like me, and is now likely the last of his kind. Wanting to help a fellow
researcher, I offer to transfer the lonely consciousness to my field computer and take
him with me on my expedition. The Architect accepts, and warns me to… brace for transfer?
A little too late, I realize something might have been lost in translation… Awakening
with a mild headache, I can hear the Architect’s voice quite clearly… and learn this is because
he downloaded himself directly into my brain. It was an honest mistake, as Architects don’t
recognize a boundary between technology and the body. While this is an intriguing revelation
about Architect biology, it means I now have an unanticipated mental roommate… Returning
to the shallows, we formulate a plan. We’ll use our combined knowledge to continue to
chart the biology of life in Sector Zero, but along the way we’ll gather the material
needed to fabricate a body that my new friend can transfer into. He tells me his designation
is A L dash A N… so I’ll call him Alan. Picking up where Alan’s research left off,
we venture to the sprawling expanse of the West Arctic. Here, great icebergs float above
a seemingly bottomless region of the sea — creating a profound sense of scale. And among these
icebergs swim undiscovered oddities. Gliding through the blue, is an animal that is difficult
to unravel. With two sets of wing-like fins, it’s not clear what sort of lifeform we’re
observing at a glance. But this lifeform is, in fact, an Arctic Ray, the first of many
Ray species in Sector Zero. While its body plan has clearly diverged from Earth rays,
by having four wing-structures instead of two, the Arctic Ray is a highly agile lifeform…
And it has to be, if it wants to avoid the top predator of the West Arctic. This is a
Pinnacarid, an intelligent and social predator that spends half its time on ice floats above
the water. Pinnacarids have converged on an ecological niche similar in many respects
to Earth seals, and are remarkably friendly towards humans, even showing acute curiosity
when lured in with a tasty piece of fish. Alan’s analysis suggests their fourteen
flippers make them acrobatic hunters underwater. This unusually high number of flippers resembles
the anatomy of the Anomalocarids, a group from Earth’s Cambrian Period who similarly
possessed multiple fins for locomotion. Descending deeper into the West Arctic waters, what appear
to be a legion of pulsating eyes stare back at us. This is, in fact, a colony of Eye Jellies,
gelatinous lifeforms that harbor an enormous hemispheric eye on the tops of their bodies.
Despite their alarming appearance, these creatures live remarkably passive lives, drifting slowly
on the currents in vast colonies, paying little mind to other species. Alan warns me that
they are capable of releasing a small electric shock if we swim too close, however, so we’ll
give the group a wide berth. Upon one of the West Arctic icebergs, we notice an entrance
to a small cave. Venturing inside, the reflected ice caught in the afternoon sun resembles
the brilliance of the night sky. And within this ethereal cave, a strange egg appears
stranded on the cave wall. It’s not a species Alan recognizes, and it seems about ready
to hatch. We bring the egg to the warmth of the shallows, after some time, this creature
emerges. The unusual hatchling turns out to be a Trivalve, and much like the Cuddlefish
of the tropics, it’s a remarkably friendly and intelligent creature that is quite a fan
of treats. A scan suggests the body of this naturally inquisitive creature is made of
a flexible exoskeleton, and somewhat resembles the shell of an earth Nautilus in its shape.
It’s tempting to relax in the shallows with the Trivalve, but Alan reminds me we still
have other areas to chart. The next leg of the journey will be perilous indeed. Luckily,
I have a new classification of submersible to aid in the voyage. This is a Sea Truck,
an underwater vehicle that will allow us to go lower into the crushing depths of Sector
Zero than ever before. At the helm of the Sea Truck, we venture into the vast biome
of the Thermal zone. The edge of this region, an area known as the Thermal Spires, is marked
by a forest of hydrothermal vents. These chimney-shaped structures are formed from dissolved minerals
pushed up from the planet’s crust, and are home to all kinds of remarkable life. Gliding
between the vents is a brightly-colored Feather Fish. Defined by their unusual, crescent-shaped
fin structure, Feather Fish are one of the more graceful herbivores in Sector Zero. A
highly successful species, in some regions they gather in schools numbering in the thousands.
We are admiring one such school, when an intimating creature paddles by. This vicious-looking,
armored predator is a Cryptosuchus, and is covered in sharp spines. Snapping wildly,
it closes in… then retreats just as quickly. As it turns out, the contrarian Cryptosuchus
is one species where its bark is truly worse than its bite. While it appears fearsome,
a scan suggests its bladed shell is adapted to aid in heat absorption among thermal vents.
And so, this false tyrant paddles away, to try and scare off something a bit smaller…
Far deeper into the Thermal Zone, the dark blue of a biome known as the Tree Spires beckons.
These waters are lit by the bioluminescent flora that grow on the sides of tree-like
hydrothermal vents. In this distinctive region, the equally distinctive Discus Fish ungulates
along. Its flat, semi-transparent body is highly unusual, and it seems to contain strange
green organs. A study of the Discus Fish reveals this green color comes from symbiotic algae-like
organisms living within specialized body cavities that provide the Discus Fish with food. Strange
as this might sound, Emerald Sea Slugs of Earth also photosynthesize using algae that
grow within their bodies. Since there isn’t much sunlight here in the depths for plant
growth, it’s likely the Discus Fish spends part of its lifecycle in a brighter region
of Sector Zero. Elsewhere in the Thermal Zone, we can spot a teardrop-shaped Arrow Ray. This
ray species has an elongated body and a rather triangular head, which it can tilt to perform
unpredictable maneuvers. At the ends of the Arrow Ray’s fins grow sharp, talon-like
tips that deter attackers who manage to catch up — meaning the Arrow Ray certainly isn’t
defenseless. A huge lifeform passes in front of our submarine. Without warning, it shrieks
and latches onto the windshield with its front mandibles, pulling us towards its gullet.
Gunning the engine, I’m barely able to twist out of the deadly grip. That leviathan class
organisms was a Chelicerate, a brute that grows over 130 feet, or 40 meters in length.
Its body is covered in a thick, segmented exoskeleton that grows in overlapping plates,
which may offer protection from the atmospheric pressure. Since the Chelicerate are so aggressive
and potentially deadly, they’re a challenging species to study up close. Fascinating as
they are, we both hope we don’t encounter any more of them. At the very bottom of the
sea floor, an indescribably massive lifeform is waiting. This is a Ventgarden, a stationary
leviathan that anchors itself above thermal hydrovents and consumes 100% of the nutrients
the vents release. At over 360 feet, or 110 meters, the Ventgarden is, by far, the largest
Leviathan of Sector Zero. The only things in Earth’s Oceans that resemble Ventgardens
are certain types of siphonophores — soft bodied entities, which, like the Ventgardens,
are also technically colonies of smaller organisms working in tandem. But what’s most incredible
about the Ventgarden is the internal ecosystem of plants it supports within its hollow, bell-shaped
center. And remarkably, a scan indicates it would be safe to enter this environment ourselves.
Exiting the submarine, we tentatively swim up towards the light, and at last emerge within
the microcosm of the Ventgarden. This mini-ecosystem supports aquatic flora on branching platforms
that in turn help absorb some of the heavy metals emitted by the vents below. Exploring
the hidden biosphere of a Ventgarden is a downright magical experience… But the unknown
still beckons. Pushing further into the abyss than ever before, we’ve reached the edge
of the habitable region for most Fauna. Surrounded by total darkness, Alan is starting to get
worried that we’ve strayed too far. And he seems to be right. A huge Chelicerate emerges
from the blackness, almost twice the size as the one from the Tree Spires. This pale
mutation is called a Void Chelicerate, and it’s not alone. We’ve stumbled into a
pack. Time to head back as fast as we possibly can. I don’t think either of us plan on
revisiting this area any time soon. Returning to the safety of the research base, I have,
with Alan’s help, given our station a bit of an upgrade. As it turns out, having an
alien scientist downloaded into your brain can be quite useful. And while Alan still
doesn’t understand the purpose of basic things like music, or why I start every morning
with coffee, together, we’ve successfully mapped much of Sector Zero. Yet a deep scan
tells us that there’s a strange signature coming from a large ice cave we’ve yet to
chart… The cave is far to the inland of Sector Zero, across the frigid tundra. At
last, we enter the cavern and discover an enormous, frozen creature encased in a cave
wall. This leviathan class organism has been entombed here for thousands of years, as Alan
remembers encountering their kind when he was a researcher here long ago. Since this
species is, hopefully, now extinct, the only way to study it is to drill into the ice.
Taking a DNA sample from the creature’s foot, I’m able to determine the lifeform
was quadrupedal, and spent at least a portion of its time on land — something unusual
for planet 4546B. Perhaps this Frozen Leviathan suggests an era in the distant past where
land was more plentiful, and great titans like this one roamed across it. In any case,
I’m certainly glad this particular specimen is now long dead. I think. At long last, we
now have all the necessary materials needed to fabricate Alan’s new body. The only problem
is that the Architect Facility that can create such a compatible vessel is located in a region
known as the Crystal Caves. These caverns are the deepest biome of them all, and the
last frontier of planet 4546B. And since the refractive crystals mean any scans of the
region come back fragmented, there’s no telling what else is down there… Navigating
the purple chasm, this environment possesses a strange beauty. And equally strange lifeforms
navigate their depths. The Triops is a tiny lifeform that spends much of its time hiding
from predators in the surrounding terrain. The Triops stand out biologically, however,
thanks to their distinctive, three-eyed ocular system. In nature, a lifeform evolving three
distinct eyes isn’t particularly common… but it’s not altogether unheard of. Artemia
is a genus of aquatic crustaceans that possess two eyes mounted on flexible stalks and a
third, stationary eye situated in the center of their head. So, the diminutive Triops is
in good company. Further into the planet’s crust, we’ve arrived at the Fabricator Caves:
a secondary layer of the Crystal Caves, where a high concentration of the element Beryllium
led to the formation of striking red crystals. To brave this extreme geochemical environment,
I’ve donned the Prawn Suit: a deep-sea mechanical walker that kept me safe on the last stages
of my journey in the tropics. Stomping along the ocean floor, I spot a small crustacean
nearby. Given its diminutive stature, I’m not particularly worried, until it launches
itself at my Prawn Suit. This is a Rock Puncher, a pint-sized predator which is a heavy-hitter
nonetheless. Its hardened chitin claws can thrust forward at close to the speed of sound
to break rock and bone alike. In many respects, the Rock Puncher is similar to the precocious
Mantis Shrimp. These unsuspecting creatures possess spring-loaded biological hammer-clubs
that can strike prey faster than the speed of a bullet, giving the Mantis Shrimp the
ability to truly punch above its weight class. And the Rock Puncher is not different. Time
to deescalate the situation… by moving elsewhere. We’re now very close to the Fabrication
facility, when a thunderous roar shakes the cavern. A huge Leviathan grips my Prawn Suit
and pulls me towards a glowing gullet. After smacking it with my prawn-suit’s arms, the
nightmarish serpent temporarily drops me. Backing into a narrow gap, it seems the leviathan
cannot follow. We’re safe… for now. That was a Shadow Leviathan, which at almost 200
feet, or 60 meters, is the single most dangerous predator of Sector Zero. It’s black, elongated
body gives this monster the appearance of a giant eel. Analysis suggests its bioluminescent
digestive tract glows due to light seeking phytoplankton that draw in unwary fish, and
also secrets a highly acidic compound. I’m lucky I was able to escape such a terrifying
lifeform unscathed. Or have we? Looking up, I notice my Prawn Suit is leaking from its
fight with the Shadow Leviathan. Our only hope now is to reach the Fabrication facility
before the Shadow finds me again. But with the familiar green glow of Architect technology
up ahead, at last, we’ve reached the ultimate destination. Heading inside, I find a facility
quite like the one I first discovered Alan inside. Putting in the materials we’ve gathered,
the facility begins the process of fabrication. Activating the final sequence, Alan and I
watch as the vessel is constructed. This new body is composed of the DNA of 27 different
species, and various inorganic materials as well — so it should be quite the upgrade.
At last, Alan’s body is complete. After so much effort, it’s almost surreal to reach
this point. I think about telling my friend he looks a bit like a glowing purple centaur…
but decide that would probably just confuse him. With Alan now out of my mind and in his
new vessel, he doesn’t need my assistance to continue his research. We both return to
the surface, and Alan informs me he’ll be going back to his home planet via Warp Gate,
to see if there are any other Architects still living. It is a somewhat bittersweet feeling
as I realize this is goodbye. Working with another researcher — in particular an alien
one — has been a special privilege. Alone on Planet 4546B once more, I consider all
I’ve seen on this wondrous planet. From nerve-wracking dangers to unexpected allies,
it’s been a remarkable journey. But now, at last, the time has come for me to depart
as well. For who knows what else might be waiting for us among the stars…? If you
enjoyed discovering the creatures of Subnautica, please follow and support creature designer
Alex Ries using the links below. And as always, thanks for watching. If you enjoyed this entry,
please lend your support by liking, subscribing, and hitting the notification icon to stay
up to date on all things Curious. See you in the next video.
My IQ after watching this:📈📈