Submerged starts by expressing an identity viable opposition. Human existence after an apocalypse isn’t miserable shades of brown, it’s blue seas and reclaimed architecture. Drive and hope aren’t achieved through aggression and conflict, but come by honest intentions and natural curiosity. Submerged’s ideas aren’t antagonistic for the sake of it, but a byproduct of its objective. Naive defiance is simply the most feasible way to get its point across.
Before all of that becomes apparent, you’re just a girl caring for her stricken sibling. Miku and her brother Taku’s boat arrive in the (ahem) submerged refuse of an urban wasteland. She quickly positions Taku at a makeshift camp in the city’s south end, and then leaves via her boat to forage through the rotting architecture for medical supplies. From there, the drive forward is to discover the position of ten forgotten supply drops scattered around the city’s rooftops.
The small motorboat is not only Miku’s sole means of transportation, it’s also Submerged’s most valuable asset. Travelling around the city reveals the presence of a decaying Ferris wheel, collapsed bridges, corroding colossal statues, and other monuments of forgotten grandeur. Seeing these structures, along with expected facilitates like hospitals, hotels, parking garages, and other non-descript towers, maintaining a presence years after an implied catastrophe is haunting. Other than the occasional sea creature popping up out of the water, you really get the feeling that you’re completely alone in this universe.
There’s something to be said for creating a sensible feeling of isolation in a videogame. Drifting through the wastes of Submerged, on a personal level, called to mind travelling through similar sunken geography decades ago in Panzer Dragoon Saga’s Uru (not to mention more recent non-aquatic examples in Metroid Prime, Ico, and Eidolon). Selling a world is difficult, setting a theme is harder, and combining both of those assets into a mood is practically futile. Submerged grants either leisurely or focused control over its abandoned seascape, and, when paired with Jeff van Dyck’s melancholy score, transforms into a bastion of solitude. No matter where you go, you feel like you’re the only one there.
Exploration has a tangible purpose, too. You’re ostensibly supposed to be gathering supply drops for Taku, but plenty of other items beg for attention. The most prevalent of which are sixty glowing collectibles scattered throughout abandoned buildings, all of which reveal a simple series of drawings that detail what happened to this flooded corner of the planet. Other items to find, be it sea creatures to discover or abandoned boats to cannibalize and make your boat faster, feel more superfluous, but I didn’t mind simply because of how much I already enjoyed being in the world.
Discovering supply drop locations comes with a certain sense of ownership. In Assassin’s Creed or Far Cry 4, you climb super structure and instantly reveal greater parts of the map. Submerged also frequently challenges the player with climbing tall buildings and scouring a vast expanse for clues, but it’s ultimately under the player’s control. A tiny telescope can be brandished at any time, and if it comes within spitting distance of an artifact, boat upgrade, or supply drop, it’ll mark the location on your map. This isn’t especially different from what’s been done before, but the additional degree of control made it feel like a discovery all of my own.
Off the boat, you’ll spend most of your time climbing in and around dilapidated structures. Submerged unabashedly borrows platforming mechanics from Uncharted, rendering dangerous movement less a test of skill and more a challenge of optimal navigation. Miku is exceptionally adept at grabbing ledges, and every building with something to find features a series of red (climbable) ivy, window ledges, or some other indented structure she can grab ahold of. These surfaces become beacons which become invitations, and wrapping your way around a building and discovering every last secret is the intended draw.
It’s fair to say not everyone will be taken by Submerged’s taciturn resolve. Miku delivers the occasional (translated) monologue about what she needs to do for her brother, but the remainder of Submerged’s story is either absorbed by breathing in its world, or interpreted from minimalist drawings unlocked along the way. There’s a bit of excitement brought on by an unknown presence, but Submerged isn’t one to over deliver its narrative. Boating around serene seascapes and challenging yourself to pick its secrets clean is its only clear drive.
Visually, Submerged is part of an emerging class of independent games. Modern tools and better middleware have allowed smaller studios considerable technical prowess, and we’re reaping those rewards with games like The Magic Circle, Papo & Yo, and The Vanishing of Ethan Carter. While Miku’s character animation looks a bit rough, most other aspects of Submerged measure up to what you’d expect of its $20 price tag. Taking note of its accelerated day and night cycle and the simple fact that a still frame of the game looks gorgeous at any time of day, and Submerged borders on exceptional. In any case, while Submerged may not aim exceptionally high, it also doesn’t miss any of its marks.
This leaves Submerged as an ardent in-between of disparate genres. Its reliance on discovery and confidence in its world puts it in a class with Dear Esther or Gone Home, while its demand for minimalist platforming and reliance on collectables push it closer to The Last Tinker or the aforementioned Papo & Yo. Whether your approach spawns from a curious interest in genre homogenization or if you just happen to think boating around a fallen city seems cool, Submerged keeps its head above the water.
