Subnautique – Où trouver le seamoth exécutif

Recovery of a rare and powerful vehicle made all the more desirable due to its unavailability in the game

Spoilers: Contains a late-game location and some very unlikely features.

Executive Seamoth Manual

Unique Features exclusive to the top-tier professional:

• Micro-reactor equipped – runs all week on a single Nuclear Rod (no batteries required)
• Steerable in 3 axes of rotation – enabling you to scoot edgewise though vertical fissures ahead of hungry snapping jaws
• Capable of surface skipping,- on par with any jumpjet equipped Prawn Suit
• Genuine mother-of-pearl finish – with mother-of-pearl inlay
• Iris scan ignition lock

Salvage Location

This should simply be a matter of avoiding digestion during the process of raiding the nest of a Ghost Leviathan. For some time now you’ve been sneaking around behind the Cove Tree’s upper level branches – if stomping about in a 5-ton Prawn Suit can truly be described as ‘sneaking’

You lead on this was Paul Togal’s message saying he was off to salvage some downed Alterra Captain’s personal ride: Co-ordinates attached, plus some figures estimating the current market commodity value of various leviathan eggs, by species.

But time to stop daydreaming – that big momma Ghost Leviathan is finally irritated enough by an incessant pinging to go sniff out your decoy and grind it down to its smallest component parts. Seizing your opportunity, you smash your way into the nest as quietly as a Prawn suit’s sense of infinite power will allow.

Acquisition

Huddled amongst the woven branches are several mature white eggs, plus a similarly sized Seamoth of unusual quality. Eurêka!

You pop your lid and zip right in there with the aid of your pocket Seaglide. And man, that boat looks smooth. Hmm . . . Inside not so lovely – là’s an emaciated corpse at helm in a Mongolian officer’la tenue (embroidered with the monogram P.T.). And by God what’s that gripped in its skeletal hand? – a human head with a dangling human eyeball. Aaagh!

Disgusting. You pop the canopy and drag out the whole macabre mess. « Food for you, little fishies! » Alors vous’je suis dedans. Looking around in here it’s very plush indeed, and you settle your buttocks comfortably into the ecstasy of baby sealskin upholstery.

Just caress that exquisite hand-tooled dash. Il’s a Mandelbrot in marquetry of only the most extinct tropical timbers. And what’s that in the disc player? An audio-book of Ayn Rand’s Greatest Works. You jettison this with the rest of the offal.

But time to go now, before big Momma gets back. Donc . . . laisser’s see how the baby moves! You hit the start button excitedly – a dull ‘cliquez’. Hmmm . . cliquez, cliquez. Now you spot Momma sliding back through the gloom. Gotta go now! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Wtf is WRONG with this thing?? In a fumbling panic you manage to retrieve the manual:

De sorte que’s why Torgal was messing with a dangly-eyed severed head! You look out the canopy and see it there, easily within reach. Your hand finds the canopy release just in time for a vast translucent coil of leviathan to drape itself over your beloved vehicle.

Récompense

That was how you found yourself here those few days ago. Now through the haze of dehydration you admire the pulse of Big Momma’s gills tenderly washing your craft with oxygenated water. Certain in the knowledge that one day you will hatch into a fine young Ghost Leviathan.