You’d think SnowRunner would be the calm one.
No wolves. No starvation. No sanity meter. Just trucks, mud, and the occasional fallen powerline. And yet, when I started playing, I realized something important:
I had the perfect canvas for portable permadeath chaos.
I just needed a few extra rules (and a slightly reckless imagination).
🎮 Why Permadeath?
Honestly? For the drama. The stakes. The thrill of knowing that if I lose a truck, it’s gone. It turns every route into a calculated risk, every muddy hill into a potential obituary.
Normal SnowRunner is about problem solving. Permadeath SnowRunner is about character. I named my trucks. I argued with myself about whether I could save one stuck in a ditch. And somehow, that made it all feel more alive.
đź“‹ How I Fine-Tuned the Rules
Permadeath in a driving game isn’t exactly a toggle, so I had to make it work manually. A few highlights from the rulebook:
- No selling dead trucks for profit. You’re not a junkyard, you’re a survivor.
- Every truck gets one life—unless it’s truly recoverable later (aka, it’s not a ghost story).
- Upgrades? Optional. Some may say I’m making things harder. Others say I’m making them funnier.
đźš› Meet the Cast
So far the crew includes:
- Scout – plucky, chaotic energy.
- Mac (GMC) – the dependable workhorse.
- Frank (Fleetstar) – big, bold, and stuck somewhere inconvenient.
Yes, I name my trucks. No, I won’t apologize.
🧠What’s Next?
More entries for The Permagear Diaries, of course. I’m stacking up posts behind the scenes before I start the full series rollout—but this chaotic convoy is very much in motion.
In the meantime, I’d love to hear:
If you had to permadeath one of your favourite games… which would it be, and how much therapy would you need after?
Survivor Incognito 