I blog my way through survival games on Nintendo Switch, and Steam Deck, from snowy wastelands to shark-infested seas. Expect humour, questionable decisions, and the occasional narrow escape — because thriving is more fun than suffering (unless the wolves have other ideas).
The ones that made the whole world hold its breath: landers touching down on Mars, images of a black hole, global moments where timelines paused and everyone stared at the same screen. Closer to home, I remember “history” in gaming too — the day saves moved to the cloud, the launch of the Switch and Steam Deck, and those patch notes that quietly changed everything. Big or small, it’s the shared “we were all there” feeling that sticks.
(More small moments that feel big — at Survivor Incognito.)
“The Aurora is going to explode…” — my PDA, several minutes before the actual explosion.
Apparently the end of the world comes with buffering. The PDA warned me of the Aurora’s imminent detonation, but the ship took its sweet time about it. Still, that gave me the perfect window to craft my shiny new radiation suit from some creepvine samples. Nothing like the warm embrace of woven seaweed to make you feel safe from lethal fallout.
Once kitted out, I stocked up on the essentials: food, water, fire extinguisher, medkits — the usual “I might die but want to look prepared” loadout. Then, off to the Aurora I went, scanning everything I passed: beacons, Propulsion Cannon fragments, office chairs (because if I’m stranded on an alien ocean planet, I’m at least going to sit comfortably).
The Aurora Expedition
I reached the crash site and was immediately greeted by its new inhabitants — aggressive little crab things who were less than impressed with my knife-waving diplomacy. My PDA informed me I’d need a laser cutter to get deeper inside. Excellent. Another tool I don’t have. Add that to the “future me” problem list right under “stop the Aurora from exploding in 24 hours.”
Current me, however, had a far more pressing issue: I’d lost my flashlight. Somewhere inside the Aurora. One second I’m lighting the way through twisted corridors, the next my light vanishes into the void. After several minutes of frantic backtracking and muttering, I found it lying on the deck. Then, like the professional survivor I am, I immediately dropped it again while trying to equip it. Future me might solve radiation — present me still can’t handle basic inventory management.
The Leviathan Encounter
Deciding I couldn’t progress without a Propulsion Cannon, I returned to the Lifepod to craft one — only to discover I was missing a wiring kit. Which needs silver. Which I didn’t have.
Silver lives in sandstone outcrops, and the area near the Aurora wreck seemed like a logical place to search.
That was a mistake.
Because instead of silver, I found something much bigger. A Leviathan. Don’t ask me which type — I was too busy screaming to file a report. It was fast, loud, and apparently decided I looked like lunch. I bolted. It chased. My health bar became a decorative sliver, and then, for reasons only it knows, it broke off the attack.
I didn’t wait to question my luck. I burned through medkits and bolted home, heart pounding louder than the Aurora’s reactor. The silver can wait. I’m alive, and that’s enough for today — though after my close encounter with the Reaper Leviathan (I finally remembered what it was called), I’m not sure how many more “near misses” my nerves can take.
Log 3 Summary (Steam Deck Edition)
Crafted the Radiation Suit before the Aurora explosion
Scanned multiple new blueprints, including the Propulsion Cannon
Lost my flashlight inside the Aurora (twice)
Confirmed: Leviathans exist, and they are very fast
What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?
Answer: Hitting Go Live. The blog lets me edit the disasters into a story; a livestream is permadeath for perfectionism—no reloads, no “I’ll rewrite that later.” It would mean showing more of myself (even just my voice) and sticking to a schedule while wolves chase me in real time. One day I’ll press the button. For now, I’m building the campfire with posts and short clips.
(Until then, the safest place to watch me nearly freeze is Survivor Incognito.)
If you’d asked me a few years ago, I’d probably have said something simple like “getting through the week without accidentally burning pasta.”
But now? I’m proudest of building Survivor Incognito—this weird, wandering campfire of chaos that started as a small idea and slowly turned into something people actually read, follow, and enjoy.
It’s not fame or fortune, and that’s what makes it special. It’s slow growth, honest effort, and a whole lot of heart. Every view, every comment, every returning reader—each is proof that I took the leap, stuck with it, and made something that feels like me.
Six months in, I’m proud that I didn’t give up when the numbers were low, when the formatting broke, or when I wondered if anyone even noticed. Because even if it’s a quiet campfire, it’s mine—and it’s still burning.
Platform: Steam Deck Rule: Apex Predator (Charles must kill me three times for the run to end)
⚙️ Survival Status: 3 Strikes Total Only Charles can take them away.
Each egg restores a lost strike — but I can’t exceed three.
When the last one’s gone, the run ends.
“If there’s a bad time to use explosives, I’ll find it.”
I start by doing a quick sweep for guards near the mine that’s supposedly holding ammo for the rocket launcher. Thankfully, no one’s around — which is rare, and suspicious. The entrance itself, however, is locked. Naturally.
My map says, “Find a way in.” Okay, fair enough. I look around and find some TNT. Perfect. If that doesn’t open a door, nothing will.
Important survival lesson: stand further back when lighting TNT. I take a chunk of damage from the blast, and I’m pretty sure Charles just got a notification that I’m being an idiot. If he missed that one, don’t worry — I detonate a second explosive down the tracks. More fire, more noise, more damage to me. Subtlety is dead, but the door isn’t. Yet somehow, the mine opens, and I grab the rockets.
Back to John Smith, who hands over The Boomer. I’m officially armed and ready to make even more bad decisions.
Lighthouse Lunacy
My next bright idea: go exploring. I notice a marker close to the island’s edge. Against every instinct I have, I run for it. Turns out it’s a lighthouse, home to a woman named Claire — who needs the breakers fixed.
There’s a shed nearby with four breakers. Easy enough. I sprint over, slot them in, and head back. Apparently, I “missed a step.” Turns out I need to turn them on, and it’s a little puzzle. Thirty seconds later, lights on, job done. Claire thanks me by saying fixing the lighthouse will help others spot us more easily. Yes, Claire. Including Charles.
I make a break for the train. The moment I mark my next stop, I hear it — that whistle. Round two is on.
Round 2: Return of the Rail Demon
Charles is far more persistent this time. I test out The Boomer and land a few solid hits. He claws, rams, and screeches like he’s auditioning for the next Doom soundtrack. Twice, I think he’s gone, and twice, he charges back in. After burning through some scrap for repairs, I finally drive him off. Victory number two to me.
Feeling cocky, I decide to visit another local — Ronny, who seems like he’s gearing up to tell me his life story. Nope. He just wants me to climb some dangerously tall buildings for a box of papers, promising maybe one scrap as a reward. I climb anyway, find a tin of paint for the train (score), but fail a jump and lose a scrap.
Technically, that did count as a “death” — but since it wasn’t at the claws or wheels of Charles himself, it doesn’t break the Apex Predator Rule. Accidental gravity-assisted injuries are free passes in this run.
After a few more attempts, I decide Ronny’s box isn’t worth the spinal injuries. My train, on the other hand, gets a stylish new coat of paint — a well-earned upgrade after surviving two Charles encounters.
Danger on the Hill
Feeling brave — or stupid, jury’s out — I go for Theodore’s supply box next. Unfortunately, the area’s crawling with Cultists. I spot one and think I’ve figured out his patrol pattern. I haven’t. The second guard ambushes me from uphill. I sprint for the train, but pause to open my map — rookie mistake. The cultist scores a hit.
As I’m running, I hear that familiar whistle again. Charles is awake, and maybe it’s a blessing in disguise that I didn’t grab that box. I dive into my train, patch up, and decide both Theodore’s mission and Ronny’s tower of death can wait.
For now, the plan is simple: find the next closest survivor, avoid blowing myself up again, and maybe, just maybe, make it to Log 4 without turning into train food.
Need a guide? Explore every stop, scrap pile, and spider sighting with the Aranearum Island Map Guide — your unofficial atlas to surviving the rails.
Every project’s a survival story — some just involve fewer wolves.
Lately? A delicate balance between writing, surviving, and pretending my backlog isn’t plotting against me. Between documenting digital frostbite in The Long Dark, evading aliens in Isolation Protocol, and trying not to crash another truck in SnowRunner, I’ve been expanding the Survivor Incognito multiverse — one respawn at a time.
(The chaos continues — catch the full journey over at Survivor Incognito.)
What’s something most people don’t know about you?
Most people don’t know that I’ve survived blizzards, alien oceans, cannibal islands, and haunted tunnels — all without leaving the couch. My idea of adventure usually involves a save file, a thermos of coffee, and a strong Wi-Fi connection. Real-life survival? No thanks. I’ll stick to respawnable chaos and digital wolves.
(Plenty more virtual survival stories waiting to be told over at Survivor Incognito.)
“They said ‘force Charles into a fight.’ They didn’t mention the choreography involved.”
⚙️ Survival Status: 3 Strikes Total Only Charles can take them away.
Each egg restores a lost strike — but I can’t exceed three.
When the last one’s gone, the run ends.
The Setup — Make ‘Em Fight (And Don’t Get Toasted)
After being told I need to force Charles into a fight to the death, I set out to meet the island’s next eccentric resident — a man who clearly enjoys watching things burn. Sgt. Flint greets me in front of his flaming house, which raises more questions than I’m willing to ask.
I find a water tank above his home, twist the valve, and douse the flames. That act of charity apparently doubles as an invitation, because I soon hear the dulcet, horrifying blare of Charles’ horn in the distance. I sprint for my train, ready for chaos — but he never shows. Either I scared him off or he’s waiting for a better entrance. Flint, unbothered, rewards me with his experimental weapon: the Bug Sprayer. Which, of course, is a flamethrower.
Round One — The Firestarter
Not long after, I get my wish: Charles charges in for our first real showdown. I juggle the Bug Sprayer and machine gun — one setting him ablaze, the other perforating his ego. It’s messy, loud, and absolutely glorious. Charles retreats after taking enough damage, and for the first time since stepping onto this cursed island, I feel like I’ve actually won something.
With the immediate threat gone and my train held together by scrap and spite, I decide to take advantage of the quiet. Time to meet the locals — and, inevitably, their problems.
Islanders & Errands — The To-Do List Grows
Island socialising here is just a series of fetch quests disguised as introductions. Everyone has a task, and apparently, I’m the errand boy.
Theodore — far too well-dressed for a place that’s one bad day away from Mad Max. Wants a box recovered from a railcar in a nearby canyon. Bandits guard it. I politely file that under “later.”
Santiago — prepping to leave the island as soon as rescue arrives, but he’s left his journal at home. Add another fetch quest to the growing pile.
John Smith — working on a rocket launcher (finally, someone useful). Needs me to collect the rocket ammo from a nearby bunker. That immediately jumps to the top of the list.
Greg — appears to have misplaced his clothing and sense of urgency. Used to work for the mine owner and warns that if the eggs hatch, there’ll be three more Charles-like horrors running around. He hands me the key to the second mine. Great. Just what I needed.
So far, my to-do list looks like this:
Collect rocket ammo from the bunker (top priority — rocket launcher > everything else).
Retrieve Theodore’s box from the canyon railcar (expect bandits).
Fetch Santiago’s journal from his house (return it before he reconsiders leaving).
Investigate the second mine (Greg’s key in hand, nerves not included).
Next Stop — The Bunker
With Charles licking his wounds somewhere in the wilderness, I make my way toward the bunker where John Smith’s rocket ammo supposedly waits. The island is eerily quiet now — no horn, no tracks shaking, just the wind and my engine’s occasional complaint. Perfect time to loot everything not nailed down and add more scrap to my emergency stash.
I haven’t seen Charles again since our fight, but I know he’s out there. Watching. Waiting. Probably still smouldering a little.
Log Observations & Survival Notes
Scrap is life: It’s your health, armour, and upgrade material all in one. Pick up every piece you see — it’s never enough.
Weapon swapping works: Flamethrower to make Charles back off, machine gun for consistent hits. Alternate, repair, survive.
Speed upgrades are essential: The faster your train, the smaller your funeral.
Quiet moments lie: If you don’t hear Charles, it’s because he’s planning something.
Pro Tips (Apex Rookie Friendly)
Always keep scrap handy — repairs and upgrades are instant, but you’ll burn through metal faster than ammo.
Mark every quest on your map. It’s easy to get lost between rail spurs and regret.
The Bug Sprayer is for Charles only. Do not waste fuel showing off. It’s not that kind of game.
When Charles retreats, use that window to explore. The peace never lasts long.
Need a guide? Explore every stop, scrap pile, and spider sighting with the Aranearum Island Map Guide — your unofficial atlas to surviving the rails.
Do lazy days make you feel rested or unproductive?
Honestly? Rested and unproductive — it’s a two-for-one deal. Some days I need to recharge, and other days I just stare at the screen pretending to plan my next move in whatever survival game I’m currently obsessed with. The trick is accepting that even survivors need downtime. After all, you can’t outrun wolves, mutants, or hunger if you’re running on empty.
(Plenty of productive procrastination happening over at Survivor Incognito.)
With Frank’s brand-new raised suspension fitted, I decide today’s the day to finish up The Essentials. One small problem: Frank’s pointing the wrong way. The boulder-clearing job from before opened a fresh path, so I follow it — partly to see where it goes, partly to avoid the awkward Austin Powers-style manoeuvring. It leads me to something familiar: another Chevrolet, the very same model I started my SnowRunner journey with.
The Stranded Chevy
I park Frank up alongside and jump in for a look. It’s going to need some upgrades before it’s worth driving… and then I notice the real problem. It’s in no state to move at all — repairs come first. That makes this a job for Red. For now, I hop back into Frank, wiggle the wheel a few times, and get him facing the right way back toward the garage.
Warehouse Run
Back at the garage, I remember there’s a warehouse in this region with wooden planks. That’s exactly what I need for the farm delivery, and it’s perfect for two reasons: 1. I can see exactly how much fuel Frank burns on a long run. 2. I can avoid those soul-draining loading screens from switching regions.
The road’s a good test for the new suspension too. Frank does take a couple of damage points — entirely my fault for forgetting to flick on AWD — but otherwise glides over the bumps. By the time we reach the warehouse, the fuel gauge says I’ve burned about 45–50 litres. Not bad at all.
Planks on Board
I load Frank up with the planks and set off toward the farm, confident the suspension upgrade was worth every bolt.
The trip back is uneventful until I reach the flooded road leading to the farm. I spot an unflooded road I could have taken… and promptly ignore it, because this is a perfect water test for Frank. The difference is night and day compared to before — he still struggles a little, but nothing like the swamp-crawling misery of old. The planks are dropped off, and The Essentials is finally complete.
Hungry Workers, Hungrier Roads
With Frank proving himself, I decide to tackle the Hungry Workers task next. Back to the garage for a full tank, then back to the farm for consumables. The road isn’t exactly Frank’s favourite terrain, but we reach the Drilling Site in one piece — and ding! Rank 6 unlocked.
That means one thing: new tyres. All we have to do is get back to the garage.
The Italian Job (SnowRunner Edition)
On the way back, I take an alternate route. Frank decides this is the perfect time to audition for a role in a remake of The Italian Job. One quick winch later, and I save him from early retirement.
Back at the garage, I reward him with a fresh set of All-Terrain Tyres — the perfect ending to a busy, productive day.
Survivor Incognito 