Survival Is Earned. Chaos Is Documented.
When you think of the word “successful,” who’s the first person that comes to mind and why?
Anyone who’s managed to survive a week in The Long Dark without falling through the ice, accidentally eating raw meat, or setting their only pair of socks on fire. Success isn’t yachts or millions — it’s persistence, problem-solving, and remembering to save your coffee for emergencies.
(Plenty of practical, caffeine-fuelled success stories at Survivor Incognito.)
What makes a good neighbor?
Someone who doesn’t raid your supply cache, lure predators to your cabin, or build a base two feet from your fishing hut. In the real world, I’ll settle for someone who says hi, respects quiet hours, and doesn’t set off fireworks at 2 a.m. Basically, the opposite of every NPC I’ve ever met in a survival game.
(Plenty more tips for surviving neighbours — human and otherwise — at Survivor Incognito.)
Difficulty: Survival (Steam Deck Survival)
Optional Features: Grav Trap Deployed for Science and Snacks
After yesterday’s fire-fighting and frantic crafting, I started the day with a new radio message: Lifepod 17 had also crashed somewhere nearby — right next to the Seamoth Bay, apparently. But priorities are priorities, and since Lifepod 3 radioed me first, they got first rescue attempt.
Lifepod 3 wasn’t exactly a rescue success.
I did, however, find a blueprint for a compass — the kind of thing that makes you wonder why your pod didn’t come with one pre-installed. I added it straight to the “to-craft-once-I-can-see-straight” list, along with a PDA I’ll read later when I’m not holding my breath underwater. No survivors… unless you count me, which I do, enthusiastically.
Back at my pod, I realised something important: I can’t see a damn thing once it gets dark. So I finally crafted a torch — apparently the galaxy’s most underrated invention — along with a survival knife because there’s nothing like a little sharp-edged comfort in an ocean full of unknown lifeforms.
Next stop: Lifepod 17.
Predictably, it was another empty seat arrangement, but I did strike technological gold — enough Seamoth fragments to unlock the blueprint. I just need a Mobile Vehicle Bay now, which sounds easy enough until you remember I’m surviving on cooked bladderfish and spite.
While exploring the wrecks, I also found the last few materials to upgrade my O₂ tank. More air equals more curiosity, and more curiosity usually equals more trouble, so that’s a win all around.
Just as I was feeling productive, I got a new transmission — this time from the Sunbeam. They wanted a response, but my comms system is, and I quote, “irreparably damaged.” Translation: I’m talking to myself for the foreseeable future.
With no one to call and no Netflix subscription in sight, I built a Grav Trap and tossed it outside the Lifepod to watch it work. Instant sushi buffet. Fish helplessly drawn into an invisible vortex of doom. It’s oddly soothing.
Full gameplay log below — forty minutes of exploration, crafting, and the occasional panic swim. Featuring Grav Trap testing, Lifepod 17 dives, and my ongoing battle with visibility and oxygen management.
Watch on YouTube
I even had enough parts for a Rebreather, further extending my underwater escapades. Everything was going fine… right up until the PDA told me the Aurora will explode in approximately two hours.
Sure. Two hours to stop a planet-sized reactor meltdown with nothing but a knife and optimism. Sounds totally achievable.
I spent the rest of the day chasing one thing: silver. I’d convinced myself it didn’t exist anymore, that I’d mined the planet dry earlier. But after far too many dives and muttered curses, I finally found some glimmering salvation among the sandstone outcrops.
Back at the Lifepod, another message awaited — the Sunbeam again. They’ve spotted the wreckage of the Aurora and are coming to investigate. They’ll be here within the week.
So not all doom and gloom then. Just mild existential dread… and a new compass freshly crafted to help me get lost in the right direction next time.
What could you try for the first time?
Probably resting before a new survival run instead of diving in half-prepared with three sips of coffee and misplaced confidence. Or maybe trying permadeath in something not designed to punish me for breathing wrong. Then again, chaos and curiosity tend to win… so let’s be honest, I’ll probably just try another custom mode instead.
(Plenty of first-time chaos — and second attempts — over at Survivor Incognito.)
What principles define how you live?
Adapt, endure, and laugh through the chaos. Whether it’s a snowstorm in The Long Dark or life deciding to throw curveballs, I’ve learned to keep moving, keep learning, and never take the disasters too seriously. Survival — in games or reality — isn’t about perfection. It’s about persistence… and maybe having a spare cup of coffee ready.
(Plenty more survival principles — and caffeine-fuelled persistence — at Survivor Incognito.)
Difficulty: Default (Steam Deck)
Rules: I start with three strikes under the Apex Predator Rule.
Only Charles can take them away. Each egg collected restores one lost chance, but I can never hold more than three at once.
“Eugene called with a ‘big find for the museum.’ I should’ve known when he refused to say what it was until the boat was already docking.”
Apparently Eugene has discovered something huge on Aranearum Island—something the museum “can’t ignore.” What he forgets to mention, until we’re thirty seconds from land, is that the discovery hisses, hunts, and has legs that would make a freight spider jealous. By then, of course, it’s too late to turn around.
No sooner do we dock than Eugene takes off at a sprint like he’s late for his own funeral. I grab the station key, unlock the building, and meet my transportation for this misadventure: a battered yellow locomotive that looks one patch of rust away from retirement.
I test-fire the roof gun—short bursts, satisfying recoil—and then we’re moving. The honeymoon lasts roughly twenty seconds before Charles himself crashes the party. Eugene insists we “keep firing.” I oblige; Charles responds by turning Eugene into exhibit material. The monster vanishes into the trees, leaving me with a wrecked train, a dying mentor, and new marching orders: find the eggs that power this nightmare.
Here’s the footage from this log — the moment Eugene and I make first contact with the eight-legged nightmare himself. Recorded on Steam Deck using the built-in capture tool.
My first stop is Tony Tiddler, who generously offers the key to his barn and a stash of scrap. I call that charity; he calls it cleaning up. Next, I reverse the train, switch tracks, and meet Candece, who points me to her balcony—more scrap, fewer spiders.
Feeling brave (or stupid), I detour toward the middle of nowhere and meet the local witch, Lizbeth Murkwater. She wants swamp meat from an island guarded by something named Barry. I don’t see Barry, but I feel him—same energy as the invisible water creature from Amnesia: The Dark Descent. I retrieve the goods, vow never to swim again, and sprint back to dry land to upgrade my train’s speed. Priorities.
Next up is Daryl, a man armed with lockpicks and zero clue how to use them. Fortunately, I manage. The mini-game is all timing—light on punishment, big on satisfaction. More scrap secured, more confidence gained.
My final stop of the day is Helen. As I slow the train and step off to meet her, I hear that familiar metallic shriek echoing through the forest. Instinct wins: I sprint back to the train, gun ready, waiting for the inevitable screech and charge. Nothing. Just the wind and the kind of silence that feels like it’s holding its breath. After a tense minute, I risk it—back down the path to Helen’s camp.
Helen greets me like I haven’t just done the most dramatic 100-metre dash of my life and explains that Charles can’t simply be killed; he has to be lured into a one-on-one fight to the death. To do that, I’ll need to locate the three eggs hidden in mines across the island and use them to summon him. Simple plan: collect cursed objects, trigger final boss, try not to die first.
I head back to my train under a sky that looks like it’s plotting. There’s another survivor nearby, but they can wait. Somewhere out in the fog, metal claws scrape against steel. Charles knows I’m here—and he wants a word.
Need a guide? Explore every stop, scrap pile, and spider sighting with the Aranearum Island Map Guide — your unofficial atlas to surviving the rails.
What have you been putting off doing? Why?
Editing and scheduling the next few blog entries — because somehow I treat my backlog like a survival game boss fight. I tell myself, “I’ll tackle it tomorrow,” then get distracted by another game where I’m freezing, starving, or both. Procrastination is just my brain’s version of looting one more cabin before heading home.
(Plenty more creative procrastination at Survivor Incognito.)
“The trains are running again. Unfortunately, so are the screams.”
The Survivor Logs are officially back — revived, refuelled, and just in time for Halloween. It’s been a while since the last campfire catch-up, so let’s dive straight into what’s coming down the tracks.
Choo Choo Charles has pulled into the station, and it’s hungry. October’s focus is firmly on Derailed & Doomed: A Choo Choo Charles Survival Diary, running under the Apex Predator Rule. Three lives, one monstrous train, and plenty of tracks to regret walking down. Expect new logs throughout the month — assuming I survive long enough to post them.
While Charles hogs the spotlight, the rest of the Survivor Incognito universe is catching its breath. Alien: Isolation and Subnautica entries will appear intermittently, but October’s chaos belongs to the rails. Once the screams die down (or I do), we’ll see which world gets the next diary spotlight.
I’m keeping this month’s log short and sharp — like the claws of a certain spider-train hybrid. Expect the next Survivor Log once the Halloween smoke clears, complete with reflections on the run, blog milestones, and maybe a few hints of what’s waiting in November’s frost.
When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?
Probably the first time I realised no one else was going to refill the lantern fuel or pay for the med supplies. Adulthood hits differently when you’re managing both real-life bills and in-game dehydration. I still don’t always feel like a grown-up — just a survivor juggling chores and chaos with questionable lighting.
(Plenty more responsible chaos at Survivor Incognito.)
Scanning the two maps I’ve unlocked — Black River and Smithville Dam — I notice there’s still a Watchtower in each I haven’t reached. But then something else catches my eye: an upgrade in Black River I’ve somehow never collected. Could this be Frank’s long-awaited lift?
I decide to put Scout to work and make the long drive from the Smithville Dam garage back to Black River. For once, Scout behaves himself. No random swerves, no unnecessary barrel rolls — it’s almost like he can sense I’m not in the mood for nonsense today.
We arrive without incident, and then I realise something. Thanks to the mushroom nozzle and his existing suspension, Scout is basically amphibious. He crosses water like it’s just another patch of muddy ground, with barely a splash. Unless the water’s deep enough to drown a whale, there’s no danger of flooding the engine.
I get so distracted by testing his newfound “boat mode” that I temporarily forget why I came here. But then — jackpot. An upgrade tucked away where the map didn’t even bother to mark it. Raised suspension for Frank! My self-control kicks in: I stick to my Permagear rules and drive Scout all the way back to Smithville Dam to deliver the prize personally.
Frank looks happier already. His debut mission with his new suspension is clearing a set of boulders blocking the way, which requires Service Spare Parts. He tackles the water crossings like a champion now, only calling on the winch when the terrain demands it.
I’m still one rank shy of giving him upgraded tyres, but even without them, he powers through and clears the boulders. With the path open and the job done, Day 13 wraps up on a high — and with a much taller Frank.
Survivor Incognito 