🌊 Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 5: Scanners, Stalkers, and the Elusive Bay

“Sometimes survival means chasing blueprints you’ll never find and pretending the ocean isn’t full of things that want to hypnotise you.”

Platform: Steam Deck
Objective: Wait for the Sunbeam transmission and maybe, just maybe, build something that floats.

Exploration (a.k.a. Avoiding Impatience)

With nothing to do but wait for the Sunbeam’s next message, I decide to make the most of my surface time. I remember having another lifepod distress signal stored, so I tag it on my HUD and head out exploring. At first, the ocean feels empty — just me, the waves, and a slowly draining battery supply — but that doesn’t last long.

After a bit of aimless swimming, I finally stumble upon the final fragment for the Laser Cutter. I can practically hear the sound of sealed Aurora doors opening already. Victory, thy name is “I can finally cut stuff.”

In the midst of my excitement, I make the questionable decision to scan a Stalker. It could’ve gone wrong in a hurry, but apparently it was too busy minding its own business to care. A rare win for curiosity over self-preservation.

The Hunt for the Mobile Vehicle Bay

With the Laser Cutter blueprints ready, I set my sights on something even more crucial: the Mobile Vehicle Bay. I want my Seamoth — freedom in miniature submarine form. I head toward Lifepod 17 again, the same one that’s been testing my patience since last time.

Luck strikes early — I find two out of three pieces for the Bay in fairly quick succession. Naturally, that’s where the good fortune ends. The third? Nowhere to be seen. I comb the seabed, check every wreck, and even chase shadows thinking they might be fragments. Spoiler: they weren’t.

In true Subnautica fashion, my HUD decides to stop showing the lifepod marker mid-journey. A quick reset fixes it, but it doesn’t help my sense of direction — or my growing frustration. Ten to fifteen minutes later, I’m still empty-handed.

Strange Fish and Stranger Plants

To add to the ambience, I discover a few plants with anger issues and meet a Mesmer — a deceptively pretty fish that freezes you mid-swim while whispering sweet nonsense. The first time it happened, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and then suddenly — WHAM. Out of the trance, face-to-face with a glowing fish that definitely wanted me gone.

Thankfully, the Propulsion Cannon was in my hands. A single blast later, and the Mesmer was forcibly introduced to the local wall. Justice served.

Calling It a Night (Reluctantly)

As darkness falls, I decide to call it a day. Nighttime on this planet is truly pitch black, and I’m not wasting my last batteries trying to play deep-sea Marco Polo with blueprints. Still, it wasn’t a wasted trip — I unlocked a few new crafting recipes and gathered plenty of scan data for the databank. Just not the one blueprint I actually wanted.

Tomorrow, the ocean and I will have words. Preferably near the wrecks that have Mobile Vehicle Bay fragments.

Video Log

Continue the Journey

⟵ Log 4: The Cannon and the Leviathan |
Log 5.5: The Sunbeam’s Shadow ⟶

Two Legends, Two Very Different Nightmares

Who is the most famous or infamous person you have ever met?

I’ve met two people who left a mark on film history — and my memory. First was Richard Kiel, the towering man behind Jaws in the old Bond films. Gentle handshake, giant presence. The second was Robert Englund — Freddy Krueger himself. Let’s just say even out of makeup, the man knows how to make a room go quiet.

Both encounters reminded me that fame doesn’t have to mean distance. Sometimes it’s just two strangers talking — one trying not to think about being crushed, the other trying not to picture claws.

Surviving Bond villains and horror icons — that’s two achievements unlocked.

Even in the Void, Company Helps

What is good about having a pet?

What’s good about having a pet? Simple — they make even the emptiest world feel a little less quiet. Whether it’s a glowing creature on an alien ridge or a cat waiting by the fire, they’re proof that survival doesn’t have to mean solitude.

<Companionship is the best gear upgrade you can have.

Old Hardware, New Horizons

Name the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not your home or car).

My old PC. It was where I learned, failed, modded things I probably shouldn’t have, and found entire worlds to survive in. But like any old shelter, it eventually stopped being home. These days, the Switch and Steam Deck have taken over — smaller tools for bigger stories. Still, I keep the PC around, like an old save file I’m not quite ready to delete.

Sometimes moving forward means leaving good gear behind.

Super Mario 64 Randomizer – Log 1: A Metal Start & a Sandstorm Surprise

Platform: Steam Deck
Settings: Vanilla Mario & Music — because some chaos speaks for itself.
“Somewhere between turning to metal and getting launched at Bowser before lunch, I realised the randomizer doesn’t believe in pacing.”

The Super Mario 64 Randomizer wastes no time reminding you that reality is optional. My first warp dropped me straight into the Metal Cap stage — a place I had no right being this early on, but apparently this version of Mario is a trendsetter. After a brief moment of “wait, how did I get here?”, I grabbed the cap, collected what I could, and escaped before the chaos decided to double down.

Moments later, I opened another door… and there he was. Bowser in the Dark World, staring back at me with that “you’re not supposed to be here yet” kind of energy. Naturally, I went in anyway.

Watch Log 1:

Early Bowser, Early Panic

I wasn’t mentally or physically prepared for an early Bowser fight. My hands were still in “collect coins and admire textures” mode, not “avoid spinning platforms over the void” mode. But somehow, it worked out. Bowser got tossed into oblivion, my confidence went up by about 10%, and my sense of direction dropped by 80%.

From there, I stumbled into Shifting Sand Land. You know, the one full of quicksand and angry wildlife. Not exactly where I expected to end up next, but at least it looked warm. A few exploratory jumps later, I realised I’d achieved very little besides confirming that sand hurts — so I retreated to something more comforting: the Secret Slide.

The Slide Before the Storm

Ah, the Secret Slide — the calmest, most reassuring part of this randomizer so far. No enemies, no bottomless pits, just gravity and mild regret. I took the scenic route (read: I fell off twice), grabbed both stars, and left feeling momentarily competent.

Naturally, that feeling didn’t last. My next warp took me back to Shifting Sand Land, which seems determined to be my home base now. Between the quicksand, whirlwinds, and the constant threat of instant death, it’s a lot like visiting a beach if the beach actively wanted you gone.

Log 1 Summary

  • Stars Collected: 6
  • Stars Remaining: 114
  • Lives: 4
  • Areas Cleared: Metal Cap, Secret Slide, Bowser in the Dark World

For a first outing, this randomizer threw everything at me except the kitchen sink (and let’s be honest, that might still show up later). Metal Mario, Bowser, sandstorms, slides — it’s been a full day’s work in about half an hour. I’ve no idea what the next warp will bring, but I’m bringing extra lives and zero expectations.

Lessons from Log 1

  • Metal Mario early is fun — until gravity remembers he’s heavy.
  • Bowser fights don’t need context to cause panic.
  • Shifting Sand Land: 10/10 for sun exposure, 0/10 for safety.
  • Secret Slide remains the only form of therapy in this castle.
Continue the journey:
Log 1 (You Are Here) |
Log 2

History: Humanity’s Greatest Patch Notes

What was your favorite subject in school?

History was my favourite subject — mostly because it’s proof that humanity’s been making questionable decisions since patch 1.0. Every empire’s just a player who forgot to save before doing something stupid, and every century’s a new DLC full of bugs we didn’t fix the first time.

Basically: I’m studying history so I can survive the sequel.

Screens, Sanity, and Survival

How do you manage screen time for yourself?

Honestly? Badly, but with purpose. I spend a lot of time in front of screens — writing posts, editing videos, gaming for the blog — so I try to frame it as creative time rather than wasted time. It helps that most of it fuels Survivor Incognito in one way or another.

That said, I do set limits. I step away when I catch myself scrolling instead of creating, or when I’ve stared at the same paragraph for too long. A short walk, a drink, or even switching games can do wonders for a reset.

🌊 Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary — Log 4: Extinction Prevention (Mostly)

“Turns out nuclear safety training is optional when you’re the only one left alive.”

Mode: Survival | Platform: Steam Deck

Post-Reaper Priorities

After my last close encounter with the Reaper Leviathan, I decide that maybe, just maybe, going silver-hunting anywhere near them is a bad idea. I still need that silver for my Propulsion Cannon, but I’d rather not earn another traumatic underwater flashback. I remember some sandstone outcrops near Lifepod 17, so I head there instead.

Luck is finally on my side. I find the silver pretty quickly, head back to my lifepod, and get to work. A few crafted materials later, I’m officially armed with a Propulsion Cannon. I briefly consider testing it on the Reaper — just to see what happens — but deep down, I know it would end poorly for me and hilariously for the Reaper.

Back to the Aurora

Feeling brave (or foolish), I head back to the Aurora. Naturally, my Seaglide’s battery dies halfway there, because Subnautica loves timing like that. After swapping it out, I make my way inside and retrace my previous steps. The crates that blocked me before? One satisfying Propulsion Cannon blast later, and I’m through.

I’m not sure what I expected — treasure, danger, maybe another PDA full of corporate nonsense — but what I definitely didn’t expect was a locked door with a keypad. For a moment, I almost give up. Then I remember my PDA might know something I don’t (which is most things), and there it is — a door code: 1454. It takes a few attempts — because typing underwater is hard — but eventually, the door slides open.

The Reactor Room

Behind it lies the reactor room, complete with glowing warnings telling me not to enter without training. Fortunately, no one’s around to stop me — and the ship is literally falling apart — so I take that as an invitation.

Radiation warning blaring, I dive in. The place is crawling with those little aggressive sea pests who’ve apparently decided this nuclear chamber is home sweet home. I’m too focused on repairing breaches to care. Twelve welds later, the Aurora’s no longer in danger of turning the ocean into a radioactive soup. One crisis averted, and I didn’t even vaporise myself. I’ll take that as a win.

Lifepod 4 and the Sunbeam

On my way back to Lifepod 5, I spot something bobbing on the surface. It’s an upside-down lifepod — number 4, to be exact. Curiosity wins, and I investigate. Inside, I find a PDA and a Creature Decoy blueprint. Probably not a coincidence that this pod didn’t make it.

Back at my base of operations, I reward myself with some cooked fish and clean water before checking the latest radio transmission. It’s from the Sunbeam — they’ve heard my signals and are getting closer. They just need to find somewhere to land.

Awaiting Rescue

Not sure what I’ll do while I wait. I’ve got Seamoth blueprints now, but no sign of the Mobile Vehicle Bay fragments I need to actually build one. So for the time being, it’s just me, my Seaglide, and the ever-expanding ocean of things trying to eat me.

I didn’t expect preventing an extinction-level event to be this quick — though I suspect the planet has plenty more chaos in store. For now, I’ll gather resources, explore nearby wrecks, and keep an eye out for those fragments. And maybe go swimming, just… not too deep.

Continue the journey:
Log 3: The Reaper’s Warning |
Log 5: Scanners, Stalkers & The Elusive Bay

Do I Need Time?

Do you need time?

I think everyone needs time — sometimes to rest, sometimes to refocus. There are days when I need a break from the noise, and others when I just need a reminder that the chaos I’m working through has purpose.

Time doesn’t always heal everything, but it helps you see things clearer. And in a world full of constant motion, taking a moment to pause might be the most productive thing you can do.

Three Years from Now: Still Surviving, Just with Better Gear

What will your life be like in three years?

In three years, I hope to still be doing what I love — surviving worlds, telling stories, and turning chaos into something worth reading. The blog will (hopefully) have grown into a proper archive of strange adventures, a place where people can drop in, laugh, and feel a little less alone in their own storms.

I don’t expect perfection — just progress. Maybe by then, Survivor Incognito will have found its rhythm, its audience, and its foothold. Every post, every late-night edit, every small win adds up.

So three years from now? Still surviving. Still writing. Still wandering — but maybe on a smoother path, with a few more campfires along the way.

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