Your Cozy Corner of Chaos in The Survival Genre
What alternative career paths have you considered or are interested in?
Honestly? A game tester or environmental storyteller. I already spend half my time wandering through digital wastelands, taking notes on how believable the snowdrift physics are or whether a crate makes sense there. Might as well make it official. Either that or something cozy like writing survival guides for people who still get lost in the tutorial.
(Turns out “professional survivor” isn’t an HR-approved title… yet.)
Truck of the Day: Frank (Fleetstar F2070A)
Primary Objective: Complete Steel River Supplies and Riverside Repair tasks
With Frank sporting his brand-new tyres, I couldn’t resist giving him a proper shakedown. Scanning my task list, Steel River Supplies caught my eye. Not only would it send me back to Black River, but it would also let me grab consumables from the farm here in Smithville Dam — a perfect excuse to see how he’d handle water crossings now.
The last time Frank tackled this road, the flooded section was a serious obstacle. This time? Just a mild inconvenience. Consumables loaded, I spun him around and headed for Black River.
Once in Black River, I checked my map. To complete the task, I’d need to drop off consumables, pick up wooden planks, and deliver a fuel carrier trailer. My options:
I chose Option 3. Why? Simple — I wanted to see what Frank could do now. If he’d dragged a large fuel carrier trailer to the warehouse before upgrades, surely he could do even better now.
Plotting my course, I took the same route Scout had previously tackled. It turns out Frank is now amphibious — or at least close enough that he handles water without drama. Good to know.
Reaching the trailer, we looped back toward our starting point. The mud tried to slow us, but with all his upgrades, Frank treated it like an irritating speed bump. No winching, no stalling — just steady progress.
We rolled into the destination without a hitch, dropped off the trailer and consumables, then headed for the lumber mill. Wooden planks loaded, one final short trip sealed the deal. Steel River Supplies completed with minimal hassle and maximum satisfaction. Frank’s test run? A resounding success.
I decide to tackle one more task: Riverside Repair. This would be the ultimate test of Frank’s mud and water handling. As expected, he took on the terrain slowly but steadily. Then I stumbled upon a small trick — if I angled the camera just right, I could see a path under the water. Handy.
Then came the real obstacle: barriers and a sign that read Water Over Road. Understatement of the year — it was a full-on river over the road. Frank pushed through, but the climb on the other side was another story. Thick mud locked him in place. Time passed. Progress was a crawl. I was creeping forward, sliding back, winching, and repeating. Just when I thought Frank was doomed to live here forever, this happened:
Yep, he somehow managed to free himself. I feel like he took that notification as a personal attack. The rest of the journey went off without a hitch, although I made sure to take the long way round back. Once I completed Riverside Repair, I turned off Frank’s engine and celebrated a job well done.
Day 14 | You are here | Day 16 (Coming Soon)
What food would you say is your specialty?
Disaster cuisine. I can turn a “five-minute snack” into a survival episode. Toast that’s just this side of charcoal, pasta that crunches like gravel, and the occasional miracle where something actually turns out edible. Basically, if it can be cooked in a digital campfire pan, I’ll find a way to mess it up first.
(Practice makes progress… or smoke. Usually both.)
What major historical events do you remember?
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.)
Platform: Steam Deck | Difficulty: Survival
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).
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.
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.
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.)
What are you most proud of in your life?
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.
(More cozy chaos and survival diaries over at
Survivor Incognito.)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
What have you been working on?
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.)
Survivor Incognito 