Category: blog update

Sneak, Snipe, Repeat: Skyrim Survival Day Two

Previously on “Freezing to Death with Style”:


I escaped Helgen, picked flowers while Hadvar tried to be serious, got mauled by wolves with no meat, chose the Thief Stone after second-guessing it five times, cleared out Embershard Mine with a chaotic mix of weapons and magic, looted some fancy rings, ate everything not nailed down, got weighed down by junk, and slept in Riverwood with a backpack which improves my lockpicking and big dreams. Oh—and I was accidentally playing on Adept. That’s going to change.

Read Day One Here

Day 2:

After surviving my first day in the freezing land of Skyrim, I woke up with new resolve—and promptly realized I’d left the difficulty set to Adept. That explained a lot. So, I knocked it down to Apprentice, because this is a survival diary, not a masochism log.

Destination: Bleak Falls Barrow.
Detour: Accidentally walked the wrong way. Did a full 180 and actually set off toward my goal.

The closer I got to the barrow, the colder it got. My health started draining from exposure, and I started wondering if this was where my playthrough ended. I also realized I had made a classic survival mistake: I didn’t bring a torch. Rookie error. I pressed on, anyway.

Inside the barrow, I took out a couple of bandits and gratefully warmed up by a fire. I even snagged a nap. Fighting fatigue and frostbite is a hard balance. As I worked deeper into the ruins, a bandit ahead of me triggered a trap and conveniently died. Looted them. Jackpot—a torch.

Further in, I encountered the infamous giant spider and did my best Legolas impression until it fell. Then I met Arvel the Swift, who begged me to cut him down. I agreed—and then immediately betrayed him. I’ve played enough Skyrim to know what happens if you don’t. With him gone, I took the Golden Claw and his journal. Thanks, buddy.

I worked my way through packs of draugr using stealth and ranged attacks, occasionally switching to a mace and shield when things got messy. Found a spell tome to raise the dead, and from there, things got necromantically fun. Raise. Fight. Repeat. Disposable zombie backup is surprisingly effective.

At the end of the barrow, I learned a Word of Power, but a Draugr Overlord decided to give me a live demonstration. Rude. I killed him, took his enchanted sword, and called it a win.

On the way back to Riverwood, I hunted a few rabbits for food and ran into a panicked woman claiming she fled from Mistwatch—a place now apparently run by bandits. Good to know.

Returned the Golden Claw to the Riverwood Trader, did some bartering, some cooking, and returned to Hadvar’s uncle’s house for the night. Leveled up in the morning, boosting health, stamina, archery, restoration, and sneak. Because stealth archery isn’t just a meme—it’s a lifestyle.

[Read The Full Journey Here]

Where Did This Happen?

[Check The Map Here]

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The Cold Chronicles Day 4: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

The Cold Chronicles – Day 4: Into the Wind and the Wolves – Coastal Highway or Bust

Difficulty: Voyageur
Optional Features: Cougar enabled (because I enjoy living dangerously)

Day 3 Recap

Read Day 3 here — yesterday I dodged a moose, found a glorious hatchet in Abandoned Mine No. 3, cooked up some deer and rabbit in Crumbling Highway, and narrowly avoided becoming wolf dinner. Today’s goal: finally reach Coastal Highway and set up a proper base.

Leaving Crumbling Highway

I began the day by tucking my curing hides and guts into a safe indoor corner — because nothing says “responsible adult” like organising future clothing projects before breakfast. Torch lit, I stepped outside, and immediately, the welcoming committee arrived: a wolf trailing me at a polite-but-menacing distance.

It shadowed me for a good minute or two before deciding I wasn’t worth the effort. I imagine it muttered something about “stringy meat” and trotted off into the snow. Either way, my pulse was already higher than my body temperature.

After a short uphill slog, the crumbling asphalt gave way to the open expanse of Coastal Highway. “Civilisation” was in sight — if you consider a scattering of abandoned houses and frozen fishing huts to be civilisation. In The Long Dark, that’s practically a metropolis.

Early Loot and Missed Opportunities

Coastal Highway Map

My first pit stop was a parked car. Inside: a memento hint for loot hidden somewhere in the region. Handy — though I also remembered I’d picked one up back in Desolation Point and promptly never followed it. Future me is going to love that surprise.

Further along, a deer carcass lay half-buried in snow. Tempting, but the blizzard winds convinced me my fingers were better kept intact. Instead, I marked the spot with charcoal — like an explorer, but hungrier.

The Road to Quonset Garage

I worked my way through a cluster of houses, stuffing my pack with food, matches, and clothing. My boots squelched faintly with each step, the wind pushing hard enough to make my footprints vanish behind me.

Halfway to my target, I stumbled upon another deer carcass. I tried to light a fire to harvest it, but the weather refused to cooperate. No fire, no meat — just a reminder that sometimes, The Long Dark makes the rules, and they’re not negotiable.

Then came the wildlife parade: a bear to my left, wolves to my right, and the wind doing its best to push me back to Crumbling Highway like an overprotective parent. My torch flickered in the gale, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure who would win — me, the predators, or the weather.

Quonset Garage: Loot Heaven

When Quonset Garage finally came into view, it was like spotting an oasis in the desert. Inside: shelves groaning with food, a bed, an indoor fire barrel, tools for every occasion — and, inexplicably, two prybars. Why two? No idea. But I took them. When survival hands you a prybar, you don’t ask questions.

After a quick loot run around the parking lot, I found a third prybar in a nearby car. That’s three. I had officially cornered the prybar market. In a barter-based apocalypse, I was now the regional supplier.

Camp Office Sweep

Not content with my haul, I made a detour to the Camp Office. It paid off: another storm lantern, more food than I could carry comfortably, and clothing upgrades that made me feel less like “desperate wanderer” and more like “fashion-conscious hermit.”

By the time I waddled back to Quonset, I was carrying 50kg of loot. Every step felt like hauling a small moose on my back, but the thought of my growing stash kept me going.

End-of-Day Luxury

Back at Quonset, I dumped my loot into organised piles — food here, flares there, fuel in the corner, and coats stacked like I was opening a thrift store. I lit a fire, boiled water, cooked a hot dinner, and settled into bed with the smug satisfaction of someone who knows they’re not going to starve tomorrow.

Plans for Day 5

  • Harvest both deer carcasses with fire in hand
  • Try fishing if the weather plays nice
  • Maybe — just maybe — find a proper weapon so I can stop relying on my stern glare to keep wolves away
Continue the journey:
Previous: Day 3  | 
Next: Day 5

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The Cold Chronicles Day 3: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

The Cold Chronicles – Day 3: Gut Decisions in Crumbling Highway

Difficulty: Voyageur
Optional Features: Cougar enabled (because I enjoy living dangerously)

Day 2 Recap

Read Day 2 here — the short version? I wandered Desolation Point chasing matches, looted the Riken, threw a torch at my first wolf (and it worked!), and finally scored a full box of matches from a glovebox. Tomorrow’s goal: find Coastal Highway. Simple, right?

Morning Plans and Rabbit Runs

They say fortune favours the bold. I say fortune clearly didn’t factor in moose. Today’s plan was simple: head to the mine in Desolation Point and hopefully find something sharp, pointy, or otherwise capable of convincing wildlife to leave me alone.

On the way, I spotted a couple of rabbits. One bolted like I owed it money, but the second caught a well-aimed stone to the noggin. Dinner sorted.

The Bridge Standoff

Feeling pretty pleased with myself, I pressed on — until I heard the low, echoing howl of a wolf somewhere nearby. Torch lit, I marched on with all the fake confidence I could muster. That’s when I saw it: the bridge to the mine… and the moose blocking the way.

He’s Just Standing There Menacingly!

I’ve heard the stories. I’ve seen the clips. One charge and that thing could turn my survival diary into a cautionary tale. I executed a tactical retreat to the church and consoled myself with some warm peaches.

The Safer Detour

That’s when I remembered: there’s another mine that leads to Crumbling Highway — the actual route to Coastal Highway. Longer walk, but blissfully moose-free. That’s a win in my book.

Abandoned Mine No. 3 Map

Inside, things were looking up: a lantern (finally, real light!), more matches, a healthy stack of coal, and best of all — a glorious, rusty but fully functional hatchet. I nearly wept. Finally, a tool I could use on wood, carcasses, or anything foolish enough to cross me.

Into the Crumbling Highway

Crumbling Highway Map

I emerged into Crumbling Highway and looted a nearby car — jackpot, more matches. The game was either feeling generous or setting me up for something terrible.

Birds circled in the distance, and experience told me that meant free meat. I found a deer carcass alongside a rabbit one, made a fire, tossed on some coal, and cooked up my finds. That’s when the wolves arrived.

Torch Trouble

Torch in hand, I hurled it at them like a dramatic warning shot… and they didn’t even flinch. Either these wolves were seasoned veterans, or my throw lacked gravitas. With panic rising, I did what any brave survivor would: sprinted to the nearest car and slammed the door like it was base in a childhood game of tag.

Basement Refuge and Hide Work

From the car, I spotted a cluster of abandoned buildings. Spooky, yes, but one had a basement. I dashed for it, dove inside, and finally found some peace. While holed up, I harvested spare clothes — accidentally shredding the socks I was wearing — and dropped my hides and guts for curing. Fancy, I know.

Tomorrow, the plan is simple: reach Coastal Highway. Hopefully with fewer moose and more matches.

Day 3 Pro Tips (Switch Edition)

  • Moose will ruin your day — avoid if possible
  • Alternate mines can bypass dangerous wildlife
  • Coal is great for long-lasting fires
  • Always keep a basement or vehicle escape route in mind
Continue the journey:
Previous: Day 2  | 
Next: Day 4

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The Cold Chronicles Day 2: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

The Cold Chronicles – Day 2: Wolves, Mines, and Questionable Life Choices

Difficulty: Voyageur
Optional Features: Cougar enabled (because I enjoy living dangerously)

Day 1 Recap

Read Day 1 here if you missed it — the short version? Dropped into Desolation Point with nothing but the clothes on my back, made it to the lighthouse without being eaten, looted like a raccoon in a campsite, and committed my first rabbit-related crimes. Two bunnies down, a stomach full of cooked meat, and a warm(ish) bed to end the day.

Match Quest: The Early Hours

Day 2 began with a clear goal and absolutely no plan: find matches. They’re the sacred spark sticks of survival, and I was running low. The Processing Plant seemed like a solid bet — a big building, lots of corners, and surely a drawer or two with something useful.

Then I opened the lighthouse door and got my first real look at the day’s weather: howling wind and sideways snow. The kind of blizzard that whispers, “You could stay inside.” I, naturally, ignored it.

Loot Tour: Trailers and Processing Plant

First stop: the nearby trailers. They’re warm-up loot spots in more ways than one. I found food and extra clothes — which is always good — but still no matches. My hands were as matchless as my confidence was misplaced.

On to the main event: the Processing Plant. I approached with the cautious optimism of someone opening a mystery box. Inside: more food, more clothes, but no fire-starting salvation. If the apocalypse had a fashion week, I’d be ready to walk the runway, but actual fire? Not today.

Ship of Dreams (and Disappointments)

Not ready to give up, I headed for the Riken — the frozen ship that looks like it’s been halfway through sinking for years. It didn’t have my matches, but it did cough up an insulated flask. Now I could drink warm coffee in style — assuming I ever managed to heat any.

Does This Come In Other Colours?

The Torch Throw Heard ’Round the Lighthouse

Back at the lighthouse, I made a fire with my dwindling supply of matches (eleven left), boiled water, brewed coffee, and sat sipping it like the Arctic’s most underpaid barista. But I needed a bigger plan — Coastal Highway beckoned.

I grabbed my curing rabbit hide and gut (never leave home without them!) and set out. That’s when I realised I had absolutely no idea which direction to go. To make things worse, my 24-hour wolf-free grace period had expired.

One appeared out of the snow. I panicked. I threw my torch at it. By some miracle, it worked — the wolf bolted, and I stood there triumphant, heart pounding like a drum solo.

Match Jackpot

I ducked into a nearby car to regroup, mostly to breathe. Inside the glovebox, the game rewarded me for my bravery (or blind luck): a full box of matches. It felt like winning the lottery — if the lottery was cold, damp, and came with wolves.

I returned to the lighthouse with a new plan, new matches, and a healthy respect for panic-based problem-solving. Tomorrow? I find that highway. Or at least walk in a straight line until it feels like I do.

Day 2 Pro Tips (Switch Edition)

  • Matches are life — always keep a reserve
  • Trailers are great early loot stops
  • Torch-throwing is surprisingly effective on wolves
  • Don’t assume you know where you’re going — check the map
Continue the journey:
Previous: Day 1  | 
Next: Day 3

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Day 1 Diary – Green Hell – Poisoned by Nature, Humbled by Bananas

Day 1 of my Green Hell playthrough on Nintendo Switch. I punch trees, fail at harvesting, make a rock axe, eat a banana, and die of mystery poison. Jungle survival rating: tragic but educational.

Welcome to the Jungle (And Immediate Regret)

I started my first Green Hell run on “Welcome to the Jungle” difficulty—just enough challenge to remind you this game isn’t here to offer a tutorial, just consequences.

My first instinct? Punch a tree. That didn’t work. Punch a bush? Still nothing. Turns out Green Hell does not share crafting logic with Minecraft. Nature ignored me. Not a single leaf fell. A humbling start.

Then I found some mushrooms. I picked them but didn’t eat them. I may be new, but I’ve played enough survival games to know that “mysterious glowing fungi” are rarely friendly.

—

Shelter and a Crash Course in Crafting

Eventually I stumbled into a cave with a bed and some supplies. Clearly someone had been here before me, which made me feel slightly safer and slightly more worried about what happened to them. No blood, no bones. I called it home.

With a brief window of calm, I opened my notebook and realized I could craft tools—if I had rope. Problem: I had no rope.

Before I could even get to that, I spent a solid chunk of time trying to gather sticks. I tried punching trees again. Still nothing. It wasn’t until I started actually looking at the ground that I realized: sticks just lie around. You don’t harvest them. You notice them. Like a fool, I’d been missing the forest and the trees.

—

Rope: My Greatest Enemy

Most of the rest of the day was spent looking for vines. According to my notebook, I could harvest them from trees, but not just any trees. Only certain ones. And only if I looked at the exact right spot, with just the right angle. Jungle logic.

Finding those vines ate up more time than anything else. But eventually, victory. I made rope. Combined it with a stick and a stone, and I finally had a crude axe. I immediately used it to chop down a bamboo tree, because it was there. Did I need bamboo? Not even slightly. But I’d earned the right to murder a plant.

—

Small Wins & Sudden Defeat

A few minutes later, I found bananas. Actual food. Safe to eat. I had one. No hallucinations. No stomach cramps. I felt like a genius.

Then I saw a massive leaf and figured it looked important. I picked it up. That’s when I got poisoned.

I didn’t see what did it. No snake. No dart frog. Just instant toxins. Jungle: 1. Me: 0.

—

Diagnosis: Terminal Curiosity

I sprinted back to the cave and tore through my notebook looking for cures. Everything required materials I didn’t have. Plants I hadn’t seen. Tools I couldn’t craft yet.

I accepted my fate, laid down in the cave, and reflected on my accomplishments. I’d made an axe. Found a banana. Died invisible-death-style. And crucially, I now knew where rope—and sticks—actually came from.

A solid first day, all things considered.

—

If you enjoyed this one, why not check out my other Day One Diaries

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Day 1 Diary – ARK: Scorched Earth – Heat, Hubris & A Doedicurus

Spawn Location: Midlands 4
Difficulty Setting: Easy (allegedly)
Death Count: 1
Notable Quotes: “That doedicurus looks manageable.”


—

Wake Up, Punch a Bush

I came to in the middle of the desert wearing absolutely nothing except a sense of misplaced confidence. Sun blazing, heat rising, and the HUD silently judging me. First instinct? Punch a bush. Gathered some fiber, thatch, and self-respect.

Leveled up once from raw enthusiasm alone. Put that point into Health, because even I could tell I was about five bad decisions away from dying.


—

The Accidental Shirt Empire

Decided to craft some clothes before the sun roasted me alive. Opened the crafting menu, tried to make one shirt—accidentally made five.

Now accepting names for my pop-up desert boutique. Eventually got it together and added some pants. No shoes though. Those required hide. Hide required confrontation.


—

Tooling Up & Feeling Bold

Made a pickaxe and found a water vein. Hydration status: temporarily acceptable.

Crafted a hatchet. Then a spear. Then a sun hat, because I like my survivalism with a side of flair. I had gear, water, and the kind of reckless optimism that leads straight to the respawn screen.

—

The Enemy of My Confidence

I needed hide. So I looked around:

Ankylosaurus: Too many spikes. Hard pass.

NOPE!

Doedicurus: Round, slow-looking, vaguely adorable. I could take it.


I could not.

The second it noticed me, it went full Beyblade and chased me halfway across the dunes. I survived, barely, and took that as a sign to regroup. Obviously, I didn’t listen.


—

The Fatal Spear Throw

Bandaged my pride, gathered more supplies, and returned to the scene of my failure with renewed stupidity.

Lined up the doedicurus in my sights. Threw the spear.

Missed completely.

It charged. I died.


—

Summary of Bad Decisions

Crafted 5 shirts by accident: Unplanned fashion mogul
Picked a fight with a doedicurus: Lost. Twice.
Made tools and a spear: Forgot to aim before throwing
Died as tradition dictates

—

Final Thoughts

ARK on Easy Mode is still full of bad decisions if you’re making them fast enough.

Doedicurus: not food, not friendly, not forgettable.

Respawning is a learning experience. Eventually.


Next time, I’ll pick a different animal to harass. Probably regret that too.


—

Read my other Day One Diaries here

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Day 1 Diary – The Long Dark – Frozen Fails: The Day The Ice Got Me

I launched The Long Dark on Voyageur difficulty with the confidence of someone who had watched exactly one survival documentary and thought, “Yeah, I’ve got this.” I didn’t. Not even a little.

Editor’s note: This entry recounts my first-ever time playing The Long Dark, years before I established the permadeath rules for current runs. Everything that happened was real, just with less structure (and more falling into lakes).

—

Step One: Make It Harder Than It Needs to Be

The game practically begged me to start in Mystery Lake or Mountain Town. But I wanted an adventure. So, I hit “Random.” I figured, why not spice things up? Worst-case scenario, I get eaten by a wolf. That would’ve been merciful.

Instead, I was dropped into Bleak Inlet—also known as “You Shouldn’t Be Here Yet Bay.” Picture a desolate, wind-scoured wasteland where the trees are tired, the wolves are angry, and the weather is doing its best impression of a meat freezer. I had no map, no shelter, and no clue where I was. Perfect.

—

Step Two: Get Lost Immediately

I wandered for a while, mostly in circles. My grand strategy was “head in a direction and hope it works out.” Spoiler: it didn’t. Snow was blowing sideways. Visibility dropped to “guess and pray.” My temperature gauge wasn’t just falling—it was plummeting like a rock.

Eventually, I stumbled onto a frozen river. Did I consider the structural integrity of that ice? No. Did I remember the game has breakable ice mechanics? Also no. I just thought, “Shortcut!”

Cue sound of cracking.

—

Step Three: Fall In. Twice.

I broke through the ice and dropped into freezing water. If you’ve never experienced The Long Dark’s cold mechanics, here’s a summary: get wet, get cold, get dead. I scrambled out, shivering and soaked, thinking I could recover. A rookie mistake. I had no firestarter, no dry clothes, and no shelter.

Then—because I’m nothing if not consistent—I fell in again. Same ice. Same mistake. Same freezing regret.

At this point, hypothermia set in. I couldn’t sprint. My vision blurred. My character audibly groaned in despair, and honestly, same.

—

Step Four: Denial and Ruined Shacks

Still clinging to the illusion of survival, I limped along until I found what could generously be called a shack. More accurately, it was a few planks of wood pretending to be a building. No fire barrel. No door. Just wind-chill and a growing sense of dread.

I checked my inventory:

One flare

Some cattail stalks

Clothes so wet they might as well have been lake water

No matches

This was not a survival situation. This was an obituary in progress.

—

Bonus Step: Existential Reflection

As I sat there, frostbitten and fully aware I was about to die, I had time to think about my life choices. Mainly:

Why didn’t I bring a torch?

Why didn’t I start in Mystery Lake?

Why does the game hate me?

But mostly: Why did I fall in the same ice twice?

—

My First Death, But Not My Last

Eventually, the screen faded to black. Cause of death: hypothermia. Time survived: not long enough to justify the bravado I started with. It wasn’t a glorious end. It wasn’t even a dramatic one. It was just wet, cold failure.

But The Long Dark teaches by punishing. And I learned. Next time, I’d check the map. Next time, I’d respect the ice. And next time, I’d maybe, just maybe, not hit Random.

—

Switch Controls (For People Who Prefer Not to Drown)

Move: Left Stick (try not to walk into water)

Run: Hold Right Trigger (don’t sprint blindly across ice)

Inventory: ‘X’ Button (check it before you’re soaking wet)

Interact: ‘A’ Button (essential for picking up supplies you actually need)

Crouch: ‘B’ Button (useful for sneaking… or just giving up quietly)

—

Takeaways

Mistake Consequence What to Do Instead

Random spawn in Bleak Inlet Spawned in the worst possible region Choose Mystery Lake or Mountain Town
Walked on thin ice Fell in. Twice. Stick to snow-covered paths
No firestarter Couldn’t dry off, froze to death Always carry matches or a torch
No plan or direction Got lost in a blizzard Learn the map or follow landmarks

—

Final Thoughts

The Long Dark doesn’t coddle. It teaches with pain. My first run was a disaster—but a valuable one. If nothing else, I now know that ice is not to be trusted, Bleak Inlet is not your friend, and maybe—just maybe—I should listen when a game says, “Start here.”

And yes, I will absolutely be trying again.

—

Read More Day One Diaries Here

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I Was Just Trying to Get Home (And Then This Happened)

What started as a quiet trip back to Grey Mother’s turned into a wolf ambush. Here’s how my Customloper run nearly ended on Day 3.

—

Just Me, a Skillet, and Regret

I’d just finished looting Paradise Meadows Farm. I had a fresh rabbit stew in my belly, a skillet in my backpack, and dreams of a cozy night back at Grey Mother’s. You know. Normal stuff.

Then this happened.

—

That’s right. No warning. No howls. Just me, walking around a corner like I own the place, and a wolf showing up like he owns the place. Spoiler: he nearly did.

I did what any reasonable person would do—I ran back inside, popped painkillers like trail mix, and bandaged my wrist while re-evaluating all my life choices.

Moral of the story: Never trust Milton to be quiet, and always expect the game to humble you the second you start feeling safe.

—

For more tales like this, please check out: Survivor’s Shorts

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Survivor’s Shorts Are Live – Because Chaos Deserves Its Own Page

Survivor’s Shorts is now live! A new page on the blog featuring my funniest, strangest, and most disastrous survival moments—bite-sized stories, full-sized regret.

—

Sometimes a moment in a survival game doesn’t need a full playthrough post—it just needs a spotlight, a raised eyebrow, and maybe a bandage.

That’s where Survivor’s Shorts comes in.

It’s a new page on the blog dedicated to the little disasters. The sudden bear charges. The pancake heartbreaks. The moose lurking behind trees. All real stories from my permadeath runs, trimmed down and served with a side of sarcasm.

If you’ve ever screamed when you meant to crouch or felt betrayed by a breakfast item, you’ll feel right at home.

—

What You’ll Find There

The Pancake Betrayal – Found the recipe. Found the syrup. Got betrayed by Cooking Level 4.

There is more coming soon. But here is what to expect for ones that are being drafted:

The Wolf That Interrupted My Mapping Session – Cartography meets carnivore.

The Moose Behind the Tree – A 5% spawn rate that showed up at 100% volume.

The Doedicurus That Broke My Spirit – One spear. No hits. Lots of tail.

The One-Shot Wonder – A bear, a rifle, and a moment of absolute panic… that somehow worked.


And plenty more moments coming soon.

—

Check it Out Here:

Survivor’s Shorts

—

Got a favourite chaotic moment?

Let me know in the comments or tag me on social—I’m always looking for new disasters to celebrate.
And if you enjoy these shorts, consider sharing the page with a fellow survivor.
Because nothing says “friendship” like a moose silently judging you from behind a tree.

—

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The Pancake Betrayal: A Tale of Syrup, Hope, and Crushing Disappointment in The Long Dark

On Day 1, I found Lily’s pancake recipe. On Day 2, maple syrup. I dared to dream. But The Long Dark had other plans. Here’s the tragic tale of the pancakes that never were.

—

How It All Began

It started like all great adventures do: with breakfast.

Day 1 of my Customloper run. I was cold, hungry, and rummaging through Milton like a raccoon with a pension. That’s when I found it. A recipe card tucked neatly into a drawer: Lily’s Pancakes.

Hope bloomed. Pancakes. In the apocalypse.

—

Day 2: Syrup From The Heavens

Then it happened. The gods of calories smiled upon me.

I found maple syrup. Actual syrup. In a game where peanut butter is a rare treasure and soda is currency, this was the nectar of the ancients.

I had the recipe. I had the syrup. All I needed was… the ability to cook it?

—

The Dream Dies

Enter Cooking Skill 4.

And acorn grounds.

Because apparently, pancakes in The Long Dark are a late-game luxury, not a wholesome wilderness breakfast. You need to:

Boil acorns

Grind them

Have mastered the culinary arts

Possibly offer a sacrifice to the RNG gods


I barely have shoes. But yes, let’s make artisanal pancake flour from forest nuts.

—

The Aftertaste of Betrayal

So now the recipe sits in my inventory, mocking me. The syrup? Hoarded like liquid gold. And I? I chew on stale crackers in the corner, dreaming of what could’ve been.

One day, I will reach Cooking Skill 4.
One day, I will gather acorns, grind them, and make pancake batter.

But today? Today I make tea. And try not to cry.

—

Final Thoughts

This game has broken me before, but never like this. Frostbite? Bear maulings? Fine. But withholding pancakes? That’s a new low.

—

For more info on what Customloper is, please check out: The Long Dark Customloper Settings: Easier Interloper Survival Mode

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Want to read more tales like this? Please check out: Survivor’s Shorts

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