Platform: Steam Deck Settings: Vanilla Mario & Music — chaos supplied separately. “Somewhere between the mountain slide and the basement sky, I realised this randomizer doesn’t believe in architecture either.”
With only the 100 Coin Star left in Tall, Tall Mountain, I decided it was time to finally clear my first course. The plan was simple: grab coins, stay alive, avoid plummeting off the cliff. Naturally, the first attempt ended in a slide-related tragedy. The second try, however, was a success — first course officially cleared.
Feeling confident, I ventured down to the basement to see what new horrors awaited. A friendly Toad handed over a star without asking for anything in return — a rare act of generosity in this twisted castle.
Then came the real surprise: the hole that should have led to the Vanish Cap switch instead opened into Rainbow Ride. Because apparently, gravity is optional now. Despite a few near misses (and several camera-induced heart attacks), I managed to grab three stars before deciding I’d pushed my luck enough for one day.
“Two eggs to go. One murderous locomotive. And a sermon that really didn’t age well.”
🎥 Watch Log 6: Three Eggs and a Funeral (Probably)
Faith, Paint, and Poorly Sighted Cultists
With two eggs remaining, I decide I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Time to face destiny — or at least, sprint toward it screaming.
The first target: the mine in the middle of the island. On the way, I stumble upon a church, complete with a sermon that sounds more like a cult recruitment speech than holy scripture. I also find a can of black paint — clearly divine intervention — so I treat my train to a new coat before heading inside the mine.
The cultists here… well, let’s just say the masks are doing more harm than good. One could’ve had a clean shot on me, but apparently, I was invisible. What begins as a stealth mission quickly devolves into “grab the egg and run.” I sprint out, bullets whizzing past, praying my train hasn’t wandered off without me. Once the shooting stops, I open the map, mark my train, and plan my route to the final mine.
The Bug Spray Revelation
Two mines down, two eggs in hand, one to go — and Charles knows it. His whistle cuts through the air as I make my way toward the last mine. This time, though, I’m prepared.
I’ve learned that the bug spray isn’t just for keeping his ugly mug at bay; it deals slow, steady chip damage if used sparingly. It’s not glamorous, but it’s something. I’ll need to remember this for our inevitable final showdown.
After a short skirmish, Charles retreats. I let him go — we’ll finish this soon enough.
The Final Egg
The southern mine awaits. Inside, I get another chance to show off my lockpicking skills — not that anyone’s watching. For a brief, glorious moment, I think the place might actually be abandoned.
Then I hear the whistling.
So, back to the classic strategy: Run. Grab. Run again. I burst out of the mine clutching the last egg, a cultist hot on my heels. Fortunately for me (and unfortunately for him), I reverse my train right over him. Efficient, if a little messy.
The three eggs are mine. One final stop remains — the shrine, the signal, the point of no return. Either I end Charles… or he ends me.
Next Stop: The Final Fight
I take one last look at the map. Every track, every encounter, every scrap of metal has led to this. The next log will be the last — one way or another.
Apex Predator Rule: Three strikes to start. Only Charles can take them.
Each egg restores one — never more than three total.
“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the lady obsessed with pickles. Or the one hunting Slender Man. But hey—scrap is scrap.”
🎥 Survivor’s Reel: Log 4 – Pickles, Papers, and Payback (No Commentary)
The Pickle Lady Cometh
My first stop was a house belonging to someone I can only describe as the Pickle Lady. According to her, there’s “one last jar of pickles” hidden deep in her pickle cave. She wanted me to retrieve it, and honestly, the promise of scrap was enough for me to overlook how absolutely unhinged she seemed.
Charles, mercifully, must have agreed—because he didn’t interrupt this one. Maybe even he thought, “Yeah, she’s crazy,” and decided to give me a pass. Pickles retrieved, reward collected, and my sanity mostly intact.
The Slender Situation
Next up was Sasha, who casually informed me that the Slender Man was also apparently hanging around the island. She’d already collected eight pages and wanted me to grab the next set. Logical, right? Because clearly, one supernatural monster just isn’t enough.
Unfortunately, the universe had other plans. No sooner had I finished talking to her than that familiar whistle pierced the air. Charles. I bolted for my train, but he was faster. The beast blindsided me and shredded my health bar like paper. Charles earns his first win. Two chances left.
Still annoyed—and slightly traumatized—I decided to humor Sasha anyway. I managed to grab three pages before some unseen Slender-like presence told me to “go away.” Quest abandoned. Sanity preserved.
Bridge Over Terrifying Waters
After a quick recovery, I shifted gears and tracked down Santiago’s journal. Delivered it safely—though apparently, I could’ve snooped inside first. Missed opportunities, I guess. My next stop was Eugene’s son, who still believes his father is alive and well on the mainland. I didn’t have the heart to correct him.
He handed me a set of explosives and outlined the island’s master plan: lure Charles onto a wooden bridge, blow it sky-high, and end this nightmare once and for all. It’s a bold plan. Questionable, sure—but bold. I now have the temple key for when it’s time to place the eggs and start the final battle.
Preparing for Round Two
As the day closed, I parked the train near a resident’s home rumored to hold another weapon. After my last run-in with Charles, I’m more than ready to upgrade my firepower. Whether or not I get a moment’s peace to actually do it—that’s another story.
For now, I’ve survived long enough to plan my next move. But I can’t shake the feeling that Charles is circling again, waiting for round two.
I wake to alarms, a smoking console, and one extremely calm Peeper hovering in the middle of my lifepod like it pays rent. Fire out, situation stable, roommate secured. I catch it. I cook it. Breakfast of champions.
The PDA boots into Emergency Mode with the sort of cheerful corporate tone that suggests HR wrote it. Regardless, it’s my lifeline now, so I listen.
First Steps (and First Swims)
Before diving, I pin the essentials:
O₂ Tank — lungs are optional, but preferred.
Fins — I’d rather swim fast than panic slowly.
A few quick foraging runs later and I’ve got both crafted, plus a Repair Tool and a Scanner. The ocean is being cooperative… for the moment.
Right on cue, the radio chirps in with an update: rescue ETA 9… 9… 9… 9… 9 hours. So, roughly eleven and a half years. Excellent. I’ll, uh, keep busy.
Nightfall, Notes, and New Blueprints
Scanner built, I point it at everything that moves (and several things that don’t). The shallows hum with life — coral pulsing softly beneath me, strange silhouettes drifting just beyond visibility. It’s beautiful in a way that feels like a warning.
Darkness drops quickly, and scanning in pitch black is just guessing with extra beeps, so I pin a Torch for tomorrow.
At first light I spot Seaglide fragments. One scan later and the blueprint unlocks. New goal: build it before the day ends — because slow swimming is a lifestyle choice I refuse to adopt.
Then: a ping from Lifepod 3. Marker acquired. I’ll head there once the Seaglide is humming.
Crash Fish Chaos
While hunting materials, I discover two facts in rapid succession: Crash Fish hate visitors, and they express this by exploding in your face. Two back-to-back detonations later, my health bar looks like a bad stock chart. I limp to the lifepod, patch up, and get back to work. Controlled recklessness: unlocked.
The Hunt for Copper
Finding copper is like looking for hope in a horror movie — technically present, rarely where you expect. I comb the shallows, finally crack the right limestone outcrop, and sprint-swim home to craft Copper Wire.
Moments later, the Seaglide is mine. Sleek, fast, and probably not covered by warranty. I take it for a celebratory lap around the pod and call it a day. Tomorrow: Lifepod 3.
End of Day Reflections
The sun sinks below the horizon, painting the shallows gold and the deeper water black. My vitals are stable, the pod is repaired, and I’ve managed not to die — all major wins in my book. The ocean hums quietly around me, equal parts beautiful and unnerving. Somewhere out there, Lifepod 3 is waiting. Hopefully with snacks.
Watch the Chaos
🎥 Subnautica Survival – Day 1
See the full adventure — from surprise Peeper roommate to Seaglide success — on YouTube:
Difficulty: Survivor Mode (Permadeath Rule in Effect)
“I was ready for the Alien. I wasn’t ready for a bunch of plastic-faced androids with the bedside manner of a toaster.”
Starting where I left off, I spotted a Working Joe in the distance. Their glowing eyes cut through the sterile white corridors, and the way they moved — steady, unhurried — felt more unsettling than if they’d been running. With a little help from my motion tracker, I eventually found a computer up a set of stairs that looked like it might let me contact the Torrens. Unfortunately, Apollo essentially told me, “NOPE.” Back to square one.
Not wanting to deal with the Joe directly, I ducked into a vent. The metal clanged beneath my hands as I crawled through the stale air, only to find myself right back where I started. Brilliant navigation, 10/10.
Sneaking Past the Plastic Brigade
My second attempt was a little more productive. Using the tracker’s handy objective marker, I pushed forward, only to find two Joes patrolling opposite sides of the room. Their footsteps echoed across the floor like someone tapping on the inside of a coffin. Staying crouched and moving like my life depended on it (because it did), I managed to slip past them.
Along the way, I picked up the blueprint for EMP v1.1. Not sure how effective it is against the Joes, but it went into my collection of “items I’ll probably forget exist when I need them most.”
Soon after, I stumbled on a save point. Though I’m not religious, I thanked some higher power for that little glowing box of mercy. One save later, and I was thrown into three hacking games in quick succession — tense but surprisingly fun, especially with the eerie hum of machinery pressing in around me.
Contact with Samuels
At long last, I made contact with someone from the Torrens: Samuels. I could have hugged him through the screen. He was with Taylor, who looked in rough shape and needed medical help. Samuels couldn’t leave her side, but he promised to send transport for me. All I had to do was make it back to them.
Which, naturally, was when the alarm went off. The lights strobed red, the siren wailed like a dying animal, and every Joe in the area decided it was time to reenact Terminator.
Panic, Chaos, and Dripping Vents
This is where stealth went straight out the window. I’d like to say I handled it like Snake in a cardboard box. Dear reader: I did not. Instead, I panicked, sprinted, hid badly, and almost ended the entire run then and there.
Rather than just tell you about it, here’s the video in full:
Yes, I could have used the EMPs. No, I didn’t — because I forgot I had them in the chaos. And the revolver? Pretty sure it’s about as effective as shouting at the Joes, given what I’ve seen. Meanwhile, the Alien was making its presence known again, dripping from the vents like the world’s worst plumbing problem.
I even had a staring contest with one of the Joes. Spoiler: they can, in fact, see me. And if they can find me in lockers, what chance do I have against the Xenomorph?
Somehow, against all odds, I survived the chase and stumbled into the SciMed Tower. Samuels and Taylor are waiting… if I can actually reach them next time.
Difficulty: Default Survival Optional Rules: Permadeath, one horde night per week “If you ever find yourself cornered by two zombies in a stranger’s living room, just remember: honey is nature’s antibiotic. Who knew bee juice would keep me alive?”
The Fetch Quest of Doom
The morning began with me jogging toward the latest house that Trader Rekt wanted looted for supplies. From the outside, it looked quiet — shutters drawn, roof sagging slightly, just another abandoned suburban home. But this is 7 Days to Die, so I knew the interior would be less “suburban charm” and more “screaming corpses.”
Sure enough, as soon as I hit the flag at the back of the property and stepped inside, the soundscape turned into a zombie alarm clock. Two of them barreled toward me, cutting off my escape. I managed to fight my way out, but not without a parting gift: infection. Perfect.
After clearing the stragglers and pocketing the supplies, I searched my pack for antibiotics. Nothing. A return trip to Papaw Residence confirmed the same — unless you count decorative piles of junk and a near-useless jar of murky water. But buried in a chest was salvation: honey. Exactly the right cure for my low-level infection. Bee magic saves the day.
Medical Centre Run
I staggered back to Rekt’s, handed over the supplies, and chose skill books as my reward. Then I spent some coin on more honey, because clearly zombies see me as a chew toy. Another fetch quest? Why not. This one sent me toward what looked like a pop-up medical centre — white tarps, overturned stretchers, and the distinct impression that the last patients didn’t leave voluntarily.
The zombies inside were fewer and slower, which suited my still-throbbing wounds. Looting the shelves, I stumbled on something that felt like Christmas morning: a cooking grill. Finally, the days of choking down charred snake meat are behind me. Now I can prepare food that doesn’t taste like it came out of a campfire accident.
I cleared the building, snagged the supplies, and returned to Rekt. My reward? Charred meat. Honestly, I think the man is trolling me. “Here’s some food, survivor.” Yes, Rekt, I literally just looted the thing that makes your reward obsolete. Thanks for nothing, champ.
Dew Collector Dreams
Back at Papaw, I started eyeing my supplies. Between yesterday’s scavenging and today’s haul, I realised I was close to crafting a Dew Collector. After a bit more rummaging and resource-gathering, the parts came together. I placed the contraption outside, whispered a hopeful prayer to the condensation gods, and waited.
After five minutes of staring at a metal bucket with mesh, I admitted that Dew Collectors are not exciting to watch in real time. With thirst still an issue, I decided to channel my boredom into base-building. The first layer of the horde base is now fully cobblestone. The second layer is patchwork, half cobble, half wood. The third layer? Still dreams and dust. At least I can say progress is being made, even if it looks more like a construction site than a fortress.
Thirst, the Silent Killer
The Dew Collector is great in theory, but water production is glacial. By mid-afternoon I was dehydrated again — stumbling around with blurry vision like I’d been on a pub crawl with the undead. Tomorrow, water is priority number one. Either the trader sells me a stash, or I’m boiling every murky puddle I find.
Still, the looming problem isn’t just thirst. It’s the horde night clock. Day 4 is practically here, and my base is still an empty shell. If I don’t switch gears soon, the zombies will be less “contained threat” and more “unwanted guests knocking down my half-finished walls.” Tomorrow, the hammer and cobblestone get priority — fetch quests can wait.
Continue the Journey
Day 2 | Day 3 (You Are Here) | Day 4 (Coming Soon)
Difficulty: Standard Piloting Optional Features: Tradepad-assisted profiteering
“These are the voyages of Commander Incognito: to deliver questionable amounts of data, dabble in Tritium trading, and retire ships faster than common sense would recommend.”
Courier by Day, Trader by Accident
I began the day staring down a tempting 13-jump courier mission and immediately said “absolutely not.” Instead, I poked around the mission board until I found something saner: data delivery for the Casual Crew over at Stargate’s Pride in Col 285 Sector II-P B20-8. Two jumps, easy life. Or at least that was the plan.
Meanwhile, the station was plastered with “donate to the cause” missions. Good causes, I’m sure. My cause, however, is not going broke. Instead, I tried my hand at trading. Thanks to the ED Tradepad app (my new best friend), I saw Tritium could net me a tidy profit. In-universe justification? A friendly dockworker at Tenn Terminal whispered: “You’ll make a few credits shifting this stuff.” Sold.
Three Jumps, Not Two
The trip was supposed to be straightforward. Supposed to be. With the cargo on board, my plotted course decided it wanted to add a bonus jump. I blame the Tritium, because blaming fuel makes me sound like I know what I’m doing. Still, it was a useful chance to fumble around the galaxy map and pretend I understood what all those filters do.
I delivered the data without trouble, pocketed my Tritium profit, and looked around Stargate’s Pride for what else it could offer. The answer: temptation.
Goodbye Rustbucket, Hello Rustfang
The shipyard beckoned. The ISS Rustbucket had been my loyal workhorse, but it was time for an upgrade. After much internal debate (and wallet screaming), I settled on a Cobra Mk IV. Tougher, meaner, and actually able to hold its own if someone looked at it funny. After some kitting out, I proudly christened it: ISS Rustfang (RFN-5).
Naturally, I also gave it a vehicle bay and a shiny new Scorpion, because if you’re going to upgrade, you may as well go full “space SUV with off-road capabilities.”
First Spin in the Rustfang
To break it in, I accepted a modest courier job to Farris’ Remembrance in the Col 285 Sector DC-R b19-7 system. Easy enough — though I somehow managed to plot my course to an entirely different system on the galaxy map. Don’t ask. Let’s just say the navigation computer and I are still getting to know one another.
Despite the detour, the Rustfang flew beautifully. Nimble for its size, sturdy, and most importantly: mine. Mission complete, credits banked, and one very satisfied Commander.
Day 5 Wrap-Up
Rustbucket has been retired, Rustfang is born, and I even made a little profit along the way. Courier work? Handled. Trading? Profitable. Galaxy map? Still confusing. Tomorrow might be the day I finally see if bounty hunting agrees with me… emphasis on might.
Rule Set: Three Strikes (Xenomorph only) Location: Seegson Communications “I’ve seen enough sci-fi to know that when the friendly android offers you a seat, you probably shouldn’t sit down.”
Back Upstairs, Back in Trouble
After possibly releasing the galaxy’s worst houseguest, I have no choice but to keep moving toward Seegson Communications. The other survivors? They can fend for themselves—if they’re still breathing.
I creep upstairs just in time to hear the Xenomorph deal with the group who wanted me dead. That’s… justice? Karma? Either way, I don’t plan on joining the casualty list. I get a quick glimpse of the creature before ducking behind a box. No thanks, not burning Strike One yet.
Moments later, I slip into the elevator, tuner in hand, praying it doesn’t decide to test its claws on the doors.
Welcome to Seegson Communications
The elevator opens, and who’s waiting? A Working Joe android. I can tell the designers blew the budget on “creepy plastic skin” and “unsettling stare mode.” Still, the first one politely offers me a seat. I decline. I’ve already got chairs at home.
Exploring further, I try to explain I need to contact the Torrens. The Joes, in their usual customer-service-death-mask tone, tell me that Communications is off-limits. Naturally, this means I’m going to have to sneak in.
Tracker, Toys, and Trust Issues
In the middle of poking around, I find something glorious: the motion tracker. Not only does it point toward objectives, but it immediately informs me that something is behind me. Cue panic—until I realise it’s just another Joe, calmly asking if everything is alright. (No, everything is not alright, pal.)
I also stumble on a blueprint for a noisemaker. Given how much stomping and hissing I’ve heard lately, this feels like crafting salvation.
But then I see it: Joes can’t be trusted. A human survivor argues with one, pulls a gun, fires—does nothing. The Joe responds by snapping him in half like a breadstick. Great. Now I know they’re not just weird, they’re actively homicidal. Thanks, random gun guy. You doomed us all.
Shut Down the Cameras
My objective: disable the surveillance cameras so I can sneak through. Problem: I have no idea where I’m going. Solution: follow the magic beeping rectangle.
The tracker points me toward the controls, while also telling me there are two Joes nearby. Excellent—nothing like disabling security while feeling like the least secure person alive.
I find the panel, turn off the cameras, and pocket a survivor’s ID tag because looting under pressure is apparently my thing. Then I wait. And wait. And wait for the world’s slowest elevator. I swear it was coming from the far side of the station.
Hope on the Airwaves
At last, I reach Communications. And then I hear it: the voice of the Torrens, cutting through the static. Actual hope, actual contact, actual chance of escape. For a moment, Sevastopol doesn’t feel like a tomb—it feels like a finish line I might actually reach.
Of course, the Joes are still wandering the halls, the Xenomorph is still on the loose, and the whole station feels one breath away from falling apart. But right now? I’ve got a signal. And that’s enough to keep going.
Log 4 Pro Tips
Never assume the Joes are harmless. They’re not.
Motion tracker = survival MVP. Treasure it.
Don’t trust other survivors with guns—they’ll get you all killed.
If an elevator takes too long, assume it’s mocking you.
Continue the journey: Log 3 |
Log 4 (You Are Here) | Log 5
I start the day by taking Red back to the Smithville Dam garage to decide on my next move. Both of my current main objectives need wooden planks, and as far as I can tell, the only viable source is back in Black River. The plan: build the bridge first, then worry about the rest.
I hop into Frank for the job, only to be faced with the first challenge — actually getting him there. Instead of taking the standard road, I opt for a less-beaten path through the trees, using the winch liberally and clambering over rocks like a determined mountain goat in truck form. If Frank had feelings, I’d say he was trying to prove something.
Frank: The Reliable Workhorse
Once in Black River, I load up the planks and head back to Smithville Dam. Along the way, I can’t help but admire Frank’s handling — reliable, sturdy, and never letting you down. He’s the truck equivalent of that one friend who always brings snacks and never cancels plans.
I top him up at the fuel station as a precaution (he probably didn’t need it, but who doesn’t like a full tank?). Crossing the Dam, I briefly flash back to the Dam level in GoldenEye 64, half-expecting to see polygons of Soviet guards wandering about.
Bridge Complete
The delivery goes smoothly, and with the wooden planks in place, the bridge is now a reality. Objective one: done. Frank earns a well-deserved rest while I swap into Red for some post-bridge exploration.
Red’s Bouncy Adventure
Immediately, I’m reminded of the difference in handling: Frank sticks to the ground like he’s got magnetic tyres; Red prefers to bounce along it like an over-caffeinated pogo stick. Past the bridge, I find a promising-looking track and decide to follow it.
The path is a mix of mud, stones, and one dodgy river crossing that all but confirms Red will need a raised exhaust if such a thing exists. After wrestling through, I spot an upgrade ahead and let my hopes soar — could this be the elusive raised suspension for Frank I’ve been searching for? In my head, I’m already firing him up for a triumphant drive back to the garage.
Reality Check
It isn’t. Instead, it’s Engageable AWD for a White Star truck — a vehicle I don’t own. Still, at least it’s unlocked for the future. I follow the road and, somewhat anticlimactically, end up back on the other side of the bridge.
That’s where I call it for the day. Tomorrow, Red will keep exploring, and maybe — just maybe — I’ll finally complete The Essentials task.
Difficulty: Survival Diary Rule – Three Strikes Optional Rules: NPC kills = game over, Alien kills = limited chances “Axel didn’t make it. Now it’s just me, a ship full of strangers who want me dead, and something in the vents that definitely isn’t paying rent.”
Humans Are Worse
With Axel gone, my only hope of reaching the Torrens lies in the communications deck. Easy enough — except the moment I step into the elevator area, another survivor decides that today is a good day to introduce me to firearms, up close and personal.
I manage to grab the gadget he dropped (which, of course, is missing a power cell), but before I can even inspect it, her mates show up, heavily armed and highly motivated. Rewiring becomes my best friend: a quick distraction lures three away, but I forgot about the fourth. He has a revolver, and apparently the aim of a cowboy.
Running seems like the best life choice, and surprisingly, they don’t chase me. Probably union rules.
Scavenger’s Delight
With my heart rate only slightly higher than a microwave on full blast, I take stock. A revolver. A keycard. And a flashbang blueprint that reminds me of my Counter-Strike 2 days, where I was just as likely to blind myself as the enemy.
I find a black box from the Nostromo and for one terrible moment think I’ll finally learn what happened to my mother — except, of course, the recordings are gone. Figures.
Lockdowns and Maintenance Jacks
The room seals tight with a full lockdown. The gadget I picked up earlier? Now powered thanks to a conveniently placed cell. My shiny new Security Access Tuner opens doors like magic, but the ship clearly didn’t get the memo: it wants me stuck.
I dig around, crack open a door with my trusty maintenance jack (still my favourite tool), and finally find the terminal to lift the lockdown.
That’s when the vents begin to whisper.
The Monster Appears
It drops down from the ceiling — long, sleek, and infinitely uninterested in human conversation. The same thing that took Axel.
I crawl under a table, holding my breath as it sniffs around. That’s when I remember: I just unlocked extra exits for myself… which also means extra exits for it. Oops.
It slips into the vent and vanishes, leaving me shaken but alive. I follow at a very safe distance and then beeline for the nearest save point, head swivelling like I’m in a budget Exorcist remake.
Game saved. Nerves fried.
Log 3 Closing Thoughts
Survivors are hostile and revolvers hurt.
Rewiring saves lives.
Flashbangs will probably kill me, not the Alien.
The Xenomorph exists, it knows I exist, and we’re now on a collision course.
Next time: I find out if my revolver is a comfort, or just six shiny excuses to die loudly.
Continue the journey: Log 2 | Log 3 (You Are Here) | Coming Soon: Log 4
Survivor Incognito 