Category: Permadeath Runs

Cold-Blooded: A Skyrim Survival Diary – Log 7: The Horse Has Opinions

Cold-Blooded Log 7: The Horse Has Opinions

Difficulty: Survival Mode
Platform: Steam Deck
Build: Argonian Mage
Follower: Lydia

The plan was simple: ride out, grab Nettlebane, come home. Skyrim immediately rewrote it.

This is the horse’s first real outing.
The objective is Nettlebane.
I know the route takes me past Helgen, and that’s about all I know.

To keep things efficient, I bring Clairvoyance.
If there’s a faster or safer path, I want to know about it.

Video Log: Cold-Blooded – Log 7 (No Commentary)

YouTube embed goes here

Clairvoyance Takes Control

About halfway into the ride, confusion sets in.
I’m going in the opposite direction of where I expect to be heading.

I ignore the instinct to turn back and trust Clairvoyance.
This turns out to be a mistake.

A map check confirms it:
I’m near Silent Moon Camp.
The bounty location.

I’m fairly sure it wasn’t my active quest,
but Clairvoyance clearly disagreed and made the decision for me.

Silent Moon Camp, Horse Included

Since I’m already here, I clear the camp.
Leaving would be a waste.

I park the horse a short distance away before the fight.
The horse ignores this suggestion entirely.

The moment combat starts, it charges bandits with enthusiasm.
Between Lydia, my summoned Atronach, and now an aggressive horse,
the fight feels heavily one-sided.

I briefly consider the tactical implications of owning a battle horse.
Then I loot the bodies.

Locks, Potions, and Questionable Planning

Inside, I hit my first real obstacle:
an Adept-level lock.

It costs me a painful number of lockpicks,
but I get it open.

The reward is a pile of potions.
I have no plan for them.
I don’t know if I’ll ever use them,
or if Lydia should carry them and sort it out herself.

That decision is officially a future problem.

Rewards and Reassessment

With the bounty cleared, I return to Whiterun.
Before I can even collect the reward,
I’m handed a sword.

I don’t question it.
Skyrim likes giving me weapons I didn’t ask for.

Back outside the city, the horse gives me options.
I could head for the Greybeards.
I could try for Nettlebane again.

Given Clairvoyance’s earlier betrayal,
I decide not to push my luck.

I stop, reassess, and decide the next move needs to be deliberate.
Skyrim already proved it’s more than happy to choose for me.

Log Summary

  • Horse used in combat, without consent
  • Clairvoyance redirected me to Silent Moon Camp
  • Silent Moon Camp bounty completed
  • Adept lock opened after heavy lockpick losses
  • Large potion stash acquired, purpose unclear
  • Nettlebane postponed again

Continue the Journey

Cold-Blooded Log 6 |
Cold-Blooded Log 7 |
Cold-Blooded Log 8

More from Cold-Blooded


Cold-Blooded: A Skyrim Survival Diary Hub

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Isolation Protocol: An Alien Isolation Survival Diary – Log 2: Guns, Generators, and a Very Bad Introduction

Isolation Protocol Log 2: Guns, Generators, and a Very Bad Introduction

Game: Alien: Isolation
Platform: Steam Deck
Location: Sevastopol Station – Arrivals & Transit

Video: Arrivals scavenging, orange-lock hunt, Axel meet, stealth tutorial, and first Xenomorph encounter (no commentary)

I saw people run. I decided copying them was a solid life choice.

The last log ended with survivors sprinting for their lives. I followed.
They rewarded that decision by locking the door behind them.
So, plan B: keep moving, keep quiet, and keep pretending I’m not the most lootable person on Sevastopol.

I drifted through what felt like the off-duty end of Arrivals/Departures and caught a glimpse of the Torrens.
Of course, they didn’t see me. Of course, the shutters chose that exact moment to drop like they had opinions.
New objective: find a way to contact the ship before I become another unread terminal entry.

Loot Goblin Behaviour (With Added Dread)

Progress is slow. Not “enjoy the scenery” slow — more “every door is either locked, unpowered, or mocking me” slow.
I kept scavenging anything not bolted down, reading terminals, and listening to messages from people who used to live here.
I still don’t know what happened on Sevastopol, but I’m confident it was loud, messy, and not solved by good manners.

Then I found it: a door with a big orange lock.
Not my problem yet, but definitely my future problem.
And it wasn’t the only one. The station’s decorating theme is apparently “sealed access points and regret.”

The Maintenance Jack Incident

A message mentioned someone going nuts with a maintenance jack, and that they’d been locked in a room.
I eventually found them… and it looked like one of two things happened:
something killed him, or he killed himself.

The room had an orange lock. If he had the tool to open it, he could’ve walked out.
So I’m leaning toward something got in — and that “something” didn’t leave a note.

Before committing to the obvious route, I did a quick sweep through the one other door I could open,
grabbed what I could, and then headed back toward the big, bright, orange problem.

Meet Axel: The Gun-Point Welcome Committee

Cutscene time. I meet Axel, who opens negotiations by putting a gun to my head.
I offered him a way off Sevastopol: help me contact the Torrens, and he gets a seat.
Fair deal. Mutually beneficial. Sensible.

Axel doesn’t share that offer with the two other people we bump into, though.
Which, in hindsight, should’ve been my first clue that “teamwork” isn’t exactly thriving here.

Flashlight, Batteries, and the Stealth Crash Course

Axel takes me to his hideout — apparently where he’s been camping for the past week —
and hands me a flashlight and batteries.
Great. Useful.
Also: we literally just avoided armed survivors, and he told me to avoid armed survivors,
so giving me a beacon-on-a-stick feels… optimistic.

Then it’s stealth school.
I get sent to turn off a generator so a group of people — who have been told to shoot on sight —
go and investigate it.
At this point I’m already regretting offering Axel a lift.
I didn’t realise “help me escape” included “use me as bait.”

Axel Immediately Does the Opposite of His Own Advice

Axel’s big survival tips are: stay low, keep quiet, don’t draw attention.
Five minutes later he’s standing around like he’s waiting for a bus.
Not even hiding. Just… existing loudly in a corridor.

I ended up taking charge and basically herding him where he needed to go,
because apparently I’m the responsible adult now.
Which is terrifying, considering my main skill so far is “pick up scrap.”

And then Axel does it again: he headshots someone.
Loud. Clean. Final.
The exact opposite of “keep it down.”
So now we’re sprinting, because subtlety is dead and we’re trying not to join it.

The Xenomorph Introduces Itself

Another cutscene. And this time the station finally shows its real problem:
the Xenomorph.
It appears, it moves like a nightmare, and it removes Axel from my list of concerns.

I had a brief moment of wondering why Ripley doesn’t grab the gun.
Maybe it feels wrong. Maybe it’s shock. Maybe the game isn’t letting me.
Either way, I’m unarmed, underqualified, and very aware of how loud my breathing is.

Transit becomes the next lifeline — a long, stressful wait while my brain replays what I just saw.
The Xenomorph took Axel out like it was swatting a fly.
There’s absolutely no reason it wouldn’t do the same to me.

Transit finally arrives, and I step in like it’s salvation.
I’m hoping I’ve left the Xenomorph behind.
I’m also not stupid enough to believe that will last.

Log 2 Survival Notes

  • Loot everything, but assume every corridor has a consequence.
  • Orange locks = future progress gate. Make a note, don’t spiral.
  • Terminals and recordings tell you what happened here. It isn’t comforting.
  • Stealth matters, even when NPCs refuse to participate.
  • If someone says “keep it down” and then fires a gun, don’t follow their life advice.
  • Transit is safety… until it isn’t.
Continue the journey:
Log 1 | Log 3
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Eight Pages – A Slender: The Arrival Survival Diary Log 1: For Sale, No Exit

Eight Pages – Log 1: For Sale, No Exit

Platform: Steam Deck
POV: Handheld camera (battery + recording timer on-screen)

Video: First steps into Oakside: the house, the generator, and Oakside Park (no commentary)


I start filming outside a giant “Land for Sale” sign, and somehow end the night being told to “FIND ME LAUREN.”
Normal property viewings don’t usually escalate like this.

My POV is through a handheld camera, complete with battery life and a recording timer in the corner.
I’ve no idea if the timer will behave across multiple recordings (because I’m doing this over several),
but we’ll find out together.

The first thing I see is a huge sign advertising land for sale, telling me to contact Kate.
I’m supposedly driving somewhere important. I’m just not told where or why.

The road is blocked by a fallen tree.
We don’t know who did it, but I’m running the theory that Kate did.
Easier to drop a tree across the road than take down a massive sign with your name on it.
Either way, I don’t take it as a no.
Instead of getting back in the car and leaving, I go for a hike.

The light drops fast.
Oakside might be a mountain town, but surely physics still applies.
Either the sun is speedrunning the sky, or my character timed this trip perfectly for sunset.
By the time I reach a house—likely part of the land Kate was selling—it’s fully night.

Both the front door and garage door are open.
I let myself in.
Because that’s always a strong opening move.

The House: Half Powered, Fully Suspicious

The house is confusing.
I check one phone: no power.
I check another: there’s a message on the answering machine.
So either one half of the house has electricity and the other doesn’t,
or the wiring here follows horror rules instead of logic.

I find scattered notes and a flashlight.
The flashlight becomes essential immediately.
The camera throws out a brief burst of static during my tour,
which is the kind of detail you pretend you didn’t notice.

The location is good, though.
Remote. Quiet. Surrounded by forest.
If you ignore the notes, the power issues, and the open doors,
it’s practically ideal.

There’s a locked door.
The key is in the bathroom.
Exactly where I’d hide something important.

The Locked Room: Paper Walls and Beacon Talk

The unlocked room is covered in paper.
Every wall layered with writing.
Panic used as wallpaper.

One note mentions someone being scared of a beacon.
That’s not a phrase you want to read at night with limited battery.
Add it to the list of things to ask Kate.

I notice the back gate is open.
Instead of leaving in my car like a sensible person,
I decide to go through it.
Survival instincts of a potato.

Before that, a quick go on the slide.
No reason.
Just committing to the bit.

Generator Detour and a Burned House

A short walk down the path leads to a generator.
It turns on easily.
Too easily.

Nearby is a burned down house and another note.
I read it.
A small child appears in front of me, back turned.

I move around to see their face.
Quick jump scare.
I leave.
For once, a decent decision.

I circle the house briefly.
Not lost.
Just getting steps in.

Eventually I reach a sign: Oakside Park.

Oakside Park: “FIND ME LAUREN”

I’ve already entered two buildings uninvited.
One more won’t hurt.

Inside, graffiti covers more paper in the same style as the locked room.
Large, direct, personal:
FIND ME LAUREN.

I’m guessing I’m Lauren.
Because Oakside doesn’t seem interested in subtlety.

Log 1 Takeaways

  • The camera HUD keeps me informed and mildly stressed.
  • Kate’s land sale feels more like a trap than an advert.
  • Sunset in Oakside runs on horror time.
  • If a key is easy to find, it was meant to be.
  • “FIND ME LAUREN” suggests this is personal.
Continue the journey:

Log 1 (You are here) |
Log 2

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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 7: Islands Ruins, and the Question

Submerged Log 7: Islands, Ruins, and the Question

Game: Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary
Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Riley

Video: Southern exploration and island discovery (no commentary)

This log took longer than it should have. Not because nothing happened, but because I wasn’t ready to write it.

A brief peek behind the curtain: I wasn’t in a great place mentally for a while, and these logs stalled because of it.
Things are steadier now, and I’m ready to keep going.

The last time I stopped, the Sunbeam had been destroyed.
Not delayed. Not diverted. Gone.
Whatever hope I’d attached to rescue went with it.

After the Sunbeam

With no clear direction left, I returned to the lifepod and spent far too long doing nothing useful.
Eventually, the obvious thought landed: if there’s one island, there have to be others.

I chose to head south of the Aurora first.
If that turned up nothing, I’d sweep left or right until I hit land or found the island with the weapon platform.
It wasn’t a good plan, but it was a plan.

Limits of the Seamoth

I set off in the Seamoth, aware of its limits.
I want depth modules, but that means a Moonpool, and that isn’t an option yet.
Soon, hopefully.

I checked scattered wreckage along the way and came up empty.
No upgrades, no breakthroughs, just debris and reminders that others tried and failed here first.

Then I spotted something that wasn’t wreckage.

The Second Island

Another island broke the surface ahead of me.
Solid ground, at last.

The wildlife made it clear I wasn’t welcome.
I launched a couple of them into the sea out of necessity and irritation.
They were persistent. I was done negotiating.

The upside is food.
Real food.
For the first time in a while, I’m not entirely reliant on a fish-only diet.

More importantly, the island holds man-made structures.
Old ones.
Weathered, decaying, and clearly abandoned.

The PDAs fill in the gaps.
Whoever lived here didn’t leave recently, and they probably didn’t leave by choice.

Blueprints and Bad Construction Ahead

As I scanned the ruins, another idea took hold.
I don’t need to live out of the lifepod forever.

A new base is possible.
Not today, but soon.
I’ll need materials, a location, and a rough design.
I will almost certainly ignore that design halfway through.

If you thought my Minecraft bases were questionable, this will not reassure you.

The island does at least reward me with progress:

  • Stasis Rifle blueprint
  • Improved swim fins blueprint

Useful upgrades.
Comforting ones.
Which usually means the game is about to escalate.

A Message, Then a Voice

With nothing else pulling me forward, I head back toward the lifepod.
I’d received a radio message earlier and ignored it long enough.

Another lifepod signal.
Another reason to leave safety behind.

On the way, I notice something in the distance.
A shadow that doesn’t quite exist.
It moves, but there’s nothing there to see.

Whatever it is, it waits until the radio message ends.

Then it asks a single question:

“Who are you?”

Continue the Journey

Previous Log | Next Log

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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 14: Wolf Welcome Party, Basin Hideout

Unprepared Log 14: Wolf Welcome Party, Basin Hideout

Difficulty: Interloper
Region: Mountain Town (Milton / Milton Basin)
Survivor: Will
Platform: Steam Deck

“Today’s plan was ‘walk to a farmhouse.’ The game heard that and queued up a wolf.”

I wake up with a sensible idea for once: head down to the farmhouse and start building a second base of operations in
Mountain Town. It would also, in theory, help with cabin fever. Which means it’s a problem for tomorrow.

Before I go anywhere, I dump a few things at Grey Mother’s. I’m heavier than I want to be, and I’m trying
to avoid that classic Interloper moment where you realise you’ve been carrying your own downfall for two hours.

Farmhouse Plans, Wolf Opinions

I don’t even reach the bridge to the farmhouse before a wolf decides I look like lunch.
And because the game loves rules more than it loves my survival, I’m not allowed to use the hacksaw to fight it off.
So I do what every Interloper hero does when faced with teeth and bad choices:
I punch it.

Somehow, I survive the attack. I limp back to Grey Mother’s to sort myself out properly:

  • Pain treatment, because my character now moves like a badly loaded shopping trolley.
  • A bandage for a sprained ankle.
  • A quiet moment to appreciate that I didn’t lose any clothing in that fight. Miracles happen.

The farmhouse plan is dead. I’m not marching straight back toward “Wolf Ambush Street” while hobbling.
So I pick a new destination: Milton Basin.

Milton Basin: Rabbits, Regret, and a Carcass I Can’t Reach

In my head, Milton Basin means caves, a bit of shelter, and hopefully fewer predators.
It also means rabbits. Which would be great… if my wrists weren’t sprained.

I spot a rabbit and immediately remember I can’t do anything about it. Again.
The game really does have a personal vendetta against me and rabbit-based nutrition.

I do see birds circling, which means there’s food somewhere.
Sure enough, I find a deer carcass… and then spend far too long trying to work out how to actually get to it.
It’s always reassuring when you can see the calories but have to solve a small geography puzzle to claim them.

Eventually, I reach it. I harvest what I can:

  • Meat (because starving is still my biggest enemy)
  • Deer hide (future plans, assuming I survive long enough to have “future”)
  • Skipped the guts this time — it felt like it would take too long, and I’m already on thin ice health-wise.

Mag Lens Logic, Cave Reality

Once I reach the bottom of the basin, I find the cave and decide to do something smart for a change:
use the sunlight while I’ve got it.

I assume I can’t use the magnifying lens inside the cave, so I start a fire outside with the lens,
load it enough to grab a torch, and plan to use the torch to start a fire in the cave.

Naturally, the game proves me wrong. I can use the lens inside the cave…
though to be fair, the fire was right near the entrance, so it’s basically “indoors” in the same way standing under
a bus stop counts as “shelter.”

The cave itself has a bed and bones. I don’t love the bones.
Bones usually mean “something big sleeps here,” and “something big” usually means bear.
I’ve never seen a bear in the basin in my past runs… but I also wouldn’t be shocked if an update made it possible.
The game’s whole brand is surprise consequences.

Cooking, Caution, and a Short Sleep

I cook whatever I can before sleeping. The goal is simple:
get warm, get fed, and don’t do anything that forces another panic retreat.

When I finally sleep, I keep it shorter than the fire’s remaining burn time.
I’m not repeating the mistake from earlier in this run where I sleep too long and wake up to a situation
that feels like punishment for having eyelids.

Farmhouse ambitions can wait. Tonight I’m alive, bandaged, and tucked into a cave that may or may not be a bear’s spare bedroom.
Interloper is about setting realistic goals.

Quick Notes (Steam Deck Survival Brain)

  • If you’re heavy, drop gear before travel. Wolves love slow targets.
  • After a struggle, fix pain + sprains immediately. Moving injured compounds risk fast.
  • Birds circling = calories, but expect awkward paths and time loss.
  • The mag lens can work near cave entrances when there’s enough light. Don’t assume “cave” means “no lens.”
  • Sleep shorter than your fire burn time when you can. Waking up cold is a classic run-ender.

Video

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 13 |
Unprepared Log 14 (You are here) |
Unprepared Log 15

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Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 5: Iron, Coal, and Delayed Ambitions

Stranded – Log 5: Iron, Coal, and Delayed Ambitions

Game: Minecraft
Mode: Survival
Platform: Steam Deck

“The Nether can wait. I’d rather arrive prepared than become ash.”

I want to head to the Nether, but not like this. Not in partial armour and wishful thinking. I know where lava is. I know the next phase is possible. What I don’t have yet is the gear to survive it.

The day starts with a brief scuffle and an immediate reminder that I set my own control scheme and apparently don’t remember it. At some point during the fight I managed to put cobblestone in my offhand. I have no idea which button I pressed. One moment I was armed, the next I was ready to aggressively place blocks at something. I corrected it, reassured myself that I was in control, and headed for the mine.

Back Underground

Not long after starting, my copper pickaxe broke. The timing felt deliberate. Darkness was creeping in outside, and rather than deal with whatever the night might bring, I did the sensible thing and went to bed. The monsters can wait until morning.

Of course they’d chosen to linger beneath the trees. I made a mental note that at some point I’ll need to thin the forest. Lumberjack duties are now officially on the list.

Morning brought a zombie who stepped into the sunlight and promptly set itself on fire. I still managed to prove that I’m not particularly strong in combat. Watching something burn itself down while I struggled nearby wasn’t exactly heroic, but it was effective.

Digging Deeper

I used that mild embarrassment as motivation. I expanded the mine another four blocks down and built a makeshift spiral staircase so I can descend without trusting gravity too much. The staircase isn’t elegant, but it’s controlled. Controlled is enough.

An inventory check revealed iron. Not a vein worth celebrating, but enough to craft something. I chose a helmet and boots based purely on what I could afford. It’s not full protection, but it’s progress.

With some wood gathered, I finally crafted a shield. After more experimentation with the right control stick — continuing my apparent theme of not knowing my own button layout — it found its place in my offhand. The difference was immediate. Even if I can’t always remember how I did it, at least now I’m carrying something that might forgive mistakes.

Coal, Leaks, and Unwanted Company

The mine has been productive, just not in the way I want. Coal everywhere. Cobblestone in overwhelming quantities. If armour could be shaped from stone, I’d be fully equipped by now.

I’ve had to plug several water leaks as well. It reached the point where I considered digging down another level purely out of frustration. That decision was reinforced when I started hearing Drowned somewhere nearby. I don’t need to see them. The sound is enough.

I’m still salty about the Drowned that ended my first hardcore world. That grudge hasn’t faded.

The Single Piece of Iron

While preparing the staircase for the next descent, I spotted iron and felt genuine excitement. For a brief moment I pictured real progress — armour that actually protects and tools that don’t feel temporary.

It was one block.

I stood there for a second longer than necessary, staring at it as if more might appear out of sympathy. It didn’t.

I mined it anyway and decided to remain on that level. If there was one piece, maybe there would be more nearby.

There wasn’t. Just more coal. At least the furnaces won’t go hungry.

Reset and Regroup

Rain eventually rolled in, and I realised I’d been awake for several in-game days. Phantoms are not something I intend to deal with while half-prepared and underground, and fatigue has a way of turning small mistakes into permanent ones. Rather than push my luck, I headed back to bed and reset the cycle deliberately.

Before turning in, I crafted an iron sword. It’s not the full kit I want, but it’s something solid in my hand. I still need an iron chestplate and leggings before I even consider making serious Nether preparations. Ideally, I’d like spare weapons too.

Next entry might mean digging deeper again. Or I might surface and see what else this world offers. Villagers would be useful. Given how this mine has treated me so far, I wouldn’t be surprised if I found pillagers first.

Continue the Journey

Previous Log | Next Log
Stranded Hub

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Cold-Blooded: A Skyrim Survival Diary – Log 6: Bought the Horse, Earned the Target

Cold-Blooded Log 6: Bought the Horse, Earned the Target

Difficulty: Survival Mode
Platform: Steam Deck
Build: Argonian Mage
Follower: Lydia

I set out with one clear objective: get a horse. Skyrim disagreed and added complications.

Today’s goal is simple. I want a horse. Walking everywhere in Skyrim feels like a personal attack,
and I’m tired of arriving late, cold, and already annoyed.

The problem is gold. I’m roughly 200 septims short.
Fortunately, I’ve got a bounty, which means it’s time to earn my transport the traditional way:
clearing out bandits who made poor life choices.

Video Log: Cold-Blooded – Log 6 (No Commentary)

White River Watch: A Field Test

On the way to Valtheim Towers, I pass White River Watch and decide it’s a good opportunity
to test my newest ally: the Flame Atronach.

The verdict is immediate. Between the Atronach and Lydia, the place clears itself.
I mostly supervise and loot.

The bandit leader doesn’t just die — he gets launched halfway down the mountain.
Gravity remains the most reliable damage source in Skyrim.

I find what looks like better armour for Lydia and a few extra weapons.
No idea if she’ll use them. I give options.

By the time the cave is empty, I’ve earned enough gold for a horse.
I still have a bounty to finish, but the pressure is off.

Bad Ideas and Standing Stones

I mountain-goat my way down the terrain instead of taking a sensible route.
This goes about as well as expected.

Another cave appears. Inside: trolls.
I let Lydia and the Atronach try.
I immediately retreat.
Some fights are warnings.

I find the Ritual Stone and briefly consider switching,
but I stick with the Mage Stone.
Consistency wins.

Valtheim Towers and an Unwanted Introduction

Valtheim Towers goes down without too much trouble.

On the way back to Whiterun, I meet my first other Argonian.
He tries to kill me.

A note on his body explains why:
the Dark Brotherhood has taken a contract on me.

I make a mental note to look into this later.
Preferably before they succeed.

The Horse, Finally

At the stables, I buy my horse.
No name yet.
I’m hoping inspiration strikes before tragedy does.

I collect my bounty reward, speak to Farengar about new spells,
and take a room at the Bannered Mare.

I also pick up another bounty at Silent Moon Camp.
It can wait.

Tomorrow’s priority is clear:
retrieving Nettlebane.

Log Summary

  • Flame Atronach tested and confirmed effective
  • White River Watch cleared
  • Valtheim Towers bounty completed
  • Dark Brotherhood contract discovered
  • Horse purchased
  • Next bounty deliberately postponed

Continue the Journey

Cold-Blooded Log 5 |
Cold-Blooded Log 6 |
Cold-Blooded Log 7

More from Cold-Blooded


Cold-Blooded: A Skyrim Survival Diary Hub

1

Isolation Protocol: An Allen Isolation Survival Diary – Log 1: Five Chances on Sevastopol

Isolation Protocol Log 1: Five Chances on Sevastopol

Platform: Steam Deck
Mode: Survival
Rule Set:

The Apex Predator Rule
 — The Xenomorph gets 5 chances. On the fifth one, it wins.

Video: Boarding Sevastopol, spacewalk disaster, and first exploration (no commentary)

When the title screen opens with Ellen Ripley’s final message, it doesn’t feel nostalgic. It feels like a warning.

Amanda Ripley is welding when Samuels approaches with the one thing she’s been waiting for:
possible information about her mother.
The ship is Sevastopol.
The invitation is optional in theory, mandatory in practice.

If she wants answers, she goes.
So we go.

Wake, Dress, Invade Privacy

First objective: get dressed.
Hypersleep apparently strips you of both consciousness and wardrobe.

A quick conversation with Samuels and Taylor follows.
Then I discover the Torrens’ cyber security policy is “hope no one clicks anything.”
Taylor’s personal folder is right there.
Yes, I look.

I grab the briefing document from the bridge before contacting Sevastopol.
The reply we receive sounds less like a welcome and more like a suggestion to stay away.

Naturally, we ignore it.

The Spacewalk That Went Wrong

The transition to Sevastopol is done via spacewalk.
It lasts exactly as long as it needs to before everything explodes.

I’m thrown clear.
Samuels and Taylor disappear.
I drift toward the station alone.

The adventure officially begins the moment isolation becomes literal.

Arrival and Immediate Regret

Sevastopol feels abandoned but not empty.
The lighting flickers.
The walls are layered in graffiti that reads less like vandalism and more like confession.

I let my inner loot goblin take control:

  • Scrap? Mine.
  • Flare? Mine.
  • If it flashes, it’s coming with me.

I find a terminal confirming the station is being decommissioned.
Apparently that process includes cutting power almost everywhere.
Dark corridors. Locked doors. Minimal lighting.
Excellent design choice.

Maps, Power, and Door Code 0340

I locate a map for the Arrival and Departure Lounge and manage to restore partial power.
Lights return.
Doors do not.

Access is tied to the computer systems, because of course it is.

I also find a door code: 0340.
I haven’t found the door yet, but I’m holding onto that number.
Horror games reward memory.
Or punish the lack of it.

Movement in the Dark

Once I unlock the next section, I see people running.
Actual survivors.

That confirms two things:

  • I’m not alone.
  • Whatever they’re running from is still here.

And under the Apex Predator Rule, I already know who the top of the food chain is.

The Apex Predator Rule Begins

This run follows the

Apex Predator Rule
.

The Xenomorph gets five chances.
On the fifth successful kill, it wins.

No resets.
No rewinds.
No “that didn’t count.”

Sevastopol now has a scoreboard.
And I’ve just stepped onto the field.

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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 13: Detours, Moose, and Cabin Fever Math

Unprepared Log 13: Detours, Moose, and Cabin Fever Math

Difficulty: Interloper
Region: Mystery Lake → Mountain Town
Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Will

I woke up with a plan. The game woke up with a fog bank and spite.

First thought: check the snare I set yesterday, because free rabbit is the closest thing Interloper has to joy.
The problem is I can’t see five feet in front of me.
It’s full-on “walk forward and become a landmark” visibility.

So I do what any brave survivor would do: I go back inside and pretend this is part of my strategy.
If the world is going to hide itself, I’m going to sit down and research until it feels embarrassed.

Arrow Plans Meet Scrap Reality

With the weather refusing to cooperate, I do a quick sanity check on what I need for arrows.
And it’s the usual Interloper punchline: I need an improvised knife.

Which means scrap metal.
I have two.
Two scrap metal is not a plan, it’s a suggestion.

That changes everything.
I decide I’m heading to Milton, grabbing whatever scrap I can, and then pushing on to Forlorn Muskeg.
It’s not what I wanted to do, but Interloper doesn’t do “wanted.”

Through the Cave, With the Usual Drama

I take the cave route toward Mountain Town.
It goes fine, which is suspicious on its own.

When I reach the transition and the rope down into Milton, I hit the usual problem:
I can’t take everything.
So I dump gear at the top of the rope with the classic lie I tell myself every time:
“I’ll be back for this.”

I do get one small win.
In a nearby cave I find matches.
It’s not a hammer, but it’s also not death, so I’ll take it.

New Rope, Same Nonsense: The Moose

I climb another rope and, at the top, there’s a moose waiting for me.
Just standing there like it pays rent.

I swear it’s the same moose from Mystery Lake.
I know that’s not how the game works.
I also know the moose doesn’t care what I know.

I give it space and continue into town, because I’m not getting stomped into paste today if I can help it.

The Orca Gas Station Problem

I try to hit the Orca Gas Station, because it’s a solid loot stop and I’m here anyway.
Except I don’t have a prybar.

Because I left it back in Mystery Lake.
Because I didn’t think I was coming here.
Because I’m apparently doing a challenge run called “Forget the One Tool You Need.”

I do a quick look around in the hope I find another one.
No joy.
So I pivot and start looting what I can actually enter.

Milton House Tour: Scrap Notes and Low Excitement

I go house to house, grabbing what I can.
Nothing is wildly exciting, but I make a mental note of where the decent scrap is for later.
If I’m going to Forlorn Muskeg, I want to go with more than two sad bits of metal rattling in my pocket.

The trip stays surprisingly calm.
No ambush wolves.
No sudden blizzards halfway through a street crossing.
Just the moose lurking like a tax collector.

Greymother’s: Water, Pots, and a Small Clothing Win

I reach Greymother’s house without any hassle and immediately get to work on the basics:
boil water, organise gear, and pretend I’m in control.

Loot-wise, I find a couple of cooking pots.
That’s actually useful.
More water, faster cooking, less time spent watching a fire like it’s a live sports event.

I also find combat pants.
Which means I now have something in each slot.
Well… except the slot where the moose satchel would go.
But we’re not talking about that yet.

Tomorrow’s Plan: Prybar, Hammer, and a Bit of Hope

Tomorrow I want a prybar.
Ideally I also find a hammer, because my “go to a forge” plan is currently being held together with optimism and poor timing.

Mountain Town should have enough scrap to set me up properly.
The only question is whether the game lets me collect it without turning the streets into a predator convention.

And Then Interloper Remembers Cabin Fever Exists

I head to bed in Greymother’s feeling like I’ve at least moved the run forward.
Which is when the game throws the one thing I thought I was avoiding:
Cabin Fever risk.

I forgot the grace period is shorter on Interloper.
Of course it is.
Of course the punishment system is also on hard mode.

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Unprepared Log 12 |
Unprepared Log 14

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Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 4: The Mine Begins

Stranded – Log 4: The Mine Begins

Game: Minecraft
Mode: Survival
Platform: Steam Deck

“I don’t mine efficiently. I mine comfortably.”

The time has come. Mining can’t be postponed any longer. Before I even touch the stone below the house, I make a small adjustment to the entrance. It’s not strictly necessary, and I know I probably won’t look at most of it again once the tunnel starts stretching downward, but I like knowing it’s done properly. Order at the top makes the chaos below easier to manage.

I’m particular about a few things underground. Torch spacing matters. Placement matters. Torches on the left mean I’m heading away from base. Torches on the right mean I’m walking back toward safety. It’s a simple rule, but it keeps me oriented when the tunnels start to blur together. Habit might not be glamorous, but it’s reliable.

First Dig, First Level

I stick to a pattern that’s worked for me before: three blocks high, two blocks wide, pushing forward around twenty blocks at a time. If I hit danger first, that decides the distance. It isn’t optimised, and I have no idea whether this is the “correct” way to mine in Minecraft. It’s just the way I’m comfortable doing it, and comfort underground counts for more than efficiency.

The first level isn’t especially generous. There’s some coal, which keeps the torches coming. More copper than I strictly need. A bit of flint. Nothing dramatic, but enough to justify the effort.

The flint is the real marker of progress. Flint means flint and steel is within reach. Flint and steel means the Nether stops being theoretical. I’m not stepping into that without proper gear, though. Iron at the very least. Diamond if I’m patient. So the tunnel continues.

Down Four Blocks (Not Straight Down)

Once the first level feels exhausted, I dig down four blocks to start the next tier. Not straight down. I may be reckless at times, but I’m not careless enough to trust gravity blindly. Every descent is controlled.

All the stone I’ve mined becomes stairs. I usually default to ladders, but ladders punish mistakes instantly. One slip and it’s a long fall with nothing to cushion it. Stairs are slower, but they’re steady. Underground, steady wins.

On the next level, I repeat the same process. Same tunnel dimensions. Same torch rules. Same measured push forward into the dark. Mining isn’t glamorous. It’s methodical. The repetition is part of the safety.

Copper Tools and Unwanted Company

This is where the copper tools finally earn their place. They’re noticeably faster than stone, even if they still feel temporary. Copper doesn’t inspire confidence the way iron does, but it’s an upgrade, and upgrades matter.

I keep checking the outside light between stretches of digging. If I step out of the mine, I want to know what might be waiting. The world above doesn’t pause just because I’m underground.

During one of those checks, I don’t even make it to the entrance before I hear it. The wet, hollow sound of a Drowned somewhere nearby. I don’t investigate. I don’t test my odds. I retreat back into the mine immediately. The stone feels safer than the shoreline.

The Loneliest Iron Ore

Eventually, the mine rewards me with iron. Not a vein. Not a cluster. One single block.

It’s enough to matter, technically. One piece solves flint and steel. It does nothing for armour. Nothing for weapons. It’s progress, but modest progress.

I also uncover lapis lazuli. That’s for later. Useful for enchantments eventually, decorative in the meantime. A reminder that the mine isn’t empty, just selective.

When my final copper pickaxe breaks, I take it as a sign. The mine itself isn’t finished, but this trip is. Pushing further without tools would just be stubbornness dressed up as ambition.

Back Home, Finally Sleeping

I head back to the house and count the run as a success. The gains are modest, but they’re real. Coal for fuel. Flint for the future. One piece of iron that shifts the long-term plan slightly forward.

I’ve been avoiding sleep for days, staying awake to control spawns and movement. That needs to stop. Fatigue in survival games doesn’t show up as a mechanic. It shows up as bad decisions.

I could move a bed into the mine. That would be practical. It would also remove the small ritual of returning home, and I’m not ready to give that up yet.

One night’s sleep. Then it’s back underground.

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