Another week of survival stories has wrapped up over at Survivor Incognito, and here’s what went live:
🌴 Tuesday:Sunburnt & Sinking – Stranded Deep: Day One. A plane crash, some aggressive crabs, and the beginning of another deeply questionable survival journey.
❄️ Wednesday:Customloper Diaries – Day Five. Moose encounters, torchlit panic, and the continuing battle to not freeze to death in The Long Dark.
🦎 Thursday:Goodnight, Sweet Lizard – A heartfelt (and mildly roasted) farewell to my first Skyrim survivor. Gone, but not forgotten. Or fully thawed.
🚚 Friday:SnowRunner Survival – Day Three. I made it to the top of a mountain. That was the easy part. Getting down? That’s Future Me’s problem.
🛤️ Saturday:Day One Diary – Choo Choo Charles. A train with spider legs, eggs with suspicious importance, and absolutely no time to process anything.
🧭 We also updated the Start Here page with better guidance for new readers and easier access to key blog content.
It’s been a week of rough starts, fond farewells, and terrain I was never meant to cross — just how we like it.
Next week: the official start of the Subnautica permadeath run, a bit more trucking, and probably something trying to kill me with a leaf. Stay tuned.
My Choo Choo Charles day one diary includes a monster-hunting job, a sprinting NPC, and Eugene’s untimely (and possibly avoidable) demise.
The Job Offer That Should’ve Been a Red Flag
I got a call from Eugene. Said he had a job that would help “my museum.” Didn’t specify how, didn’t ask if I had museum experience, just told me it was time to go monster hunting. I should’ve asked questions. Like “what kind of monster?” or “why me?” or “have you ever heard of hazard pay?”
Instead, I said yes.
Meet Charles: Part Locomotive, Part Arachnid, All Nightmare Fuel
I found myself rowing to a misty, ominous island with Eugene casually explaining that we’re up against a half-train, half-gigaspider named Charles. Cool. Totally normal Saturday
Upon docking, Eugene says there’s a train up the hill we can use — but also notes Charles isn’t the only thing to worry about. Then he bolts. Full sprint. No hesitation. Just gone. I’m used to NPCs dragging their feet, not outpacing me like they’ve got somewhere better to be.
Learning the Ropes (and the Rail Controls)
Eugene points me to a nearby shack with the key to access the train. This is where I learn how to use the map and set waypoints. Handy, and slightly more intuitive than most in-game maps.
I return with the key, unlock the garage, and meet my new metal ride. It’s already equipped with a mounted machine gun and has three levers: forward, reverse, and stop. That’s it. No cup holder. No horn. No emotional support buttons.
First Encounter: Train vs. Terror
I hit the forward lever and the train lurches ahead — straight into my first encounter with Charles.
Cue panic.
The gun works, technically. But it does about as much damage as a water pistol might do to a tank. Charles shrugs it off, mauls Eugene mid-sentence, and disappears into the fog.
I’m left alone. On a moving train. Slightly traumatised.
About That Stopping Distance…
After the chaos, I check the map to reorient myself and decide to go back to Eugene — assuming he’s maybe clinging to life. I reverse the train and, thinking I’ve lined it up just right, I slam the stop lever.
I do not stop in time.
I run over Eugene.
It’s unclear whether Charles killed him or if I finished the job by turning him into railkill. Either way, his final words croak out — something about finding the eggs and stopping Charles once and for all.
After 13 in-game days of sneak attacks, harsh weather, and a deeply unfortunate troll encounter, my Argonian Skyrim survivor meets his end. This is his legacy — and a lesson in knowing when not to go into caves.
In Loving Memory of One Very Cold, Reluctantly Landed Argonian
He was cold-blooded. He was quiet. He preferred to solve most problems from the shadows with a well-placed arrow — because melee is for people with frostbite and regrets.
And yet, after surviving everything Skyrim threw at him, it wasn’t bandits, dragons, or starvation that claimed him. It was two angry trolls and one very bad decision to poke around in Darkshade Cave.
The Life of a Lizard Who Tried His Best
This wasn’t just another survivor. This was a stealth archer, which is to say: a Skyrim classic. He lived by the code of “snipe first, loot later, probably run if it doesn’t work.”
In just under two weeks, he:
Escaped Helgen
Lost Lydia
Hired and lost a mercenary
Earned Goldenhills Plantation the way every true adventurer dreams of: by completing a creepy quest and forgetting to farm anything afterwards
Rescued a horse he named Loki, who became the real MVP of the run
Became a part-time necromancer, part-time landowner, and full-time weather complaint generator
Climbed the 7,000 Steps in survival mode without dying of frostbite. Which is frankly a flex.
He even tried to get back to Riverwood like a responsible protagonist.
And then he saw a cave.
Final Moments: The Troll Toll
It started with a stop in Windhelm to offload loot and maybe warm up. Then came the cave — just a quick look inside, a moment of curiosity.
The first troll nearly killed him. He chugged potions like they were mead. The second troll hit harder. Somewhere in the middle, Gutworm joined the party.
And that was it.
No shouts. No slow-motion kill cam. Just two trolls and a regrettable sense of exploration.
What We’ve Learned
If there are bones outside a cave, leave them and the cave alone.
Gutworm is not an edgy band name — it’s a problem.
Owning property does not make you immune to stupid decisions.
Trolls are not “starter enemies.”
And stealth archery cannot save you if you’re cornered with no exit and 12% stamina.
Final Thoughts
He never had a name. But he had a farm, a horse, and a bow.
He stood on mountaintops. He summoned undead to do his dirty work. He shot first, looted later, and almost made it to two weeks.
And then he did what every Skyrim player eventually does: He got Skyrim’d by a cave.
Rest in peace, my scaly shadow-dweller. You tried. And in Skyrim Survival Mode, that’s more than enough.
And like they always say, I don’t know who they are, but they do: Finish on a song
I wake up cold, hypothermic, and shivering in a shelter that feels like it’s holding back winter by sheer stubbornness. Outside, the air is still heavy with yesterday’s storm. I light a torch—not for light, but for morale—and step outside to grab sticks for a fire.
That’s when I hear it. A low, deliberate snort. Snow crunching under something big. My brain takes about two seconds to put it together: the Moose is still here. Still patrolling. Still grumpy. All I’ve got is a flare gun, three flares, and zero confidence this will be anything but moose-poking practice.
Later research confirmed flare guns actually can scare or even injure moose. At the time, though, I pictured wasting all three shots and ending up as hoof-print art in the snow.
Sidebar: Flare Guns vs Wildlife
Wolves: Scared of everything, including your hesitation. Flare gun = instant retreat.
Bears: Works if you’re quick and accurate. Miss, and you’ve just upgraded it to “angry bear.”
Moose: Vulnerable, but charging moose leave little margin for error. Pray your aim is better than your panic management.
Fire, Coffee, and False Confidence
I retreat inside, break down a couple of stools, and get a fire going. Coffee brews while my temperature climbs from “freezer aisle” to “slightly uncomfortable.” Caffeine courage in place, I decide to make another break for it.
I crack the door. Two cautious steps outside—then I hear it again. This time I actually see the moose, casually stomping away from me like it owns the place. Which, frankly, it does.
I seize the chance to sneak toward the picnic area, hoping I’ll finally find a revolver or rifle. Spoiler: no. Just more snow, more silence, and the nagging sense I’m on borrowed time.
Panic Sprint to Orca
Plan B forms in my head: head to Orca Gas Station and regroup. The snow crunches under my boots, the wind whistles between the trees—and then I hear a noise behind me. Could be the wind. Could be antlers. I don’t check. I just run. Full panic sprint, torch flaring wildly, straight to Orca’s door.
Inside, adrenaline still in overdrive, I make a silent vow: if I live through this, I’ll cook everything I can get my hands on. Meals will be my legacy.
Bullets Without a Gun
The walk back to Grey Mother’s is uneventful, which feels like winning the lottery. I throw myself into cooking: rabbit stew, venison stew, boiling water—anything to nudge my Cooking skill higher. Somewhere in the process, I drop off 32 revolver bullets into storage. The universe clearly thinks this is funny.
Three separate attempts to repair my climbing socks all fail. Morale drops. I sweep Grey Mother’s house again just in case a revolver is hiding in the corner. It’s not.
I end the day reading a book to boost my harvesting skill, the flickering lantern light casting long shadows. Outside, the moose is probably still wandering. Inside, I’m still stubborn, still alive, still armed with only a flare gun and misplaced optimism.
Mood: Shocked → determined → mildly suspicious of the local wildlife
Would You Kindly Not Crash the Plane?
One moment, I was minding my own business on a plane. The next, someone must have read a note that said “would you kindly…” and down we went. If you know, you know. Coincidence? I think not.
Seconds later, I was dragging myself into a life raft, paddling (drifting?) toward the nearest island like a discount version of Tom Hanks in *Cast Away*. The ocean was calm, the sun was shining, and I had no idea that half the local wildlife would soon want me dead.
First Rule of Raft Club: Don’t Let It Float Away
I hit the shore and immediately dragged the raft up onto the sand. I’ve played enough survival games to know that if you don’t secure your transport, the game will absolutely make it vanish the second you turn your back. Raft secured, I went into scavenger mode, grabbing sticks, rocks, and whatever else looked remotely useful.
Not everything on this island was friendly. A particularly aggressive bush took a swipe at me as I got too close. I backed off, wounded in both pride and possibly my spleen. Clearly, the flora here had opinions about trespassers.
Knife to Meet You, Crabs
With my gathered resources, I crafted my first knife. Then I upgraded it to a refined knife, because the first one felt about as dangerous as a butter spreader. Time to test it out on something edible.
The game suggested crouching to hunt crabs. This, in practice, only made it easier for them to lunge at me. One particularly large crab came at me with the kind of aggression usually reserved for boss fights. Between this and the thorny bush, I was starting to wonder if the island had a “kill the newcomer” policy.
Still, I won the skirmish, and with crab meat in hand, it was time to cook. The war, however, was far from over.
Fire Good. Cooking Skill Better.
I built a campfire near the raft and fed it with sticks. Fire is life in survival games, and here was no exception. Apparently, just standing near it while food cooked would boost my Cooking skill — which meant I was now becoming a chef by proximity.
While the crab sizzled, I spotted a palm tree loaded with coconuts. In true castaway fashion, I scaled it like it owed me money, hacked down my prize, and enjoyed my first proper drink. Hydration secured. Hunger in progress.
The crab revenge counter was still open, but for now, I was alive and marginally full.
Shelter from the Darkness
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, I remembered one important fact: in Stranded Deep, you need a shelter to save the game. I went hunting for materials, avoiding the aggressive bush and giving any large crabs a suspicious side-eye.
One stubborn yucca plant refused to yield anything useful, so I abandoned it for a more cooperative one. A few resource-gathering trips later, I had what I needed. The shelter went up just as darkness settled over the island. I saved, collapsed into sleep, and mentally ticked off the tutorial as “complete.”
Tomorrow, the real work would begin: more tools, better food, and figuring out exactly how many plants on this island were actively trying to kill me. Bring it on, Stranded Deep.
We’ve updated our Start Here page! Whether you’re new to survival games or just new to chaos, find out what’s changed and where to begin on Survivor Incognito.
Survivor Incognito has grown. What started as one playthrough in The Long Dark has now sprawled into Skyrim, Subnautica, Stranded Deep, and even Snowrunner. It was high time the Start Here page reflected all the weird, wonderful (and slightly damp) survival chaos we’re now known for.
So if you’re new, curious, or somehow still trying to figure out what the blog is actually about, this page is now your map, compass, and emergency flare.
🆕 What’s new on the Start Here page?
A proper intro that explains what Survivor Incognito actually is
Quick summaries
A tone that matches the rest of the blog — witty, helpful, and just a little sarcastic
Internal links to all the fun stuff (including the Graveyard… because permadeath happens)
If you’ve been following since the cold and caffeine-fueled early days, you might not need this page — but it’s a fun refresher all the same. And if you’re new? Well, welcome. We’re not saying survival is easy, but it’s easier when you’re laughing along the way.
It’s a big week ahead on Survivor Incognito — we’re kicking off a brand new permadeath run, and also saying farewell to one of our longest-surviving characters.
🌊 Stranded Deep: Sunburnt & Sinking officially begins this week. Expect sharks, dehydration, raft regrets, and poor life choices from Day One.
🐍 Skyrim: The Eulogy will also be posted — a proper farewell to my Argonian survivor who gave it everything (except warmth, shelter, and a working torch).
It’s one of those weeks where we start something new and say goodbye to something old — which, let’s face it, is the rhythm of survival gaming.
While my Argonian my have fallen, it’s time to look ahead—and downward. Specifically, into the ocean.
I’m excited to announce that Subnautica will be the next full series featured on Survivor Incognito! The series will officially begin in a few weeks, once I’ve reacquainted myself with the controls (because I apparently forgot how to swim, build, and breathe). It’ll fall under the same permadeath-flavoured survival approach as the others, with a few sea-salty twists.
In the meantime, I’ve already launched the Subnautica Maps Page to help new players, returning survivors, and confused PDA AIs alike. Bookmark it, share it, or yell at it when you get lost near the Aurora again.
🎉 Celebrating 1,000 Views!
Also, a massive thank you to everyone who’s visited the blog—Survivor Incognito has officially passed the 1,000 views milestone!
To mark the occasion, I’m doing something a little different… something a little more classic horror. While I’m still getting my bearings with the controls again, you can expect a familiar mansion, limited saves, and enough tension to make a zombie blush. 🧟♂️
More on that very soon.
More updates coming soon, including the official Subnautica start date and a look at what else is on the blog horizon.
It’s been a big week at Survivor Incognito: a new diary began, another series ended, and a milestone snuck up on us. Here’s the full breakdown:
Tuesday:Stranded Deep – Day One Diary (official permadeath run starts next week!)
Wednesday:The Cold Chronicles – Day Nine
Thursday:Sneak, Snipe, Repeat – Final Entry (eulogy coming next week)
Friday:SnowRunner – Day Two, where I somehow end up on top of a mountain… with no plan for getting down.
We also launched the Subnautica Maps page this week, with a Subnautica: Below Zero map hub in the works too.
And lastly — a huge thank you: the blog passed 1,000 views this week! I’m currently plotting something fun as a proper thank-you to everyone who’s been reading, lurking, or laughing at my survival misfortunes.
More survival chaos (and a few heartfelt eulogies) coming next week.
Estimated time to read: Slightly less time than it takes to get eaten by a wolf in Voyageur mode.
Somehow, somewhere, in between falling through the ice in The Long Dark, and getting flattened by a doedicurus in ARK—I hit 1,000 views on this blog.
One. Thousand. Views.
I don’t know which one of you read the Subnautica Maps page more than once, but I appreciate you. Whether you’re here for map guides, day one disasters, or just to feel better about your own survival skills—you made this happen.
So to celebrate:
I’m still alive (in at least one save file).
The permadeath chaos continues.
More games are coming (seriously, there’s a Subnautica diary on the horizon and I may be foolishly eyeing Blast Corps as a permadeath challenge—because why not add demolition trucks to my stress levels?).
To everyone who’s clicked, read, liked, or even accidentally stumbled here while Googling “how to not die in Mystery Lake”—thank you. The chaos is portable, but so is the community we’re building here.
Once again, thank you to everyone who has clicked on my little corner of chaos on the Internet.
Here’s to the next 1,000 views—and maybe even surviving past Day Five next time.
Survivor Incognito 