Category: Site Updates

The Doedicurus Incident: How I Lost a Fight I Didn’t Know I Was Starting

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Day 1 of ARK: Scorched Earth. I spawned, made some pants, and was murdered by what I thought was a friendly armoured pet rock. A true story of betrayal, bad aim, and Doedicurus rage.

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Welcome to the Desert. Here’s a Spear. Try Not To Die.

I woke up in the Scorched Earth desert with nothing but my fists and the overwhelming sense that everything around me wanted me dead.

Naturally, I punched a tree, made a pickaxe, and crafted myself a stunning outfit made entirely of itchy rags. Survival 101.

That’s when I saw it: a Doedicurus.
Round, slow-moving, and with the kind of face that said, “I mind my business.” It was adorable. I felt safe.

This would be my desert buddy. My spiky little friend.
I had plans. Big plans. I was going to tame it. Name it. Maybe ride it into battle.

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Then I Threw a Spear at It.

Now… in my defense, I meant to throw the spear next to the Doedicurus.
You know, to test it. Impress it. Establish dominance. Whatever people do in survival games.

What I didn’t mean to do was poke it directly in the face.

Cue a noise I didn’t know Doedicuruses could make.
Cue it rolling toward me like an angry bowling ball with revenge issues.

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The Fight That Wasn’t.

I panicked.
I had one more spear. I missed.
I pulled out my fists. They were… less effective.

The Doedicurus did not miss. It swung its tail like it was trying to launch me into the next biome.
It succeeded.

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Respawn, Reflect, Regret.

As I stared at the “You Died” screen, one thought ran through my head:
What the hell just happened?

I came here to survive.
I left wearing nothing but shame and a crushed dream of dinosaur friendship.


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Final Thoughts

Let it be known: Doedicuruses are not your friends.
They are boulders with feelings. And those feelings are rage.

Next time, I’m taming a Jerboa. At least they don’t roll over you for sport.

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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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If you enjoyed that one, please check out my other stories here: Survivor’s Shorts

Also, please check out the full tale of my first day in ARK: Scorched Earth here: Day 1 Diary – ARK: Scorched Earth: Heat, Hubris & A Doedicurus

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Here’s What’s Coming This Week – From Dodos to Doedicurus and Deep Space

This week at Survivor Incognito: dino disasters, cosmic chaos, a return to Customloper, and two new Survivor’s Shorts. Here’s the full lineup of what’s dropping and when.

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Monday – A Double Hit to Start the Week

Day One Diary: No Man’s Sky
Cold planet, no scanner, and a plant that bit me. Welcome to Zuwan 58/E6.

Survivor’s Short: The Doedicurus Incident
One spear. One armadillo. Zero survivors. The best (worst?) five seconds of ARK you’ll ever read.

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Wednesday – Into the Cold

Day One Diary: The Long Dark – Customloper
Coastal Highway just got colder. My custom difficulty is set to “help is a myth” — and this diary is where it begins. This is a taster of what is to come next week

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Thursday – Skyrim Survives Another Day

Skyrim Survival – Day Five
My Argonian’s back, colder than ever, and probably regretting their life choices again. Expect sneaking, sniping, and the occasional panic shout.

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Friday – Frostbite & Fur

The Long Dark – New Entry in A Voyageur’s Tale
The Cold Chronicles continue with more frostbite, slightly less dignity, and whatever’s left in my food stash.

Survivor’s Short: The Moose Encounter
He saw me. I saw him. Only one of us had antlers — and it wasn’t me.

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Plus: This Site Just Got A Bit Update

All entries for The Long Dark, Skyrim, and Day One Diaries have been turned into full posts (not pages!) so they’re easier to find, share, and follow.

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Thanks for Reading – And Surviving

Bookmark the blog, subscribe if you haven’t, and remember: in survival gaming, it’s not about thriving — it’s about laughing while everything falls apart.

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Sneak, Snipe, Repeat: Skyrim Survival Day Four

Missed Day 3 – Read it here

Started the day the way all great stealth archers do—by pretending to care about politics. Found the Redguard woman in Whiterun that the Alik’r mercs were sniffing around for. She gave me the classic “they’re lying, I’m innocent” speech. Naturally, I decided to investigate further, because I’m not just a deadly ghost in the shadows—I’m also weirdly nosy.

So I paid a visit to the dungeon. Not because I enjoy the ambiance (mossy rocks, chain rattles, general despair), but because that’s where the Alik’r prisoner was holed up. On my way through the cells, I stumbled across a conveniently placed letter that kicked off While the Cat’s Away—because apparently jail is where people keep their treasure maps now. This new breadcrumb trail pointed me to Rorikstead, so that’s now on the ever-growing “places I’ll forget to visit” list.

I bribed a guard to release the Alik’r guy. Ten gold down, but the man refused to leave. Said he liked it there. Who likes jail? I left him to enjoy the damp stone aesthetic and moved on.

Decided to get serious about transport and talked to the guy at the stables. Instead of a horse, I got a map to horse locations. Look, I may specialize in ranged combat from the shadows, but even I think this quest design is a bit rich. I considered stealing a horse parked outside—because what’s stealth archery without a bit of stealth theft?—but resisted. Barely.

Set off for Ivarstead, because apparently walking from town to town is now my main questline. Took a scenic route through White River Watch, because I saw bandits and my inner archer whispered, “free loot.” Cleared the place, looted some arrows, and—big moment—found a replacement torch. Goodbye darkness; hello slightly less darkness.

Further down the road, a local asked for help clearing out some spooky ancestral crypt. I said yes, mostly because ghosts are easier to shoot than bandits. Lydia followed me in. She didn’t follow me out. Somewhere in the middle of a draugr-infested hallway, she stopped tanking and started dying. I mourned just long enough to loot her stuff and whisper, “you took too many aggro points.” I may join the Companions soon, if only to get a fresh meat shield with less emotional baggage.

Finished the tomb, claimed some loot, and resumed the long haul to Ivarstead. Got lost twice. Almost turned back three times. It wasn’t clear if I was heading east, west, or straight into existential crisis. Eventually, the town showed up and I dragged myself into the nearest inn.

Dropped into a bed with no torch dropped this time. Progress.

RIP Lydia. You were loud, clunky, and bad at staying behind me. But you absorbed a lot of arrows meant for me, so thanks for that.

Read the full journey here: Sneak, Snipe, Repeat: Skyrim Survival

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Sneak, Snipe, Repeat: Skyrim Survival Day Three

Missed Day Two. Find it here: Sneak, Snipe, Repeat: Skyrim Survival – Day Two

Day 3 started with an ambush. A random High Elf jumped me on the road for reasons unknown—maybe they didn’t like my face, or maybe Argonians owe them money. Either way, I fought back with confusion and mild panic, which worked surprisingly well.

I eventually made it to Honningbrew Meadery, still torchless, and only then realized I must have accidentally sold mine to the Riverwood trader. A true survivalist moment.

Whiterun itself was a whirlwind of activity. I did a lot of trading and cooking (still no torch, sadly) and picked up a handful of miscellaneous quests just by talking to everyone who would listen. After reporting the dragon attack to the Jarl, he asked me to speak to his court wizard, Farengar, about retrieving an item from Bleak Falls Barrow. Luckily, I had already picked it up after dealing with the draugr overlord the day before.

When I returned the item, another dragon sighting interrupted the conversation—because of course it did. The Jarl asked me to help defend the watchtower. On the way, I stopped at a farm and took as many cabbages as I could carry. Nutrition first, dragon-slaying second.

The dragon fight was… spirited. I may have only shot one or two arrows during the entire battle (accuracy still pending investigation), but I stood my ground and somehow survived. When the dragon fell, I absorbed its soul and unlocked the first word of Unrelenting Force. The Greybeards, apparently impressed by my sheer proximity to heroism, summoned me with a thunderous shout across the land.

After the chaos at the watchtower, I returned to Whiterun as a newly minted dragonslayer—well, sort of. I may have only fired one or two arrows during the entire battle (accuracy debatable), but I was present, which apparently is enough to get called Dragonborn these days. I’ll take it.

Back in the city, the moment I stepped through the gates, I ran into two Redguards asking if I’d seen a mysterious woman. Naturally, I nodded vaguely and moved on—I’d just absorbed a dragon soul, after all. Priorities.

Then it was back up to Dragonsreach, where I was rewarded by the Jarl for my “bravery” with the title of Thane and a housecarl named Lydia. I’d barely gotten the words “Unrelenting Force” out of my mouth before I was already poking around the keep, looting any gold, potions, and cheese wheels that weren’t nailed down. Let’s just say I was making the most of my new noble status.

Exhausted, mildly traumatized, and still without a torch, I wrapped up Day 3 by heading to the local inn for some much-needed rest—and to contemplate how one becomes the hero of Skyrim while barely lifting a finger in combat.

Read the full jouney here: Sneak, Snipe, Repeat: Skyrim Survival

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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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The Cold Chronicles Day 1: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

The Cold Chronicles – Day 1: Welcome to the Chill (Desolation Point)

Difficulty: Voyageur

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

“I wake up alone, confused, and somehow end up in a whale carcass. Just another day in The Long Dark.”

Spawning into The Long Dark feels like Mother Nature herself just shoved me outside with a cheerful, “Good luck!” There’s no gentle tutorial, no welcome pack, no coat — just cold wind, a couple of sticks, and the creeping realisation that frostbite is now my most pressing life goal to avoid.

This particular run began near the lighthouse in Desolation Point — probably the closest thing this game has to beachfront property, if your idea of a beach holiday involves gale-force winds and the occasional wolf. It was midday, overcast, and just cold enough to make me doubt every decision I’d made leading up to this moment.

Somewhere in the distance, the ocean groaned against the ice, and a few crows circled lazily overhead. I told myself they were here for the whale carcass. I told myself that twice, just to make sure I believed it.

First Rule: Pick Up Everything

See Desolation Point map here – because wandering aimlessly is only fun once.

On Switch, that’s A to interact — and you’ll be pressing it constantly. Sticks? Yes. Reclaimed wood? Yes. Half-frozen soda can? Absolutely mine. My inventory began filling up within minutes, but better to carry too much than freeze wishing I’d grabbed it.

I moved towards the lighthouse in a series of small scavenging detours — each one slightly off-course, like a squirrel preparing for winter if squirrels were freezing, underdressed, and hopelessly lost. The wind bit through my hoodie, and my character’s condition meter reminded me that warmth here is fleeting and entirely negotiable.

Looting the Lighthouse

Inside, the loot gods were moderately kind:

  • Tinned food (salvation in aluminium form)
  • Spare clothing (anything warmer than a hoodie is a win)
  • A can opener (early-game gold — cold beans are tragic enough without mangling the can first)

After layering up (+ button → Inventory → Clothing tab), I felt just warm enough to consider venturing further. My eyes fell on the church across the frozen inlet. Between me and it: snow, rocks, and the vague promise of more loot. Naturally, I went for it.

Along the way, I pocketed every rock I saw — because in this game, you can weaponise geology, and that seemed like an excellent life skill to have.

Rabbit Wrangling 101

It wasn’t long before I spotted movement: rabbits. My new rocks had a purpose.

On Switch:

  • Hold ZR to aim a rock
  • Lead slightly ahead of a running rabbit
  • Release ZR to throw

Stunned isn’t dead — you need to act fast (Hold A) or it will recover and make a mockery of your hunting skills. My first throw missed by what I can only call “a country mile,” but the second was a clean hit. Two rabbits down in total, though not before missing enough shots to start wondering if my character secretly had a lazy eye.

The church, however, was a let-down: no tools, no matches, no hidden stash of snacks. Just me, the wind, and two confused-looking rabbits now stored in my pack. Back to the lighthouse it was.

Nightfall in the Lighthouse

Once back inside, I used the Y radial menu to start a fire near the stove. Reclaimed wood, accelerant, crossed fingers — success. Rabbit meat went on the fire (A to place), water boiled in a recycled can, and torches pulled from the flames became my portable light source for later.

The wind outside howled like it was auditioning for a horror soundtrack, but inside, I was warm, hydrated, and in possession of two fine torches. I ate rabbit for dinner while staring out the lighthouse window at the darkened coastline, wondering how many nights I’d last this time.

I didn’t find matches or a weapon, but I hadn’t frozen, starved, or been eaten — which in The Long Dark is as close to a textbook victory as you can get.

Day 1 Pro Tips (Switch Edition)

  • A: Pick up everything
  • ZR: Aim rocks/weapons
  • Y: Radial menu
  • +: Inventory, clothing, crafting
  • Don’t leave stunned rabbits lying — they recover fast
  • Fire is life — keep matches handy
  • Frozen soda is still drinkable — don’t be picky

Continue the journey:
Day 1 (You Are Here)  | 
Day 2

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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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).

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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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