Category: Steam Deck

Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 2: The Depths of Progress

Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 2: The Depths of Progress

Difficulty: Survival (Steam Deck Survival)
Optional Features: Grav Trap Deployed for Science and Snacks

“Silver is rarer than common sense on this planet.”

After yesterday’s fire-fighting and frantic crafting, I started the day with a new radio message: Lifepod 17 had also crashed somewhere nearby — right next to the Seamoth Bay, apparently. But priorities are priorities, and since Lifepod 3 radioed me first, they got first rescue attempt.

Priorities, Podcasts, and PDAs

Lifepod 3 wasn’t exactly a rescue success.
I did, however, find a blueprint for a compass — the kind of thing that makes you wonder why your pod didn’t come with one pre-installed. I added it straight to the “to-craft-once-I-can-see-straight” list, along with a PDA I’ll read later when I’m not holding my breath underwater. No survivors… unless you count me, which I do, enthusiastically.

Back at my pod, I realised something important: I can’t see a damn thing once it gets dark. So I finally crafted a torch — apparently the galaxy’s most underrated invention — along with a survival knife because there’s nothing like a little sharp-edged comfort in an ocean full of unknown lifeforms.

Lifepod 17 and the Great Seamoth Discovery

Next stop: Lifepod 17.
Predictably, it was another empty seat arrangement, but I did strike technological gold — enough Seamoth fragments to unlock the blueprint. I just need a Mobile Vehicle Bay now, which sounds easy enough until you remember I’m surviving on cooked bladderfish and spite.

While exploring the wrecks, I also found the last few materials to upgrade my O₂ tank. More air equals more curiosity, and more curiosity usually equals more trouble, so that’s a win all around.

Incoming Messages and Explosive Warnings

Just as I was feeling productive, I got a new transmission — this time from the Sunbeam. They wanted a response, but my comms system is, and I quote, “irreparably damaged.” Translation: I’m talking to myself for the foreseeable future.

With no one to call and no Netflix subscription in sight, I built a Grav Trap and tossed it outside the Lifepod to watch it work. Instant sushi buffet. Fish helplessly drawn into an invisible vortex of doom. It’s oddly soothing.

Science in Motion

Full gameplay log below — forty minutes of exploration, crafting, and the occasional panic swim. Featuring Grav Trap testing, Lifepod 17 dives, and my ongoing battle with visibility and oxygen management.

Watch on YouTube

I even had enough parts for a Rebreather, further extending my underwater escapades. Everything was going fine… right up until the PDA told me the Aurora will explode in approximately two hours.
Sure. Two hours to stop a planet-sized reactor meltdown with nothing but a knife and optimism. Sounds totally achievable.

Silver, Sunbeam, and Sinking Realisations

I spent the rest of the day chasing one thing: silver. I’d convinced myself it didn’t exist anymore, that I’d mined the planet dry earlier. But after far too many dives and muttered curses, I finally found some glimmering salvation among the sandstone outcrops.

Back at the Lifepod, another message awaited — the Sunbeam again. They’ve spotted the wreckage of the Aurora and are coming to investigate. They’ll be here within the week.

So not all doom and gloom then. Just mild existential dread… and a new compass freshly crafted to help me get lost in the right direction next time.

Continue the Journey:
Log 1 |
Log 3
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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Day 1: The Peeper in the Pod

Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Day 1

Difficulty: Survival Mode (Steam Deck Edition)

Welcome to 4546B

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:

Continue the Journey

Day 1 (You Are Here) |
Day 2 – The Voyage to Lifepod 3 (Coming Soon)

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Seven Days to Survive – Day 3: Honey, Zombies, and Home Improvements

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)

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Seven Days to Survive – Day 2: Chickens, Bandages, and Pipe Bomb Decisions

Difficulty: Chill Solo
Optional Features: XP set to 150%

“The chicken wasn’t faster than me — it was simply playing 4D chess while I was stuck with a stone axe.”

Adjustments and Priorities

Loading back in, I realised I’d left my XP multiplier at default. Rookie mistake. Bumped it up to 150% — because if I’m going to die to zombies, I’d at least like to die while leveling a little faster.
First order of business: a buried food stash quest. Second: the elusive dew collector. The recipe calls for 100 scrap polymers, 4 short iron pipes, 4 duct tape, and ideally a water filter. Since I don’t have the filter yet, I’ll only get murky water — but with a cooking pot in the campfire, I can still boil it into something drinkable. Not glamorous, but thirst makes you less picky.

Survivor’s Tip: Dew Collector Water

  • With Water Filter: Collects clean water directly — no cooking needed.
  • Without Water Filter: Collects murky water. Use a cooking pot on the campfire to boil it safe.
  • Murky water is better than no water — just don’t forget to boil it, unless you enjoy dysentery roleplay.

The Chicken Incident

On the way, I decide to test my hunting skills. Enter: chicken. Exit: all my dignity. The little feathered gremlin zig-zagged through the grass like a professional sprinter, forcing me to waste more arrows than I care to admit.
After some zombie interference (probably hired muscle for the chicken mafia), I finally down it. A bone knife later, I had meat for dinner and a stockpile of feathers for arrows.

Blood and Bandages

At the buried stash location, a zombie ambushed me and managed to inflict a bleed. Thank you, starting bandage — you’ve earned your retirement.
Note to self: learn how to craft more. Turns out all you need is cotton → cloth fragments → bandage. Problem solved. My feather surplus also became arrow surplus. Feeling slightly more capable, I dug up the stash and headed back to Trader Rekt.

Pipe Bombs for Later

Rekt offered me a tough choice of rewards. I went with five pipe bombs, because nothing says “Horde Night insurance” like handheld explosives.
Next stop: Papaw residence to unload my loot, then scouting a new Horde base location.

First Steps Toward Horde Night

I laid out the foundations of a 6×3 base. Not glamorous, not reinforced, but it’s a start. I’ll reveal more of its design on the big night — for now, just know it exists, it’s square-ish, and it’s mine.
With daylight fading, I tried to squeeze in a fetch quest, but after one zombie fight it was already 9pm. Jogging zombies are not on my wishlist, so I postponed.

Evening at Papaw’s

Back at Papaw’s, I cooked up my chicken, learned eggs can be eaten raw (filed under: desperate measures), and salvaged what I could.
A zombie came knocking on my door uninvited, so I introduced them to my club. Afterwards, I excitedly crafted an armor crafting kit — only to immediately discover I had no clue how to use it. Survival irony at its finest.

Looking Ahead

Day 2 ends with preparations in motion but confidence on shaky legs. I’ve got pipe bombs, a half-built base, and one less chicken in the world. Tomorrow, I’ll knock out that fetch quest early and dedicate daylight to shoring up my defenses. Horde Night is coming, and I need all the help I can get.

Continue the journey:
Day 1 | Day 2 (You Are Here) | Day 3
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Seven Days to Survive – Day 1: Punching Trees, Evicting Corpses

Seven Days to Survive – Day 1: Punching Trees, Evicting Corpses

Difficulty: Default Survival
Optional Rules: Permadeath, one horde night per week

“I woke up in front of a caravan with a few scraps, a stone-axe dream, and a passive-aggressive note from the Duke. Welcome to 7 Days to Die.”

The Duke Hates Me, Trees Hate My Fists

Like every survival game worth its salt, the tutorial goes like this: punch nature until it gives up resources. Twigs, stones, and grass became my new currency. Before long I’d cobbled together a stone axe, wooden bow, arrows, a club, and some basic armor. The Duke’s instructions? Go see Trader Rekt. Fine. But I’m docking him points for management style.

Papaw Residence: Home Sweet Maybe

On the way, I found the Papaw Residence. Inside: zombies, a cooking pot, and — after several panicked swings and one deeply ungraceful bow shot — victory. A few quick wood frames in the doorways, some repair slapdash on the windows, and I served my first eviction notice to the undead. I dropped the land-claim block because… the tutorial said so. It’s just me out here, but sure, paperwork matters.

Administrative Hostility at Trader Rekt

Rekt handed me a shovel and told me to dig. When I stepped back outside, a zombie was loitering like security had gone on break. A couple of club taps later, the parking lot was clear and my cardio stat was emotionally damaged.

Diggy Diggy Hole (ft. Immediate Zombie)

Quest in hand, shovel in pocket, I marched out to unearth supplies. Within seconds of my first swing, the dirt complained — and so did a nearby zombie, who arrived to file a noise complaint with his teeth. One frantic scuffle later, I was back to the dwarven anthem: “I’m a dwarf, and I’m digging a hole.” Every thunk felt like ringing a dinner bell for the next groaner, but the stash popped and I grabbed the goods.

Snake on a Path

On the return leg I spotted a snake. Compared to the zombies outside Rekt’s place and the dig site, this was stress relief with scales. One arrow later, dinner. The bone knife I’d made earlier turned it into tidy cuts for the pot.

Night by the Fire

Back at Papaw, I set up a campfire, boiled every drop of murky water I’d hoarded, cooked snake meat, and tossed a couple of potatoes on for good measure. The house creaked, the wind howled, and distant moans reminded me that the homeowners’ association here is very hands-on.

Day 1 Reflections

Base secured (ish). Water safe (mostly). Food cooked (definitely snake). I’ve got another buried supplies quest from Rekt lined up for tomorrow and the horde clock has quietly started ticking. One day survived. Seven? We’ll see.

Day 1 Pro Tips (7 Days to Die Edition)

  • Gather early, gather often: Grass, stones, and wood fuel your first tools and defenses.
  • Craft the basics fast: Stone axe, wooden club, wooden bow + arrows, and primitive armor.
  • Secure a roof: A fixer-upper beats the outdoors. Frame and patch doors/windows immediately.
  • Cooking pot = jackpot: Boil water safely and expand your recipe list.
  • Bone knife bonus: Butchering with it yields more meat, hides, and resources.
  • Expect company when digging: Shovels are loud. Fight, reset, keep scanning 360°.
  • Trader quests pay: Early tools, food, meds, and dukes — stack them for momentum.
  • Night jobs: Boil water, cook, sort loot, plan upgrades. Don’t waste the dark.
Continue the journey:
Day 1 (You Are Here) |
Day 2

← Back to Seven Days to Survive Hub

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Survivor’s Dread: Platform 8 – Last Train to Nowhere

“The train keeps moving. Every carriage promises freedom. Every anomaly promises erasure.”

The Setup

Platform 8 is the companion nightmare to Exit 8. Same rules: walk, notice anomalies, survive. Miss them and the world resets. Only this time, you’re trapped on a subway train that never stops. Played on the Steam Deck with Loop = Life: every reset is a dead survivor. Only one makes it off the train. Like Exit 8, this was my very first time playing — learning the rules on the fly, with resets as my only teachers.

The Diary

First survivor: Reached the end of the carriage and saw a figure standing at the exit. I didn’t realise you’re meant to move when the lights flick on. The lights came, the figure moved faster than me, and I was erased.

Second survivor: This time the exit door stood wide open, platform beckoning. I trusted it. I stepped toward freedom. The world snapped back to the first carriage, and so did I. Survivors don’t get second chances for gullibility.

Third survivor: Red water pooled in the aisle. The right move was to sprint. I didn’t. Instead, I shut the door on the carriage like that would help. The reset came anyway, cruel and quiet.

Fourth survivor: I let curiosity win. Instead of spotting the anomaly, I pushed through to the next carriage just to see what would happen. The answer: reset. Straight back to carriage one, another survivor erased for being too nosy.

Final survivor: Paranoia sharpened me. I ran when I had to, stopped when the lights demanded it, and turned back from lies. At last, the train gave up its prisoner. I stepped onto the real platform, escaped the loop, and lived. Luck played its part too. Some of the anomalies repeated from earlier failures, familiar traps I finally knew how to dodge. That memory, plus paranoia, was enough to carry me to the platform.

The Video

Here’s the full successful run, captured on Steam Deck:

Survivor’s Thoughts

The corridor in Exit 8 felt endless. The train in Platform 8 feels worse — claustrophobic, restless, each carriage identical until it isn’t. Four survivors erased before one finally broke free. That’s the real distinction: Exit 8 is a test of attention, Platform 8 is a puzzle box. Both erase you for mistakes, but in different ways.

Continue the Journey

See where it started with Exit 8 – Lost in the Corridor, or browse more nightmares in the Survivor’s Dread Hub.

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Surviving the Milky Way: An Elite Dangerous Survival Diary – Day 2: The Rustbucket Rises

Day 2 – The Rustbucket Rises

“These are the voyages of one unprepared Commander. Their mission: to break in a second-hand Adder, deliver mail faster than expected, and discover that cargo pickups can crash more than just your ship.”

From Scraprunner to Rustbucket

The ISS Scraprunner got me this far, but when I spotted an Adder for sale, I couldn’t resist. A few credits later and some questionable tinkering produced the ISS Rustbucket, registry RBT-01. Upgrades included a new Frame Shift Drive, thrusters, fuel scoop, more cargo racks, and an extra weapon. The one thing I didn’t touch? Shields. Whether that’s wisdom or hubris, time will tell.

Courier Life

The mission board offered one contract labelled high threat. I decided exploding wasn’t on today’s agenda and picked safer jobs instead:

  • A data delivery to Marius Relay in the Col 285 Sector AM-R b19-4 system.
  • An agricultural supply run—which bizarrely meant transporting six units of personal weapons—to Wesker’s Pride in the Col 285 Sector BV-E a41-1 system.

On the way to Marius Relay, I got a message offering a bonus for quick delivery. Challenge accepted. The new fuel scoop kicked in automatically, topping up my tank as I skimmed stars. Docking complete, data handed over, and I even ranked up to Peddler. Not glamorous, but it’s better than “galactic stowaway.”

The Cargo That Wasn’t

Then it hit me—I hadn’t actually collected the weapons before leaving. Back to the station I went, already dreading the 20+ jump route ahead. It would at least be a good test for the Rustbucket’s scoop, or so I told myself.

Ten minutes of fiddling with menus later, I finally thought I’d sorted the cargo pickup. That’s when the game crashed. Server connection lost, mission abandoned. The Rustbucket sat waiting, but my courier career ended in digital silence.

Rustbucket Status Report

  • Ship: ISS Rustbucket (Adder)
  • Upgrades: FSD, thrusters, fuel scoop, cargo racks, weapons
  • Untouched: Shields (future-me will regret this)
  • Rank: Peddler
  • Mood: Triumphant → Confused → Disconnected

Next Time

With the Rustbucket ready and the galaxy waiting, I’ll try again. Hopefully the servers stay awake long enough for me to actually deliver cargo. Otherwise, I’ll just become the Milky Way’s most overqualified data courier.

Continue the Journey

← Day 1 | Day 2 (You Are Here) | Day 3 →

Surviving the Milky Way: Series Hub

The Rules of the Stars

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My First Week with the Steam Deck: Expanding the Portable Chaos

My First Week with the Steam Deck: Expanding the Portable Chaos

“It’s not replacing my Switch — just giving the wolves more ways to find me.”

Back to PC… Sort Of

Once upon a time I had a PC. Then I didn’t. Then the Steam Deck came along, and suddenly all those forgotten Steam library games started whispering: “Play us again. This time you won’t rage-quit… probably.”

The first thing I did? Downloaded Viscera Cleanup Detail. Nothing says “welcome back to PC gaming” like mopping up alien goo while questioning your life choices.

Truck Sim Therapy

After that, I traded my mop for a lorry. Euro Truck Simulator 2 has been my chill-out spot — just me, the open road, and the occasional catastrophic parking attempt. It’s strangely peaceful knowing my cargo can’t eat me (unlike certain survival games).

Game-Hopping, Incognito Style

My first week has basically been a buffet of Steam games:

  • Alan Wake – because why not swap blizzards for shadows?
  • Dead by Daylight – handheld horror on the go, what could possibly go wrong.
  • Elite Dangerous – back to the black, this time from the sofa.
  • Team Fortress 2 – nostalgia and chaos, still alive and kicking.
  • 7 Days to Die – zombies don’t care that I’m handheld now.

I’ve been swapping between them like a survivor looting random cupboards: some junk, some gold, all of it entertaining.

Battery, Docks, and Prime Loot

Do I have a dock? No. Will I get one? Unsure. For now, handheld works fine — especially since the battery life is short, but honestly, I don’t mind. It’s like an enforced survival timer: finish your mission before the Deck keels over.

Also, shoutout to Prime Gaming for handing me freebies like it’s Christmas every week. It makes my library grow faster than I can play it.

A Companion, Not a Replacement

The Steam Deck isn’t stealing my Switch’s crown. My Switch is still home to The Long Dark, Skyrim, and the rest of my survival disasters. But the Deck? It’s a welcome companion — giving me the chance to replay old PC titles, test new survival challenges, and expand the chaos beyond Nintendo’s snowy borders.

Two handhelds. Twice the worlds to survive. Zero guarantees I’ll survive any of them.

Continue the Journey

Survivor’s Camp Hub |
Elite Dangerous Diary |
SnowRunner Permagear Diaries

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Steam Deck Joins the Ranks

The Steam Deck Joins the Ranks

The chaos just got an upgrade.

The Nintendo Switch isn’t going anywhere—it remains the cornerstone of this blog, and I’ll continue covering survival games there. But now, the Steam Deck has officially joined the lineup, bringing new formats, more chaos, and fresh handheld survival stories to share.

I’ve already got one Deck playthrough in the works—drafting a few days ahead now so I can keep the updates flowing smoothly.

The Long Dark

My current runs are resting at good pause points:

  • The Cold Chronicles — on hold for now; will return in time.
  • Customloper Diaries — likewise paused, but not forgotten.

New Series Starting

In the meantime, a fresh playthrough begins next week. Check out the series page for Isolation Protocol: An Alien Isolation Survival Diary if you want a sneak peek:

Isolation Protocol – Alien: Isolation Survival Diary

Portable survival chaos continues—now powered by both the Switch and the Steam Deck.

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