Category: Steam Deck

Breaking (and Rebuilding) the Team: From Meta Comfort to Controlled Chaos

Breaking (and Rebuilding) the Team: From Meta Comfort to Controlled Chaos

After earning Guardian of Cantha and finally clearing the Fissure of Woe, I reached that familiar point in Guild Wars where the question isn’t “Can this team work?” but “Do I actually understand why it works?”

That question kicked off a long stretch of trial, error, backtracking, and a few ideas that didn’t survive first contact with Hard Mode. What followed wasn’t a clean break from the meta — it was a slow, deliberate push away from relying on it blindly.

Where This Started

This journey sits on the shoulders of two earlier milestones:

Both were achieved using a fairly standard Mesmer-heavy approach. Effective, yes — but also safe. Too safe.

The Long Experiment Phase

What followed was a revolving door of ideas:

  • An Elementalist replacing a Discord Necromancer
  • A third Ritualist focused on Preservation instead of BiP
  • Dropping BiP entirely in favour of a Dervish frontline
  • Swapping that Dervish for a Warrior
  • Trying an Elementalist again
  • Reducing Mesmers… then adding them back

Some of these worked briefly. Others collapsed almost immediately. A few taught me why the meta exists in the first place.

The biggest lesson? I wasn’t actually trying to avoid Mesmers — I was trying to avoid depending on them.

Lesson Learned:
The goal wasn’t to remove strong tools — it was to understand when and why they were necessary.

The Turning Point: Silkfang

Somewhere in the middle of all this, a Ranger pet tank build entered the picture.

That experiment led to an unexpected constant: a spider.

A trip to the Underworld later, Margrid emerged with a Dire Black Widow. Over time, that spider stopped being a gimmick and became something else entirely — a reliable frontline presence, a pressure sponge, and eventually the team mascot.

That story lives here:

The Final Team (At the Time of Writing)

After all the iteration, the team settled into a shape that felt both familiar and earned:

  • Me – Signet of Spirits Ritualist (offensive spirit artillery)
  • Jora – Hundred Blades Warrior (frontline anchor)
  • Gwen – Panic Mesmer (AoE shutdown)
  • Norgu – Energy Surge Mesmer (spike and execution)
  • Razah – Ineptitude Mesmer (melee control and blind)
  • Livia – N/Rt BiP Healer (energy engine and sustain)
  • Xandra – ST Ritualist (Shelter, Union, Displacement)

Optional flex: Margrid and Silkfang can rotate in when a pet tank or ranged pressure makes more sense for the area.

Design Philosophy:
Proactive defense, layered control, and damage that doesn’t rely on perfect execution.

Early Results

At the time of writing, this team has already cleared two bosses in Slavers’ Exile on Normal Mode.

That’s not a victory lap. Slavers is long, punishing, and Hard Mode is the real test — but it’s enough to confirm that the structure holds up under sustained pressure.

Normal Mode confirms stability. Hard Mode reveals cracks.

Looking Ahead

Urgoz’s Warren and The Deep are firmly on the radar. Both test endurance and discipline more than raw damage.

The Domain of Anguish remains the line in the sand — not avoided, just not rushed. When this team goes there, it needs to be intentional.

Conclusion

This team didn’t come together because I followed a guide. It came together because I kept asking what wasn’t working, changed one piece at a time, and paid attention to the results.

Some ideas stuck. Others didn’t. And a few led me right back to concepts I thought I’d outgrown — including the realisation that sometimes the meta works because it genuinely does.

What matters now is that I understand why this team works. Where it’s strong, where it’s fragile, and what kind of content it’s built for.

If it holds together in the places that matter most, there’ll be more to write about. And if it doesn’t, that might be even more interesting.

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How a Spider Became the Team Mascot

How a Spider Became the Team Mascot

The honest tale of one achievement, several experiments, and an eight-legged promotion.

It all started with Guardian of Cantha

After finally earning Guardian of Cantha — fifteen years late, but who’s counting — I marched straight into Fissure of Woe and cleared it.

Great moment. Great screenshots. Full Mesmerway.

Once the glow wore off, I had the realisation every returning player hits eventually:

Yes, this build works everywhere.
No, it isn’t my build.

So the dismantling began.

Breaking away from the meta

Mesmerway is powerful. Reliable. Efficient. And completely soulless.

I wanted friction again — a team I had to think about, not just preload.

So I tore the core out:

  • Panic instead of Energy Surge
  • Ineptitude for variety. Then swapped back for Energy Surge
  • Healers reworked
  • Soul Twist Ritualist fine-tuned
  • Necros rebuilt

It was messy, expensive, and brilliant.

But the frontline was still empty.

I wanted something alive up there.

The pet tank discovery

While looking for ways to create a stable frontline without going full Warrior or Paragon, I stumbled on the pet tank concept.

It solved more problems than expected:

  • Reliable aggro
  • High armour scaling
  • Expertise reducing the cost of support skills
  • No tendency to wander off like a melee hero

I just needed the right animal.

And if I was going to commit to this chaos, I might as well go all in.

The Underworld trip for a spider

Some pets are noble. Some are adorable. Some don’t immediately try to kill you.

I chose none of those.

One trip to the Underworld, a careful charm attempt, and I walked out with a Dire Black Widow who radiated “I will absolutely bite a god if required.”

At this point she had no name — just the spider. A silent, glaring addition to the roster.

But she earned her place fast.

Testing, tweaking, breaking things for science

With the spider holding aggro, the test runs began:

  • Zaishen vanquishes: smooth
  • FoW: promising
  • UW: somehow alive longer than expected
  • Tombs: died to siege wurms, but everyone does
  • Multiple hero rewrites: several necromancers were harmed during development
  • Elementalist experiment: retired politely
  • Barrage tests: fun but not quite right
  • Dervish added to the frontline: finally clicked

Piece by piece, the team rebuilt itself into something new.

The frontline comes together

The final breakthrough was adding a Dervish.

Avatar of Melandru. Durable. Clean aggro. Good synergy with the healers and spirit line.

Suddenly the frontline wasn’t theoretical anymore:

Dervish + Spider.
Heavy hitter + tank.
Structure + chaos.

It worked.

But the real test was still ahead: Shiro Tagachi, Hard Mode, Master’s reward timer.

The Shiro fight — where the spider earned her name

I entered the Imperial Sanctum fight expecting to scrape by. I left it staring at the clock:

1 minute 55 seconds.

Shiro never recovered from Broad Head Arrow. The Dervish tore through him. The team melted health bars like they owed us money.

And the spider?

She tanked. She held aggro. She bit Shiro with the commitment of someone settling an old grudge.

When the dust settled, I looked at Margrid’s widow and muttered:

“…Silkfang. That’s your name.”

Because after that performance, she wasn’t “the spider” anymore. She was part of the team — the part that didn’t flinch.

And that’s how the mascot was born.

Silkfang, as I imagine her in real life: not monstrous, not magical — just a fiercely alert black widow with enough intelligence behind the eyes to understand every fight before it starts.

Why Silkfang stays

Not because she was planned. Not because she’s optimal.

But because she embodies the whole journey:

  • Breaking the meta
  • Experimenting with builds
  • Finding joy in nonsense that somehow works
  • Rebuilding the team into something uniquely mine

Silkfang is the symbol of all of that.

A quiet, eight-legged reminder that sometimes the best part of Guild Wars is abandoning the expected path and discovering something brilliant in its place.

Long live Silkfang. Frontliner. Mascot. And the only creature in Tyria who can tank Shiro without complaining.

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Fissure of Woe: A Clear 15 Years in the Making

Fissure of Woe: A Clear 15 Years in the Making

If you’d told younger me that I’d eventually beat the Fissure of Woe without a Barrage/Pet group, I’d have laughed.
Back then, FoW was something I visited, not something I finished. I joined random B/P teams, fired arrows at anything that moved,
and hoped the pets would tank things they absolutely shouldn’t have been tanking.
I even tried the old ranger solo runs to the Forest — mostly because everyone else was doing it and I wanted to feel cool.

A full clear though?
That never happened.
FoW politely reminded me I was not the hero of this story.

Until now.

Standing at the Chest of Woe after my first full Fissure of Woe clear — a moment fifteen years overdue.

The Soulwoven Steps Back Into the Fire

This was my first proper attempt at beating FoW from start to finish — no gimmicks, no leaning on other players to carry me,
and no pretending my ranger pet was going to solve my problems.
Just me, The Soulwoven, and a hero team that has become far too competent for its own good.

This photo above is from the full clear —it captures the general theme of this entire adventure:
me walking into a nightmare realm with seven spirits, three mesmers, three necromancers, a ritualist specialising in restoration spirits, and questionable confidence.

The Wovenway Build Holds Its Ground

For this run I used the build I’ve been refining over the last week: a mix of spiritway, discordway, and mesmerway —
which I’ve nicknamed Wovenway.
Tacky? Possibly.
Accurate? Absolutely.

My heroes did the heavy lifting, as usual.
The E-Surge mesmers handled the hex pressure, the Discord minions kept bodies on the ground (helpful for both damage and nostalgia),
and my restoration Ritualist quietly kept everyone alive.
I focused on offensive spirits and Lamentation, occasionally pretending I understood the exact timing of everything happening on-screen.

A Run That Paid for Itself

To my surprise, the run went smoothly.
Suspiciously smoothly.
Either I’ve improved, or the enemies were having an off day.

I walked out with:

  • Two Passage Scrolls
  • Five Obsidian Shards
  • Several gold items

Not bad for what was meant to be “a test run.”
The whole trip paid for itself and then some.

What Comes Next?

FoW is just the beginning.
I’m still working on hero armor — Gwen, Livia, and Xandra now have Brotherhood sets, the rest are getting sorted one by one —
and I’ve been dipping into the Underworld again to see just how far Wovenway can go.

There’s also a strong temptation to record these runs.
Not a single-session full clear (I value sleep), but segmented videos:
three quests at a time, then stitched together.
Practical hero management, realistic expectations, and my usual commentary whenever something explodes unexpectedly.

Final Thoughts

Final Thoughts

It took more than a decade, a new name, and a surprisingly effective team of heroes,
but I can finally say I’ve beaten the Fissure of Woe.
Not as a ranger hiding behind pets, not as a tag-along in someone else’s group —
but on my own terms, with my own build, playing a class that younger me barely even understood.

FoW didn’t stand a chance.
Apparently, neither did my free time.

Continue the Journey

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Earning Guardian of Cantha — Fifteen Years Later


It turns out my return to Tyria didn’t stop at nostalgia. What started as a simple “let’s see if this still runs on the Steam Deck” somehow turned into a full plunge back into Guild Wars—titles, missions, buildcrafting, and all.

If you missed the first part of this journey, you can read my original post here:

Returning to Tyria – A Moment I Didn’t Expect to Hit This Hard
.
That’s where I covered the first spark that pulled me back in before everything below really started to snowball.

Switching Mains After Fifteen Years

Somewhere along the way I realised my Necromancer—my old faithful—wasn’t the one carrying me this time. Instead, it was my Ritualist, originally named Spirits of Evil, still running the exact same Signet of Spirits build I’d left him with more than a decade ago. And somehow, it still worked.

From there I set one clear goal: Guardian of Cantha. I already had Protector from years ago, but Hard Mode was unfinished business.

Diving Into Builds: Discordway, Mesmerway, and… Wovenway?

Discovering the PvX wiki still existed felt like finding a time capsule. Between that and help from chatgpt, I rebuilt my hero team from the ground up. Discordway led me to Mesmerway, and eventually I stitched the two together with my own Ritualist style—what I jokingly call Wovenway.

The final setup:

  • 1 Discord Minion Master
  • 2 N/Rt healers
  • 3 Energy Surge Mesmers
  • 1 Restoration Ritualist (hero)
  • Me, running offensive spirits

Zen Daijun was the first wall. Eternal Grove was the second. But with enough testing—and a lot of stubbornness—the team broke through both.

Guardian of Cantha Achieved

Raisu Palace fell, and with it came the achievement I’d been chasing since the mid-2000s.

A New Name, A New Look

To mark the achievement, I gave my Ritualist a new identity: The Soulwoven. The name clicked immediately—something that sounded like an NPC title, or a boss you’d find lurking in the Underworld.

I recoloured his armor in a blue-green mix to match spirit animations, and honestly? It suits him far better than anything he’s worn before.

What Comes Next?

Right now, I’m upgrading hero armor. Gwen, Livia, and Xandra are already wearing Brotherhood sets; the rest of the roster is still on the to-do list. When that’s done, The Soulwoven has his eyes on two places:

  • The Fissure of Woe
  • The Underworld

I’ve been doing test runs, but nothing concrete yet. Which direction he goes first… well, that’s something future me will decide.

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Super Mario 64 Randomizer – Log 4: Double Trouble in Rainbow Ride

Platform: Steam Deck
Settings: Vanilla Mario & Music — chaos, but classy.
“They say patience is a virtue, but after chasing red coins in Rainbow Ride, I’m pretty sure it’s a myth.”

Back to Rainbow Ride — because apparently, I didn’t learn my lesson last time. This time I decided to be bold (read: reckless) and go for both the Red Coin Star and the 100 Coin Star together.

Collecting 100 coins went surprisingly smoothly, which immediately made me suspicious. And rightly so — the red coins were spread across moving platforms that seemed determined to throw me into the void.
When I finally gathered them all, the Red Coin Star spawned on the flying ship — nowhere near any of the coins. Several failed leaps and existential sighs later, I finally snagged it.

Only two stars this time, but both felt like boss fights. Rainbow Ride remains the chaotic crown jewel of frustration.

Watch Log 4 Gameplay

Progress Log

  • Total Stars: 20
  • Stars Remaining: 100
  • Lives: 14
Continue the chaos:
Log 3 |
Log 5 (Coming Soon)
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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 6: The Sunbeam Falls

Platform: Steam Deck
Vehicle: Seamoth “Valentino” — maiden voyage
Objective: Reach the Sunbeam landing site
Status: Stranded indefinitely

“Turns out the cavalry isn’t coming — mostly because a giant alien cannon just vaporised them.”

With my Seamoth finally ready — Valentino’s first dive into open water — I headed toward the Sunbeam landing site. For once, I actually felt hopeful. Then the radio crackled again. Another distress call — this time from Lifepod 19. They could wait. If they were still alive, they’d understand. I had a rescue ship to meet.

The Island of False Hope

Reaching the site, I was greeted by something I definitely didn’t expect: a massive Alien structure that screamed “DO NOT ENTER.” A shimmering forcefield blocked the main door, and every instinct told me I was way out of my depth — both literally and metaphorically.

I parked Valentino nearby and started exploring on foot. The island itself felt eerily empty, save for the alien architecture humming with quiet menace. It wasn’t long before I found strange purple artifacts and terminals that told stories of technology way beyond anything I’d ever seen. One room even held a doomsday device — thankfully, deactivated.

The Infection Revealed

Eventually, I found what looked like a control terminal. My PDA hinted it might shut down the “cannon” perched above. I scanned it, ready to save the day — only for the machine to stab me with a robotic needle and announce, in the most clinical way possible: “Infection detected. Cannot deactivate.”

I scanned myself. Sure enough — infected. The planet was under quarantine, and I was part of the problem now. The only way out? Find a cure. Deeper in the ocean. Because of course it couldn’t be simple.

Fireworks at Dusk

With nothing else to do but accept my new membership in the “Forever Stranded” club, I returned to Valentino and made for the landing site once more. Another radio message came through — ignored. My focus was fixed on the sky.

And then, it happened. The Sunbeam dropped out of orbit, descending toward the island. A blinding green light surged from the alien structure. The cannon fired. And just like that, my rescue became a fireball.

I stood there in stunned silence, the sky lit up with debris and despair. The PDA chirped calmly in my ear, reminding me that rescue was “no longer an option.” Thanks, PDA. Really helps.

Guess I’d better make myself comfortable. It’s going to be a long stay on 4546B.

Video Log

Watch the Sunbeam’s final moments here once the video is live.

Continue the Journey

← Log 5.5: The Waiting Game |
Log 7: Coming Soon

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Super Mario 64 Randomizer – Log 3: Rainbow Ride in the Basement

Platform: Steam Deck
Settings: Vanilla Mario & Music — chaos supplied separately.
“Somewhere between the mountain slide and the basement sky, I realised this randomizer doesn’t believe in architecture either.”

With only the 100 Coin Star left in Tall, Tall Mountain, I decided it was time to finally clear my first course. The plan was simple: grab coins, stay alive, avoid plummeting off the cliff. Naturally, the first attempt ended in a slide-related tragedy. The second try, however, was a success — first course officially cleared.

Feeling confident, I ventured down to the basement to see what new horrors awaited. A friendly Toad handed over a star without asking for anything in return — a rare act of generosity in this twisted castle.

Then came the real surprise: the hole that should have led to the Vanish Cap switch instead opened into Rainbow Ride. Because apparently, gravity is optional now. Despite a few near misses (and several camera-induced heart attacks), I managed to grab three stars before deciding I’d pushed my luck enough for one day.

Watch Log 3 Gameplay

Progress Log

  • Total Stars: 18
  • Stars Remaining: 102
  • Lives: 13
Continue the chaos:
Log 2 |
Log 4
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🌊 Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 5.5: Racing the Sunbeam

5.5

“Rescue was coming. Naturally, that meant it was time to start a new project instead.”

Platform: Steam Deck
Difficulty: Survival
Recording: Lost due to file corruption — because the ocean clearly wasn’t done messing with me.

Author’s Note: Unfortunately, my recording for this session corrupted before I noticed. So this entry is reconstructed from memory — a cautionary tale for all survivors who trust autosave more than their capture software.

Message from the Heavens

It begins with the crackle of static — another message from the Sunbeam. They’ve located a landing site. They’re on their way. Forty minutes until pickup.

Forty minutes until salvation.

Naturally, I decide to ignore the pending rescue entirely and go chase the final piece of the Mobile Vehicle Bay instead. Priorities.

The Hunt for Titanium and Sanity

I swim toward the Sunbeam’s coordinates, eyes peeled for fragments. Just as I’m starting to lose hope — there it is. The final piece.

I bolt back toward my lifepod like my oxygen tank depends on it (which, to be fair, it always does). The excitement of progress pushes me faster than any propulsion cannon ever could. I check the crafting requirements — Titanium Ingot, Power Cell, a few odds and ends I already have scattered in lockers. Easy enough.

And since I clearly have time before rescue, I think, “Why not go bigger?” Enter: the Seamoth. The personal submersible of my dreams.

Building the Dream

The Mobile Vehicle Bay is first on the list. Titanium gathered, ingot forged, power cell crafted from the remains of old batteries. When it finally deploys and floats proudly on the surface, it feels like progress — real progress.

I climb aboard, ready to build my Seamoth, and immediately realise I’ve made a rookie mistake. No Titanium Ingot. Again. The ocean mocks me with its silence as I swim off once more, scavenging every bit of wreckage I can find.

Eventually, success. The Seamoth blueprint completes, and the little sub rises from the water like a gift from the deep. She’s beautiful — and mine. I climb in, listen to the AI purr, and feel an unfamiliar thing: hope.

There’s still time before the Sunbeam arrives. I point my Seamoth toward the landing site. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it in time to see the sky light up with something other than plasma fire.

Next: The Sky Burns

I set course for the island, my Seamoth slicing through the water like it was always meant to be there. The radio says twenty minutes until the Sunbeam arrives. The ocean says otherwise.

Continue the Journey:
Log 5: Waiting for the Sunbeam | Log 6

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🌊 Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 5: Scanners, Stalkers, and the Elusive Bay

“Sometimes survival means chasing blueprints you’ll never find and pretending the ocean isn’t full of things that want to hypnotise you.”

Platform: Steam Deck
Objective: Wait for the Sunbeam transmission and maybe, just maybe, build something that floats.

Exploration (a.k.a. Avoiding Impatience)

With nothing to do but wait for the Sunbeam’s next message, I decide to make the most of my surface time. I remember having another lifepod distress signal stored, so I tag it on my HUD and head out exploring. At first, the ocean feels empty — just me, the waves, and a slowly draining battery supply — but that doesn’t last long.

After a bit of aimless swimming, I finally stumble upon the final fragment for the Laser Cutter. I can practically hear the sound of sealed Aurora doors opening already. Victory, thy name is “I can finally cut stuff.”

In the midst of my excitement, I make the questionable decision to scan a Stalker. It could’ve gone wrong in a hurry, but apparently it was too busy minding its own business to care. A rare win for curiosity over self-preservation.

The Hunt for the Mobile Vehicle Bay

With the Laser Cutter blueprints ready, I set my sights on something even more crucial: the Mobile Vehicle Bay. I want my Seamoth — freedom in miniature submarine form. I head toward Lifepod 17 again, the same one that’s been testing my patience since last time.

Luck strikes early — I find two out of three pieces for the Bay in fairly quick succession. Naturally, that’s where the good fortune ends. The third? Nowhere to be seen. I comb the seabed, check every wreck, and even chase shadows thinking they might be fragments. Spoiler: they weren’t.

In true Subnautica fashion, my HUD decides to stop showing the lifepod marker mid-journey. A quick reset fixes it, but it doesn’t help my sense of direction — or my growing frustration. Ten to fifteen minutes later, I’m still empty-handed.

Strange Fish and Stranger Plants

To add to the ambience, I discover a few plants with anger issues and meet a Mesmer — a deceptively pretty fish that freezes you mid-swim while whispering sweet nonsense. The first time it happened, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and then suddenly — WHAM. Out of the trance, face-to-face with a glowing fish that definitely wanted me gone.

Thankfully, the Propulsion Cannon was in my hands. A single blast later, and the Mesmer was forcibly introduced to the local wall. Justice served.

Calling It a Night (Reluctantly)

As darkness falls, I decide to call it a day. Nighttime on this planet is truly pitch black, and I’m not wasting my last batteries trying to play deep-sea Marco Polo with blueprints. Still, it wasn’t a wasted trip — I unlocked a few new crafting recipes and gathered plenty of scan data for the databank. Just not the one blueprint I actually wanted.

Tomorrow, the ocean and I will have words. Preferably near the wrecks that have Mobile Vehicle Bay fragments.

Video Log

Continue the Journey

⟵ Log 4: The Cannon and the Leviathan |
Log 5.5: The Sunbeam’s Shadow ⟶

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🩸 Derailed & Doomed: A Choo Choo Survival Diary Epilogue: The Train That Didn’t

🩸 Derailed & Doomed — Epilogue: The Train That Didn’t

“Somehow, I lived. Charles didn’t. And yes, I’m framing that sentence.”

Series complete — one survivor, one destroyed monster, zero refunds for train tickets.

Final Whistle: What Victory Looked Like

The last chase was part boss fight, part scrap economy, part improvised flamethrower cookout.
I juggled weapons, patched a screaming locomotive with spare metal like a field surgeon with duct tape,
and learned that momentum beats panic nine times out of ten. On the tenth time, you just pray your train is pointing the right way.

Charles tried the usual: ambush, vanish, reappear somewhere inconvenient. I answered with speed upgrades,
a trigger-happy finger, and the stubborn belief that if I kept the train moving, fate would have to jog to keep up.
When the smoke cleared, only one of us was still on the tracks. Spoiler: it was me.

Why This Game? (And Why Now?)

I first saw Choo Choo Charles on TikTok while it was still in development — one of those “this shouldn’t work, but it absolutely does” moments.
It stuck with me. When I started Survivor Incognito, Charles rolled back onto my radar like a bad idea with great marketing.
This run was me finally cashing that ticket: a strange, scrappy, horror-tinged road trip that fit my brand of portable chaos a little too well.

Triumph, But Make It Practical: What I’d Tell Future Me

  • Speed first, always. You can’t out-tank what you can outrun.
  • The bug spray is your friend. It doesn’t just slow Charles down — it buys you breathing room, literally.
  • Scrap is a second health bar. Hoard it like snacks before a boss rush.
  • Plan your egg route. Less sightseeing, more line-of-best-fit between objectives.
  • Permadeath rule kept me honest. Every choice mattered because strikes mattered.

Lore-ish Debrief: Aftermath on the Island

With Charles gone, the island felt louder in a different way — wind in the trees instead of whistles in the dark.
The tracks creaked like they’d finally exhaled. People came out of their houses and stopped pretending the storm was “just weather.”
It’s not a fairy-tale ending. It’s a train line with fewer teeth marks.

What the Run Meant (to Me and the Blog)

This wasn’t just a boss fight; it was my first proper win added to the blog’s record — proof that I don’t just curate chaos,
I occasionally navigate it. It’s also a reminder that Survivor Incognito isn’t about masochistic difficulty;
it’s about tension you can feel and choices you can live with (even if some of them involve flaming arachnid locomotives).

Supercut: Coming Soon

I’m assembling a full-series supercut — the whole journey from first toot to final kaboom — so you can watch the story unfold without jumping between posts.
It’ll land here when it’s ready.

Credits, Thanks, & Tracks Ahead

Thanks for riding along — in comments, on the blog, and across the socials. Next up: more survival, more diaries, and definitely more poor decisions told with a straight face.
If you’re new here, the hub has everything in one place.

Continue the Journey

🔙 Read the Final Battle Log |
🗂️ Derailed & Doomed — Series Hub |
👀 Survivor’s Dread — Horror Series Hub

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