Category: Stranded Diaries

Sunburnt & Sinking: A Stranded Deep Survival Diary – Final Day

Sunburnt & Sinking: A Stranded Deep Survival Diary – Final Day

Difficulty: Normal
Optional Features: Permadeath enabled (naturally)

“They say the sea is unpredictable. Turns out the real danger was bacon on legs.”

Weather / Loot / Mood

  • Weather: Pre-dawn calm, rising chop mid-crossing, sun blazing by mid-morning
  • Loot: One rock (upgraded into a knife), empty shipping container, one near-death experience
  • Mood: Optimistic → seasick → suspicious → hogged off the mortal coil

Goodbye, Starter Island

I woke before sunrise, sipped the last drips from my water still, and realised food was once again my biggest problem. My emergency coconut stash stared back at me like an unsolvable puzzle — great for hydration, but without a knife, they were just spherical disappointments. The conclusion was obvious: this island had given me all it could, and it was time for me to move on.

Two new islands called from the horizon, their silhouettes promising fresh loot and maybe, just maybe, an edible dinner. I picked one, whispered a fond but brief farewell to my starting island, and began the process of leaving. This was a mistake — not the leaving, but underestimating how much my raft had bonded with the beach.

Raft Wrestling & Ocean Gymnastics

Step one was prising the raft off the sand. The thing behaved like it had signed a long-term tenancy agreement and was not about to leave voluntarily. Once I freed it, I faced my next foe: the paddle, which seemed determined to stay attached like a stubborn remora. Then came the ocean itself.

Within minutes, my crossing turned into an impromptu extreme sport. I capsized more times than I care to admit, each time righting the raft while muttering things not suitable for a survival diary. The swell toyed with me, and every few waves I was convinced I’d see a shark fin break the surface. But eventually, the new island came into focus — and with it, signs of potential treasure. A red shipping container sat on the shore, while offshore, a wooden pole jutted out of the water. Wreckage? Supplies? Or just an elaborate distraction?

New Shore, New Knife, No Loot

Landfall came with an overwhelming sense of relief. First priority: tools. I grabbed a rock, worked it into a knife, and set out to investigate the shipping container. The excitement lasted right up until I swung the door open to reveal… absolutely nothing. No food, no tools, not even decorative debris. My mood sank faster than my raft had earlier that morning.

Still, the island was bigger than it first appeared, with palm trees casting long shadows across the sand. Somewhere out here, there had to be food. Or at least something less likely to stab me in the stomach than my own hunger.

The Hog Strikes Back (…Twice, Actually Thrice)

That’s when I saw it: a hog. Large, broad-shouldered, and wearing the kind of expression that suggested it already hated me. Before I could take a step back, it charged — no hesitation, no negotiation, just a blur of tusks and fury.

Desperation kicked in. I fought back with my newly crafted knife, scoring a few hits before it bolted into the undergrowth. Victory? Not quite. As I turned to check my surroundings, I spotted a snake winding its way across the sand. Excellent — protein! I lunged, only for the hog to return for round two. We clashed again, my health dropping with each collision.

By the time round three began, I was already bleeding and winded. I’d love to say I managed a heroic counter, but the truth is the hog bowled me over like I was nothing more than driftwood in its path. The world went dark, the game flashed its verdict, and my save was gone. Just like that.

Epilogue: Lessons from the Hog

So ends my Stranded Deep run — three days according to the game, four by my own count. I learned a lot: coconuts are useless without a knife, rafts are stubborn, and hogs are nature’s way of telling you to keep your distance. It was a short ride, but fun. Next time, maybe I’ll survive long enough to cook that bacon instead of becoming it.

Continue the Journey

Day 1 |
Day 3 |
Final Day (You Are Here)

0

Sunburnt & Sinking – A Stranded Deep Survival Diary: Day Three

Sunburnt & Sinking: A Stranded Deep Survival Diary – Day 3

Difficulty: Normal
Optional Features: Permadeath enabled (naturally)

“Hydration success, culinary failure, and the return of a long-lost knife.”

Weather / Loot / Mood

  • Weather: Warm morning sun, light breeze, suspiciously perfect for false optimism
  • Loot: Cloth (from mystery container), water still, refined knife (found in sand), shattered coconut dreams
  • Mood: Parched → euphoric → regretful → betrayed

Water Still Victory

I woke with a tongue like sandpaper and the hydration levels of a sun-bleached raisin. Today’s mission was clear: build a water still. The problem? I had no cloth — or at least, that’s what I believed.

While digging through my supplies, I remembered the sealed storage container I’d been dragging around like some clueless beach hoarder. Inside, lying there like a treasure in a castaway’s dream, was one glorious piece of cloth. Just enough for what I needed.

Moments later, I had all the parts gathered, and the still was built — my first real piece of survival infrastructure. It stood proudly in the sand, a guarantee that thirst would no longer be my most urgent problem. I almost gave it a name.

Floating Cloth and Coconut Regrets

Of course, before the still came together, my cloth had to put on a show. When I dropped it on the ground, it stood upright like it was trying to defy gravity — or audition for a magic act. Strange, yes, but soon incorporated into my new pride and joy.

With water secured, I turned my attention to food. Variety was key — crabs and coconuts had kept me alive so far, but they weren’t exactly a balanced diet. I set my sights on fish, convinced a fire spit would be my ticket to grilled seafood glory.

But first, a quick survival PSA: never eat too many coconuts. The consequences are… unpleasant. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say my digestive system filed an official complaint and threatened industrial action.

Island Limits & A Knife’s Return

My island had been generous, but the easy loot was running out. If I wanted to thrive — or even just eat something different — I’d have to explore further afield. I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment, but survival doesn’t really take “maybe later” as an answer.

While gathering materials for the journey, I spotted something glinting in the sand. It was my refined knife — the same one I’d apparently dropped days ago, possibly while fleeing a crab with attitude issues. I picked it up and welcomed it back into my inventory like an old friend who’d just wandered back from the pub.

I also discovered I could make a wooden farming plot. Long-term food production sounded fantastic… until I realised I didn’t have a hoe. That idea went straight onto my “future ambitions” list, somewhere between “build a smoker” and “stop capsizing my raft.”

The Fire Spit Betrayal

Finally, the fire spit was built, my visions of sizzling fish nearly within reach. I placed my catch over the fire and… nothing. Turns out the fire spit is not the universal cooking solution I hoped for. Apparently, fish require a more advanced setup — a smoker, or perhaps a deal with the culinary gods.

So the day ended with me sipping fresh water and eating yet more crab, while the dream of grilled fish drifted out to sea like an unanchored raft. Still, progress had been made: hydration secured, knife recovered, lesson learned.

Tomorrow, I’ll brave the sea and head for another island. If I find my way back here, great. If not… well, coconuts probably taste the same everywhere.

Continue the Journey

Day 1 |
Day 2 |
Day 3 (You Are Here) |
Final Day

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Sunburnt & Sinking – A Stranded Deep Survival Diary: Day Two

Sunburnt & Sinking: A Stranded Deep Survival Diary – Day 2

Difficulty: Normal
Optional Features: Permadeath enabled (naturally)

“Water is scarce, knives keep breaking, and coconuts betray me.”

Weather / Loot / Mood

  • Weather: Sunny with a calm breeze, deceptively inviting for a day of mistakes
  • Loot: Two refined knives (both broken), crude knife, potato crop, yucca fruit, several speared fish
  • Mood: Parched → resourceful → frustrated → plotting escape

Death by Dehydration and Knife-Based Regret

Day 2 started the way all my survival days seem to — fighting to stay alive with fewer resources than the average beach picnic. Water was the clear priority, so I cracked open a few coconuts to keep my hydration meter from flatlining. Just as I started to feel less like a dried-out husk and more like an actual human being… snap. My refined knife broke in my hand.

One second I had my most valuable tool, the next it was reduced to the kind of scrap metal you’d find washed up on a stormy shore. With it gone, my ability to gather resources properly took a nosedive, and I was back to square one.

Knife? Check. Brain? Debatable.

Thankfully, making a crude knife was easy enough. Unfortunately, I forgot that I could use that knife to craft another refined one. It was like having the solution in my pocket but refusing to read the instructions. In my defence, dehydration may have been quietly sabotaging my brain function.

When I finally pieced it together, I felt like the island’s least stylish blacksmith, reforging my refined knife like it was a lost relic. Feeling smug, I checked the crafting menu for new possibilities. A fire pit? Doable and quick. A water still? Perfect — except it needed cloth. And cloth, as far as I could tell, was rarer on this island than polite seagulls.

My Kingdom for a Rag

The water still became my new obsession. If I could build one, I’d solve my hydration issues for good. But without cloth, it was a dream just out of reach. I decided to prepare the other materials in advance, so all I’d need to do was slot the fabric into place once I found it.

In the process, I managed to break my second refined knife of the day. The culprit? The island’s one unyielding yucca tree, which I kept attacking like it was hiding a secret stash of loot. If anything, it only seemed to grow more smug about my failures. On the bright side, my scavenging turned up a potato crop and a yucca fruit — the makings of a future farm if I could ever get beyond the “not dying of thirst” stage of survival.

Spearfishing for Sadness

Needing a morale boost, I took to the ocean with a crude spear, ready to prove I could at least feed myself. The fish were easy enough to catch — a few quick jabs and they were mine. I strutted back to shore with my haul, already picturing a beachside fish roast.

That fantasy crumbled faster than my knives when I discovered my fire pit wasn’t suitable for cooking fish. Apparently, I needed something more advanced — a smoker, a spit, or possibly a degree in tropical culinary arts. The fish went into storage, and my dreams went up in smoke without ever lighting the fire.

As the sun set, I stared out toward the horizon. Tomorrow, I’d choose an island and head for it. Either it would have cloth, or I’d be stuck crafting a distress flag out of coconut husks, stubborn yucca bark, and pure spite.

Continue the Journey

Day 1 |
Day 2 (You Are Here) |
Day 3 |
Final Day

1

Sunburnt & Sinking – A Stranded Deep Survival Diary: Day One

Sunburnt & Sinking: A Stranded Deep Survival Diary – Day 1

Difficulty: Normal
Optional Features: Permadeath enabled (naturally)

“Crash-landed on an island, I fight crabs, climb trees, and light my first fire. Survival starts with chaos, coconuts, and questionable plants.”

Weather / Loot / Mood

  • Weather: Calm seas, light breeze, deceptively peaceful for a day of disaster
  • Loot: Raft, crude knife, refined knife, coconuts, crab meat, basic shelter
  • 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.

Continue the Journey

Day 1 (You Are Here) |
Day 2 |
Day 3 |
Final Day

3

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