Survival Is Earned. Chaos Is Documented.
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
“Don’t be afraid to fail.” In survival games, failure is inevitable — wolves, blizzards, zombies, you name it. But each disaster makes the next run better (and funnier). Turns out the same advice works outside of games too.
(Plenty more entertaining failures turned into lessons at Survivor Incognito.)
What things give you energy?
Coffee, comfort food, and the thrill of not freezing to death in a survival game. There’s nothing like narrowly escaping wolves in The Long Dark or fixing a flipped truck in SnowRunner to wake me up faster than any energy drink.
(Plenty more chaotic boosts of “energy” at Survivor Incognito.)
What’s your all-time favorite album?
I don’t really stick to just one, but I’ll say this: any album that makes a survival game session feel like a movie soundtrack is my favourite. If I’m trudging through a blizzard in The Long Dark and it feels cinematic instead of tragic, the music’s done its
(Plenty more survival chaos that could use a soundtrack — at Survivor Incognito.)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.
I found the recipe for Lily’s pancakes from The Long Dark and thought, “Easy — I’ve got this.” Full confidence, like the blueprint was unlocked and ready to craft. Reality disagreed. My cooking skill was so far off that the recipe might as well have stayed locked. Instead of golden pancakes, we got a burnt, unidentifiable mess that no survivor — digital or otherwise — would eat.
(Plenty more recipes that should’ve stayed locked — at Survivor Incognito.)
Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.
That failure makes for the best stories. Whether it’s freezing to death five minutes into The Long Dark or flipping a truck in SnowRunner, the disasters are usually more entertaining (and more useful) than the smooth runs. I wish I’d realised earlier that falling flat isn’t the end — it’s the beginning of a good tale.
(Plenty more entertaining failures turned lessons at Survivor Incognito.)
What are your favorite types of foods?
Comfort foods. Nachos, pizza, anything with far too much cheese. In survival games I’m scraping together stale crackers and half-frozen soda, so in real life I’m claiming every cheesy carb as a victory feast.
(Plenty more survival meals — some tragic, some tasty — at Survivor Incognito.)
How often do you walk or run?
In real life? Enough to keep the legs working. In survival games? Constantly — usually while over-encumbered, freezing, starving, and being chased by something with teeth. My cardio stats would be legendary if pixels counted.
(Plenty more digital marathons at Survivor Incognito.)
Do you see yourself as a leader?
Only if we’re counting survival games. I’m great at leading digital characters straight into blizzards, zombie ambushes, and the occasional tragic wolf encounter. In real life? I’d say I’m more of a storyteller than a leader — recording the chaos so others can laugh, learn, or at least feel better about their own survival skills.
(Plenty more questionable leadership decisions at Survivor Incognito.)
Day 9 in SnowRunner: Delivering fuel to the wrong farm, braving flooded roads, scouting with Red for upgrades, unlocking a long trailer, and freeing Frank from a rogue stone.
Missed the start of the series?
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Read the Permagear Rules |
Why Permagear Works
Previous Entry: SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries – Day 8
The day began with what I thought was a simple task: take a load of fuel on Frank over to the farm in Smithville Dam. The mission briefing seemed straightforward enough, and I had coffee in hand, confidence at maximum. I set off, happily trundling my way to the farm… or so I thought. There was one small problem: the farm I arrived at was in Black River. Wrong farm. Wrong map. Right truck, though, so points for consistency.
The moment of realisation hit when the delivery prompt didn’t appear, and I stared at the job list wondering why the game had suddenly decided to ignore me. After a closer look at the contract, I realised the truth: I’d wasted fuel, time, and what little dignity Frank has left after the last eight days. With a sigh, I plotted the correct route to Smithville Dam’s farm and promised myself I’d read the brief properly next time.
The road to Smithville’s farm was less of a road and more of a seasonal river. Every puddle was a knee-deep swamp, and without raised suspension for Frank, I had to pick my line like a tightrope walker with commitment issues. Each dip threatened to drown the engine, and I could almost hear Frank grumbling in protest.
Somehow, we made it without stalling. But I’ve decided that finding that raised suspension is now a top priority. The truck can’t keep doing its best submarine impression every time it rains.
With Frank resting at the farm, I swapped over to Red for a little exploration. A nearby Watchtower looked promising, and Red’s smaller size made it a safer bet for off-road detours. Still, caution was the name of the game — one wrong move and Red would be cartwheeling down a slope again, and I’m still not over the last incident.
The Watchtower revealed an upgrade not too far away, so I crept towards it, carefully negotiating mud pits and narrow bends. The prize? An engine upgrade for an International Transtar. Useful if I had one, but otherwise about as helpful as a snorkel on a fish. The search for Frank’s suspension continues.
Back at the logging station, I noticed a stack of wooden planks and got my hopes up. My excitement dimmed when I realised they were attached to a rather long trailer I didn’t yet own. A quick detour later, I unlocked the ability to purchase it and, as a bonus, hit Rank 5. Sure, it wasn’t the suspension I wanted, but new toys are always good for morale.
With options running thin, I headed to the warehouse beyond the dam to collect bricks for the farm. Along the way, I activated the Smithville Bridge task, which — naturally — also requires wooden planks. Luckily, I know Black River has a stash, though it’s going to mean a lot of back-and-forth tomorrow.
On the way back with the bricks, disaster struck. Frank found himself completely immobilised on what can only be described as a rogue stone — the kind that hides in plain sight until your truck is perfectly balanced on it like some kind of unwanted hood ornament. With no winch points nearby, I had to call in Red for rescue duty. In an uncharacteristic display of teamwork, Red dug in, pulled Frank free, and somehow managed not to flip in the process. Small victories.
Tomorrow will be all about wooden planks. Lots of wooden planks. I’ll be running between Black River and Smithville like a glorified delivery service with mud in its teeth. The bridge won’t build itself, and neither will my suspension — though if I find that upgrade in the process, it might just be the happiest day Frank’s ever had.
Survivor Incognito 