Survival Is Earned. Chaos Is Documented.
What’s your favorite word?
“Respawn.” Not something I get in permadeath runs, but I love the idea of starting fresh. In games it’s a do-over, in blogging it’s a new post, and in life it’s a reminder that even disasters can lead to something new (unless a wolf got you — then it’s just the end).
(Plenty more respawn-less disasters at Survivor Incognito.)
Difficulty: Default Survival
Optional Rules: Permadeath, one horde night per week
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Here’s the full successful run, captured on Steam Deck:
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.
See where it started with Exit 8 – Lost in the Corridor, or browse more nightmares in the Survivor’s Dread Hub.
I’ve just joined the Prologue: Go Wayback playtest on Steam. It drops you into a massive, freshly generated wilderness with nothing but your wits, a map, and the eternal hope you can light a fire before hypothermia claims you.
I’ll be playing this on my Steam Deck, so when the first impressions post goes live I’ll not only talk survival mechanics, but also how it runs in handheld mode. Portable chaos, as always.
I’ve got three extra invites to hand out. If you’re a friend of mine on Steam (Survivor Incognito) and want to try Go Wayback for yourself, give me a shout. First come, first served.
Once I’ve had a proper session in the woods, I’ll be back with a full write-up — controls, survival systems, Steam Deck performance, and whether the fire-making is as fiddly (and satisfying) as advertised. Keep an eye on the blog if you want to see how gloriously wrong it goes.
Describe your ideal week.
A balance of real calm and digital chaos. In real life: quiet mornings, good coffee, and no surprise blizzards. In games: just enough wolves, zombies, and survival disasters to keep the stories interesting. My ideal week is one where I can relax, play, and then laugh about how badly things went in the write-up.
(Plenty more ideal weeks ruined by wolves at Survivor Incognito.)
Name the professional athletes you respect the most and why.
Endurance athletes. Marathon runners, ultra-cyclists, mountain climbers — the ones who push themselves to the limit and keep going. In survival games, I’m exhausted after jogging across a frozen lake with a backpack full of sticks, so I have huge respect for people who do the real thing without a pause menu.
(For digital endurance tests — usually ending worse — Survivor Incognito has the stories.)
How do you relax?
By doing the exact opposite of relaxing: playing survival games. For some reason, dodging wolves, zombies, and blizzards calms me down more than meditation apps ever could. If I can unwind while starving in The Long Dark, real life feels positively restful.
(Plenty more questionable relaxation methods at Survivor Incognito.)
Red goes rogue in Smithville Dam, flipping twice while chasing a Watchtower. Frank clears a blocked road, performs a double rescue, secures an engine upgrade, then hauls fuel back to Black River to set up tomorrow’s delivery for “The Essentials.”
📜 Series Hub: SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries Main Hub
🛠 Rules: SnowRunner Permagear Rules
💡 Why Permagear Works: Read the reasoning behind the challenge
Missed Day Seven? Find it here.
With most of Black River mapped and missions cleared, I decide it’s time to see what Smithville Dam has to offer. Red’s fired up and we set “The Essentials” as the main task — one item in Smithville, the rest in Black River. Easy on paper. Reality had other plans.
After finding the Smithville garage, I immediately hit a blocked road needing Service Parts. Luckily, there’s a depot basically around the corner. I pencil that in for after I grab the nearby Watchtower.
I point Red up the Watchtower track and—whoops—he flips onto his side. Full turtle. There’s only one truck for this kind of drama: Frank.
I transport Frank into Smithville, pick up the Service Parts, clear the roadblock, and roll out to rescue Red. Frank rights him like the dependable legend he is… and Red immediately repays the kindness by rolling over again. Cue rescue mission #2. Frank handles it without breaking a sweat.
With Red back on his wheels (twice), we nab the Watchtower and ping a nearby upgrade: an engine that fits both Red and Scout. Whether it’s actually better is a question for the next garage visit — I’ll compare stats when we’re back under a roof.
While Red takes a breather, Frank gets back to business. He grabs Fuel for “The Essentials,” hauls it over to Black River, and calls it a night — textbook veteran move.
Fuel staged, Frank is ready to finish “The Essentials” delivery tomorrow. Red? He’s on probation until he proves he can stay upright for more than ten minutes.
Want more SnowRunner? Day 9 link coming soon.
Are you holding a grudge? About?
Yes — against every wolf, cougar, and zombie that’s ever ended one of my permadeath runs. Do I forgive? Eventually. Do I forget? Absolutely not. Those pixelated ambushes live rent-free in my head, and probably always will.
(Plenty more grudges, respawns, and survival stories at Survivor Incognito.)
“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.”
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.
The mission board offered one contract labelled high threat. I decided exploding wasn’t on today’s agenda and picked safer jobs instead:
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.”
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.
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.
← Day 1 | Day 2 (You Are Here) | Day 3 →
Survivor Incognito 