Category: survival horror

Staying Connected


A quick housekeeping note.

If you want to keep up with what I’m playing, recording, or writing between blog posts,
the easiest way is to follow me on social media.

I share short clips, updates, and moments there —
sometimes things that never quite justify a full blog entry.

Recent Short

A brief moment from The Outlast Trials, shared as a short.
These clips usually capture instinctive reactions, close calls, or situations where stopping to think would have been a mistake.

You’ll find links to all my social platforms at the top and bottom of the site.
That’s intentional.

I’d rather keep everything visible and easy to find than rely on pop-ups or constant reminders.

No pressure.
No expectations.
Just another way to follow along if you want to.

Surviving, not suffering.

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Announcement: Outlast – Apex Predator Run

I’m starting a new playthrough of Outlast, using what I’m calling the Apex Predator ruleset.

The idea is simple:
every death counts.
Three strikes, and the run ends.

Outlast isn’t a power fantasy.
You can’t fight back.
You can’t overpower anything.
Survival comes down to awareness, restraint, and not making the wrong decision at the wrong time.

The Apex Predator ruleset exists to give those moments weight.
It allows room to learn without encouraging recklessness.

This run sits under Survivor’s Dread and has its own hub:

Outlast – Apex Predator Run Hub
.

It will run alongside my ongoing work in
The Outlast Trials,
which has its own hub here:

The Outlast Trials Hub
.

Where possible, the two series will alternate, keeping the focus on survival horror as endurance rather than performance.

There’s no guarantee of success.
If the run ends, it ends.
That’s part of the design.

Surviving, not suffering.

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The Outlast Trials – Trial Log #2: Eliminate the Past

This was my second attempt at Eliminate the Past.
The first ended quickly, mostly because I forgot to hit record. So I had to stop the trial midway through.

This time, I remembered to hit record.

Viewer discretion advised. The Outlast Trials is intended for mature audiences and contains graphic violence, disturbing imagery, and psychological horror.

Setup

For this run, I took the X-ray ability.
Not to min-max anything, but because wandering blindly on a timer felt like a bad idea.

The aim wasn’t to clear everything.
It was to get out before the door shut.

Eliminate the Past

There were ten records available.
I destroyed four.

That sounds low, but the Trial makes it clear very quickly that stopping for too long is how things go wrong.
Between patrols and the clock, every decision boiled down to whether it was worth the risk.

Most of the time, it wasn’t.

The Escape

When it was time to head back to the gymnasium to begin my escape from the Trial, I promptly got lost.

By the time I found my way back, I had three minutes to get out.
I managed it with roughly three seconds left on the clock.
I didn’t even notice the cop waiting to say goodbye — I just sprinted straight past him.

It didn’t feel like a win.
It felt like just about scraping through.

Afterwards

This Trial reinforced what the game has been pushing from the start:
you don’t need to do everything.
You just need to survive long enough to leave.

Four records destroyed.
Exit reached.
That was sufficient.

Series Notes

This was a single attempt, recorded as it happened.
There were no retries for recording purposes.
If I’d failed, that would have been the post.

I may return to this Trial again at the same difficulty.
For now, this is the record of how it went.

Continue the Series

Surviving, not suffering.

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The Outlast Trials Hub Is Live

I’ve added a new hub page to the site for The Outlast Trials.

As the Survivor’s Dread side of the blog continues to grow, it made sense to give Outlast its own space — somewhere that keeps everything organised, easy to navigate, and separate from the calmer survival runs.

The hub brings together all Outlast Trials–related posts in one place, including logs, reflections, and anything else that emerges as the series develops. No hunting through categories. No guessing what order things came in.

You can find the hub here:

The Outlast Trials – Survivor’s Dread Hub

This doesn’t mark a change in tone — Outlast is still intense, uncomfortable, and deliberately unsettling — but it does give it a clearer structure on the site. A dedicated place for controlled panic, bad decisions, and learning the hard way.

As more entries are added, they’ll all live there. One page. One thread. No chaos in the navigation, at least.

If you’ve been following the Outlast content so far, that’s now the best place to keep track of it.

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The Outlast Trials – Trial Log #1: Kill the Snitch

This is the video companion to my first real Trial in The Outlast Trials.
A full, uncut solo run of Kill the Snitch, set in the police station.

No highlights.
No edits.
Just forty-four minutes of slow movement, bad assumptions, and learning the hard way.

Viewer discretion advised. The Outlast Trials is intended for mature audiences and contains graphic violence, disturbing imagery, and psychological horror. This content may not be suitable for all viewers.

All Trials in this series are played solo.

The Trial

  • Trial: Kill the Snitch
  • Location: Police Station
  • Mode: Solo
  • Difficulty: Lowest available
  • Runtime: 44 minutes (full run)

Even on the lowest difficulty, the tension never really lets up.
Standing still feels dangerous, objectives act like bait, and the moment you assume you’re safe, the game corrects you.

The Video

This is a slow first run, and that’s intentional.
I wanted to understand the rules of the Trial before pushing difficulty or modifiers.

First Takeaways

  • Clearing an area doesn’t mean it stays clear
  • Objectives attract attention
  • Being stationary is often the most dangerous choice

When things went wrong, it was usually because I misjudged sound, timing, or commitment — not because the game pulled a trick.
That consistency is what made the Trial so unsettling.

Where This Fits

This video is part of Survivor’s Dread — survival horror focused on tension, pressure, and endurance rather than mastery.

I don’t know how many more Trials will follow.
If there’s another, it’ll be logged the same way.
If not, this stands as a record of the experience.

Surviving, not suffering — even when the chaos is real.

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The Outlast Trials – A New Kind of Survival

I wasn’t planning on adding The Outlast Trials to the blog.
But sometimes a game doesn’t ask — it just gets under your skin and stays there.

After finishing the tutorial and stepping into my first real Trial, it became clear this was something different.
Not loud.
Not fast.
Just deeply uncomfortable in a way that lingers.

One Trial. No Safety Net.

I recorded my first full Trial — Kill the Snitch, set in the police station.
Solo.
Lowest difficulty.
No cuts.

It still took 44 minutes.
And it was still unsettling.

Standing still felt dangerous.
Objectives felt like bait.
And the moment I assumed I was safe, the game corrected me.

Why This Fits Here

This blog has always been about surviving pressure rather than mastering systems.
The Outlast Trials fits that idea perfectly.

  • No PvP meta
  • No optimisation race
  • No pretending you’re in control

Just learning, adapting, and getting through it.

What This Is (And Isn’t)

This isn’t a full commitment to a new series.
There’s no schedule, no roadmap, and no promise of completion.

Think of it as occasional Trial logs — documenting progression, mistakes, and moments where the game genuinely gets inside your head.

If nothing else, it’s a reminder that survival horror can still feel tense without being exhausting.

Coming Up

The first Trial log will be going live shortly, featuring the full 44-minute run.
Viewer discretion advised.

Sometimes surviving means knowing when to slow down.
The Outlast Trials makes sure you do.

This entry is part of Survivor’s Dread, where survival horror is about tension and endurance rather than mastery.

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Dead by Daylight Isn’t Dead — But It Is Wearing Me Down

Dead by Daylight Isn’t Dead — But It Is Wearing Me Down

This is a harder post to write than I expected.
Not because I’m angry, but because Dead by Daylight is a game I used to genuinely love.
That’s what makes this year stand out — not one disaster, but how many small issues stacked up until enthusiasm quietly drained away.

On paper, Behaviour had a strong year.
In practice, it felt messy, defensive, and increasingly disconnected from the people actually playing the game.

Big Swings, Weak Follow-Through

There were real wins:

  • Major crossover moments
  • Long-requested licenses
  • Continued visibility and solid player numbers

But almost every win came with friction.
Momentum rarely turned into confidence.

The PTBs That Didn’t Listen

Twice this year, Behaviour tried to address slugging and tunnelling through PTBs.

The community response was immediate and consistent:

  • This won’t fix the problem
  • This adds frustration
  • This targets symptoms, not causes

Disagreement is normal.
Unified feedback being ignored is not.

When PTBs stop feeling like tests and start feeling like rehearsals for decisions already made, trust erodes fast.

The Livestream That Became a Case Study

The Walking Dead livestream should have been simple:

  • High-profile guest
  • One of the biggest DBD creators
  • A crossover meant to rebuild hype

Instead, it unravelled live.

Technical issues happen.
What mattered was watching the creator actively offer practical solutions — and being shut down by the developers on air.

That moment did more damage than the outage itself.
Flexibility gave way to control, and the optics flipped instantly.

Losing Michael Myers Changes Everything

This is no longer hypothetical.

Michael Myers — Dead by Daylight’s first licensed killer — is confirmed to be leaving the store.

Yes, if you own the chapter, you keep it.
The character will not disappear from existing accounts.

That does not soften the impact.

  • Myers isn’t just another license
  • He’s part of the game’s foundation
  • He proved licensed horror could work long-term in DBD

After Hellraiser, this confirms a pattern rather than an exception.
The unspoken promise that some things were permanent is gone.

“You Keep What You Bought” Isn’t Reassuring Anymore

Nothing is being taken away from existing players.
But the consequences are real:

  • New players lose access to a core horror icon
  • Foundational killers become legacy content
  • The game’s identity fragments over time

Live service games rely on trust that long-term investment matters.
That trust took a direct hit this year.

Licenses Won’t Fix Systems

Jason Voorhees would help.

  • Huge recognition
  • Immediate hype
  • A short-term surge in attention

But licenses don’t solve:

  • Tunnelling incentives
  • Slugging as pressure
  • Solo queue frustration
  • Meta fatigue

Without structural change, a new killer is a sugar rush — not a recovery.

This Isn’t Death. It’s Erosion.

Dead by Daylight isn’t dying.

What’s happening is quieter:

  • Players log in less
  • Defend the game less
  • Recommend it less
  • Shrug when things go wrong

That’s more dangerous than a loud collapse.

Why I’m Stepping Back — And Why That Makes Me Sad

This isn’t a goodbye post.

It’s a pause — and one I didn’t expect to need.

I wasn’t expecting to write a Dead by Daylight post for this blog at all.
At one point, I’d even planned a full page dedicated solely to DBD maps — layouts, loops, dead zones, the works.

That idea felt exciting then.
Now, it feels like a ship that sailed while I was still deciding whether to board.

Not because the maps stopped being interesting, but because my confidence in the game staying stable long-term quietly faded.
Without that confidence, it’s hard to justify investing that kind of time and care.

Maybe that changes one day.
I’d like it to.
But right now, this post exists not because I planned it — but because I needed to be honest about where things stand.

If Behaviour wants to steady the ship:

  • Announce less
  • Ship more
  • Fix incentives, not behaviour
  • Close the loop on feedback

Do that, and goodwill returns.

Without it, the game won’t collapse.
It’ll coast — carried by licenses and habit — while the people who cared most slowly disengage.

And that’s the part that genuinely makes me sad to write.

Clarification Note

  • Licensed content removed from sale is not removed from existing accounts
  • This post focuses on access, stability, and trust
  • Michael Myers’ removal is confirmed; broader concerns are based on precedent
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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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🩸 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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🩸Derailed & Doomed: A Choo Choo Charles Survival Diary Final Log: End of the Line

🩸 Derailed & Doomed — Final Log: End of the Line

“One bridge, three eggs, and one very angry locomotive. Let’s finish this.”

Difficulty: Standard

Permadeath Rule: Three Strikes — now down to two.

Preparation and Farewell

I take what’s probably going to be my last look at the map. Theodore’s quest marker catches my eye, but in the distance I hear Charles’ unmistakable whistle. He’s ready—and so am I.

I set my sights on the temple. The train, my steel companion through every panic-fueled moment on this island, begins to roll. It’s carried me this far—it deserves one last fight. Before I reach my destination, I decide to make things more interesting: that extra strike I earned earlier? Gone. I’m back down to two strikes for the final confrontation. If this is the end, it’ll be fair.

The Final Egg

As I arrive at the temple, I spot a lone cultist and do my best to avoid them. I almost succeed… until a bullet catches me in the back right as I start the ritual. The final egg slides into the altar, and Warren Charles III himself appears, demanding I stop. I don’t. The altar lights flare, the air shakes—and then the nightmare begins.

Charles re-emerges, but he’s no longer the creature that’s stalked me for days. He’s transformed—hulking, burning, furious. Hell Charles. Warren doesn’t even get a full sentence out before he’s swatted into oblivion. I sprint for my train. It’s time to end this.

First Attempt: Hell on Rails

I open with the Bug Spray—fire has always been my friend—but it’s not doing enough damage. I swap between BOB and The Boomer, trying to keep the pressure on. It’s not enough. Hell Charles hits harder than anything I’ve faced, tearing through my armor and chewing through every scrap I have. I use my last piece of scrap for repairs, but it’s hopeless. He catches me, sending me down to my final strike. One life left. One last chance.

Second Attempt: Fire and Iron

This is it—the final fight between me and Hell Charles. One of us is walking away from this bridge, and it’s not going to be him.

Absolutely — here’s your final full post, with the video placeholder inserted, the “many more eggs” twist added for your ending, and everything formatted perfectly for your WordPress setup and Derailed & Doomed series style.

—

🩸 Derailed & Doomed — Final Log: End of the Line

“One bridge, three eggs, and one very angry locomotive. Let’s finish this.”

Difficulty: Standard

Permadeath Rule: Three Strikes — now down to two.

Preparation and Farewell

I take what’s probably going to be my last look at the map. Theodore’s quest marker catches my eye, but in the distance I hear Charles’ unmistakable whistle. He’s ready—and so am I.

I set my sights on the temple. The train, my steel companion through every panic-fueled moment on this island, begins to roll. It’s carried me this far—it deserves one last fight. Before I reach my destination, I decide to make things more interesting: that extra strike I earned earlier? Gone. I’m back down to two strikes for the final confrontation. If this is the end, it’ll be fair.

The Final Egg

As I arrive at the temple, I spot a lone cultist and do my best to avoid them. I almost succeed… until a bullet catches me in the back right as I start the ritual. The final egg slides into the altar, and Warren Charles III himself appears, demanding I stop. I don’t. The altar lights flare, the air shakes—and then the nightmare begins.

Charles re-emerges, but he’s no longer the creature that’s stalked me for days. He’s transformed—hulking, burning, furious. Hell Charles. Warren doesn’t even get a full sentence out before he’s swatted into oblivion. I sprint for my train. It’s time to end this.

First Attempt: Hell on Rails

I open with the Bug Spray—fire has always been my friend—but it’s not doing enough damage. I swap between BOB and The Boomer, trying to keep the pressure on. It’s not enough. Hell Charles hits harder than anything I’ve faced, tearing through my armor and chewing through every scrap I have. I use my last piece of scrap for repairs, but it’s hopeless. He catches me, sending me down to my final strike. One life left. One last chance.

Second Attempt: Fire and Iron

This is it—the final fight between me and Hell Charles. One of us is walking away from this bridge, and it’s not going to be him.

This time, I play smarter. I remember how well the Bug Spray kept him at bay during egg hunts, so I double down on it. Flames roar, metal screeches, and I manage to hold him off long enough to chip away at his health. He tries teleporting around the tracks, but I’m ready for his tricks now.

His health drops bit by bit. I’m out of scrap again, the train’s on its last legs, but Hell Charles is weaker than ever. I watch his health bar disappear—only for him to keep coming. Then, the bridge looms ahead.

The charges detonate. The rails give way. Hell Charles plummets into the abyss. I don’t know how much health I had left, and honestly, I don’t care. The island is quiet for the first time in days. I exhale as the credits roll.

After the Fire

Victory tastes like engine smoke and relief. The nightmare’s over—or so I thought. Because as the screen fades, the camera pans to another cave… and far more than just three eggs. The ground trembles. Something deep beneath the island is stirring. I might’ve won the battle, but this world’s story is far from over.

Continue the Journey

Log 6 | Final Log: You Are Here

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