Category: Survival Playthroughs

The Cold Chronicles Day 2: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

The Cold Chronicles – Day 2: Wolves, Mines, and Questionable Life Choices

Difficulty: Voyageur
Optional Features: Cougar enabled (because I enjoy living dangerously)

Day 1 Recap

Read Day 1 here if you missed it — the short version? Dropped into Desolation Point with nothing but the clothes on my back, made it to the lighthouse without being eaten, looted like a raccoon in a campsite, and committed my first rabbit-related crimes. Two bunnies down, a stomach full of cooked meat, and a warm(ish) bed to end the day.

Match Quest: The Early Hours

Day 2 began with a clear goal and absolutely no plan: find matches. They’re the sacred spark sticks of survival, and I was running low. The Processing Plant seemed like a solid bet — a big building, lots of corners, and surely a drawer or two with something useful.

Then I opened the lighthouse door and got my first real look at the day’s weather: howling wind and sideways snow. The kind of blizzard that whispers, “You could stay inside.” I, naturally, ignored it.

Loot Tour: Trailers and Processing Plant

First stop: the nearby trailers. They’re warm-up loot spots in more ways than one. I found food and extra clothes — which is always good — but still no matches. My hands were as matchless as my confidence was misplaced.

On to the main event: the Processing Plant. I approached with the cautious optimism of someone opening a mystery box. Inside: more food, more clothes, but no fire-starting salvation. If the apocalypse had a fashion week, I’d be ready to walk the runway, but actual fire? Not today.

Ship of Dreams (and Disappointments)

Not ready to give up, I headed for the Riken — the frozen ship that looks like it’s been halfway through sinking for years. It didn’t have my matches, but it did cough up an insulated flask. Now I could drink warm coffee in style — assuming I ever managed to heat any.

Does This Come In Other Colours?

The Torch Throw Heard ’Round the Lighthouse

Back at the lighthouse, I made a fire with my dwindling supply of matches (eleven left), boiled water, brewed coffee, and sat sipping it like the Arctic’s most underpaid barista. But I needed a bigger plan — Coastal Highway beckoned.

I grabbed my curing rabbit hide and gut (never leave home without them!) and set out. That’s when I realised I had absolutely no idea which direction to go. To make things worse, my 24-hour wolf-free grace period had expired.

One appeared out of the snow. I panicked. I threw my torch at it. By some miracle, it worked — the wolf bolted, and I stood there triumphant, heart pounding like a drum solo.

Match Jackpot

I ducked into a nearby car to regroup, mostly to breathe. Inside the glovebox, the game rewarded me for my bravery (or blind luck): a full box of matches. It felt like winning the lottery — if the lottery was cold, damp, and came with wolves.

I returned to the lighthouse with a new plan, new matches, and a healthy respect for panic-based problem-solving. Tomorrow? I find that highway. Or at least walk in a straight line until it feels like I do.

Day 2 Pro Tips (Switch Edition)

  • Matches are life — always keep a reserve
  • Trailers are great early loot stops
  • Torch-throwing is surprisingly effective on wolves
  • Don’t assume you know where you’re going — check the map
Continue the journey:
Previous: Day 1  | 
Next: Day 3

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The Cold Chronicles Day 1: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

The Cold Chronicles – Day 1: Welcome to the Chill (Desolation Point)

Difficulty: Voyageur

Optional Features: Cougar enabled (because I enjoy living dangerously)

“I wake up alone, confused, and somehow end up in a whale carcass. Just another day in The Long Dark.”

Spawning into The Long Dark feels like Mother Nature herself just shoved me outside with a cheerful, “Good luck!” There’s no gentle tutorial, no welcome pack, no coat — just cold wind, a couple of sticks, and the creeping realisation that frostbite is now my most pressing life goal to avoid.

This particular run began near the lighthouse in Desolation Point — probably the closest thing this game has to beachfront property, if your idea of a beach holiday involves gale-force winds and the occasional wolf. It was midday, overcast, and just cold enough to make me doubt every decision I’d made leading up to this moment.

Somewhere in the distance, the ocean groaned against the ice, and a few crows circled lazily overhead. I told myself they were here for the whale carcass. I told myself that twice, just to make sure I believed it.

First Rule: Pick Up Everything

See Desolation Point map here – because wandering aimlessly is only fun once.

On Switch, that’s A to interact — and you’ll be pressing it constantly. Sticks? Yes. Reclaimed wood? Yes. Half-frozen soda can? Absolutely mine. My inventory began filling up within minutes, but better to carry too much than freeze wishing I’d grabbed it.

I moved towards the lighthouse in a series of small scavenging detours — each one slightly off-course, like a squirrel preparing for winter if squirrels were freezing, underdressed, and hopelessly lost. The wind bit through my hoodie, and my character’s condition meter reminded me that warmth here is fleeting and entirely negotiable.

Looting the Lighthouse

Inside, the loot gods were moderately kind:

  • Tinned food (salvation in aluminium form)
  • Spare clothing (anything warmer than a hoodie is a win)
  • A can opener (early-game gold — cold beans are tragic enough without mangling the can first)

After layering up (+ button → Inventory → Clothing tab), I felt just warm enough to consider venturing further. My eyes fell on the church across the frozen inlet. Between me and it: snow, rocks, and the vague promise of more loot. Naturally, I went for it.

Along the way, I pocketed every rock I saw — because in this game, you can weaponise geology, and that seemed like an excellent life skill to have.

Rabbit Wrangling 101

It wasn’t long before I spotted movement: rabbits. My new rocks had a purpose.

On Switch:

  • Hold ZR to aim a rock
  • Lead slightly ahead of a running rabbit
  • Release ZR to throw

Stunned isn’t dead — you need to act fast (Hold A) or it will recover and make a mockery of your hunting skills. My first throw missed by what I can only call “a country mile,” but the second was a clean hit. Two rabbits down in total, though not before missing enough shots to start wondering if my character secretly had a lazy eye.

The church, however, was a let-down: no tools, no matches, no hidden stash of snacks. Just me, the wind, and two confused-looking rabbits now stored in my pack. Back to the lighthouse it was.

Nightfall in the Lighthouse

Once back inside, I used the Y radial menu to start a fire near the stove. Reclaimed wood, accelerant, crossed fingers — success. Rabbit meat went on the fire (A to place), water boiled in a recycled can, and torches pulled from the flames became my portable light source for later.

The wind outside howled like it was auditioning for a horror soundtrack, but inside, I was warm, hydrated, and in possession of two fine torches. I ate rabbit for dinner while staring out the lighthouse window at the darkened coastline, wondering how many nights I’d last this time.

I didn’t find matches or a weapon, but I hadn’t frozen, starved, or been eaten — which in The Long Dark is as close to a textbook victory as you can get.

Day 1 Pro Tips (Switch Edition)

  • A: Pick up everything
  • ZR: Aim rocks/weapons
  • Y: Radial menu
  • +: Inventory, clothing, crafting
  • Don’t leave stunned rabbits lying — they recover fast
  • Fire is life — keep matches handy
  • Frozen soda is still drinkable — don’t be picky

Continue the journey:
Day 1 (You Are Here)  | 
Day 2

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Day 1 Diary – Green Hell – Poisoned by Nature, Humbled by Bananas

Day 1 of my Green Hell playthrough on Nintendo Switch. I punch trees, fail at harvesting, make a rock axe, eat a banana, and die of mystery poison. Jungle survival rating: tragic but educational.

Welcome to the Jungle (And Immediate Regret)

I started my first Green Hell run on “Welcome to the Jungle” difficulty—just enough challenge to remind you this game isn’t here to offer a tutorial, just consequences.

My first instinct? Punch a tree. That didn’t work. Punch a bush? Still nothing. Turns out Green Hell does not share crafting logic with Minecraft. Nature ignored me. Not a single leaf fell. A humbling start.

Then I found some mushrooms. I picked them but didn’t eat them. I may be new, but I’ve played enough survival games to know that “mysterious glowing fungi” are rarely friendly.

—

Shelter and a Crash Course in Crafting

Eventually I stumbled into a cave with a bed and some supplies. Clearly someone had been here before me, which made me feel slightly safer and slightly more worried about what happened to them. No blood, no bones. I called it home.

With a brief window of calm, I opened my notebook and realized I could craft tools—if I had rope. Problem: I had no rope.

Before I could even get to that, I spent a solid chunk of time trying to gather sticks. I tried punching trees again. Still nothing. It wasn’t until I started actually looking at the ground that I realized: sticks just lie around. You don’t harvest them. You notice them. Like a fool, I’d been missing the forest and the trees.

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Rope: My Greatest Enemy

Most of the rest of the day was spent looking for vines. According to my notebook, I could harvest them from trees, but not just any trees. Only certain ones. And only if I looked at the exact right spot, with just the right angle. Jungle logic.

Finding those vines ate up more time than anything else. But eventually, victory. I made rope. Combined it with a stick and a stone, and I finally had a crude axe. I immediately used it to chop down a bamboo tree, because it was there. Did I need bamboo? Not even slightly. But I’d earned the right to murder a plant.

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Small Wins & Sudden Defeat

A few minutes later, I found bananas. Actual food. Safe to eat. I had one. No hallucinations. No stomach cramps. I felt like a genius.

Then I saw a massive leaf and figured it looked important. I picked it up. That’s when I got poisoned.

I didn’t see what did it. No snake. No dart frog. Just instant toxins. Jungle: 1. Me: 0.

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Diagnosis: Terminal Curiosity

I sprinted back to the cave and tore through my notebook looking for cures. Everything required materials I didn’t have. Plants I hadn’t seen. Tools I couldn’t craft yet.

I accepted my fate, laid down in the cave, and reflected on my accomplishments. I’d made an axe. Found a banana. Died invisible-death-style. And crucially, I now knew where rope—and sticks—actually came from.

A solid first day, all things considered.

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If you enjoyed this one, why not check out my other Day One Diaries

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Day 1 Diary – ARK: Scorched Earth – Heat, Hubris & A Doedicurus

Spawn Location: Midlands 4
Difficulty Setting: Easy (allegedly)
Death Count: 1
Notable Quotes: “That doedicurus looks manageable.”


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Wake Up, Punch a Bush

I came to in the middle of the desert wearing absolutely nothing except a sense of misplaced confidence. Sun blazing, heat rising, and the HUD silently judging me. First instinct? Punch a bush. Gathered some fiber, thatch, and self-respect.

Leveled up once from raw enthusiasm alone. Put that point into Health, because even I could tell I was about five bad decisions away from dying.


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The Accidental Shirt Empire

Decided to craft some clothes before the sun roasted me alive. Opened the crafting menu, tried to make one shirt—accidentally made five.

Now accepting names for my pop-up desert boutique. Eventually got it together and added some pants. No shoes though. Those required hide. Hide required confrontation.


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Tooling Up & Feeling Bold

Made a pickaxe and found a water vein. Hydration status: temporarily acceptable.

Crafted a hatchet. Then a spear. Then a sun hat, because I like my survivalism with a side of flair. I had gear, water, and the kind of reckless optimism that leads straight to the respawn screen.

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The Enemy of My Confidence

I needed hide. So I looked around:

Ankylosaurus: Too many spikes. Hard pass.

NOPE!

Doedicurus: Round, slow-looking, vaguely adorable. I could take it.


I could not.

The second it noticed me, it went full Beyblade and chased me halfway across the dunes. I survived, barely, and took that as a sign to regroup. Obviously, I didn’t listen.


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The Fatal Spear Throw

Bandaged my pride, gathered more supplies, and returned to the scene of my failure with renewed stupidity.

Lined up the doedicurus in my sights. Threw the spear.

Missed completely.

It charged. I died.


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Summary of Bad Decisions

Crafted 5 shirts by accident: Unplanned fashion mogul
Picked a fight with a doedicurus: Lost. Twice.
Made tools and a spear: Forgot to aim before throwing
Died as tradition dictates

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Final Thoughts

ARK on Easy Mode is still full of bad decisions if you’re making them fast enough.

Doedicurus: not food, not friendly, not forgettable.

Respawning is a learning experience. Eventually.


Next time, I’ll pick a different animal to harass. Probably regret that too.


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Read my other Day One Diaries here

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Day 1 Diary – Ark: Survival Evolved – Dodos, Dilophosaurs & Disasters

It began, as all great survival stories do, with a half-naked stranger waking up on a beach and immediately punching a tree. This is how we build civilizations in ARK: Survival Evolved. Or at least, how we bruise our knuckles trying.

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Welcome To The Island

I picked:

Single Player

Easy Mode

The Island

Easy spawn zone

Randomized survivor (so I could blame poor decisions on someone else)


Did I know what I was doing? No. But I was armed with determination and the ability to mash buttons on a Nintendo Switch. That’s basically survival.


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Early Progress: Punch > Pickaxe > Panic

I picked berries, harvested rocks, and punched trees until my fists cried. I crafted tools and learned a vital truth:

> If you don’t know how to unequip something, you’re just a caveman with commitment issues.



Eventually, I figured out how to stash my pickaxe, crafted a thatch shack, and proudly stared at my beachfront real estate. It was ugly. But it was mine.


—

Enter The Dodo

I spotted my first dodo and made a moral decision: tame it, not kill it. A few club swings and some berries later, Doddie was born.

Then came a second tame. I was unstoppable. Until I wasn’t.


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Dilophosaur: Agent of Chaos

Like a raptor’s sloppy cousin, the Dilo charged in, spat venom, and chaos erupted.

I panicked. Swung wildly. Hit everything.

> “Doddie was killed by Survivor Incognito.”



Yes. I clubbed my own tame to death. Twice. The Dilo died in the end, but at what cost? (Spoiler: Hide. Enough for shoes.)


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The Taming Spiral

I swore vengeance. Then I swore allegiance. I tamed a Dilophosaur. If you can’t beat ’em, feed ’em narcoberries until they like you.

I tamed another Dodo. Named it Dodder. It died too.

By nightfall, I had a new tribe of misfit companions: a Dilophosaur named Dilo, another Dodo named Dodder to replace original Dodder, something else called Lyon, a torch, and a pile of regrets.

—

Lost & Afraid

Then it got dark.

Really dark.

And I realized I’d forgotten one critical step: marking my shelter. Turns out the map doesn’t help much when every jungle tree looks the same.

I wandered in circles, torch in hand, until I miraculously stumbled on my sad little shack. Home. Sweet. Hut.

I built a bed, collapsed, and promised myself I’d do better tomorrow.


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Lessons Learned

Easy Mode isn’t shameful. It’s life-saving.

Dodos are loyal, fragile, and easily betrayed by friendly fire.

Dilophosaurs are chaotic evil with spit mechanics.

Beds are not optional.

Torch = godsend. Build one early.



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Read More Day One Diaries Here

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Day 1 Diary – The Long Dark – Frozen Fails: The Day The Ice Got Me

I launched The Long Dark on Voyageur difficulty with the confidence of someone who had watched exactly one survival documentary and thought, “Yeah, I’ve got this.” I didn’t. Not even a little.

Editor’s note: This entry recounts my first-ever time playing The Long Dark, years before I established the permadeath rules for current runs. Everything that happened was real, just with less structure (and more falling into lakes).

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Step One: Make It Harder Than It Needs to Be

The game practically begged me to start in Mystery Lake or Mountain Town. But I wanted an adventure. So, I hit “Random.” I figured, why not spice things up? Worst-case scenario, I get eaten by a wolf. That would’ve been merciful.

Instead, I was dropped into Bleak Inlet—also known as “You Shouldn’t Be Here Yet Bay.” Picture a desolate, wind-scoured wasteland where the trees are tired, the wolves are angry, and the weather is doing its best impression of a meat freezer. I had no map, no shelter, and no clue where I was. Perfect.

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Step Two: Get Lost Immediately

I wandered for a while, mostly in circles. My grand strategy was “head in a direction and hope it works out.” Spoiler: it didn’t. Snow was blowing sideways. Visibility dropped to “guess and pray.” My temperature gauge wasn’t just falling—it was plummeting like a rock.

Eventually, I stumbled onto a frozen river. Did I consider the structural integrity of that ice? No. Did I remember the game has breakable ice mechanics? Also no. I just thought, “Shortcut!”

Cue sound of cracking.

—

Step Three: Fall In. Twice.

I broke through the ice and dropped into freezing water. If you’ve never experienced The Long Dark’s cold mechanics, here’s a summary: get wet, get cold, get dead. I scrambled out, shivering and soaked, thinking I could recover. A rookie mistake. I had no firestarter, no dry clothes, and no shelter.

Then—because I’m nothing if not consistent—I fell in again. Same ice. Same mistake. Same freezing regret.

At this point, hypothermia set in. I couldn’t sprint. My vision blurred. My character audibly groaned in despair, and honestly, same.

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Step Four: Denial and Ruined Shacks

Still clinging to the illusion of survival, I limped along until I found what could generously be called a shack. More accurately, it was a few planks of wood pretending to be a building. No fire barrel. No door. Just wind-chill and a growing sense of dread.

I checked my inventory:

One flare

Some cattail stalks

Clothes so wet they might as well have been lake water

No matches

This was not a survival situation. This was an obituary in progress.

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Bonus Step: Existential Reflection

As I sat there, frostbitten and fully aware I was about to die, I had time to think about my life choices. Mainly:

Why didn’t I bring a torch?

Why didn’t I start in Mystery Lake?

Why does the game hate me?

But mostly: Why did I fall in the same ice twice?

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My First Death, But Not My Last

Eventually, the screen faded to black. Cause of death: hypothermia. Time survived: not long enough to justify the bravado I started with. It wasn’t a glorious end. It wasn’t even a dramatic one. It was just wet, cold failure.

But The Long Dark teaches by punishing. And I learned. Next time, I’d check the map. Next time, I’d respect the ice. And next time, I’d maybe, just maybe, not hit Random.

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Switch Controls (For People Who Prefer Not to Drown)

Move: Left Stick (try not to walk into water)

Run: Hold Right Trigger (don’t sprint blindly across ice)

Inventory: ‘X’ Button (check it before you’re soaking wet)

Interact: ‘A’ Button (essential for picking up supplies you actually need)

Crouch: ‘B’ Button (useful for sneaking… or just giving up quietly)

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Takeaways

Mistake Consequence What to Do Instead

Random spawn in Bleak Inlet Spawned in the worst possible region Choose Mystery Lake or Mountain Town
Walked on thin ice Fell in. Twice. Stick to snow-covered paths
No firestarter Couldn’t dry off, froze to death Always carry matches or a torch
No plan or direction Got lost in a blizzard Learn the map or follow landmarks

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Final Thoughts

The Long Dark doesn’t coddle. It teaches with pain. My first run was a disaster—but a valuable one. If nothing else, I now know that ice is not to be trusted, Bleak Inlet is not your friend, and maybe—just maybe—I should listen when a game says, “Start here.”

And yes, I will absolutely be trying again.

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Read More Day One Diaries Here

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I Was Just Trying to Get Home (And Then This Happened)

What started as a quiet trip back to Grey Mother’s turned into a wolf ambush. Here’s how my Customloper run nearly ended on Day 3.

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Just Me, a Skillet, and Regret

I’d just finished looting Paradise Meadows Farm. I had a fresh rabbit stew in my belly, a skillet in my backpack, and dreams of a cozy night back at Grey Mother’s. You know. Normal stuff.

Then this happened.

—

That’s right. No warning. No howls. Just me, walking around a corner like I own the place, and a wolf showing up like he owns the place. Spoiler: he nearly did.

I did what any reasonable person would do—I ran back inside, popped painkillers like trail mix, and bandaged my wrist while re-evaluating all my life choices.

Moral of the story: Never trust Milton to be quiet, and always expect the game to humble you the second you start feeling safe.

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For more tales like this, please check out: Survivor’s Shorts

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Survivor’s Shorts Are Live – Because Chaos Deserves Its Own Page

Survivor’s Shorts is now live! A new page on the blog featuring my funniest, strangest, and most disastrous survival moments—bite-sized stories, full-sized regret.

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Sometimes a moment in a survival game doesn’t need a full playthrough post—it just needs a spotlight, a raised eyebrow, and maybe a bandage.

That’s where Survivor’s Shorts comes in.

It’s a new page on the blog dedicated to the little disasters. The sudden bear charges. The pancake heartbreaks. The moose lurking behind trees. All real stories from my permadeath runs, trimmed down and served with a side of sarcasm.

If you’ve ever screamed when you meant to crouch or felt betrayed by a breakfast item, you’ll feel right at home.

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What You’ll Find There

The Pancake Betrayal – Found the recipe. Found the syrup. Got betrayed by Cooking Level 4.

There is more coming soon. But here is what to expect for ones that are being drafted:

The Wolf That Interrupted My Mapping Session – Cartography meets carnivore.

The Moose Behind the Tree – A 5% spawn rate that showed up at 100% volume.

The Doedicurus That Broke My Spirit – One spear. No hits. Lots of tail.

The One-Shot Wonder – A bear, a rifle, and a moment of absolute panic… that somehow worked.


And plenty more moments coming soon.

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Check it Out Here:

Survivor’s Shorts

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Got a favourite chaotic moment?

Let me know in the comments or tag me on social—I’m always looking for new disasters to celebrate.
And if you enjoy these shorts, consider sharing the page with a fellow survivor.
Because nothing says “friendship” like a moose silently judging you from behind a tree.

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The Pancake Betrayal: A Tale of Syrup, Hope, and Crushing Disappointment in The Long Dark

On Day 1, I found Lily’s pancake recipe. On Day 2, maple syrup. I dared to dream. But The Long Dark had other plans. Here’s the tragic tale of the pancakes that never were.

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How It All Began

It started like all great adventures do: with breakfast.

Day 1 of my Customloper run. I was cold, hungry, and rummaging through Milton like a raccoon with a pension. That’s when I found it. A recipe card tucked neatly into a drawer: Lily’s Pancakes.

Hope bloomed. Pancakes. In the apocalypse.

—

Day 2: Syrup From The Heavens

Then it happened. The gods of calories smiled upon me.

I found maple syrup. Actual syrup. In a game where peanut butter is a rare treasure and soda is currency, this was the nectar of the ancients.

I had the recipe. I had the syrup. All I needed was… the ability to cook it?

—

The Dream Dies

Enter Cooking Skill 4.

And acorn grounds.

Because apparently, pancakes in The Long Dark are a late-game luxury, not a wholesome wilderness breakfast. You need to:

Boil acorns

Grind them

Have mastered the culinary arts

Possibly offer a sacrifice to the RNG gods


I barely have shoes. But yes, let’s make artisanal pancake flour from forest nuts.

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The Aftertaste of Betrayal

So now the recipe sits in my inventory, mocking me. The syrup? Hoarded like liquid gold. And I? I chew on stale crackers in the corner, dreaming of what could’ve been.

One day, I will reach Cooking Skill 4.
One day, I will gather acorns, grind them, and make pancake batter.

But today? Today I make tea. And try not to cry.

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Final Thoughts

This game has broken me before, but never like this. Frostbite? Bear maulings? Fine. But withholding pancakes? That’s a new low.

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For more info on what Customloper is, please check out: The Long Dark Customloper Settings: Easier Interloper Survival Mode

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Want to read more tales like this? Please check out: Survivor’s Shorts

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Here’s What’s Coming Next Week on Survivor Incognito

Another week, another round of questionable life choices in wildly inhospitable environments. Here’s what’s landing on the blog over the next few days:

Monday – Day One Diary: No Man’s Sky
Stranded on a frozen planet with nothing but a busted scanner and a dream. Thermal protection is falling faster than my confidence, and there are plants that bite back. Perfect start, really.

Wednesday – Day One Diary: Customloper – The Long Dark
My gentler Interloper settings meet the frozen coast of the Coastal Highway. Looting begins, weather disagrees, and the chaos is only just getting started. First steps on a new permadeath run which will be starting June 8th.

Thursday – Skyrim Survival Day 5
My Argonian stealth archer continues his journey across the frosty north—this time, with fewer torches, more panic, and an increasing failing at slealth. Good times.

Friday – The Long Dark – Day 5 (Voyageur Run)
Blizzards, bears, and birch bark. What could go wrong? Find out as the saga of survival (and accidental near-death experiences) rolls on.


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As always, all runs are permadeath, all chaos is real, and all posts go live at 1PM GMT.

Got a favourite so far? Curious about what’s next? Feel free to leave a comment—or just quietly judge my survival decisions from afar.


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