It’s been a while since Submerged last saw an entry.
The last log ended with the Sunbeam’s destruction — the point where Subnautica makes it very clear that rescue isn’t coming, and whatever happens next is down to you.
After that moment, things stalled. I retreated back to the lifepod, kept myself alive, and didn’t really move forward.
Around that time, something happened outside of the game, and I wasn’t in the right headspace to keep recording or writing. There wasn’t a plan anymore, and forcing one wouldn’t have helped.
That pause wasn’t a failure. It was part of the experience.
Now, with some distance from that moment, Submerged is resuming.
The focus going forward isn’t speed or progression. It’s exploration, decision-making, and figuring out how to survive in a world that’s just removed the idea of being saved.
The next entries will pick up naturally from where things left off — widening the search area, testing limits, and seeing what lies beyond the familiar water around the lifepod.
Unprepared Log 13: Detours, Moose, and Cabin Fever Math
Difficulty: Interloper Region: Mystery Lake → Mountain Town Platform: Steam Deck Survivor: Will
I woke up with a plan. The game woke up with a fog bank and spite.
First thought: check the snare I set yesterday, because free rabbit is the closest thing Interloper has to joy.
The problem is I can’t see five feet in front of me.
It’s full-on “walk forward and become a landmark” visibility.
So I do what any brave survivor would do: I go back inside and pretend this is part of my strategy.
If the world is going to hide itself, I’m going to sit down and research until it feels embarrassed.
Arrow Plans Meet Scrap Reality
With the weather refusing to cooperate, I do a quick sanity check on what I need for arrows.
And it’s the usual Interloper punchline: I need an improvised knife.
Which means scrap metal.
I have two.
Two scrap metal is not a plan, it’s a suggestion.
That changes everything.
I decide I’m heading to Milton, grabbing whatever scrap I can, and then pushing on to Forlorn Muskeg.
It’s not what I wanted to do, but Interloper doesn’t do “wanted.”
Through the Cave, With the Usual Drama
I take the cave route toward Mountain Town.
It goes fine, which is suspicious on its own.
When I reach the transition and the rope down into Milton, I hit the usual problem:
I can’t take everything.
So I dump gear at the top of the rope with the classic lie I tell myself every time:
“I’ll be back for this.”
I do get one small win.
In a nearby cave I find matches.
It’s not a hammer, but it’s also not death, so I’ll take it.
New Rope, Same Nonsense: The Moose
I climb another rope and, at the top, there’s a moose waiting for me.
Just standing there like it pays rent.
I swear it’s the same moose from Mystery Lake.
I know that’s not how the game works.
I also know the moose doesn’t care what I know.
I give it space and continue into town, because I’m not getting stomped into paste today if I can help it.
The Orca Gas Station Problem
I try to hit the Orca Gas Station, because it’s a solid loot stop and I’m here anyway.
Except I don’t have a prybar.
Because I left it back in Mystery Lake.
Because I didn’t think I was coming here.
Because I’m apparently doing a challenge run called “Forget the One Tool You Need.”
I do a quick look around in the hope I find another one.
No joy.
So I pivot and start looting what I can actually enter.
Milton House Tour: Scrap Notes and Low Excitement
I go house to house, grabbing what I can.
Nothing is wildly exciting, but I make a mental note of where the decent scrap is for later.
If I’m going to Forlorn Muskeg, I want to go with more than two sad bits of metal rattling in my pocket.
The trip stays surprisingly calm.
No ambush wolves.
No sudden blizzards halfway through a street crossing.
Just the moose lurking like a tax collector.
Greymother’s: Water, Pots, and a Small Clothing Win
I reach Greymother’s house without any hassle and immediately get to work on the basics:
boil water, organise gear, and pretend I’m in control.
Loot-wise, I find a couple of cooking pots.
That’s actually useful.
More water, faster cooking, less time spent watching a fire like it’s a live sports event.
I also find combat pants.
Which means I now have something in each slot.
Well… except the slot where the moose satchel would go.
But we’re not talking about that yet.
Tomorrow’s Plan: Prybar, Hammer, and a Bit of Hope
Tomorrow I want a prybar.
Ideally I also find a hammer, because my “go to a forge” plan is currently being held together with optimism and poor timing.
Mountain Town should have enough scrap to set me up properly.
The only question is whether the game lets me collect it without turning the streets into a predator convention.
And Then Interloper Remembers Cabin Fever Exists
I head to bed in Greymother’s feeling like I’ve at least moved the run forward.
Which is when the game throws the one thing I thought I was avoiding: Cabin Fever risk.
I forgot the grace period is shorter on Interloper.
Of course it is.
Of course the punishment system is also on hard mode.
The time has come. Mining can’t be postponed any longer. Before I even touch the stone below the house, I make a small adjustment to the entrance. It’s not strictly necessary, and I know I probably won’t look at most of it again once the tunnel starts stretching downward, but I like knowing it’s done properly. Order at the top makes the chaos below easier to manage.
I’m particular about a few things underground. Torch spacing matters. Placement matters. Torches on the left mean I’m heading away from base. Torches on the right mean I’m walking back toward safety. It’s a simple rule, but it keeps me oriented when the tunnels start to blur together. Habit might not be glamorous, but it’s reliable.
First Dig, First Level
I stick to a pattern that’s worked for me before: three blocks high, two blocks wide, pushing forward around twenty blocks at a time. If I hit danger first, that decides the distance. It isn’t optimised, and I have no idea whether this is the “correct” way to mine in Minecraft. It’s just the way I’m comfortable doing it, and comfort underground counts for more than efficiency.
The first level isn’t especially generous. There’s some coal, which keeps the torches coming. More copper than I strictly need. A bit of flint. Nothing dramatic, but enough to justify the effort.
The flint is the real marker of progress. Flint means flint and steel is within reach. Flint and steel means the Nether stops being theoretical. I’m not stepping into that without proper gear, though. Iron at the very least. Diamond if I’m patient. So the tunnel continues.
Down Four Blocks (Not Straight Down)
Once the first level feels exhausted, I dig down four blocks to start the next tier. Not straight down. I may be reckless at times, but I’m not careless enough to trust gravity blindly. Every descent is controlled.
All the stone I’ve mined becomes stairs. I usually default to ladders, but ladders punish mistakes instantly. One slip and it’s a long fall with nothing to cushion it. Stairs are slower, but they’re steady. Underground, steady wins.
On the next level, I repeat the same process. Same tunnel dimensions. Same torch rules. Same measured push forward into the dark. Mining isn’t glamorous. It’s methodical. The repetition is part of the safety.
Copper Tools and Unwanted Company
This is where the copper tools finally earn their place. They’re noticeably faster than stone, even if they still feel temporary. Copper doesn’t inspire confidence the way iron does, but it’s an upgrade, and upgrades matter.
I keep checking the outside light between stretches of digging. If I step out of the mine, I want to know what might be waiting. The world above doesn’t pause just because I’m underground.
During one of those checks, I don’t even make it to the entrance before I hear it. The wet, hollow sound of a Drowned somewhere nearby. I don’t investigate. I don’t test my odds. I retreat back into the mine immediately. The stone feels safer than the shoreline.
The Loneliest Iron Ore
Eventually, the mine rewards me with iron. Not a vein. Not a cluster. One single block.
It’s enough to matter, technically. One piece solves flint and steel. It does nothing for armour. Nothing for weapons. It’s progress, but modest progress.
I also uncover lapis lazuli. That’s for later. Useful for enchantments eventually, decorative in the meantime. A reminder that the mine isn’t empty, just selective.
When my final copper pickaxe breaks, I take it as a sign. The mine itself isn’t finished, but this trip is. Pushing further without tools would just be stubbornness dressed up as ambition.
Back Home, Finally Sleeping
I head back to the house and count the run as a success. The gains are modest, but they’re real. Coal for fuel. Flint for the future. One piece of iron that shifts the long-term plan slightly forward.
I’ve been avoiding sleep for days, staying awake to control spawns and movement. That needs to stop. Fatigue in survival games doesn’t show up as a mechanic. It shows up as bad decisions.
I could move a bed into the mine. That would be practical. It would also remove the small ritual of returning home, and I’m not ready to give that up yet.
I didn’t plan to clear Swindler’s Den. Being there made the decision for me.
Since I was already inside Swindler’s Den, leaving unexplored space behind felt inefficient. In Survival Mode, walking away from shelter and loot without a reason usually comes back to punish you later.
The den made its first impression quickly. Not all bandits are thinkers.
Swindler’s Den: First Contact
The first bandit I encountered ran headfirst into an object and failed to recover. No tactics. No awareness. Just momentum and regret.
I took the opening and moved on, but the den immediately highlighted a growing problem in my setup.
I’ve been trying to build the habit of casting Oakflesh before engagements. Armor is a scarce resource for a mage in Survival Mode, and temporary protection is better than none.
The downside became obvious fast.
Oakflesh is not subtle. Every cast echoed through the cave like an announcement. Sneak into a side tunnel. Cast Oakflesh. Instantly alert every bandit within earshot.
Effective defense. Terrible stealth.
Slow Progress, Sudden Panic
I slowed my pace, checking corners and backing out of rooms instead of pushing forward. Ambushes in enclosed spaces end runs quickly.
The plan unraveled when I realized one of the bandits was a spellcaster.
At the same moment, my magicka bar hit zero.
That combination doesn’t invite confidence.
I retreated, burned through health potions, and had a brief flash of panic about Lydia’s positioning. I half-expected to hear her death cry echo through the den.
It didn’t.
Lydia held the line.
Instead of collapsing, she pushed forward, absorbed the pressure, and removed the threat. No heroics. Just competence.
Loot Decisions and Rule Checks
With the immediate danger cleared, I slowed down and searched the den properly.
Spell Tome: Candlelight
Magic Staff: Unspecified, but functional
Hide Helmet: Increased magicka
Candlelight isn’t flashy, but light matters underground when torches burn out and magicka management gets tight.
The staff prompted a rules check. There’s nothing in my setup that forbids staff usage. It uses magicka efficiently and gives me options when spells aren’t viable.
I equipped it.
I also upgraded Lydia’s loadout with heavy armor. She’s clearly earning her keep, and better protection keeps her standing longer.
The hide helmet turned out to be more important than it first appeared.
Cleaning House
The bandit leader went down without incident. The final member followed shortly after.
No dramatic finish. No close calls. Just a cleared den.
With Swindler’s Den secured, I turned toward Rorikstead to deal with unfinished business.
Road Encounters
On the road, I crossed paths with a member of the Imperial Legion.
I fully expected hostility. Instead, I got polite conversation and a casual suggestion that I should enlist.
I acknowledged it and moved on. Survival first. Politics later.
In Rorikstead, the Alik’r warriors confirmed their target and asked me to escort her to the stables outside Whiterun.
Why they couldn’t wait there themselves remains unanswered.
Testing Limits
On the return journey, I experimented.
The hide helmet gave me just enough magicka to successfully conjure a Flame Atronach. It worked, but the cost was steep.
This build needs more magicka if conjuration is going to be more than an emergency option.
Resolution in Whiterun
Back in Whiterun, I convinced the Redguard woman to go to the stables.
An Alik’r warrior was waiting. A spell was cast. The bounty was settled.
My share was modest, but clean. No guards. No complications.
Darkness was already setting in. In Survival Mode, that’s a warning, not scenery.
I headed for the inn and ended the day before cold or exhaustion could interfere.
End of Day Thoughts
I don’t have a clear plan for tomorrow.
But Swindler’s Den is cleared. Lydia proved reliable. My options expanded.
Difficulty: Interloper Region: Mystery Lake Survivor: Will
The answer was not at the top of a rope. It was in a box I walked past.
This was attempt number two at the cave above the Camp Office.
This time, I committed properly: I dropped anything I didn’t absolutely need.
Rope climbing on Interloper is simple math — if you’re overencumbered, you’re not climbing.
This was the last place left in Mystery Lake that I was sure could hold the magnifying lens.
If it wasn’t here, I genuinely had no next step.
The Rope, The Ledge, The Nothing
The climb itself was uneventful.
I stopped at the ledge to catch my breath, then pushed on to the cave.
Inside the cave, there was nothing.
No magnifying lens. No useful loot.
Just cold stone and the quiet confirmation that I’d wasted the effort.
Disheartened, I climbed back down and headed for the Camp Office,
already accepting that I’d be heading to a forge run without the lens.
The Box That Mocked Me
Before committing to the long walk toward Forlorn Muskeg,
I decided to do one last check of the Camp Office.
I walked in.
I opened a box.
The magnifying lens was sitting inside it.
Found almost immediately.
Apparently waiting for me to finish wasting time elsewhere.
A lot of effort, zero reward — until suddenly there was.
Problem solved, irritation earned.
I did a quick supply check, dropped anything I didn’t need,
and staged gear at the Camp Office for later.
The next priority was clear: I needed the hammer.
A Moose With Opinions
The moose had made a grand return outside the Camp Office.
Not charging, not leaving — just existing with purpose.
I’m fairly sure it decided to follow me for part of the way.
It didn’t attack, but it didn’t help morale either.
Trapper’s Homestead and Rabbit Politics
The walk to Trapper’s Homestead was otherwise uneventful.
No wolves, no weather tantrums.
A rare gift.
Once there, I immediately entered another round of combat with rabbits.
The rabbits mostly won.
I did manage to get one eventually,
which counts as a victory under Interloper standards.
I also attempted to locate a memento cache that was supposedly in the nearby cave.
Instead, I wasted time outside the cave.
This is becoming a theme.
Reset, Cure, Sleep
Back at the Homestead, I harvested the rabbit,
set the hide and gut curing,
cooked the meat,
and shut everything down for the night.
Tomorrow’s plan is unavoidable.
I need to head for Forlorn Muskeg and start working on arrowheads.
“Every sensible plan is one misplaced block away from disaster.”
Today was meant to be about mining preparation. Sensible progress. Expand infrastructure, gather materials, move forward carefully. That was the intention.
Naturally, I got distracted.
Farm Expansion and a Fence That Might Work
Before heading underground, I expanded the farm. More crops, more space, better spacing between rows. It isn’t glamorous work, but food security is survival security, especially on Hard mode.
I also began building a fence. Wolves appear to be managing the local cow population without supervision, but relying on that feels optimistic. The fence gives me control.
I didn’t install a gate. For now, I can hop around the side without issue. It feels efficient. It will almost certainly prove to be shortsighted.
A Cave, Lava, and Future Bad Decisions
With the farm sorted, I explored across the water and found a cave where lava was flowing directly into it. That’s more than scenery. Lava and water mean obsidian. Obsidian means the Nether is no longer theoretical.
I’m not ready for that step yet. I still need iron to mine obsidian properly. I still need flint and steel to activate a portal. But knowing the resource is there shifts the long-term plan forward.
One step at a time. The Nether can wait.
The Chasm Wins (Again)
The nearby chasm continues to demand attention. It’s difficult to ignore a massive cut in the earth promising both resources and a quick death.
Night began to fall before I committed to it, so I backed off and slept instead. I’ve avoided hostile mobs reasonably well so far. That streak won’t last forever. I’d rather choose my risks than stumble into them.
Enderman Quality Control
The following day, I headed toward the chasm and got my first proper look at an Enderman. Tall, still, quietly observing.
I considered turning around. Instead, I watched. I wanted to see if it would start rearranging my work. If it approved of the farm. The house. The layout.
Nothing was touched. Either I passed inspection, or I wasn’t interesting enough.
Down the Waterfall
A waterfall offered a controlled way to reach the bottom of the chasm. Controlled in theory, at least. The Enderman had reached the same conclusion, which made the descent feel less clever.
I mined for a short while and gathered a respectable amount of copper. The constant sound of nearby zombies wore on me, though. Add an Enderman within teleporting distance and the calculation changes. This wasn’t a place to push my luck.
I left with copper. Not ideal, but still progress.
Copper Armour Over False Confidence
Back at base, I smelted the copper and compared tool stats. Copper tools are effectively identical to stone. That makes the decision simple.
Stone remains my tool material. Copper becomes armour. It isn’t perfect protection, but it’s better than optimism.
Iron would be better. Armour now is better than waiting.
The Mine That Almost Ended the Run
The next day, I attempted to start a mine closer to base. I thought I had planned it properly. Measured the height. Checked the angle.
I broke through and dropped straight into water below. No warning. No graceful landing. Just a sudden descent and immediate disorientation.
Oxygen became the priority instantly. Blocks were in the way. The current wasn’t helping. For a few seconds, it was just frantic movement and calculation — break this, place that, get air, don’t panic.
I managed to carve out enough space to breathe, then found the right angle and broke the final block to escape.
That entrance was sealed immediately. No debate. No second attempt. Some mistakes only need to happen once.
Back to the Original Plan
I returned to the original mine location and started again. This entrance is two blocks wide. No tight squeezes. No hidden drops. If something goes wrong, it won’t be because I misjudged a single block.
Night arrived sooner than expected, so I headed home rather than tempt it.
One near-drowning. One Enderman inspection. Copper secured. Plans adjusted.
Progress, even if it came with a reminder that comfort underground is earned, not assumed.
Progress: 70+ Stars Reached Platform: Steam Deck Settings: Vanilla Mario & Music
“Today’s plan was simple. The execution, less so.”
I went in with one goal: finish Jolly Roger Bay and Dire, Dire Docks. Two courses I’d already poked at, now ready to be properly cleared.
Jolly Roger Bay: Chests, Coins, and Precision Jumping
First up was the treasure chest star. Finding the first chest took less time than expected, which immediately made me suspicious.
Chests two and four were conveniently paired together. Chest three, naturally, required a cannon.
With the chests dealt with, only the Red Coin Star and the 100-Coin Star remained.
The 100-coin star was painless. No drama. No surprises.
The red coins were another matter.
One coin sat in a position that rejected every sensible solution I tried. Triple jumps failed. Cannon angles failed. Repeated attempts achieved nothing except frustration.
In the end, the answer was a backflip. One precise position. One clean jump.
It worked immediately.
Jolly Roger Bay: cleared.
Dire, Dire Docks: Clean Water, Better Decisions
Next stop was Dire, Dire Docks.
This time, I changed approach. I focused on collecting all the red coins first, or at least most of them, before worrying about the 100-coin star.
The level behaved itself. No forced exits. No sudden ejections back to the castle.
I didn’t get sucked out of the course this time, which confirms that last log was just bad luck rather than punishment.
With the red coins secured, the 100-coin star followed naturally.
Dire, Dire Docks: finished without incident.
Log 13 Status
Total Stars: Past 70
Courses Cleared This Log: Jolly Roger Bay, Dire Dire Docks
Remaining Stars: 50
Wing Cap: Still missing
Two more courses off the board. The castle is opening up fast now.
Unprepared Log 11: Three Arrows Cold, One Step Forward
Difficulty: Interloper Region: Mystery Lake Survivor: Will
I woke up at dawn and the game immediately informed me it hated me.
The day starts with the kind of cold you can measure in regret: three arrows.
The wind is also doing its best to make sure I feel personally targeted.
My hunger bar still has a bit left in it, so I spend that “free” time researching for an hour.
I head outside, confirm it’s still miserable, then go back in and research again.
I can’t stay in the lookout all day. I want to, but even I know that would make for a thrilling entry titled:
“Man Stares at Wall, Becomes Slightly More Educated.”
Back Down the Path
I decide to move while I still have daylight and nerve.
The plan is simple: head toward Camp Office, then try to find the cave I know exists nearby.
The ptarmigans are gone.
Either they moved on, or they saw me coming and chose life.
I skip any attempt at the plane today.
It’s too cold, and I’d rather reach Camp Office first so I can warm up without doing the Interloper shuffle in torn clothing.
The Derailment Detour Pays Off
On the way, I finally check the derailment I wanted to look at last time.
For once, curiosity actually rewards me: I find a set of simple tools.
I take them immediately.
If Interloper wants me to craft my way out of misery, I’m at least going to do it with proper equipment.
Camp Office: Warmth, Pots, and My “Great” Eyesight
I reach Camp Office and step inside like I’ve just arrived at a five-star resort.
Warmth. Shelter. A door I can close in the wind’s face.
While I’m getting my temperature back out of the red, I notice something I somehow missed on my last visit:
a cooking pot.
My observation skills remain second to none.
I carry it upstairs and place it beside my cooking skillet on the two-hob stove.
It’s not a full kitchen, but it’s dangerously close to comfort.
The Cave I Definitely Know Exists
Now for the cave.
I know where it is. I’ve been there before.
I’ve even used the route I wanted to use.
And yet, somehow, I cannot find it.
I push around in the cold until Interloper starts billing me in injuries.
First I sprain an ankle, then my wrist, and eventually I accept the truth:
I’m not exploring right now, I’m just donating condition to the weather.
I regroup and head back to Camp Office.
During the scramble, I spot a rope leading up to the cave area I was trying to reach.
So that’s a thing.
A helpful thing.
A “why didn’t I see that sooner” thing.
Furniture Crime and Firewood Math
Back inside, I decide to dismantle a chair for firewood.
The game says it takes two hours.
Fine.
The result: four reclaimed wood.
Which I’m calling nonsense on.
I’ve seen chairs with less structure than that.
I go out one more time and grab extra firewood, then return to Camp Office for the night.
Today’s theme is “warmth first, ambitions second.”
Cooking, Water, and the First Aurora
With the fire going, I use the cooking pot to make as much water as it’ll allow.
I also cook what I can to keep my cooking skill climbing.
Interloper doesn’t reward laziness, and I’m trying to get ahead of food poisoning roulette.
While I’m working, I get my first aurora of the run.
I’m not stupid enough to go outside and “see what happens.”
I stay put and read the message on the computer instead.
Safe thrills only.
Improvised Hatchet: The Scrap Metal Problem
Before I sleep, I check what I need for an improvised hatchet,
because I’m getting fed up with the game reminding me I don’t have one.
The answer is simple and annoying: five scrap metal.
I do have some scrap metal, but I was saving it for arrowheads.
Now it’s a choice between “future hunting” and “stop bleeding time to basic tasks.”
It also feels like the game is nudging me toward Broken Railroad and the forge there.
I don’t want to go.
But if I can’t scrounge more scrap in Mystery Lake, I might have to.
Interloper loves forcing a road trip at the worst time.
Survivor Incognito 