Category: survivor’s dread

Isolation Protocol: An Alien Isolation Survival Diary – Log 2: Guns, Generators, and a Very Bad Introduction

Isolation Protocol Log 2: Guns, Generators, and a Very Bad Introduction

Game: Alien: Isolation
Platform: Steam Deck
Location: Sevastopol Station – Arrivals & Transit

Video: Arrivals scavenging, orange-lock hunt, Axel meet, stealth tutorial, and first Xenomorph encounter (no commentary)

I saw people run. I decided copying them was a solid life choice.

The last log ended with survivors sprinting for their lives. I followed.
They rewarded that decision by locking the door behind them.
So, plan B: keep moving, keep quiet, and keep pretending I’m not the most lootable person on Sevastopol.

I drifted through what felt like the off-duty end of Arrivals/Departures and caught a glimpse of the Torrens.
Of course, they didn’t see me. Of course, the shutters chose that exact moment to drop like they had opinions.
New objective: find a way to contact the ship before I become another unread terminal entry.

Loot Goblin Behaviour (With Added Dread)

Progress is slow. Not “enjoy the scenery” slow — more “every door is either locked, unpowered, or mocking me” slow.
I kept scavenging anything not bolted down, reading terminals, and listening to messages from people who used to live here.
I still don’t know what happened on Sevastopol, but I’m confident it was loud, messy, and not solved by good manners.

Then I found it: a door with a big orange lock.
Not my problem yet, but definitely my future problem.
And it wasn’t the only one. The station’s decorating theme is apparently “sealed access points and regret.”

The Maintenance Jack Incident

A message mentioned someone going nuts with a maintenance jack, and that they’d been locked in a room.
I eventually found them… and it looked like one of two things happened:
something killed him, or he killed himself.

The room had an orange lock. If he had the tool to open it, he could’ve walked out.
So I’m leaning toward something got in — and that “something” didn’t leave a note.

Before committing to the obvious route, I did a quick sweep through the one other door I could open,
grabbed what I could, and then headed back toward the big, bright, orange problem.

Meet Axel: The Gun-Point Welcome Committee

Cutscene time. I meet Axel, who opens negotiations by putting a gun to my head.
I offered him a way off Sevastopol: help me contact the Torrens, and he gets a seat.
Fair deal. Mutually beneficial. Sensible.

Axel doesn’t share that offer with the two other people we bump into, though.
Which, in hindsight, should’ve been my first clue that “teamwork” isn’t exactly thriving here.

Flashlight, Batteries, and the Stealth Crash Course

Axel takes me to his hideout — apparently where he’s been camping for the past week —
and hands me a flashlight and batteries.
Great. Useful.
Also: we literally just avoided armed survivors, and he told me to avoid armed survivors,
so giving me a beacon-on-a-stick feels… optimistic.

Then it’s stealth school.
I get sent to turn off a generator so a group of people — who have been told to shoot on sight —
go and investigate it.
At this point I’m already regretting offering Axel a lift.
I didn’t realise “help me escape” included “use me as bait.”

Axel Immediately Does the Opposite of His Own Advice

Axel’s big survival tips are: stay low, keep quiet, don’t draw attention.
Five minutes later he’s standing around like he’s waiting for a bus.
Not even hiding. Just… existing loudly in a corridor.

I ended up taking charge and basically herding him where he needed to go,
because apparently I’m the responsible adult now.
Which is terrifying, considering my main skill so far is “pick up scrap.”

And then Axel does it again: he headshots someone.
Loud. Clean. Final.
The exact opposite of “keep it down.”
So now we’re sprinting, because subtlety is dead and we’re trying not to join it.

The Xenomorph Introduces Itself

Another cutscene. And this time the station finally shows its real problem:
the Xenomorph.
It appears, it moves like a nightmare, and it removes Axel from my list of concerns.

I had a brief moment of wondering why Ripley doesn’t grab the gun.
Maybe it feels wrong. Maybe it’s shock. Maybe the game isn’t letting me.
Either way, I’m unarmed, underqualified, and very aware of how loud my breathing is.

Transit becomes the next lifeline — a long, stressful wait while my brain replays what I just saw.
The Xenomorph took Axel out like it was swatting a fly.
There’s absolutely no reason it wouldn’t do the same to me.

Transit finally arrives, and I step in like it’s salvation.
I’m hoping I’ve left the Xenomorph behind.
I’m also not stupid enough to believe that will last.

Log 2 Survival Notes

  • Loot everything, but assume every corridor has a consequence.
  • Orange locks = future progress gate. Make a note, don’t spiral.
  • Terminals and recordings tell you what happened here. It isn’t comforting.
  • Stealth matters, even when NPCs refuse to participate.
  • If someone says “keep it down” and then fires a gun, don’t follow their life advice.
  • Transit is safety… until it isn’t.
Continue the journey:
Log 1 | Log 3
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Eight Pages – A Slender: The Arrival Survival Diary Log 1: For Sale, No Exit

Eight Pages – Log 1: For Sale, No Exit

Platform: Steam Deck
POV: Handheld camera (battery + recording timer on-screen)

Video: First steps into Oakside: the house, the generator, and Oakside Park (no commentary)


I start filming outside a giant “Land for Sale” sign, and somehow end the night being told to “FIND ME LAUREN.”
Normal property viewings don’t usually escalate like this.

My POV is through a handheld camera, complete with battery life and a recording timer in the corner.
I’ve no idea if the timer will behave across multiple recordings (because I’m doing this over several),
but we’ll find out together.

The first thing I see is a huge sign advertising land for sale, telling me to contact Kate.
I’m supposedly driving somewhere important. I’m just not told where or why.

The road is blocked by a fallen tree.
We don’t know who did it, but I’m running the theory that Kate did.
Easier to drop a tree across the road than take down a massive sign with your name on it.
Either way, I don’t take it as a no.
Instead of getting back in the car and leaving, I go for a hike.

The light drops fast.
Oakside might be a mountain town, but surely physics still applies.
Either the sun is speedrunning the sky, or my character timed this trip perfectly for sunset.
By the time I reach a house—likely part of the land Kate was selling—it’s fully night.

Both the front door and garage door are open.
I let myself in.
Because that’s always a strong opening move.

The House: Half Powered, Fully Suspicious

The house is confusing.
I check one phone: no power.
I check another: there’s a message on the answering machine.
So either one half of the house has electricity and the other doesn’t,
or the wiring here follows horror rules instead of logic.

I find scattered notes and a flashlight.
The flashlight becomes essential immediately.
The camera throws out a brief burst of static during my tour,
which is the kind of detail you pretend you didn’t notice.

The location is good, though.
Remote. Quiet. Surrounded by forest.
If you ignore the notes, the power issues, and the open doors,
it’s practically ideal.

There’s a locked door.
The key is in the bathroom.
Exactly where I’d hide something important.

The Locked Room: Paper Walls and Beacon Talk

The unlocked room is covered in paper.
Every wall layered with writing.
Panic used as wallpaper.

One note mentions someone being scared of a beacon.
That’s not a phrase you want to read at night with limited battery.
Add it to the list of things to ask Kate.

I notice the back gate is open.
Instead of leaving in my car like a sensible person,
I decide to go through it.
Survival instincts of a potato.

Before that, a quick go on the slide.
No reason.
Just committing to the bit.

Generator Detour and a Burned House

A short walk down the path leads to a generator.
It turns on easily.
Too easily.

Nearby is a burned down house and another note.
I read it.
A small child appears in front of me, back turned.

I move around to see their face.
Quick jump scare.
I leave.
For once, a decent decision.

I circle the house briefly.
Not lost.
Just getting steps in.

Eventually I reach a sign: Oakside Park.

Oakside Park: “FIND ME LAUREN”

I’ve already entered two buildings uninvited.
One more won’t hurt.

Inside, graffiti covers more paper in the same style as the locked room.
Large, direct, personal:
FIND ME LAUREN.

I’m guessing I’m Lauren.
Because Oakside doesn’t seem interested in subtlety.

Log 1 Takeaways

  • The camera HUD keeps me informed and mildly stressed.
  • Kate’s land sale feels more like a trap than an advert.
  • Sunset in Oakside runs on horror time.
  • If a key is easy to find, it was meant to be.
  • “FIND ME LAUREN” suggests this is personal.
Continue the journey:

Log 1 (You are here) |
Log 2

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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 7: Islands Ruins, and the Question

Submerged Log 7: Islands, Ruins, and the Question

Game: Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary
Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Riley

Video: Southern exploration and island discovery (no commentary)

This log took longer than it should have. Not because nothing happened, but because I wasn’t ready to write it.

A brief peek behind the curtain: I wasn’t in a great place mentally for a while, and these logs stalled because of it.
Things are steadier now, and I’m ready to keep going.

The last time I stopped, the Sunbeam had been destroyed.
Not delayed. Not diverted. Gone.
Whatever hope I’d attached to rescue went with it.

After the Sunbeam

With no clear direction left, I returned to the lifepod and spent far too long doing nothing useful.
Eventually, the obvious thought landed: if there’s one island, there have to be others.

I chose to head south of the Aurora first.
If that turned up nothing, I’d sweep left or right until I hit land or found the island with the weapon platform.
It wasn’t a good plan, but it was a plan.

Limits of the Seamoth

I set off in the Seamoth, aware of its limits.
I want depth modules, but that means a Moonpool, and that isn’t an option yet.
Soon, hopefully.

I checked scattered wreckage along the way and came up empty.
No upgrades, no breakthroughs, just debris and reminders that others tried and failed here first.

Then I spotted something that wasn’t wreckage.

The Second Island

Another island broke the surface ahead of me.
Solid ground, at last.

The wildlife made it clear I wasn’t welcome.
I launched a couple of them into the sea out of necessity and irritation.
They were persistent. I was done negotiating.

The upside is food.
Real food.
For the first time in a while, I’m not entirely reliant on a fish-only diet.

More importantly, the island holds man-made structures.
Old ones.
Weathered, decaying, and clearly abandoned.

The PDAs fill in the gaps.
Whoever lived here didn’t leave recently, and they probably didn’t leave by choice.

Blueprints and Bad Construction Ahead

As I scanned the ruins, another idea took hold.
I don’t need to live out of the lifepod forever.

A new base is possible.
Not today, but soon.
I’ll need materials, a location, and a rough design.
I will almost certainly ignore that design halfway through.

If you thought my Minecraft bases were questionable, this will not reassure you.

The island does at least reward me with progress:

  • Stasis Rifle blueprint
  • Improved swim fins blueprint

Useful upgrades.
Comforting ones.
Which usually means the game is about to escalate.

A Message, Then a Voice

With nothing else pulling me forward, I head back toward the lifepod.
I’d received a radio message earlier and ignored it long enough.

Another lifepod signal.
Another reason to leave safety behind.

On the way, I notice something in the distance.
A shadow that doesn’t quite exist.
It moves, but there’s nothing there to see.

Whatever it is, it waits until the radio message ends.

Then it asks a single question:

“Who are you?”

Continue the Journey

Previous Log | Next Log

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Isolation Protocol: An Allen Isolation Survival Diary – Log 1: Five Chances on Sevastopol

Isolation Protocol Log 1: Five Chances on Sevastopol

Platform: Steam Deck
Mode: Survival
Rule Set:

The Apex Predator Rule
 — The Xenomorph gets 5 chances. On the fifth one, it wins.

Video: Boarding Sevastopol, spacewalk disaster, and first exploration (no commentary)

When the title screen opens with Ellen Ripley’s final message, it doesn’t feel nostalgic. It feels like a warning.

Amanda Ripley is welding when Samuels approaches with the one thing she’s been waiting for:
possible information about her mother.
The ship is Sevastopol.
The invitation is optional in theory, mandatory in practice.

If she wants answers, she goes.
So we go.

Wake, Dress, Invade Privacy

First objective: get dressed.
Hypersleep apparently strips you of both consciousness and wardrobe.

A quick conversation with Samuels and Taylor follows.
Then I discover the Torrens’ cyber security policy is “hope no one clicks anything.”
Taylor’s personal folder is right there.
Yes, I look.

I grab the briefing document from the bridge before contacting Sevastopol.
The reply we receive sounds less like a welcome and more like a suggestion to stay away.

Naturally, we ignore it.

The Spacewalk That Went Wrong

The transition to Sevastopol is done via spacewalk.
It lasts exactly as long as it needs to before everything explodes.

I’m thrown clear.
Samuels and Taylor disappear.
I drift toward the station alone.

The adventure officially begins the moment isolation becomes literal.

Arrival and Immediate Regret

Sevastopol feels abandoned but not empty.
The lighting flickers.
The walls are layered in graffiti that reads less like vandalism and more like confession.

I let my inner loot goblin take control:

  • Scrap? Mine.
  • Flare? Mine.
  • If it flashes, it’s coming with me.

I find a terminal confirming the station is being decommissioned.
Apparently that process includes cutting power almost everywhere.
Dark corridors. Locked doors. Minimal lighting.
Excellent design choice.

Maps, Power, and Door Code 0340

I locate a map for the Arrival and Departure Lounge and manage to restore partial power.
Lights return.
Doors do not.

Access is tied to the computer systems, because of course it is.

I also find a door code: 0340.
I haven’t found the door yet, but I’m holding onto that number.
Horror games reward memory.
Or punish the lack of it.

Movement in the Dark

Once I unlock the next section, I see people running.
Actual survivors.

That confirms two things:

  • I’m not alone.
  • Whatever they’re running from is still here.

And under the Apex Predator Rule, I already know who the top of the food chain is.

The Apex Predator Rule Begins

This run follows the

Apex Predator Rule
.

The Xenomorph gets five chances.
On the fifth successful kill, it wins.

No resets.
No rewinds.
No “that didn’t count.”

Sevastopol now has a scoreboard.
And I’ve just stepped onto the field.

Continue the journey:
Next Log
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Survivor’s Log: Two in the Pipeline

Survivor’s Log: Two in the Pipeline

This is another short pipeline note rather than an announcement. Just a record of what’s coming next and why.

There are two games lined up, both relatively contained, and both chosen because they fit the kind of survival experiences I want to document right now.

Slender: The Arrival

The first is Slender: The Arrival.

I originally played it when it first released. Since then, it’s received a 10th Anniversary update that effectively rebuilds the experience and introduces new content, including an additional location.

Because of that reset, this isn’t a nostalgia run. It’s closer to approaching a familiar idea in a form that’s changed enough to warrant a fresh look.

This will sit under Survivor’s Dread, recorded as a single-attempt run, with the logs reflecting how the attempt unfolds rather than aiming for a specific outcome.

Iron Lung

The second is Iron Lung.

Interest around it has increased recently because of the upcoming film adaptation, which is what initially put it on my radar.

What actually held my attention was hearing how personal the project was, and how much of the atmosphere and intent came directly from the game itself.

I’ve been aware of the creator behind the adaptation for a while, but I’ve never followed their content directly. What stood out wasn’t who was making the film, but the decision to make a film at all.

Choosing to adapt a small, largely unknown game suggested there was something specific in the source material that made it worth that level of commitment.

That curiosity is what led me here — to the game itself, rather than the adaptation built around it.

This will be treated as a one-off survival horror run. A single attempt, recorded without embellishment, documenting the experience as it unfolds.

Nothing Locked In

There are no dates attached to either of these yet. They’ll be recorded and published when there’s space, rather than being slotted in to chase relevance.

As always, the point isn’t to follow momentum elsewhere. It’s to document things that feel worth documenting at the time.

Surviving, Not Suffering

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The Outlast Trials – Log 9: Kill the Politician (The Kress Twins)


Prime Asset: The Kress Twins
Trial: Kill the Politician
Difficulty: Standard
Grade: A


Back to The Outlast Trials hub

Thanks to Prime Asset Roulette, I was assigned the Kress Twins.
Which means I now have two problems instead of one.

My only available option for this log was Kill the Politician,
so that’s what we’re doing.

I’m keeping this on Standard too,
because the last few trials have been a bit of a disaster and I’m not in the mood to press my luck.

Things started off simple enough.
I accidentally found a fuse, got a prompt to pick it up,
and realised I’d just stumbled into the task required to get inside the shopping mall.

I grabbed the second fuse and was allowed in.

Cue more fuse hunting.
I could already see the pattern forming.

I also got my first proper look at the Twins.
Pretty sure they didn’t see me, but I’m not loving the fact they seem to have
360 degree vision.

Which means stealth isn’t optional.
I need to stay hidden…
or, to put it another way:
I need to stay Incognito.

Three fuses later, I was allowed into the department store.
This time, my objective was to spend $40.

There were multiple boxes scattered around the store, each with a different price.
I didn’t even notice that at first.

So I was about $10 in before realising I could have made smarter choices.
Classic.

The Twins were also inside the store with me,
and it was oddly interesting hearing them speak to each other.
From what I could gather, they don’t like Easterman,
and they want out of whatever hell they’ve been put into.

I also couldn’t help noticing something in their dialogue.
It isn’t just “villain banter”.
There’s something uncomfortable about it — the kind of vibe where you start wondering what exactly their relationship is meant to be.

Whatever it is, it adds a whole extra layer of unease.
And frankly, I’d have preferred not to notice it.

It does make me wonder how the Prime Assets are treated outside the Trials.
I’m guessing the answer is “badly”.

Once I hit $40, I was finally allowed to join the political rally.

And then I was told to go fix the water pressure.

At this point, I’m convinced Murkoff is preparing me for employment once I graduate.
I’m not being brainwashed.
I’m being trained as a handyman.

You’d think the valves would be close together, because that would make sense.
They were not.

Four different spots across the mall.

So now I’m running around doing:

  • map reading
  • basic maths for each valve
  • trial survival, on top of plumbing

Again: handyman.

Once that was handled, it was finally time to deal with the actual goal:
spraying the politician with acid.

Naturally, I had to prime the acid first.
And naturally, this required playing a carnival-style game.

I thought electrocuting the Snitch was bad.
I was wrong.

And I’m fairly sure the Twins have been chatting with Coyle,
because they also felt the need to ambush me during this part.

I had to loop the mall a few times, hide a few times,
and basically accept that my life now consists of sprinting away and making bad decisions at speed.

Eventually, I completed the objective.
Politician: solved.

Then it was time to leave.
And the Twins also decided it was time to leave —
because they were waiting at the shuttle area like they were running security.

I hid, waited them out, and once they finally moved off,
I slipped past and escaped.

In the end, I walked away with an A.

That’s an improvement —
and I’m choosing to believe it’s because I’m learning.
Not because the mall temporarily took pity on me.

Video

Surviving, not suffering.

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Survivor’s Log – The Outlast Trials – Murkoff Handyman Training

The Outlast Trials: I’m Not Being Brainwashed… I’m Being Trained as a Handyman

I’m starting to suspect Murkoff isn’t reprogramming me.

They’re training me for employment.

Think about it.

  • Fix the water pressure.
  • Locate and install fuses.
  • Turn valves using maths I haven’t used since school.
  • Power generators like I work in maintenance.

All while being chased by the worst people imaginable.

By the time I’m finished with these Trials, I won’t be “reborn”.
I’ll be qualified to repair a shopping centre with nothing but a wrench and trauma.

Honestly, I’ve played a lot of horror games.
None of them have made me do so much plumbing.

The Outlast Trials hub:

The Outlast Trials


Surviving, not suffering.

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The Outlast Trials – Log 8: Poison the Medicine (Franco Barbi)

Prime Asset: Franco Barbi
Trial: Poison the Medicine
Difficulty: Standard
Grade: C+


Back to The Outlast Trials hub

This was my first trial using Prime Asset Roulette.

I didn’t choose who I was facing next — I was assigned a Prime Asset,
and the trial choice had to follow from that.

This time, the assignment was Franco Barbi.
I’d heard his name, but I hadn’t properly met him yet.
And if I’m about to be introduced to someone new in this game, I’d rather not do it on a difficulty setting that punishes curiosity.

So I kept this one on Standard and went for Poison the Medicine.

The trial started off almost suspiciously calmly.
It was quiet enough that I actually had to double check I was on the right difficulty.

Then I met Franco.

And by “met”, I mean I didn’t even realise he was there until I pushed a button —
and the second I did, it felt like I’d just punched a clock.
As if that interaction was my way of politely informing Franco that his shift had begun.

A big part of The Outlast Trials is being reminded you’re never really alone.
Franco just has a more direct way of making the point.

Once I reached the laboratory, the job was straightforward:
move the drugs from point A to point B.

Done.

Except it wasn’t done, because I was then told to go collect more.
Which tells me whoever delivered the first two batches has already been fired —
or “reassigned” — for incompetence.

Either way, it looks like I’m the delivery driver now.

I had to push a trolley to collect the remaining drugs,
and I was given a decoder to help with the task.

It took me a moment to figure out what it was actually doing,
but I noticed the numbers would spin faster the closer I got to the correct symbols.

That helped me find the second one quickly enough.

The third one, on the other hand, felt like the game had moved it
purely to ensure I stayed humble.

Eventually though: drugs collected, drugs delivered, objectives moving.

And then the trial remembered what it was.

Next objective: poison the medicine.

The first bottle was easy enough to locate.
The remaining two?
Not so much.

I spent a lot of time wandering with the sort of confidence that only comes from having no idea what you’re doing.
I’m fairly sure the game started helping me because it realised I was going to spend the rest of the evening circling the same corridor.

The bottles also did a nice little extra thing where they poisoned me while I carried them.
Which, again, feels fair.
Murkoff wouldn’t want me getting ideas about comfort.

And just to keep it lively, I managed to set off traps left, right and centre.
I’m not sure if the traps were genuinely everywhere, or if I was simply magnetised to them.

Once the medicine was poisoned, it was time to transport it to the cargo hold.

Franco made another appearance around this point,
just in case I’d started thinking the trial was back under control.

That’s the thing about this game — you can do everything correctly,
but if someone decides they’re interested in you, you’re suddenly making very different decisions.

I got the drugs into the hold.
I started stashing them.
I felt like I was getting on top of it.

And then I realised I had absolutely no idea how to get out.

For a moment, I thought I’d managed to trap myself in the cargo hold.
Which would be a very “me” way to end the trial.

Then it clicked:
if Franco found his way in, there must be another entrance.

Sure enough, there was.
Not only was there another way in — it was obvious enough that I felt personally judged by the architecture.

Drugs stashed.
Exit located.
Sprint away before anything else happens.

In the end, I escaped with a C+.

Honestly?
Fair.

I survived, I completed the objectives, and I didn’t get permanently adopted by Franco.
That feels like success.

I probably could have done better if I wasn’t personally responsible for most of the trap activations in the facility,
but we’re learning.

Video

Surviving, not suffering.

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Outlast – Entry 1: Red Flags as a Route Map

Platform: Steam Deck
Run Type: Apex Predator Rule (3 strikes and I’m out)
Location: Mount Massive Asylum
Status: Alive, unsettled, and still walking forward

Series Hub:

Outlast – Apex Predator Run Hub

I’m driving toward Mount Massive Asylum with a camera on the passenger seat and an email from a whistleblower glowing like a warning label.

The message is simple: bad things are happening here. Come see it for yourself.

My character treats this less like a warning and more like a treasure map.

The red flags stack up quickly. Trespassing. Isolation. A building that looks abandoned even when it isn’t.

I break in. The asylum responds by killing the lights almost immediately.

I continue onward anyway.

The First Hint (Ignored)

The atmosphere is wrong. Not just old or decayed — more like the building is aware I’m here.

I find a man impaled on a massive spike. He’s still alive long enough to give me advice.

“Get out.”

It’s the clearest instruction I’ll receive all night. I ignore it.

I try to leave. I can’t. The only way forward is through the security room.

Going back the way I came is no longer an option. Horror logic has made that decision for me.

Chris Walker Makes a Point

I don’t reach the security room before the asylum escalates.

A very large, half-naked man appears, calls me “little pig”, and throws me through a window.

I land one floor below, alive, shaken, and very aware that my camera is not a weapon.

He doesn’t chase me.

That somehow makes it worse.

A Higher Calling

Not long after, I encounter a man dressed like a priest — or at least someone borrowing the aesthetic.

He tells me I have a higher calling.

Then he leaves me alone in the dark.

I explore further. The inmates are hostile. Interviews are cancelled.

Eventually, I find what I actually need: the keycard for the security office.

Security Room Problems

I swipe the keycard and prepare for progress.

Instead, the religious man reappears. He knows I’ve been watching him through the cameras.

To prove the point, he shuts down the generator.

The asylum drops onto backup power.

Objective: restart the generator in the basement.

The game tells me to hide.

I listen.

Through the door comes the large man again. I record him, because my character keeps confusing documentation with safety.

Files I’ve picked up finally give him a name.

Chris Walker.

I now need to go to the basement.

I have a feeling Chris Walker will be there first.

Video

Apex Predator Rule Reminder

  • Every death counts as one strike.
  • Three strikes ends the run.
  • Panic, curiosity, and bad decisions are not exemptions.

Continue the journey:
Outlast – Entry 1 (You are here) |
Outlast – Entry 2

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Survivor’s Log: The Outlast Trials – Prime Asset Roulette (Rule Update)

The Outlast Trials – Prime Asset Roulette (Rule Update)

This is a quick update for The Outlast Trials series.

Why I’m Changing the Format

After completing several trials, I realised I was falling into a pattern:
choosing what felt manageable, avoiding what didn’t, and slowly turning the Trials into something predictable.

That’s not really what this game is supposed to feel like.
And it’s definitely not what Murkoff would allow.

Prime Asset Roulette

Going forward, I’m introducing a simple twist:
I’m no longer choosing which Prime Asset I face next.

Instead, I get an external pick (because naturally I’m outsourcing my survival decisions),
and I choose my next trial based on that assignment.

  • I don’t choose the Prime Asset.
  • I choose the trial based on whoever I’m assigned.
  • If the assignment isn’t available or isn’t unlocked, I reroll.

Optimisation is no longer the point.
Unpredictability is.

Is Anyone Else Doing This?

I had a quick look around to see if anyone else was running this exact format.

People are definitely doing roulette-style runs in The Outlast Trials —
randomised Trial Maker setups, and other “roulette” ideas —
but I couldn’t find anyone doing this specific version:
Prime Asset Roulette, where the Prime Asset is assigned first and the trial choice is made based on that.

So, either this is genuinely uncommon… or I’m just bad at searching.
Both are possible.

Where This Fits

This series sits under Survivor’s Dread, and the whole point is documenting survival under pressure.
Prime Asset Roulette keeps that pressure intact, even when I’d rather not deal with it.

In other words: Murkoff picks who hunts me next.
I just try to leave with my organs still inside my body.

The Outlast Trials hub:


Outlast Trials Main Hub

Surviving, not suffering.

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