October and December are easily my favourites, but for completely different reasons.

October feels like the world shifts into the right gear. Cooler weather, early sunsets, and that perfect atmosphere for anything spooky or survival-themed. It’s the one month where the chaos in my games lines up with the chaos outside, and it just… fits.

December is different. It’s colder, quieter, and everything slows down a bit. Even when life is busy, the month itself has this steady rhythm to it. Lights go up, routines soften, and the year winds down in a way that feels controlled instead of overwhelming.

Together, they balance each other out—one full of energy, the other full of calm. Perfect combo.

I don’t really have a favourite place in the city. Nothing against cities, but they’ve never been where I feel most like myself. I’m far more at home on the edges—where the noise drops, the crowds thin out, and you can actually hear the wind instead of traffic.

If I get the choice, I’ll always head for the spots just outside the urban mess. Give me open space, quiet paths, and a bit of wilderness over concrete any day. It’s the same energy that drives my survival games: less chaos from people, more chaos from nature.

That’s where I tend to feel grounded. Not hidden away—just somewhere with room to breathe.

I want people to see someone who stays level even when things get messy. Someone who listens, thinks things through, and keeps situations from escalating. A calm, capable first impression helps everything else run smoother. If that’s what comes across, I’m happy with it.

If I could live anywhere in the world, I’d pick somewhere quiet.
Somewhere with space, trees, and a view that doesn’t fight for attention.

Not a famous city or a landmark people collect postcards of — just a calm, steady place where you can hear yourself think. The kind of place where stepping outside feels like hitting a soft reset button.

I don’t need the perfect climate or a big skyline. Just room to breathe, a bit of nature, and the feeling that the world isn’t rushing past at full sprint.

Wherever that is, that’s home enough for me.

The coolest thing I’ve ever kept wasn’t rare, valuable, or even particularly useful. It was a small item I stumbled across while exploring a game world during a rough patch in real life.

It didn’t boost stats, unlock anything, or change the story. But it made me pause. For a moment, it reminded me that even in the middle of chaos—virtual or otherwise—you can still stumble across something that gives you a bit of breathing room.

Most items get scrapped or sold the minute storage gets tight. This one didn’t. It stayed in my inventory far longer than it needed to, not because I had a plan for it, but because it marked the moment I felt just a little more grounded.

Sometimes the coolest things you keep aren’t the rare finds. They’re the ones that found you at the right time.

I’ve met two people who left a mark on film history — and my memory. First was Richard Kiel, the towering man behind Jaws in the old Bond films. Gentle handshake, giant presence. The second was Robert Englund — Freddy Krueger himself. Let’s just say even out of makeup, the man knows how to make a room go quiet.

Both encounters reminded me that fame doesn’t have to mean distance. Sometimes it’s just two strangers talking — one trying not to think about being crushed, the other trying not to picture claws.

Surviving Bond villains and horror icons — that’s two achievements unlocked.