Survival Is Earned. Chaos Is Documented.
Name the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not your home or car).
My old PC. It was where I learned, failed, modded things I probably shouldn’t have, and found entire worlds to survive in. But like any old shelter, it eventually stopped being home. These days, the Switch and Steam Deck have taken over — smaller tools for bigger stories. Still, I keep the PC around, like an old save file I’m not quite ready to delete.
Sometimes moving forward means leaving good gear behind.
The Super Mario 64 Randomizer wastes no time reminding you that reality is optional. My first warp dropped me straight into the Metal Cap stage — a place I had no right being this early on, but apparently this version of Mario is a trendsetter. After a brief moment of “wait, how did I get here?”, I grabbed the cap, collected what I could, and escaped before the chaos decided to double down.
Moments later, I opened another door… and there he was. Bowser in the Dark World, staring back at me with that “you’re not supposed to be here yet” kind of energy. Naturally, I went in anyway.
Watch Log 1:
I wasn’t mentally or physically prepared for an early Bowser fight. My hands were still in “collect coins and admire textures” mode, not “avoid spinning platforms over the void” mode. But somehow, it worked out. Bowser got tossed into oblivion, my confidence went up by about 10%, and my sense of direction dropped by 80%.
From there, I stumbled into Shifting Sand Land. You know, the one full of quicksand and angry wildlife. Not exactly where I expected to end up next, but at least it looked warm. A few exploratory jumps later, I realised I’d achieved very little besides confirming that sand hurts — so I retreated to something more comforting: the Secret Slide.
Ah, the Secret Slide — the calmest, most reassuring part of this randomizer so far. No enemies, no bottomless pits, just gravity and mild regret. I took the scenic route (read: I fell off twice), grabbed both stars, and left feeling momentarily competent.
Naturally, that feeling didn’t last. My next warp took me back to Shifting Sand Land, which seems determined to be my home base now. Between the quicksand, whirlwinds, and the constant threat of instant death, it’s a lot like visiting a beach if the beach actively wanted you gone.
For a first outing, this randomizer threw everything at me except the kitchen sink (and let’s be honest, that might still show up later). Metal Mario, Bowser, sandstorms, slides — it’s been a full day’s work in about half an hour. I’ve no idea what the next warp will bring, but I’m bringing extra lives and zero expectations.
What was your favorite subject in school?
History was my favourite subject — mostly because it’s proof that humanity’s been making questionable decisions since patch 1.0. Every empire’s just a player who forgot to save before doing something stupid, and every century’s a new DLC full of bugs we didn’t fix the first time.
Basically: I’m studying history so I can survive the sequel.
How do you manage screen time for yourself?
Honestly? Badly, but with purpose. I spend a lot of time in front of screens — writing posts, editing videos, gaming for the blog — so I try to frame it as creative time rather than wasted time. It helps that most of it fuels Survivor Incognito in one way or another.
That said, I do set limits. I step away when I catch myself scrolling instead of creating, or when I’ve stared at the same paragraph for too long. A short walk, a drink, or even switching games can do wonders for a reset.
“Turns out nuclear safety training is optional when you’re the only one left alive.”
Mode: Survival | Platform: Steam Deck
After my last close encounter with the Reaper Leviathan, I decide that maybe, just maybe, going silver-hunting anywhere near them is a bad idea. I still need that silver for my Propulsion Cannon, but I’d rather not earn another traumatic underwater flashback. I remember some sandstone outcrops near Lifepod 17, so I head there instead.
Luck is finally on my side. I find the silver pretty quickly, head back to my lifepod, and get to work. A few crafted materials later, I’m officially armed with a Propulsion Cannon. I briefly consider testing it on the Reaper — just to see what happens — but deep down, I know it would end poorly for me and hilariously for the Reaper.
Feeling brave (or foolish), I head back to the Aurora. Naturally, my Seaglide’s battery dies halfway there, because Subnautica loves timing like that. After swapping it out, I make my way inside and retrace my previous steps. The crates that blocked me before? One satisfying Propulsion Cannon blast later, and I’m through.
I’m not sure what I expected — treasure, danger, maybe another PDA full of corporate nonsense — but what I definitely didn’t expect was a locked door with a keypad. For a moment, I almost give up. Then I remember my PDA might know something I don’t (which is most things), and there it is — a door code: 1454. It takes a few attempts — because typing underwater is hard — but eventually, the door slides open.
Behind it lies the reactor room, complete with glowing warnings telling me not to enter without training. Fortunately, no one’s around to stop me — and the ship is literally falling apart — so I take that as an invitation.
Radiation warning blaring, I dive in. The place is crawling with those little aggressive sea pests who’ve apparently decided this nuclear chamber is home sweet home. I’m too focused on repairing breaches to care. Twelve welds later, the Aurora’s no longer in danger of turning the ocean into a radioactive soup. One crisis averted, and I didn’t even vaporise myself. I’ll take that as a win.
On my way back to Lifepod 5, I spot something bobbing on the surface. It’s an upside-down lifepod — number 4, to be exact. Curiosity wins, and I investigate. Inside, I find a PDA and a Creature Decoy blueprint. Probably not a coincidence that this pod didn’t make it.
Back at my base of operations, I reward myself with some cooked fish and clean water before checking the latest radio transmission. It’s from the Sunbeam — they’ve heard my signals and are getting closer. They just need to find somewhere to land.
Not sure what I’ll do while I wait. I’ve got Seamoth blueprints now, but no sign of the Mobile Vehicle Bay fragments I need to actually build one. So for the time being, it’s just me, my Seaglide, and the ever-expanding ocean of things trying to eat me.
I didn’t expect preventing an extinction-level event to be this quick — though I suspect the planet has plenty more chaos in store. For now, I’ll gather resources, explore nearby wrecks, and keep an eye out for those fragments. And maybe go swimming, just… not too deep.
Do you need time?
I think everyone needs time — sometimes to rest, sometimes to refocus. There are days when I need a break from the noise, and others when I just need a reminder that the chaos I’m working through has purpose.
Time doesn’t always heal everything, but it helps you see things clearer. And in a world full of constant motion, taking a moment to pause might be the most productive thing you can do.
What will your life be like in three years?
In three years, I hope to still be doing what I love — surviving worlds, telling stories, and turning chaos into something worth reading. The blog will (hopefully) have grown into a proper archive of strange adventures, a place where people can drop in, laugh, and feel a little less alone in their own storms.
I don’t expect perfection — just progress. Maybe by then, Survivor Incognito will have found its rhythm, its audience, and its foothold. Every post, every late-night edit, every small win adds up.
So three years from now? Still surviving. Still writing. Still wandering — but maybe on a smoother path, with a few more campfires along the way.
Invent a holiday! Explain how and why everyone should celebrate.
A yearly celebration for anyone who’s ever survived on 2% battery, half a sandwich, and sheer stubbornness. It’s a day dedicated to taking your favorite game, device, or creative project somewhere completely impractical—because survival isn’t just about staying alive, it’s about thriving in ridiculous conditions.
How to Celebrate:
Why Celebrate: Because survival isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence, laughter, and remembering that every bit of chaos you carry is proof that you’re still in the game.
(And yes, coffee counts as a survival tool.)
“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.
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.
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.
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.
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).
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.
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.
🔙 Read the Final Battle Log |
🗂️ Derailed & Doomed — Series Hub |
👀 Survivor’s Dread — Horror Series Hub
Signal Source: Super Mario 64 Randomizer | Platform: Steam Deck
Status: Active Feed | Condition: Unstable | Duration: 10 Seconds of Pure Confusion
The first proper signal after Transmission #0 has arrived — and it’s already malfunctioning.
Our sensors picked up an anomaly inside the Super Mario 64 Randomizer where stars, worlds, and basic physics decided to unionize against me.
The result? Ten seconds of pure, glorious nonsense, preserved for analysis.
As with Transmission #0, this short keeps the same broadcast format: static, flicker, chaos.
This time, the “REC” overlay makes it feel like a recovered feed — a camera that should’ve stopped rolling but didn’t.
Think of it as portable chaos meets paranormal broadcast interference.
Survivor Incognito 