Super Mario 64 Randomizer – Log 15: Lava Coins and a Missing Course

Mario 64 Randomizer – Log 15: Lava Coins and a Missing Course

Game: Super Mario 64 Randomizer
Platform: Steam Deck
Format: No Commentary

Video: Upstairs exploration, Tick Tock Clock entry leads to Lethal Lava Land, wing cap red coin attempts, 100-coin failures, and a late-session realisation (no commentary)

Dodging the Cave, Taking the Stairs

I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Hazy Maze Cave. Not today. Not when I know exactly how many ways that place can waste my time, and not when the Wing Cap stage is sitting there like a chore list pretending it’s optional. So I go upstairs instead, because upstairs at least feels like a choice.

There are three different entrances up here that can lead to something useful, plus the one door that wants 119 stars like it’s doing me a favour. I’m not there yet, so I focus on what I can touch. As I climb the stairs, I decide to see what awaits me inside the clock.

I jump in and get Lethal Lava Land.

It could have been worse, I tell myself. I’ve already tackled what felt like the two hardest courses in this randomizer seed. How bad can this be.

Lethal Lava Land, Rewritten

The answer is somewhere in the middle. Not a total disaster, but not the easy breather I was hoping for either. It has the same energy as Bowser in the Fire Sea, where you can feel the randomizer making decisions specifically to be annoying.

Pretty much all the red coins are over the lava. Of course they are. And the red coin star itself is over the lava as well, which means the last thing you want to do in a lava level is the exact thing you have to do. I hate it immediately, which is impressive, because in the original game I actually like this course.

It doesn’t help that I don’t pay enough attention to where the camera pans when stars are hinted at. I catch enough of it to have a vague idea, but most of the time I’m running on instinct and memory and whatever the course decides to show me on the way. Luckily, Lethal Lava Land isn’t huge compared to some of the other worlds, so even “mostly luck” has a higher success rate here than it probably deserves.

Wing Cap: Emergency Measures

This might be the first time I’ve ever used the Wing Cap in this stage. Ever. That’s not a brag. That’s just the randomizer forcing a new habit into me like it’s a life lesson.

I try to be clever first and use the Koopa shell to sweep up red coins quickly. It makes sense in theory. It’s fast, it keeps you moving, and it lets you pretend you’re in control. Then I lose it before the red coin star appears, and suddenly the plan is gone and I’m standing on hot rock trying to negotiate with gravity.

I briefly consider just jumping for the star and hoping the game decides to be kind. It’s not a strategy so much as it is a surrender. Then I spot the Wing Cap block and realise I’d completely forgotten it even existed here. It’s one of those moments where you don’t feel smart for remembering, you just feel annoyed that you didn’t remember sooner.

The 100 Coin Star, Postponed

I also make a few attempts at the 100 coin star, because I always tell myself I might as well “while I’m here.” Every attempt ends the same way: me in the lava, but somehow in increasingly creative ways. It’s like I’m trying to find new angles for humiliation.

I do manage to grab the six main stars in the level, which keeps the session from turning into a complete loss. But the 100 coin star will have to wait. I’m not wasting the entire recording on a coin chase that keeps ending with me sizzling.

The Click at the End

As I wrap up the recording, something clicks. I start counting what areas are left, making a mental note of where each course could potentially be, and trying to map the castle in my head the way you do when you’ve been burned enough times to stop trusting anything at face value.

And then I realise one thing.

If my calculations are correct, I’m missing a course. Not “I haven’t reached it yet.” Not “I don’t have the stars.” Missing. I have no idea where in this castle it could be, which is a problem, because the castle isn’t that big when you’re not pretending it’s a mystery.

It’s the kind of realisation that sits in the back of your skull and doesn’t let you relax. The run isn’t just about collecting stars anymore. It’s about figuring out what I’ve somehow walked past without seeing, and accepting that the randomizer probably hid it somewhere obvious just to make it feel personal.

Continue the Journey

← Log 14
Log 16 →

🧢 Mario 64 Randomizer Hub

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Isolation Protocol: An Alien Isolation Survival Diary – Log 3: Lockdowns, Keycards, and False Hope

Isolation Protocol Log 3: Lockdowns, Keycards, and False Hope

Game: Alien: Isolation
Platform: Steam Deck
Location: Seegson Communications

Video: Seegson Communications exploration, human hostiles, Security Tuner repair, Level 1 access unlock (no commentary)

Seegson Communications sounded like progress. It felt more like being lost in someone else’s mistake.

Axel’s last useful direction pointed toward Seegson Communications. With Transit behind me and no better option available, that became the objective. The route there wasn’t difficult in theory. In practice, I circled the same section more than once, missing an obvious door and questioning whether the station was confusing or I simply was.

The map didn’t help. It showed lines and boxes, but not intent. I eventually found the correct path almost by accident. The station doesn’t guide you forward. It waits for you to notice what you’ve overlooked.

Human Resistance

I saw someone working near an elevator ahead. Before I could close distance or consider options, they spotted me and fired. No warning. No attempt at conversation. Just immediate violence.

They retreated, but not alone for long. Others joined them quickly. Whatever alliances remain on Sevastopol, I am not included in them.

I chose patience over confrontation. Crouched movement. Controlled breathing. Hard cover whenever possible. The revolver I’d picked up felt more symbolic than practical. Limited ammunition against a coordinated group is not a reliable strategy.

At one point they tracked my direction, following me through adjoining corridors. Then they stopped short of heading downstairs. I didn’t understand their hesitation, but I used it. If they avoided that level, I would use it to create distance.

Tools and Oversights

In the aftermath of the encounter, I found a broken Security Tuner. Damaged, but clearly repairable. It felt important. Sealed doors across the station hinted at systems layered behind security protocols I didn’t yet have access to.

I also collected a keycard.

And promptly forgot I had it.

I tested locked doors repeatedly before the obvious solution occurred to me. Once I used the card, the barrier that had stalled me opened instantly. The station isn’t always the obstacle. Sometimes it’s inattention.

The Nostromo Recorder

The objective here was specific: retrieve the flight recorder from the Nostromo. Something concrete. Something that felt like forward motion instead of wandering.

I reached it without incident. Accessed the data. Waited for something meaningful.

The file was corrupted.

No insight. No leverage. No answers. Just static.

The station responded to my access with a lockdown. Shutters descended. Systems shifted. I was instructed to remain in place and wait for assistance.

Waiting has not improved my odds so far.

Security Level 1

Searching nearby offices and terminals revealed the missing component for the Security Tuner. Repairing it required a careful symbol match sequence — controlled inputs, steady pacing. Calm in isolation. Potentially disastrous under pressure.

When the final confirmation tone sounded, I had Level 1 security access.

It didn’t feel triumphant. It felt incremental. Doors that were previously sealed now recognised me as authorised. That doesn’t make the station safer. It just expands where I can be unsafe.

Reassessment

I returned to the save station I’d used earlier. Not because the area was secure, but because it wasn’t. The armed group remained somewhere above. Their patrol patterns were unpredictable. I had one revolver and very few rounds.

The Xenomorph had not yet re-entered the picture in this section of the station. That absence didn’t comfort me. It felt temporary.

Seegson Communications did not provide answers. It provided access.

Access means movement. Movement means exposure.

Next entry, I move forward.

Continue the journey:
Log 2 | Log 4
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Eight Pages – A Slender: The Arrival Survival Diary Log 2: Strike One

Eight Pages – Log 2: Strike One

Platform: Steam Deck
Rule Set: Apex Predator Rule Active (1 / 3 Strikes)

Video: First strike recorded, a choke point mistake, and a second attempt under pressure (no commentary)

The forest drew first blood.

A little transparency before we begin properly. I had already stepped into this map once, collected the scrapbook items, and then realised I wasn’t recording. That’s why those pickups don’t show the usual notification. A strong start. Completely intentional. Obviously.

We continue where Log 1 left us. Survival instincts of a potato fully engaged, I head deeper into Oakside Park. As I pass what I assume is the canoe rental building — based entirely on a large sign suggesting that it is — my character slows. I hear something. It sounds like whispers carried on the air. Or maybe just wind doing a very good impression.

The pace returns to normal, but something has shifted. This is where the chapter really begins.

I reach the park layout sign and stop. The paths are mapped out clearly. Landmarks marked. I try to commit as much of it to memory as I can. I know this is going to matter later. Behind the sign is the first page. I take it.

And then I hear that sound.

It’s been over ten years since I last heard it, but it hasn’t lost its edge. That low, deliberate cue that signals one thing and one thing only: Slender has taken his first step.

Eight pages are scattered across the park. I need to collect them before he catches me. Simple objective. Complicated execution.

I didn’t make it to eight.

On page five, I entered a building. It had one entrance and one exit. I knew that. I went in anyway. I grabbed the page and turned around. He was already standing in the doorway.

No dramatic chase. No narrow escape. Just a blocked exit and rising static. I tried to push past him. He didn’t move. The screen filled with noise and the forest claimed its first strike.

Strike One.

Before going back in, I want to peel the curtain back for a moment.

This map never changes its shape. The paths stay where they are. The landmarks don’t move. There are nine key locations across the park, and eight of them will contain a page. Which eight changes each run, but the layout itself remains constant.

Slender’s behaviour escalates with every page collected. The more you gather, the more aggressive he becomes. By page seven, he is relentless. Sprinting feels like control, but stamina drains quickly, and once you commit to a bad position late-game, there’s little room for error.

Entering a single-exit building at five pages wasn’t unfair. It was poor timing. The forest didn’t cheat. It capitalised.

So I went back in.

Same park. Same layout. Different page placements. This time I found that same building early and cleared it immediately. I didn’t want to face that choke point near the end again. With the landmarks fixed in place, it becomes possible to track where you’ve been. Once you confirm a location has no page, you eliminate it from consideration. The park starts to shrink.

He appeared several times. Close enough to raise the static. Close enough to make me question my route. But not close enough to end it.

Seven pages collected. One missing.

I reached a fork in the path and hesitated. I took the right route first. It led back toward the car. Not what I needed. I doubled back, expecting him to be waiting. He wasn’t.

The other path led to a tent. And pinned against it, almost casually, was page eight.

I grabbed it. The footsteps stopped.

He appeared behind me. My character suddenly decided cardio was a priority and broke into a sprint before everything faded to black.

Map cleared.

But the forest has already taken one strike.

Two remain.

Log 2 Takeaways

  • A single-exit building at five pages is a calculated risk, not bad luck.
  • The map layout stays the same — page placement does not.
  • Slender escalates with every page collected.
  • Clearing choke points early changes the late-game pressure.
  • Strike One proves the Apex Predator Rule is active.
Continue the journey:

Log 1 |
Log 2 (You are here) |
Log 3

0

Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 8: Upgrades, Interruptions, and Half a Plan

Submerged Log 8: Upgrades, Interruptions, and Half a Plan

Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Will

Video: Lifepod search, blueprint checks, and radio message fallout (no commentary)

At this point, lifepods feel less like rescue and more like themed disappointment.

With another lifepod location handed to me over the radio, I decide that’s the next logical stop.
Based on my current success rate, I’m not expecting survivors — and I’m right.

Before heading out, I check my blueprints. This is a mistake. Or a motivation boost.
The Seamoth list is stacked: fragments, upgrades, and a solar charging module that promises freedom
from constantly babysitting power cells.

I pin what looks useful and head out, already planning upgrades I absolutely do not have yet.

The Lifepod (Again)

No survivors. No surprises. Just the ocean doing what it does best.

What I do find is lithium — which is genuinely useful. Several of my blueprints need it.
The problem is the usual one: I find one node, then spend far too long failing to find another.

Eventually, frustration wins. I abandon the search and head back to base,
completely forgetting that this trip was also meant to scout a future base location.
Seamoth upgrades take priority over long-term planning.

Alterra Checks In

Back at the lifepod, the radio crackles again — and this time it’s not another survivor.

The message sounds official. Alterra knows what happened. They know rescue will take a long time.
But they have an alternative.

The Captain’s Quarters aboard the Aurora is intact. There’s a black box.
I’m given the code to access the quarters and instructions that supposedly help me
“meet them halfway.”

All of this unfolds while someone in the background pesters them about a lunch run.
Apparently, ordering food is a higher priority than stranding protocol.

The Missing Step

On paper, escape now sounds possible. In practice, there are problems.
I’m still infected, and the giant alien laser hasn’t exactly signalled that I’m free to leave.

I turn my attention back to something I can control: the Seamoth solar charger.
I gather the materials. I go to the fabricator.

Nothing.

I check the Mobile Vehicle Bay. Still nothing.
I have what I need, but I’m missing a step somewhere — blueprint, fragment, or prerequisite.
Classic Subnautica.

With upgrades stalled and questions piling up, the next move is obvious:
back to the Aurora, into the Captain’s Quarters, and finally find out
what Alterra thinks “halfway” actually means.

Continue the journey:
Previous Log |
Next Log
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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 15: Wolves, Wind, and a Six-Hob Victory

Unprepared Log 15: Wolves, Wind, and a Six-Hob Victory

Difficulty: Interloper
Region: Mountain Town (Milton Basin & Farmhouse)
Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Will

I wake up alive. No bear. The bar is low, but it’s still a win.

First check: surroundings. Still breathing, still standing, and the farmhouse is still on my mind.
Cabin Fever risk is gone for the moment, which means I can actually loot houses without the game
threatening me with imaginary illness.

I leave Milton Basin and point myself toward the farmhouse.
No sightseeing. Just movement.

Post Office Luck, Sort Of

I detour to the post office and immediately find another magnifying lens.
It’s in worse condition than my first one, so it becomes the expendable option.

Indoor lens stays safe.
This one gets sacrificed to outdoor fires and bad weather.

I also find a fish.
That becomes a logistics problem.

Greymother’s Sprint and Wolf: Round Three

I do a quick sprint to Greymother’s house because the wolf is back.
Again.

I dump supplies inside:

  • Fish
  • Deer hide
  • Animal fat

Then I head back out to start a fire.
The wind is already acting suspicious.

I cook the fish and some rose hips, grab a torch, and immediately see the wind lining up to blow it out.

The wolf returns for round three.
We stand there staring at each other like this is a negotiation.

I throw the torch.
The wolf does not care.

I light a flare because I am not giving it any excuse.
Naturally, it decides to follow me anyway.

Eventually it breaks off and goes after either a rabbit or a deer on the farmland.
I don’t check which.
I accept the distraction and move on with my life.

Farmhouse Loot and Duplicate Tools

While looting, the game decides to be generous in a very specific way.

  • Another Heavy Hammer
  • A replacement Prybar

The hammer matters.
It means I don’t have to go all the way back to Mystery Lake just to fetch one.

I will still need to return eventually for my bow and arrows,
but that requires arrowheads and an improvised knife first.
Which means a forge.

Closest option: Forlorn Muskeg.

The Key, the Fire, and the Six-Hob Fantasy

The farmhouse key is around the back.
Of course it is.

I get the fire going just before my flare burns out.
Timing feels good for once.

Then I go all in on cooking.

  • Water
  • Porridge
  • Teas
  • Potatoes

Six hobs.
No waiting.
No juggling timers.
This is Interloper luxury.

I find a replacement flare in the bathroom.
Still annoyed I had to use the other one.
But balance is restored.

I consider repairing my hacksaw, then remember reality.
I need my simple toolkit and scrap metal first.
Interloper does not do impulse maintenance.

Tomorrow’s Plan: Forge or Die Trying

Tomorrow’s goals are simple on paper and dangerous in practice:

  • Drop anything I don’t need
  • Grab enough scrap metal
  • Forge an improvised knife
  • Forge arrowheads
  • Reach the forge in Forlorn Muskeg
  • Avoid thin ice
  • Avoid bears

Standard Interloper expectations.

Just another day where the game didn’t kill me.
Which, on Interloper, counts as progress.

Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 14 |
Unprepared Log 16

1

Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 6: The Village and the Explosion

Stranded – Log 6: The Village and the Explosion

Game: Minecraft
Mode: Hard Survival
Platform: Steam Deck

Exploration felt more productive than mining. That assumption didn’t last.

The mine hasn’t been giving me what I need, so I decided to head further afield. Before leaving, I watched a zombie burn itself down outside the house. Once it finished accepting its fate, I took that as my cue to move.

My base appears to sit where several biomes intersect. One direction leads into desert, which feels completely different to the jungle-like wood surrounding my retreat. The contrast was enough reason to choose it.

A Tower on the Horizon

After travelling for a while, I spotted a tower in the distance. My first thought was pillager outpost. I adjusted my expectations accordingly.

It turned out to be a village.

The villagers didn’t react to my presence, even while I searched their chests. Mostly wheat and bread. Nothing exceptional, but a village changes the long-term outlook. Trade becomes possible. Structure becomes possible.

I spoke to a few of them to see what roles they carried, then decided to return home. I could have stayed the night there. They had beds. They had shelter. But I wanted my own.

On the walk back, I began thinking about infrastructure — perhaps a direct tunnel linking my base to the village so I wouldn’t need to rely on spotting the tower each time.

That was when I realised my first mistake.

I had no idea which direction I had travelled to get there.

Night Decisions

Darkness arrived quickly. I could have built a temporary shelter and waited. It would have been simple and safe.

Instead, I decided to see how well I could defend myself.

The first skeleton engaged at range. I blocked several arrows cleanly with my shield and felt confident enough in the exchange. Then a second skeleton appeared. Two on one.

I kept blocking and repositioning. At that point, I still rated my chances of survival as high.

Then I heard the hiss.

The explosion ended the calculation immediately. The message confirmed it: blown up by a creeper. What had been two enemies had quietly become three.

Not the End

In a hardcore world, that would have been the end of the run. This world is set to Hard survival. The death stands. The mistake stands.

It felt frustrating rather than dramatic. A shelter would have prevented it. A pause would have prevented it. Instead, I chose to keep moving.

Next log, I return properly equipped with whatever remains in storage and head back out. The village still exists. The direction needs rediscovering.

Exploration offers opportunity. It also exposes weaknesses.

Continue the Journey

Previous Log | Next Log
Stranded Hub

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Cold-Blooded: A Skyrim Survival Diary – Log 7: The Horse Has Opinions

Cold-Blooded Log 7: The Horse Has Opinions

Difficulty: Survival Mode
Platform: Steam Deck
Build: Argonian Mage
Follower: Lydia

The plan was simple: ride out, grab Nettlebane, come home. Skyrim immediately rewrote it.

This is the horse’s first real outing.
The objective is Nettlebane.
I know the route takes me past Helgen, and that’s about all I know.

To keep things efficient, I bring Clairvoyance.
If there’s a faster or safer path, I want to know about it.

Video Log: Cold-Blooded – Log 7 (No Commentary)

YouTube embed goes here

Clairvoyance Takes Control

About halfway into the ride, confusion sets in.
I’m going in the opposite direction of where I expect to be heading.

I ignore the instinct to turn back and trust Clairvoyance.
This turns out to be a mistake.

A map check confirms it:
I’m near Silent Moon Camp.
The bounty location.

I’m fairly sure it wasn’t my active quest,
but Clairvoyance clearly disagreed and made the decision for me.

Silent Moon Camp, Horse Included

Since I’m already here, I clear the camp.
Leaving would be a waste.

I park the horse a short distance away before the fight.
The horse ignores this suggestion entirely.

The moment combat starts, it charges bandits with enthusiasm.
Between Lydia, my summoned Atronach, and now an aggressive horse,
the fight feels heavily one-sided.

I briefly consider the tactical implications of owning a battle horse.
Then I loot the bodies.

Locks, Potions, and Questionable Planning

Inside, I hit my first real obstacle:
an Adept-level lock.

It costs me a painful number of lockpicks,
but I get it open.

The reward is a pile of potions.
I have no plan for them.
I don’t know if I’ll ever use them,
or if Lydia should carry them and sort it out herself.

That decision is officially a future problem.

Rewards and Reassessment

With the bounty cleared, I return to Whiterun.
Before I can even collect the reward,
I’m handed a sword.

I don’t question it.
Skyrim likes giving me weapons I didn’t ask for.

Back outside the city, the horse gives me options.
I could head for the Greybeards.
I could try for Nettlebane again.

Given Clairvoyance’s earlier betrayal,
I decide not to push my luck.

I stop, reassess, and decide the next move needs to be deliberate.
Skyrim already proved it’s more than happy to choose for me.

Log Summary

  • Horse used in combat, without consent
  • Clairvoyance redirected me to Silent Moon Camp
  • Silent Moon Camp bounty completed
  • Adept lock opened after heavy lockpick losses
  • Large potion stash acquired, purpose unclear
  • Nettlebane postponed again

Continue the Journey

Cold-Blooded Log 6 |
Cold-Blooded Log 7 |
Cold-Blooded Log 8

More from Cold-Blooded


Cold-Blooded: A Skyrim Survival Diary Hub

1

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
1

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

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