Tag: Coastal Highway

Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 3: A Dangerous Amount of Luck

Unprepared Log 5 – Day 3: A Dangerous Amount of Luck

Difficulty: Interloper
Survivor: Will

I woke up to a still-burning fire. That felt like a warning.

I could have slept longer, but I didn’t risk it. If the fire died while I was unconscious, this run would have ended quietly and for no good reason.

I packed the bedroll, lit a torch, and went looking for rabbits.

I found a wolf instead.

Only three days in, and it was already tracking me.

I backed off toward the cave, swapped torches, and tried to create space. It followed anyway. Calm. Patient. Waiting.

I made for the nearby basement. Inside, I found shelter—and a pair of socks. Not exciting, but warmer feet matter more than pride.

Listening Instead of Seeing

I left the basement and pushed toward Coastal Highway.

The cold was immediate. Visibility was worse. I couldn’t see far enough ahead to plan, so I relied on sound.

Crows.

They led me to a deer carcass half-buried in the snow.

I started a fire right beside it. The plan was simple: wait until it thawed enough to harvest by hand. No hacksaw. No hatchet. No margin for error.

Once it hit the threshold, I took what I could. Meat first. Then the hide. One gut came with it—useful as a decoy if things went bad, but hopefully something I could cure.

The meat went straight on the fire. I didn’t linger.

Pressure Never Really Leaves

I checked the nearby fishing hut for matches.

There were none.

As soon as I stepped back outside, another wolf appeared. I didn’t hesitate. I headed straight for the nearest house and got indoors.

Inside, I found something this run had been refusing to give me.

Matches.

I don’t know if they were there the last time I passed through. It didn’t matter. They were there now.

I took everything useful and moved on toward Quonset Garage, with yet another wolf keeping pace behind me.

Quonset Feels Wrong

The garage was generous.

Too generous.

More supplies than last time. Still no hacksaw—but then I saw another box of matches.

At that point, it stopped feeling like luck.

I now had over thirty matches. Enough that, for the first time this run, I considered not keeping a fire burning just to build skill.

There was even a lantern.

Interloper doesn’t usually feel this forgiving. When it does, it’s usually planning something.

Ending the Day on a Win

I didn’t change the plan.

Quonset is tempting, but staying too long is how runs stall and die. Mystery Lake is still the goal.

Before sleeping, I crafted a snare. If I have to stop near a rabbit grove, I want options. Rabbit hides mean gloves and hats—assuming I survive long enough to need them.

Day 3 ended on a win.

That doesn’t mean much on Interloper.

But tonight, it’s enough.

Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 5 – Day 2 |
Unprepared Log 5 – Day 4

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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #4 – Day 3 & Day 4: Running on Fumes

Unprepared Log 4 – Days 3 & 4: Running on Fumes

Difficulty: Interloper
Survivor: Astrid

Food was a problem. Then the weather decided to make it worse.

With food still being the major concern, I would love to say I set out on a determined hunt.

I didn’t.

A blizzard was raging outside, so instead I did what Coastal Highway encourages best: hiding indoors and finding absolutely nothing.

I scavenged what buildings I could reach safely. Cupboards were empty. Drawers mocked me. Coastal Highway, it seems, had decided this run was optional.

Eventually the blizzard began to die down. Not gone — just tired enough to let me make bad decisions again.

Day 3: False Hope

I pushed out and searched a few more houses.

Nothing.

No food. No matches. No miracle tin of peaches hiding behind a chair.

By the end of the day, I accepted reality. I made water, ate what little I had left, and tried to stretch it further than it deserved.

It wasn’t enough, but it bought me another sunrise.

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Day 4: The Realisation

I woke up in the red.

This felt like the last day of the run. And honestly, I was okay with that. I’d done better than expected, and if this was it, I wasn’t going out crawling.

I packed up and moved, daisy chaining torches as I went.

Then I heard it.

The unmistakable sound of a match being struck.

That’s when it clicked.

I wasn’t lighting torches from each other. I’d been burning through my matches instead.

I checked my inventory.

One torch left.

Jackrabbit Island Panic

I headed straight for Jackrabbit Island, hoping for a bailout.

No matches.

I wasn’t exactly searching calmly, so that one’s on me, but the result was the same.

I still had a flare. Technically, I could start another fire. Realistically, that meant committing to keeping it alive, and I wasn’t thrilled by that idea.

If Coastal Highway had matches, it was doing an excellent job of hiding them.

Beachcombing Salvation

If I was going down, I might as well see what the blizzard had left behind.

I went beachcombing.

And then I saw it.

A deer carcass.

I used my last lit torch to start a fire and got to work. Harvesting. Cooking. Feeding the flames like my life depended on it — because it did.

Then, at the worst possible moment, my TV turned itself off.

No warning. No grace period.

What followed was a mad dash to grab the Steam Deck, wake the screen, and pause the game before the battery ran out and the fire burned itself to death.

Nothing like real-world panic layered on top of Interloper panic.

Once things were stable again, I finished cooking.

For the first time in days, I had real food.

Misanthrope’s Gamble

I weighed my options one last time.

Misanthrope’s Homestead felt just barely reachable.

I took the gamble.

Along the way, I found rabbits and managed to grab two of them before pushing inside.

No matches.

But I did have two flares.

Two more fires. After that, the maths gets ugly.

End of Day 4

I slept for a few hours.

When I woke up, the aurora was dancing outside.

That story deserves its own entry.

I don’t know if I’ll survive another day.

But getting this far has done something dangerous.

It’s made me want to try harder next time.

1

Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 4 – Day 2 |
Unprepared Log 4 – Final Day

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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #4 – Day 2: Going Out on My Own Terms

Difficulty: Interloper
Survivor: Astrid
Desolation Point felt hostile, and I didn’t have the tools to argue with it.

Today’s plan was simple.

I don’t have much food. I don’t have a way to make arrowheads. I don’t have improvised tools, and there’s no forge access without committing to something dangerous.

Desolation Point has given me what it’s going to give me. Staying longer just felt like waiting to die.

So I decided to take a chance and head for Coastal Highway. If I was going to find anything that could stabilise this run, it would be there.

Before leaving, I made one last ditch attempt to find a bedroll.

No luck.

The Abandoned Mine

I aimed for the Abandoned Mine, grabbing coal along the way. Heavy, but worth it. Coal buys time, and time is everything right now.

The mine itself actually paid out — a prybar. Not a solution, but finally something that felt like progress.

On the way toward Crumbling Highway, a wolf picked me up and followed. It didn’t charge. It didn’t rush.

It just stayed close enough to remind me that mistakes here don’t come with warnings.

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When the Wind Changes

This is where things go south fast.

I spotted a rabbit and felt that familiar pull — hunger making decisions louder than common sense. But the wind was picking up, and I knew what that meant.

I abandoned the idea of food and focused on shelter.

I found a cave just in time. Within minutes of getting inside, a blizzard hit.

No bed. No bedroll. No option to sleep.

I started a fire and waited it out, feeding it carefully and watching the storm rage outside. Every minute reinforced the same lesson:

I need a bedroll. Badly.

Coastal Highway, Briefly Lost

The blizzard eventually passed, and I pushed on into Coastal Highway.

I checked the first car I came across and somehow managed to get turned around almost immediately. The only reason I noticed was because I saw my own footprints in the snow.

I was sure there was an island with a house nearby. I locked onto what I thought was the right direction and tried to cross.

The ice was weak.

I tried again. Same result.

Eventually I gave up and aimed for the garage instead. I found out later that if I’d turned slightly more to the right, I would have spotted the island.

That one stings.

Quonset Garage

By this point, I was already planning my last words.

No food. Water was laughable. Condition dropping.

Then I saw it.

Quonset Garage.

If I could have run, I would have. I got inside, started a fire, and immediately found maple syrup. I drank it without hesitation.

I also found a hat, which meant my head was no longer completely exposed.

An aurora rolled in as well, lighting the place up and making the night feel just a little less hostile.

I considered heading back outside for more wood, but I remembered something important: a moose can spawn outside the garage.

I stayed put.

End of Day 2

Somehow, I made it through another day.

Tomorrow needs to be about food. I don’t know exactly how yet, but I can’t keep surviving on luck and syrup.

This is unfamiliar ground for me on Interloper.

And honestly?

I’m loving it.

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Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 4 – Day 1 |
Unprepared Log 4 – Day 3 & Day 4

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The Cold Chronicles Day Eight: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

The Cold Chronicles – Day 8: Blizzard Brain, Coffee Dreams, and the Wolf-Bear Gauntlet

Difficulty: Voyageur
Optional Features: Cougar enabled (because why not add another predator?)

On Day 8 of my The Long Dark Voyageur playthrough, a blizzard delays my journey to Mystery Lake, a wolf ruins my wardrobe, and a bear guards the one safe house I actually needed.

Missed Day 7? Read it here.

The World Says “No”

I woke up in the garage feeling ready. It was finally time to leave Mountain Town. I had supplies, a rifle, semi-repaired clothes, and a general sense of purpose. I opened the door—and immediately closed it again.

A blizzard. Whiteout conditions. Zero visibility. It sounded like the wind was trying to eat the building.

So instead of forging ahead, I read a sewing book for three hours. Not the action-packed survival story I’d hoped to tell, but hey—knowledge is warmth, and warmth is survival.

Loot Cache and a Coffee Blessing

When the blizzard passed, I made use of the break in weather to drop off excess gear in the garage and go hunting for anything I might’ve missed before I left the region. Turned out to be a smart call.

I found a few food items, a fishing book for future lakeside relaxation, and a couple precious packets of coffee—liquid courage for the road ahead. I also stumbled on a note tucked inside one of the buildings. It mentioned someone heading for Mystery Lake in search of shelter. That was the nudge I needed. If someone else thought it was a good spot to survive, it was good enough for me.

Destination: Mystery Lake. All I had to do was make it there alive.

A Wolf, a Cabin, and a Bear

I started my journey out of Coastal Highway with cautious optimism. I knew the route wouldn’t be easy, but I wasn’t expecting the game to throw both a wolf and a bear at me before I hit the transition zone.

The wolf spotted me and started trailing from behind. I lit my only torch, hoping to ward it off. The flame sputtered and died immediately. Classic.

I sprinted toward a nearby cabin, figuring I could slam the door behind me and catch my breath. That plan fell apart the second I saw the bear casually loitering near the entrance. Just vibing. Just existing. In my exact path.

I did a full 180 and ran like my life depended on it—because it did.

Firearms and Failure

The wolf was still chasing me. Desperate, I turned, pulled out my rifle, aimed, and missed completely. Either the cold got to me or I was too panicked to aim. Probably both.

The wolf lunged and took me down. I fought it off, but not before it shredded one of my best hats and ripped into some of my gear. More repairs. More cloth. More silent rage.

Back to the Garage

Wounded, frustrated, and very much not at Mystery Lake, I limped back to the garage like a defeated scavenger. I spent the rest of the evening repairing what I could, drinking some of that hard-earned coffee, and trying not to think about the bear still blocking the one safe house that could’ve saved me.

On the bright side, I survived. Barely. Day 9 will be my next attempt to leave this place behind—for real this time.

Unless it blizzards again. Or the bear moves in permanently.

Continue the journey:
Day 7 |
Day 9
2

The Cold Chronicles Day Seven: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

The Cold Chronicles – Day 7: Dead Ends, Rifle Finds, and Aurora Skies

Difficulty: Voyageur
Optional Features: Cougar enabled (because paranoia keeps you alive)

Day 7 on Coastal Highway brings dead-end roads, beachcombing, Barb’s rifle, and my first aurora. I almost fall through the ice (again), stash gear on Jackrabbit Island, and cook meat like a man possessed. So… a productive day?

Missed Day 6? Read it here.

The Road That Goes Nowhere

Another sunrise, another overambitious plan. Today, I decide I’m going to follow Coastal Highway all the way to its mysterious conclusion. Maybe I’ll find a new transition zone. Maybe I’ll find a wrecked truck with some rifle rounds and a can of dog food. Maybe I’ll find peace.

Spoiler: it’s a rockfall.

But I don’t know that yet. I set out early, dragging my increasingly reluctant survivor across the snow. First stop: the bridge just beyond the garage. It’s held up surprisingly well for the end of civilization. On the far side, I spot a car, and inside it—a note. Someone left a tip about a hidden cache near the garage. Tempting. Very tempting. But I decide to keep pushing forward for now. Eyes on the prize.

The road gets quieter. No wolves, no wind. Just snow crunching underfoot and the occasional groan from my guy who’s still mad about the 40kg backpack I’m making him haul. Eventually, the highway ends not with loot or glory, but a literal wall of boulders. No secret passage, no helpful signage. Just a dead end.

Rifles, Ice, and Intrusive Memories

With the highway goal dashed, I backtrack. But I’m not going to waste the day. I decide to poke around under the bridge I crossed earlier—because that’s a normal survival instinct now. Good thing I do, too.

Tucked under the support beams, half-buried in snow, is Barb’s rifle. No note, no explanation. Just the long-forgotten tool of someone else’s survival story. I take it, check the condition (not bad), and immediately feel 30% more powerful. Rifle > revolver. Every time.

Feeling cocky, I veer off the road and make my way across the ice toward Jackrabbit Island. The ice creaks and pops in that threatening way it always does, but I push forward, ignoring the very obvious signs that I am not welcome here. My screen does that “you’re about to die” wobble. I shuffle back to solid ice just in time. Somehow, I don’t fall in. Survival roulette wins again.

The Jackrabbit Hoard

I reach the house on Jackrabbit Island and decide to use it as a makeshift drop zone. I ditch the revolver, some food, a spare lantern, and whatever else I can live without. The rifle stays with me, obviously.

Loot-wise, Jackrabbit delivers. I find:

  • A skill book for rifles (Barb would be proud)
  • Another lantern (my third—clearly I have a problem)
  • More food, because Coastal Highway is just one big buffet if you know where to look

My inventory’s still ridiculous, but a little lighter. Temporarily.

Seagulls and Sketchy Ice

On the way back, I decide to risk a little beachcombing. I hug the shoreline, watching for anything shiny poking out of the snow—and get rewarded. A couple of arrows just sitting on the ice, half-frozen but perfectly usable. I swipe them up and head for Misanthrope Island.

As I get close, I see birds circling. That means one thing: a carcass. The ice between me and it looks about as stable as my guy’s calorie intake, but I edge closer anyway. It’s a deer, still fresh. I manage to harvest the meat and pull back without falling in. That makes two ice victories today, which honestly feels greedy.

Inside the house on Misanthrope, I find—surprise—more food and clothing. Nothing game-changing, but enough to keep the “loot goblin” part of my brain happy. I stow what I can, then head back toward the garage with a torch in hand in case wolves decide they’re hungry for man meat.

A Spark in the Static

Back at the garage, something’s different. There’s a glow. A hum. The computer whirs to life.

The aurora has arrived.

It’s my first one in this run, and it’s just as eerie as I remember. The air crackles, the sky pulses green, and the electronics—dormant and useless for days—suddenly flicker back to life. It’s beautiful in a “should I be worried?” sort of way.

I don’t have time to dwell on it. I’ve got meat to cook, water to boil, and coffee to brew. Lots of coffee. My survivor’s probably 80% caffeine at this point. I do my best diner cook impression, juggling pots and pans, and by the end of it the place smells like scorched venison and instant espresso. Not the worst way to end a day.

I eat what I can, dump the rest into storage, and crawl into bed. The aurora flickers through the window as I drift off.

Final Thoughts

Day 7 gave me a rifle, some arrows, a hidden cache hint, and a front-row seat to the aurora. Sure, I nearly fell through the ice twice and carried half my body weight in gear the whole way, but it was worth it.

Still alive. Still hoarding. Still hallucinating predators.

Continue the journey:
Day 6 |
Day 8
3

The Cold Chronicles Day Six: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

The Cold Chronicles – Day 6: Cartography, Carcasses, and Cold Feet

Difficulty: Voyageur
Optional Features: Cougar enabled (because paranoia keeps you alive)

“Snow, moaning about pack weight, and mapping everything that doesn’t bite. I dodge wolves, hallucinate bears, and risk the ice for some questionable meat. All in a day’s work.”

Missed Day 5? Read it here.

Morning Mystery: Where’s My Hide?

I start the day in that familiar state of survival-induced amnesia, wondering what I did yesterday and where I put that deer hide I worked so hard for. A quick look at my freshly updated map reveals it’s just a couple of houses down the road. I retrieve it without incident and decide today’s goal is simple: push further down the highway and fill in more of the map. No drama. Just exploration.

Which, in this game, obviously means I’m about to get hit by some drama.

Weather Warnings and Weight Woes

I step outside and immediately regret everything. It’s snowing, visibility is tanking, and I’m carrying 5kg more than I should be. My guy starts wheezing like he’s dragging a lead sled through molasses, and I know I’m going to hear him grumble about it all day.

Still, I press on.

Vehicles, Wolves, and Safe Sketching

I come across an abandoned car. Nothing useful inside, but it counts as shelter, and more importantly, it’s a predator-free place to update the map. I sketch it in while occasionally glancing at the frozen coast where wolves are loitering like bored mall cops. I carry on before they get curious.

Further along, I spot a closed fishing hut—unlooted and unvisited. Jackpot. I raid it for whatever scraps I can find and add it to the map.

Warm Feet, Flashbacks, and Phantom Bears

At the nearby fishing camp, I head into the first cabin and finally find a proper pair of boots. They’re heavier, but warmer, and my frostbitten toes thank me for the upgrade. I repair them, put them on, and get ready to head back out.

The moment I step outside, I freeze. Not because of the cold—but because I think I see a bear. Instant flashback to a past run in this same region, where a moose blindsided me outside the garage like it was collecting a debt.

Turns out this time it’s just a weird shadow and my overactive paranoia. No bear. Crisis imagined.

The rest of the cabins offer very little, but I do manage to:

  • Score a flashlight (Aurora prep)
  • Find more revolver rounds (now at 23 bullets)
  • Still weigh 40kg because I can’t stop picking up every slightly useful item I see

Birdwatching for Survival

As the light fades, I notice birds circling another fishing hut in the distance. That means one of three things: a body, a carcass, or a trap. I roll the dice and head over.

It’s a wolf carcass, right at the edge of some very sketchy-looking ice. I brace myself for a freezing swim but manage to harvest the meat without falling through. Back in the hut, I cook up the wolf and have my first proper meal in a while. Victory tastes like questionable carnivore.

The Long Walk Home (By Torchlight)

Darkness falls fast, and while the fishing hut is cozy enough, I don’t trust it to protect me through the night. I grab a torch from the fire and make the journey back to the fishing camp.

Somehow, no wolves. No bears. No moose. Just the sound of snow crunching underfoot and the occasional “ugh” from my overencumbered survivor. I make it to the cabin, crawl into bed, and let the darkness take me.

Final Thoughts

Day 6 down. I mapped half the coastline, got some new boots, hallucinated a bear, and ate a dead wolf. Still weighed down like a junkyard collector, but alive. That counts.

Continue the journey:
Day 5 |
Day 7
4

The One-Shot Wonder: Bear Meets Panic Rifle

On Coastal Highway in The Long Dark, a bear ambushed me at dusk. I panicked, fired, and somehow dropped it with a single shot. I’m still processing what happened—and how I’m alive.

—

It was getting dark on Coastal Highway. I was returning to Quonset Garage after a day of looting, freezing, and thinking about food I didn’t have.

And then I heard it.

That guttural growl—the kind that makes your blood freeze before the weather does.

I turned.
Bear. Charging.

My brain hit full panic mode. I fumbled for my rifle, jammed it into position, aimed down the sights, and braced for impact.

I fired.

I adjusted the brightness of the video so you can see what happens.

—

The Original

This is the original version. I was playing handheld on the Switch at the time

—

One shot. The bear dropped.

I stood there in stunned silence, half-expecting it to get back up and laugh. But it didn’t. It was down. Permanently.

Was it a crit? A miracle? Game physics?
No idea. But for that one shining second, I wasn’t just surviving—
I was the apex predator.

—

Final Thoughts

In a game known for handing out slow, painful deaths, I got a split-second win.
And honestly? I’m not sure it wasn’t a fluke.
But I’ll take it.

—

If you enjoyed this one, please check out my other Survivor’s Shorts

—

1

The Moose Behind the Tree – A 5% Spawn, 100% Panic Sprint

I thought I was alone on Coastal Highway. Then I saw antlers. This is the story of how a moose turned a quiet walk into an Olympic-level panic sprint.

—

It was just another day in The Long Dark.

I was walking the road near Quonset Garage on Coastal Highway. Light fading, stomach grumbling, the usual post-loot shuffle home. Everything felt quiet. Calm. Deceptively safe.

Then I saw it.

Not a charging bear. Not a distant wolf. No, this was worse.

A moose.

It wasn’t running.
It wasn’t stomping.
It was just… standing there.
Behind a tree.

Image taken from The Long Dark Wiki. Mainly because I didn’t think to take a screenshot or a video when it happened

—

Staring at me like it had been waiting for its cue in a survival horror play.

And then—it took the stance.
The head lowered. The hooves shifted. You know the one. The “say the word and I’ll flatten you” stance.

That was my sign to go.

I turned and ran for the nearest building like I’d just insulted its family. My survival instincts kicked in, my inventory was forgotten, and my dignity stayed behind by the tree.

—

Final Thoughts

The Long Dark Wiki says that moose in particular has a 5% chance to spawn for 48 hours. This one spawned right behind a tree and in front of my will to live.

—

Got a favourite chaotic moment?

Let me know in the comments or tag me on social—I’m always looking for new disasters to celebrate.
And if you enjoy these shorts, consider sharing the page with a fellow survivor.
Because nothing says “friendship” like a moose silently judging you from behind a tree.

—

If you enjoyed this story, please check out my other: Survivor’s Shorts

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The Cold Chronicles Day Five: A Voyageur’s Tale of The Long Dark

Survival Switch-Style

Day 5 – Mapping Coastal Highway, Finding a Revolver, and Prepping for Pleasant Valley

Next: Day 6 | Previous: Day 4

Today’s mission was simple on paper: lighten my pack, loot like a professional, and avoid becoming a decorative frozen lump in a snowbank. The first step was Quonset Garage inventory triage. I dumped food, meds, spare clothes, and every non-essential item into my storage stash — keeping just enough to keep me alive. Travel light, loot heavy. The survivor’s paradox.

First stop: a nearby building that greeted me with the holy grail of kitchenware — a cooking pot and a skillet. Outstanding finds. Unfortunately, they also weighed roughly the same as my survival hopes, so back to Quonset I trudged, muttering about my endless loop of “find loot, dump loot, repeat.”

With the weight off my shoulders (literally), I decided today was going to be about exploration — specifically, mapping Coastal Highway like a cartographer with too much time on their hands. I hopped between fishing huts, pausing every so often to scribble charcoal marks on my map like an artist who only draws squares. The wind bit at my face, ice groaned under my boots, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled just to keep me humble.

Loot highlights of the hut-hopping adventure included: a book on fishing (because nothing says “immersive reading” like reading about fishing while fishing), a hunting knife that immediately earned its keep on a nearby deer carcass, and — drumroll, please — a revolver.

Three bullets. Enough to be dangerous, not enough to be reckless.

Yes, an actual revolver. Even better — it had one round chambered, and earlier in my fishing crawl I’d picked up two loose bullets. That’s three shots. In The Long Dark, that’s not just self-defense; it’s a small-scale munitions miracle. Of course, in my infinite wisdom, I’d left the rest of my ammo back at Quonset, so for now it’s more of a moral support weapon.

While the deer meat cooked in one of the huts, I dashed over to a nearby trailer to drop off the hide and gut for curing. Nothing says “I’ve made it” like casually starting your own rabbit and deer leather collection. Resource management, baby.

By evening, the weather had shifted from “brisk” to “why are you outside, you fool?” A blizzard swept in just as I reached the edge of the lake. I wasn’t about to attempt a hero’s march back to Quonset in that, so I ducked into the nearest house. The place was cold, abandoned, and smelled faintly of damp socks — but it had loot, so it met my standards.

Looted the place, harvested some extra clothes (accidentally shredded a perfectly good hat, but we don’t talk about that), and collapsed into bed before the fatigue meter could nag me into a penalty.

End of Day 5: One revolver, three bullets, a map full of fishing huts, and the creeping suspicion that Coastal Highway might just be my new favorite spot — assuming the wolves don’t hold a vote on the matter.

Continue the journey:
◀ Day 4 – Into the Wind and the Wolves
Day 6 – To Pleasant Valley ▶

More from The Long Dark:
🏠 The Long Dark Hub
📘 Survive Your First Week in The Long Dark
📜 Customloper Diaries
⚙ Customloper Settings

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Day 1 Diary – The Long Dark Customloper – Cold Coast, Hard Start

Day 1 of a Customloper survival test in The Long Dark. Spawned in Coastal Highway. Made gloves out of scraps, got hit with a blizzard, and somehow didn’t freeze to death.

I put in the Customloper settings, picked my character, set the spawn to random, and named the file Day One. I spawn in Coastal Highway – specifically right next to the path leading to The Ravine.

Map of Coastal Highway

I think about going that way for all of five seconds, I choose life instead and head toward the Train Unloading Trailer I know is nearby

Spawned in cold, sprinting for shelter. Train Unloading it is

—

Inside I grab what I can, including a second pair of socks. Then hit the tunnel corpse – and score a hatchet.

My loadout after looting the trailer. No gloves, great.

—

From there, I billy goat my way down a nearby cliff, grabbing sticks while the temperature plummets.

Alternative route, gravity assisted travel

—

I find another trailer. It’s warmer, but still not warm enough. And I didn’t spawn with gloves, so my hands are freezing.

I cut across the road, stop at a car, then head toward the Fishing Camp.

Note: I had to double-check the name using my own Map Hub — I knew where I was, just couldn’t remember what it was called. Proof the hub’s not just for readers.

I loot what I can — some food, but not enough to carry me far. In the first house, I grab cloth and craft handwraps. It helps, barely. In the second, third and fourth houses, I scrape together enough to make a makeshift hat.

Then I step outside.

I step outside. Weather steps on me

—

I retreat and sleep for three hours to warm up. When I wake, the blizzard has cleared. I push toward Jackrabbit Island and manage to snag three rabbits — finally, a win.

Inside the house, I raid the fridge and score water. I harvest the rabbits for meat as the sun drops.

Then I head outside, light a fire on the first try, and cook everything. I even remember I have herbal tea, brew it, and drink it to recover some condition — which was down to about 50%.

Back inside, I scavenge the place and find a pair of wool mittens, climbing socks, and a pair of boots.

I go to bed warm, full, and genuinely surprised I made it through Day One.

—

Next week, I start my actual Customloper run. I start in a new area, and will attempt to explore the whole island before I succumb to The Long Dark.

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If you want to know more about Customloper, why not check out The Long Dark Customloper Settings: Easier Interloper Survival Mode

If you enjoyed this entry, why not check out my other Day One Diaries

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