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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

• Play your favorite survival game on the go—Switch, Steam Deck, or whatever portable chaos engine you trust most.
• Bring snacks that will definitely crumble in your bag. Bonus points if they’re slightly squished.
• Post a screenshot, journal entry, or blog update titled “I Survived Portable Chaos Day.”

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.)

I spend a lot of time wandering the digital wilderness, but a few sites always feel like home:

• WordPress — my campfire, my journal, and sometimes my chaos log.
• Fandom & Wikis — because I refuse to roam a survival map without pretending I know where I’m going.
• GOG, Steam & Fanatical — the holy trinity of “I’ll just browse” that somehow becomes six new games.
• Archive.org — for when nostalgia hits harder than a blizzard.
• survivorincognito.co.uk — my map of all the strange, pixelated worlds I keep waking up in.

(If it’s got maps, mods, or mysteries, I’m probably there.)

I don’t think I’d re-live any year exactly as it was — more like revisit a few checkpoints with the knowledge I have now. Life’s kind of like a survival game that doesn’t let you reload saves, but you still pick up experience points along the way.

If I had to choose, I’d go back to the year I really started finding my footing creatively. The moment I realised that writing, gaming, and storytelling could all fit together — that was the spark that built everything I’m doing now. I wouldn’t change the struggle; I’d just remind myself that it’s all leading somewhere.

(And maybe tell my past self to stockpile coffee and patience — they’ll both be needed.)

The Apollo 11 moon landing. Not just because humans actually did it, but because of what it represents — a mix of courage, chaos, duct tape, and sheer determination. It’s the ultimate survival story, just in space suits instead of bearskin coats.

The idea that we looked up at something impossible and said, “Yeah, let’s go there,” always hits me. It’s proof that even when everything could go wrong, sometimes we still make it back home.

Everyone should know how to make a fire — literally and metaphorically.

In survival games, it keeps you alive. In life, it keeps you moving forward. Sometimes it’s a spark of curiosity, a bit of motivation, or just remembering why you started. Either way, it’s worth learning how to light it — and how to keep it going when the wind picks up.

Also, always cook the meat before eating it. That one’s universal.

(Bonus lesson: don’t stand on the campfire to check if it’s hot.)

To me, being a kid at heart means keeping that spark of curiosity alive — the same one that makes me explore every corner of a game map I clearly shouldn’t be in. It’s laughing when everything goes wrong, building forts out of whatever’s nearby, and still getting excited about fireflies, campfires, and finding snacks in unexpected places. Basically, it’s survival — but with a sense of wonder instead of panic.

(Also, kids nap. So technically, being a kid at heart means I’m just staying true to form.)