Coffee, comfort food, and the thrill of not freezing to death in a survival game. There’s nothing like narrowly escaping wolves in The Long Dark or fixing a flipped truck in SnowRunner to wake me up faster than any energy drink.

(Plenty more chaotic boosts of “energy” at Survivor Incognito.)

I don’t really stick to just one, but I’ll say this: any album that makes a survival game session feel like a movie soundtrack is my favourite. If I’m trudging through a blizzard in The Long Dark and it feels cinematic instead of tragic, the music’s done its

(Plenty more survival chaos that could use a soundtrack — at Survivor Incognito.)

I found the recipe for Lily’s pancakes from The Long Dark and thought, “Easy — I’ve got this.” Full confidence, like the blueprint was unlocked and ready to craft. Reality disagreed. My cooking skill was so far off that the recipe might as well have stayed locked. Instead of golden pancakes, we got a burnt, unidentifiable mess that no survivor — digital or otherwise — would eat.

(Plenty more recipes that should’ve stayed locked — at Survivor Incognito.)

That failure makes for the best stories. Whether it’s freezing to death five minutes into The Long Dark or flipping a truck in SnowRunner, the disasters are usually more entertaining (and more useful) than the smooth runs. I wish I’d realised earlier that falling flat isn’t the end — it’s the beginning of a good tale.

(Plenty more entertaining failures turned lessons at Survivor Incognito.)

Comfort foods. Nachos, pizza, anything with far too much cheese. In survival games I’m scraping together stale crackers and half-frozen soda, so in real life I’m claiming every cheesy carb as a victory feast.

(Plenty more survival meals — some tragic, some tasty — at Survivor Incognito.)

In real life? Enough to keep the legs working. In survival games? Constantly — usually while over-encumbered, freezing, starving, and being chased by something with teeth. My cardio stats would be legendary if pixels counted.

(Plenty more digital marathons at Survivor Incognito.)

Only if we’re counting survival games. I’m great at leading digital characters straight into blizzards, zombie ambushes, and the occasional tragic wolf encounter. In real life? I’d say I’m more of a storyteller than a leader — recording the chaos so others can laugh, learn, or at least feel better about their own survival skills.

(Plenty more questionable leadership decisions at Survivor Incognito.)

“Respawn.” Not something I get in permadeath runs, but I love the idea of starting fresh. In games it’s a do-over, in blogging it’s a new post, and in life it’s a reminder that even disasters can lead to something new (unless a wolf got you — then it’s just the end).

(Plenty more respawn-less disasters at Survivor Incognito.)

A balance of real calm and digital chaos. In real life: quiet mornings, good coffee, and no surprise blizzards. In games: just enough wolves, zombies, and survival disasters to keep the stories interesting. My ideal week is one where I can relax, play, and then laugh about how badly things went in the write-up.

(Plenty more ideal weeks ruined by wolves at Survivor Incognito.)

Endurance athletes. Marathon runners, ultra-cyclists, mountain climbers — the ones who push themselves to the limit and keep going. In survival games, I’m exhausted after jogging across a frozen lake with a backpack full of sticks, so I have huge respect for people who do the real thing without a pause menu.

(For digital endurance tests — usually ending worse — Survivor Incognito has the stories.)