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.)

By doing the exact opposite of relaxing: playing survival games. For some reason, dodging wolves, zombies, and blizzards calms me down more than meditation apps ever could. If I can unwind while starving in The Long Dark, real life feels positively restful.

(Plenty more questionable relaxation methods at Survivor Incognito.)

Yes — against every wolf, cougar, and zombie that’s ever ended one of my permadeath runs. Do I forgive? Eventually. Do I forget? Absolutely not. Those pixelated ambushes live rent-free in my head, and probably always will.

(Plenty more grudges, respawns, and survival stories at Survivor Incognito.)

Honestly? Somewhere between a safehouse in The Long Dark and a base in Subnautica. Warm, stocked with supplies, maybe a decent view — but without the constant threat of wolves, blizzards, or flooding. Basically, four walls, a roof, and the comforting knowledge that I don’t need to boil my drinking water.

(Plenty more questionable housing choices at Survivor Incognito.)

Because survival games are too good not to laugh at. I blog to turn my in-game disasters into stories — freezing, starving, or getting mauled by wolves feels a lot better once it’s written down with humour. It’s part therapy, part chaos log, and part proof that thriving is possible (even if my characters keep proving otherwise).

(Plenty more survival chaos turned comedy at Survivor Incognito.)