Tag: Permadeath Run

Surviving the Milky Way: An Elite Dangerous Survival Diary – Day 2: The Rustbucket Rises

Day 2 – The Rustbucket Rises

“These are the voyages of one unprepared Commander. Their mission: to break in a second-hand Adder, deliver mail faster than expected, and discover that cargo pickups can crash more than just your ship.”

From Scraprunner to Rustbucket

The ISS Scraprunner got me this far, but when I spotted an Adder for sale, I couldn’t resist. A few credits later and some questionable tinkering produced the ISS Rustbucket, registry RBT-01. Upgrades included a new Frame Shift Drive, thrusters, fuel scoop, more cargo racks, and an extra weapon. The one thing I didn’t touch? Shields. Whether that’s wisdom or hubris, time will tell.

Courier Life

The mission board offered one contract labelled high threat. I decided exploding wasn’t on today’s agenda and picked safer jobs instead:

  • A data delivery to Marius Relay in the Col 285 Sector AM-R b19-4 system.
  • An agricultural supply run—which bizarrely meant transporting six units of personal weapons—to Wesker’s Pride in the Col 285 Sector BV-E a41-1 system.

On the way to Marius Relay, I got a message offering a bonus for quick delivery. Challenge accepted. The new fuel scoop kicked in automatically, topping up my tank as I skimmed stars. Docking complete, data handed over, and I even ranked up to Peddler. Not glamorous, but it’s better than “galactic stowaway.”

The Cargo That Wasn’t

Then it hit me—I hadn’t actually collected the weapons before leaving. Back to the station I went, already dreading the 20+ jump route ahead. It would at least be a good test for the Rustbucket’s scoop, or so I told myself.

Ten minutes of fiddling with menus later, I finally thought I’d sorted the cargo pickup. That’s when the game crashed. Server connection lost, mission abandoned. The Rustbucket sat waiting, but my courier career ended in digital silence.

Rustbucket Status Report

  • Ship: ISS Rustbucket (Adder)
  • Upgrades: FSD, thrusters, fuel scoop, cargo racks, weapons
  • Untouched: Shields (future-me will regret this)
  • Rank: Peddler
  • Mood: Triumphant → Confused → Disconnected

Next Time

With the Rustbucket ready and the galaxy waiting, I’ll try again. Hopefully the servers stay awake long enough for me to actually deliver cargo. Otherwise, I’ll just become the Milky Way’s most overqualified data courier.

Continue the Journey

← Day 1 | Day 2 (You Are Here) | Day 3 →

Surviving the Milky Way: Series Hub

The Rules of the Stars

2

Isolation Protocol: An Alien Isolation Survival Diary – Log 2: The Jack, the Gun, and the Monster

Isolation Protocol – Log 2: The Jack, the Gun, and the Monster

Difficulty: Medium

Optional Features: Permadeath enabled with the Three Strikes Rule

Alien Deaths: 0/3

“Axel says it’s called surviving. I’m starting to think it’s called ‘dying slower.’”

Sevastopol isn’t a space station anymore — it’s a coffin with too many rooms. The walls groan, the lights flicker, and the floor is littered with suitcases nobody will ever claim. Every corner creaks like it’s considering whether to collapse, and the stench is somewhere between fried wires and unwashed corpses.

Somewhere in this mess, I’ve decided, lies survival. Or at least the tools to fake it.

The Maintenance Jack (Switch Edition)

My first discovery is a vent leading to baggage claim. A shadow darts past, proof I’m not as alone as I thought. Naturally, I follow — because curiosity didn’t just kill the cat, it strapped the cat into a jumpsuit and dumped it on Sevastopol.

That shadow leads me to a morgue. Body bags stacked like leftovers nobody wants. And there, in a nearby room, I finally spot my prize: a corpse clutching the Maintenance Jack. He’s left behind an ID tag and a final audio log, a last will whispered into static. I take both, because apparently, I’ve become a grave robber with a side hustle in identity theft.

The Jack is clunky but glorious. On Switch, it works like this:

  • A: Grab the brace
  • Hold ZL + ZR: Apply elbow grease
  • Left Stick: Yank open the door like you mean it

With this tool, half the station is suddenly my oyster. Unfortunately, the other half is still locked behind plasma torches, ion torches, and my crippling lack of luck.

Enter Axel, Stage Left (Gun in Hand)

Just as I’m getting used to prying open doors like a budget locksmith, I find myself in a cutscene with a gun pressed to my head.

Meet Axel. His opening line is basically “don’t move.” My counter-offer is “please don’t shoot.” Somehow, we agree on a deal: he’ll help me through Sevastopol if he gets a seat on the Torrens. His sales pitch is… intense.

He mentions “a killer” stalking the station, but claims he hasn’t seen it. Which is funny, because I have — in the shadows, in the atmosphere, in the dripping dread that clings to every vent.

Not five minutes later, Axel points his gun at two other survivors. His definition of “nice guy” clearly needs work. The elevator door shuts, they vanish, and I find myself trapped in the world’s most awkward team-up.

Flashlights, Blueprints, and Sneaking 101

Axel hands me a flashlight — finally, something to pierce the gloom. On Switch: Y toggles it. Of course, batteries are rarer than honesty in a card game, so I use it sparingly.

Soon after, he introduces me to Sevastopol’s main sport: sneaking past armed strangers. Axel assures me they’ll kill us if spotted, which I would’ve figured out from the way they pace around with twitchy trigger fingers.

I crouch-walk the whole way, hugging shadows while my heartbeat plays the percussion section of a horror soundtrack. I flick the generator off as a distraction and duck into a vent, holding my breath as one of them passes inches from the grate. My first close call, and probably not my last.

On the plus side: I find a Medkit blueprint. Ingredients: 1 x SCJ Injector, 1 x Compound B, 1 x Bonding Agent, and 10 Scrap. I craft one immediately, because nothing says “confidence” like carrying your own first-aid kit in a death maze.

Death of a Guide

We work together to force open a door. Axel gets jumped. I swing the Maintenance Jack like a baseball bat, knocking the guy back. Axel overreacts with a bullet, which echoes down the corridors like a dinner bell for every hostile in range.

We run, ducking into corridors as voices shout behind us. Axel yells, “This is survival!” I yell, “This is stupid!” Neither of us is wrong.

Then: drip.

A shadow looms overhead. Axel freezes. A tail punctures his chest, lifts him clean off the ground, and throws him like a doll into the darkness. No quips. No bravado. Just silence.

The killer is real. And it spares me — for now.

Transit Terror

Shell-shocked, I stumble into the transit station. The lights flicker, the vents groan, and every sound feels like it belongs to the thing that just gutted Axel.

I hit the call button. The screen tells me the train is coming. I wait.

And wait.

Every second stretches into eternity. My eyes dart between the vents and the shadows, convinced something will lunge at me before the doors hiss open.

When the transit finally arrives, I sprint inside, slam the button, and ride it out toward the Spire. Axel is gone. The Alien is here. And I have never hated public transport more in my life.

Log 2 Key Takeaways

  • Maintenance Jack: Your new best friend (A, ZL + ZR, Left Stick).
  • Flashlight: Y toggles it — conserve those batteries.
  • Medkit Blueprint: Injector, Compound B, Bonding Agent, and Scrap.
  • Not all survivors are friendly. Some are Axel. Some are worse.
  • The Alien has entered the stage. Stealth is no longer optional.
Continue the Protocol:
Log 1 |
Log 2 (You Are Here) |
Log 3
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Surviving the Milky Way: An Elite Dangerous Survival Diary – Day 1: The ISS Scraprunner Begins Its Journey

Day 1 – The ISS Scraprunner Begins Its Journey

“These are the voyages of one unprepared Commander. Their mission: to survive the Milky Way, avoid fiery death by sun, and boldly fail where no pilot has failed before.”

From Training Wheels to Scraprunner

After proving I could pilot a Sidewinder without immediately crashing — and sticking the landing at Mawson Dock thanks to the autopilot, not my skills — I was officially promoted to Commander. To mark the occasion, I christened my first ship the ISS Scraprunner, registry SCR-01. It rattles like it’s made of leftover bolts, but it’s mine.

First Jobs, First Mistakes

Career options were thin on the board, but I spotted two missions in the Orna system: a Conflict Training Area exercise and a Courier Job. Both in the same system? Easy credits. I accepted both, queued for launch, and let auto-launch guide me out of Mawson Dock. Only as I sat in the departure queue did I realize I’d forgotten to refuel. A promising start.

Upon arrival in Orna, two revelations hit me at once: first, I wasn’t actually allowed to train in the Conflict Area; second, the courier job wasn’t in Orna at all, but at Aldrich Station in the Otegine system. While pondering my career choices, I drifted a little too close to the local star and nearly cooked the Scraprunner. Luckily, I pulled away before it became a barbeque run. At least the courier job got done, which earned me the rank of Mostly Penniless. A fine promotion.

Out of the Nest

My next opportunity came in the form of a mission called Exploring the Galaxy. The deal: leave the Pilots’ Federation District, earn 100,000 credits, and never look back. Naturally, I accepted. The credits had nothing to do with it. Definitely.

I prepped the Scraprunner with a full refuel and minor repairs before setting off on the 14-jump trip to Rattus Mischief in the Col 285 Sector FO-I a39-0 system. After six jumps, I docked at Sasaki Horizons for a quick refuel, only to get a message that my Pilots’ Federation permit was revoked. No going back. Four jumps out, I stopped again to avoid calling the Fuel Rats for my very first rescue. Crisis narrowly avoided.

The Mischief Managed

I made a pit stop at Bluemoon Starport in LHS 3484 for fuel, then continued on my way. Finally, I arrived at Rattus Mischief. Despite my assumption, it wasn’t a person but a starport. I engaged Supercruise Assist, admired the view, docked, and turned in my mission reward. To top it off, I sold my Universal Cartographics data for a tidy 50,908 credits. That little haul bumped me up to Mostly Aimless. Not bad for a ship named Scraprunner.

Next Time

The galaxy awaits, and with the ISS Scraprunner still in one piece, I’m ready to see what kind of trouble I can find. Hopefully, not the sun again.

Continue the Journey

| Next Entry →

Surviving the Milky Way: Series Hub

The Rules of the Stars

2

Isolation Protocol: An Alien Isolation Survival Diary – Log 1: Welcome to Sevastopol

Isolation Protocol – Log 1: Welcome to Sevastopol

Difficulty: Medium

Optional Features: Permadeath enabled with the Three Strikes Rule

Alien Deaths: 0/3

“Wake up, get dressed, and then—oh look—Sevastopol is already on fire. Just another day in space.”

I surface from hypersleep mid-dream: Samuels, calm as ever, telling me they might have found my mother. The memory dissolves with the condensation on the pod, and I’m back on the Torrens—groggy, curious, and already bracing for whatever comes next. A quick change (Left Stick to move, L Stick Press to sprint if you’re running late), a polite check-in with Samuels and Taylor, and it’s off to the bridge.

The view outside is a mix of stars, shadows, and the silhouette of Sevastopol Station — our intended destination. We attempt contact, but whoever’s in charge sounds less “welcoming committee” and more “we’re about to collapse into the void.” The Torrens’ captain gives us a 24-hour window before she has to leave. Naturally, the sensible next step is to spacewalk over to the station.

Spacewalk to Disaster

It starts calmly enough… and then part of Sevastopol explodes. Just, you know, explodes. The blast sends Taylor, Samuels, and me flying in separate directions. I lose sight of them immediately. Whether they’re alive or not is a question for later — right now, my only option is to board the station and hope I can make contact with the Torrens.

I make it inside, but not without blacking out first. When I wake, the game politely suggests I “find help.” Thanks for the tip, game.

Arrivals, Departures, and Dust

I strip out of my spacesuit (A to interact when prompted) and begin exploring. The arrivals and departure area is silent — not “space peaceful” silent, but “something is wrong” silent. A detour through a vent (A to climb in, Left Stick to crawl) brings me to a terminal (A to use) with a file explaining the station is being decommissioned. That explains the peeling paint and flickering lights, but not the explosion.

I scavenge what I can — scrap metal, random bits and bobs, anything that looks vaguely useful (A to pick up). The game hands me a flare and tells me how to use it (B to open the radial menu, Right Stick to select flare, ZR to raise it, R to throw). I decide to keep it for emergencies… and then immediately waste it in the next room because the tutorial insists. Lovely.

The Stash and the Strangers

A generator hums back to life under my hands (Tap A three times to crank it like a stubborn lawnmower), and another terminal gives me a code for a stash: 0340. Apparently no one’s bothered to loot it because “nobody goes there anymore.” I file that away for later.

Turning the power on triggers movement — two figures sprint across the room and vanish through a door they promptly lock behind them. Friendly bunch. I give chase, but I’m stopped cold by security glass.

Spotting the Torrens

I reach the passenger lounge, and there she is: the Torrens, still in one piece. All I need now is a way to contact her. Another terminal fills in a few more blanks about the station’s decline, and I even find a new flare to replace the one I wasted earlier. I save my progress (A at an emergency save station, then confirm with A again) — no sense tempting fate.

Next log: with luck, I’ll have more than just a handful of supplies and unanswered questions.

Log 1 Switch Pro Tips

  • Left Stick: Move
  • L Stick Press: Sprint
  • R Stick Press: Crouch
  • ZL: Peek
  • ZR: Raise Motion Tracker
  • A: Interact / Pickup / Save
  • B: Open Radial Menu
  • R: Fire / Throw equipped item
  • D-Pad Up: Open Journal
  • 0340: First stash code — note it down
  • Always save at emergency stations when you can

Continue the Journey

Log 1 (You Are Here) | Log 2

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New Survival Series Begin: Alien Isolation & Elite Dangerous

Two New Survival Journeys Begin This Week

“Because one disaster at a time just isn’t enough.”

This week, two fresh series are launching across the hubs:

Both kick off this week. Keep an eye on the hubs — and as always, expect chaos.

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Snowrunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries – Day Six


Frank earns his stripes. And then some.

📜 Series Hub: SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries Main Hub

🛠 Rules: SnowRunner Permagear Rules

💡 Why Permagear Works: Read the reasoning behind the challenge

Missed Day Five? Find it here.

🛠️ Pipe Dreams and Permadeath Nightmares

It’s Day 6, and I decide it’s time to tackle Pipe Dream—a task that demands the delivery of three items, one of which is a heavy fuel semi-trailer. That’s the heaviest thing I’ve hauled to date, and I’m not about to go in blind.

So, I hop into Red to scout the route. Unfortunately, coming down from the Watchtower, Red seems to channel Scout’s spirit. And by that, I mean he flips. Again. Thankfully, nothing too serious—just a bit of an involuntary nap on his side before getting back on track.

After giving the route a once-over, I park Red somewhere out of the way but within reach. Just in case.

🦾 Frank the Certified Beast

Next up, I jump into Frank and take him back to the garage to slap on the Saddle High. With that done, it’s off to retrieve the trailer.

Now, this is the moment Frank becomes “Certified Beast.”
On nothing but his starter wheels, AWD, and diff lock, he hauls that massive trailer from the fuel station to the factory without complaint. One minor reverse maneuver was all it took to get around a tricky bit—otherwise, he made it look easy.

🧱 Bricks, Beams, and Boulder Brawls

With the big job done, the rest felt like a cool-down lap. Bricks? Metal beams? No problem.

Except… Frank met his match today. And no, not in the form of water or mud—stones.
Big ones. The kind that wedge themselves under your bumper and whisper, “You’re not going anywhere, mate.”
More than once, I thought I was going to need Red to bail him out. But each time, it was just a matter of nudging past a rock or repositioning. Still, it’s clear: if I want to take Frank into deeper terrain—especially water—I need to raise his suspension and upgrade those tyres.

🔧 What’s Next?

With Pipe Dream in the rear-view mirror, I took a look at the map. Most remaining tasks are on other maps, but there’s still a wooden bridge in Black River that needs some attention.

That’s a job for tomorrow.

Today belongs to Frank.
He’s earned a break—and maybe a reward. Or at the very least, a long-overdue tyre upgrade.

Want more SnowRunner? Day 7 link coming soon.

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Customloper Diaries – Day 7: Bow Before the Blizzard

Customloper Diaries – Day 7: Bow Before the Blizzard

Weather: Clear start → freezing winds → blizzard
Loot Highlights: Survival Bow, cooking pot, skillet
Mood: Excited → frozen → grateful to still have toes

◀ Customloper Diaries – Day 6: Blizzard Send-Off, Ptarmigan Detour, and the Great Cooking Pot Tragedy  | 
What is Customloper?

Morning Discoveries: Max’s Last Stand

Today’s goal was simple: reach the Camp Office without becoming a wolf’s breakfast. That’s really the only bar for success these days. On the way, I spotted one of The Long Dark’s most reliable signals that something is worth investigating: birds circling in the sky, waiting patiently for either my demise or someone else’s.

Luck was on my side for once — it wasn’t my turn. At Max’s Last Stand, a corpse lay frozen in place, and right beside it sat the holy grail of early-game weaponry: a Survival Bow. I snatched it up with the speed and enthusiasm of a raccoon finding a half-eaten cheeseburger.

All I needed now were arrows. With them, I could finally graduate from “rock-throwing medieval PE teacher” to “slightly competent hunter.”

Deadfall + Hypothermia = Great Life Choices

Feeling pretty pleased with myself, I decided to swing by the Deadfall area. That’s when my overconfidence caught up with me. The temperature dropped faster than my optimism during an Interloper run, and I was soon staring at the dreaded red text: Hypothermia.

I lit a fire in the nearby stove, boiled some water, and cooked… something. I’d like to say it was a hearty stew, but given my supplies, it was probably just porridge or whatever counted as “hot food” in my pack. Once I had a bit of warmth and hydration, I grabbed a torch from the fire and pressed on toward my main goal.

Lesson learned: Interloper weather waits for no one, especially those who think they can “just pop over” somewhere.

Camp Office and Instant Regret

The rest of the walk to Camp Office was blissfully uneventful — a rare thing in Mystery Lake. Inside, I scored a skillet and cooking pot. Not exactly a rifle or a quiver of arrows, but after yesterday’s cooking pot debacle, I wasn’t about to complain.

Then I made the fatal mistake: I decided to “just explore the area” before settling in. First came the snow. Then came the blizzard. In minutes, visibility dropped to “guess and hope” territory. Navigation became a mix of scent, instinct, and blind luck.

Somehow — and I truly do not know how — I managed to stagger back to the Camp Office without being eaten, freezing to death, or wandering onto thin ice. The blizzard roared outside as I slammed the door shut, my heart still hammering.

Evening Wrap-Up

Back inside, I set about cooking more porridge, boiling as much water as I could, and letting my core temperature crawl back to something survivable. The bow was now mine. The arrows? Still a distant dream. But tomorrow, I’d change that.

Tomorrow’s Goal

Find arrows. Or a rifle. Or, failing that, a pointy stick and a really bad attitude.

Continue the Journey

◀ Customloper Diaries – Day 6: Blizzard Send-Off, Ptarmigan Detour, and the Great Cooking Pot Tragedy
Customloper Diaries – Day 8 ▶

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Sunburnt & Sinking: A Stranded Deep Survival Diary – Final Day

Sunburnt & Sinking: A Stranded Deep Survival Diary – Final Day

Difficulty: Normal
Optional Features: Permadeath enabled (naturally)

“They say the sea is unpredictable. Turns out the real danger was bacon on legs.”

Weather / Loot / Mood

  • Weather: Pre-dawn calm, rising chop mid-crossing, sun blazing by mid-morning
  • Loot: One rock (upgraded into a knife), empty shipping container, one near-death experience
  • Mood: Optimistic → seasick → suspicious → hogged off the mortal coil

Goodbye, Starter Island

I woke before sunrise, sipped the last drips from my water still, and realised food was once again my biggest problem. My emergency coconut stash stared back at me like an unsolvable puzzle — great for hydration, but without a knife, they were just spherical disappointments. The conclusion was obvious: this island had given me all it could, and it was time for me to move on.

Two new islands called from the horizon, their silhouettes promising fresh loot and maybe, just maybe, an edible dinner. I picked one, whispered a fond but brief farewell to my starting island, and began the process of leaving. This was a mistake — not the leaving, but underestimating how much my raft had bonded with the beach.

Raft Wrestling & Ocean Gymnastics

Step one was prising the raft off the sand. The thing behaved like it had signed a long-term tenancy agreement and was not about to leave voluntarily. Once I freed it, I faced my next foe: the paddle, which seemed determined to stay attached like a stubborn remora. Then came the ocean itself.

Within minutes, my crossing turned into an impromptu extreme sport. I capsized more times than I care to admit, each time righting the raft while muttering things not suitable for a survival diary. The swell toyed with me, and every few waves I was convinced I’d see a shark fin break the surface. But eventually, the new island came into focus — and with it, signs of potential treasure. A red shipping container sat on the shore, while offshore, a wooden pole jutted out of the water. Wreckage? Supplies? Or just an elaborate distraction?

New Shore, New Knife, No Loot

Landfall came with an overwhelming sense of relief. First priority: tools. I grabbed a rock, worked it into a knife, and set out to investigate the shipping container. The excitement lasted right up until I swung the door open to reveal… absolutely nothing. No food, no tools, not even decorative debris. My mood sank faster than my raft had earlier that morning.

Still, the island was bigger than it first appeared, with palm trees casting long shadows across the sand. Somewhere out here, there had to be food. Or at least something less likely to stab me in the stomach than my own hunger.

The Hog Strikes Back (…Twice, Actually Thrice)

That’s when I saw it: a hog. Large, broad-shouldered, and wearing the kind of expression that suggested it already hated me. Before I could take a step back, it charged — no hesitation, no negotiation, just a blur of tusks and fury.

Desperation kicked in. I fought back with my newly crafted knife, scoring a few hits before it bolted into the undergrowth. Victory? Not quite. As I turned to check my surroundings, I spotted a snake winding its way across the sand. Excellent — protein! I lunged, only for the hog to return for round two. We clashed again, my health dropping with each collision.

By the time round three began, I was already bleeding and winded. I’d love to say I managed a heroic counter, but the truth is the hog bowled me over like I was nothing more than driftwood in its path. The world went dark, the game flashed its verdict, and my save was gone. Just like that.

Epilogue: Lessons from the Hog

So ends my Stranded Deep run — three days according to the game, four by my own count. I learned a lot: coconuts are useless without a knife, rafts are stubborn, and hogs are nature’s way of telling you to keep your distance. It was a short ride, but fun. Next time, maybe I’ll survive long enough to cook that bacon instead of becoming it.

Continue the Journey

Day 1 |
Day 3 |
Final Day (You Are Here)

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Choo Choo Charles – Day One Diary: Eugene, Eggs, and Accidental Manslaughter

My Choo Choo Charles day one diary includes a monster-hunting job, a sprinting NPC, and Eugene’s untimely (and possibly avoidable) demise.

The Job Offer That Should’ve Been a Red Flag

I got a call from Eugene. Said he had a job that would help “my museum.” Didn’t specify how, didn’t ask if I had museum experience, just told me it was time to go monster hunting. I should’ve asked questions. Like “what kind of monster?” or “why me?” or “have you ever heard of hazard pay?”

Instead, I said yes.

Meet Charles: Part Locomotive, Part Arachnid, All Nightmare Fuel

I found myself rowing to a misty, ominous island with Eugene casually explaining that we’re up against a half-train, half-gigaspider named Charles.
Cool. Totally normal Saturday

Upon docking, Eugene says there’s a train up the hill we can use — but also notes Charles isn’t the only thing to worry about. Then he bolts. Full sprint. No hesitation. Just gone. I’m used to NPCs dragging their feet, not outpacing me like they’ve got somewhere better to be.

Learning the Ropes (and the Rail Controls)

Eugene points me to a nearby shack with the key to access the train. This is where I learn how to use the map and set waypoints. Handy, and slightly more intuitive than most in-game maps.

I return with the key, unlock the garage, and meet my new metal ride. It’s already equipped with a mounted machine gun and has three levers: forward, reverse, and stop. That’s it. No cup holder. No horn. No emotional support buttons.

First Encounter: Train vs. Terror

I hit the forward lever and the train lurches ahead — straight into my first encounter with Charles.

Cue panic.

The gun works, technically. But it does about as much damage as a water pistol might do to a tank. Charles shrugs it off, mauls Eugene mid-sentence, and disappears into the fog.

I’m left alone. On a moving train. Slightly traumatised.

About That Stopping Distance…

After the chaos, I check the map to reorient myself and decide to go back to Eugene — assuming he’s maybe clinging to life. I reverse the train and, thinking I’ve lined it up just right, I slam the stop lever.

I do not stop in time.

I run over Eugene.

It’s unclear whether Charles killed him or if I finished the job by turning him into railkill. Either way, his final words croak out — something about finding the eggs and stopping Charles once and for all.

No pressure.

If you enjoyed this one, please check out my other Day One Diaries | Survival Game Playthroughs & First-Day Survival Challenges

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Goodnight, Sweet Lizard: A Farewell to My First Skyrim Survivor

After 13 in-game days of sneak attacks, harsh weather, and a deeply unfortunate troll encounter, my Argonian Skyrim survivor meets his end. This is his legacy — and a lesson in knowing when not to go into caves.

Read his full journey here: Sneak, Snipe, Repeat: Skyrim Survival

In Loving Memory of One Very Cold, Reluctantly Landed Argonian

He was cold-blooded. He was quiet. He preferred to solve most problems from the shadows with a well-placed arrow — because melee is for people with frostbite and regrets.

And yet, after surviving everything Skyrim threw at him, it wasn’t bandits, dragons, or starvation that claimed him. It was two angry trolls and one very bad decision to poke around in Darkshade Cave.

The Life of a Lizard Who Tried His Best

This wasn’t just another survivor.
This was a stealth archer, which is to say: a Skyrim classic.
He lived by the code of “snipe first, loot later, probably run if it doesn’t work.”

In just under two weeks, he:

Escaped Helgen

Lost Lydia

Hired and lost a mercenary

Earned Goldenhills Plantation the way every true adventurer dreams of: by completing a creepy quest and forgetting to farm anything afterwards

Rescued a horse he named Loki, who became the real MVP of the run

Became a part-time necromancer, part-time landowner, and full-time weather complaint generator

Climbed the 7,000 Steps in survival mode without dying of frostbite. Which is frankly a flex.


He even tried to get back to Riverwood like a responsible protagonist.

And then he saw a cave.

Final Moments: The Troll Toll

It started with a stop in Windhelm to offload loot and maybe warm up.
Then came the cave — just a quick look inside, a moment of curiosity.

The first troll nearly killed him.
He chugged potions like they were mead.
The second troll hit harder.
Somewhere in the middle, Gutworm joined the party.

And that was it.

No shouts. No slow-motion kill cam. Just two trolls and a regrettable sense of exploration.

What We’ve Learned

If there are bones outside a cave, leave them and the cave alone.

Gutworm is not an edgy band name — it’s a problem.

Owning property does not make you immune to stupid decisions.

Trolls are not “starter enemies.”

And stealth archery cannot save you if you’re cornered with no exit and 12% stamina.

Final Thoughts

He never had a name. But he had a farm, a horse, and a bow.

He stood on mountaintops. He summoned undead to do his dirty work.
He shot first, looted later, and almost made it to two weeks.

And then he did what every Skyrim player eventually does:
He got Skyrim’d by a cave.

Rest in peace, my scaly shadow-dweller. You tried. And in Skyrim Survival Mode, that’s more than enough.

And like they always say, I don’t know who they are, but they do: Finish on a song

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