Tag: Steam Deck Survival

Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 9: Beacons, Blueprints, and a First Proper Home

Submerged Log 9: Beacons, Blueprints, and a First Proper Home

Platform: Steam Deck

Video: Beacon run, Mushroom Forest scavenging, and first base module (no commentary)

When you hit a brick wall in Subnautica, the game doesn’t give you a hint. It gives you more ocean.

I’ve stalled out. Upgrades are half-finished, blueprints are dangling just out of reach,
and my “plan” has become a list of things I’d like to do once I stop being poor in titanium.
So I do the only thing left: explore.

My memory is decent, but this planet is an endless blue maze, and I’m done pretending I’ll remember
where anything is. It’s finally time to start using beacons properly.

Beacon Therapy (Mushroom Forest Edition)

I craft a beacon, head out to the Mushroom Forest, and deploy it the second I arrive.
The logic is simple: if the radio nudged me here once, there’s probably something useful nearby.
I name the beacon, mark the spot, and start searching with actual purpose for once.

The theory pays off fast. I find another piece of the Cyclops puzzle, and — more importantly —
the second Moonpool fragment.
That one moment flips the entire run. Base building isn’t a “someday” thing anymore.
It’s now.

Side Loot: Shale Outcrops and Surprise Diamonds

Since I’m already here (and my sense of direction has clearly been outsourced to a beacon),
I start checking what this biome actually offers.

The big win: diamonds in shale outcrops.
That’s the kind of detail Future Me will be grateful for, assuming Future Me survives
long enough to remember why diamonds matter.

Prep Work: Pin Recipes, Build the Tool, Commit to a Location

I head back to the lifepod and start doing the boring-but-important part:
preparation.
I pin the recipes I know I’ll need, craft the Habitat Builder,
and finally accept that I need a home that isn’t a floating tin can with a radio.

Of course, the radio fires off another distress signal mid-planning.
I add it to the list. I already know how that story ends: no survivors,
just another location stamped onto my growing collection of disappointment.

Base Site Picked (Mostly): “Somewhere Between Here and There”

I settle on a spot roughly halfway between my lifepod and the Mushroom Forest.
In theory, it’s a sensible compromise: close enough to my old “base” for convenience,
close enough to the Mushroom Forest for materials and fragments.

In practice, I’m eyeballing distance in open ocean, which is basically the same
as saying I chose the location by vibes.

I place the first module and immediately run into the first real base problem:
power.
No power means no oxygen inside, which is a fun twist for something that is supposed to be a shelter.

Power Decisions: Solar Wins (For Now)

I weigh up options and land on solar. It’s not glamorous, but it’s doable right now,
and “right now” is the only timeframe this planet respects.

I do some early prep for the Moonpool materials while I’m thinking about the future,
but the titanium math is brutal.
I’m going to need a lot more, which means a dedicated scrap hunt is officially coming.

Hatch Installed, Oxygen Not Included

I craft a hatch so I can actually get inside my new base, but until I get power online,
it’s basically a room-shaped hazard.
No power, no oxygen — and my base is currently doing a great impression of a death trap.

I do have an idea for how to work around that if I need to,
but first I want to solve the problem properly.

Radio Upgrade: No More Lifepod Commuting

One small quality-of-life win: I get a radio set up at the base-in-progress.
That way, I don’t have to keep swimming back to the lifepod every time the game
decides to hand me another “go here” message.

I also keep the Seamoth parked close by.
It’s doing double duty as a safety net and a temporary beacon until I can get a second
beacon made specifically for the base location.

Solar Online: First Breath in the New Base

Once the solar panel finally goes up, everything changes.
I step inside my newly powered base and take the first proper breath of “this might actually work.”

It needs a lot of work. It’s barely more than a shell.
But it’s mine, it’s powered, and it’s a start.
Temporary home or not, it’s the first thing on this planet that feels even slightly under control.

Continue the journey:
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Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 5: Iron, Coal, and Delayed Ambitions

Stranded – Log 5: Iron, Coal, and Delayed Ambitions

Game: Minecraft
Mode: Survival
Platform: Steam Deck

“The Nether can wait. I’d rather arrive prepared than become ash.”

I want to head to the Nether, but not like this. Not in partial armour and wishful thinking. I know where lava is. I know the next phase is possible. What I don’t have yet is the gear to survive it.

The day starts with a brief scuffle and an immediate reminder that I set my own control scheme and apparently don’t remember it. At some point during the fight I managed to put cobblestone in my offhand. I have no idea which button I pressed. One moment I was armed, the next I was ready to aggressively place blocks at something. I corrected it, reassured myself that I was in control, and headed for the mine.

Back Underground

Not long after starting, my copper pickaxe broke. The timing felt deliberate. Darkness was creeping in outside, and rather than deal with whatever the night might bring, I did the sensible thing and went to bed. The monsters can wait until morning.

Of course they’d chosen to linger beneath the trees. I made a mental note that at some point I’ll need to thin the forest. Lumberjack duties are now officially on the list.

Morning brought a zombie who stepped into the sunlight and promptly set itself on fire. I still managed to prove that I’m not particularly strong in combat. Watching something burn itself down while I struggled nearby wasn’t exactly heroic, but it was effective.

Digging Deeper

I used that mild embarrassment as motivation. I expanded the mine another four blocks down and built a makeshift spiral staircase so I can descend without trusting gravity too much. The staircase isn’t elegant, but it’s controlled. Controlled is enough.

An inventory check revealed iron. Not a vein worth celebrating, but enough to craft something. I chose a helmet and boots based purely on what I could afford. It’s not full protection, but it’s progress.

With some wood gathered, I finally crafted a shield. After more experimentation with the right control stick — continuing my apparent theme of not knowing my own button layout — it found its place in my offhand. The difference was immediate. Even if I can’t always remember how I did it, at least now I’m carrying something that might forgive mistakes.

Coal, Leaks, and Unwanted Company

The mine has been productive, just not in the way I want. Coal everywhere. Cobblestone in overwhelming quantities. If armour could be shaped from stone, I’d be fully equipped by now.

I’ve had to plug several water leaks as well. It reached the point where I considered digging down another level purely out of frustration. That decision was reinforced when I started hearing Drowned somewhere nearby. I don’t need to see them. The sound is enough.

I’m still salty about the Drowned that ended my first hardcore world. That grudge hasn’t faded.

The Single Piece of Iron

While preparing the staircase for the next descent, I spotted iron and felt genuine excitement. For a brief moment I pictured real progress — armour that actually protects and tools that don’t feel temporary.

It was one block.

I stood there for a second longer than necessary, staring at it as if more might appear out of sympathy. It didn’t.

I mined it anyway and decided to remain on that level. If there was one piece, maybe there would be more nearby.

There wasn’t. Just more coal. At least the furnaces won’t go hungry.

Reset and Regroup

Rain eventually rolled in, and I realised I’d been awake for several in-game days. Phantoms are not something I intend to deal with while half-prepared and underground, and fatigue has a way of turning small mistakes into permanent ones. Rather than push my luck, I headed back to bed and reset the cycle deliberately.

Before turning in, I crafted an iron sword. It’s not the full kit I want, but it’s something solid in my hand. I still need an iron chestplate and leggings before I even consider making serious Nether preparations. Ideally, I’d like spare weapons too.

Next entry might mean digging deeper again. Or I might surface and see what else this world offers. Villagers would be useful. Given how this mine has treated me so far, I wouldn’t be surprised if I found pillagers first.

Continue the Journey

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Stranded Hub

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Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 4: The Mine Begins

Stranded – Log 4: The Mine Begins

Game: Minecraft
Mode: Survival
Platform: Steam Deck

“I don’t mine efficiently. I mine comfortably.”

The time has come. Mining can’t be postponed any longer. Before I even touch the stone below the house, I make a small adjustment to the entrance. It’s not strictly necessary, and I know I probably won’t look at most of it again once the tunnel starts stretching downward, but I like knowing it’s done properly. Order at the top makes the chaos below easier to manage.

I’m particular about a few things underground. Torch spacing matters. Placement matters. Torches on the left mean I’m heading away from base. Torches on the right mean I’m walking back toward safety. It’s a simple rule, but it keeps me oriented when the tunnels start to blur together. Habit might not be glamorous, but it’s reliable.

First Dig, First Level

I stick to a pattern that’s worked for me before: three blocks high, two blocks wide, pushing forward around twenty blocks at a time. If I hit danger first, that decides the distance. It isn’t optimised, and I have no idea whether this is the “correct” way to mine in Minecraft. It’s just the way I’m comfortable doing it, and comfort underground counts for more than efficiency.

The first level isn’t especially generous. There’s some coal, which keeps the torches coming. More copper than I strictly need. A bit of flint. Nothing dramatic, but enough to justify the effort.

The flint is the real marker of progress. Flint means flint and steel is within reach. Flint and steel means the Nether stops being theoretical. I’m not stepping into that without proper gear, though. Iron at the very least. Diamond if I’m patient. So the tunnel continues.

Down Four Blocks (Not Straight Down)

Once the first level feels exhausted, I dig down four blocks to start the next tier. Not straight down. I may be reckless at times, but I’m not careless enough to trust gravity blindly. Every descent is controlled.

All the stone I’ve mined becomes stairs. I usually default to ladders, but ladders punish mistakes instantly. One slip and it’s a long fall with nothing to cushion it. Stairs are slower, but they’re steady. Underground, steady wins.

On the next level, I repeat the same process. Same tunnel dimensions. Same torch rules. Same measured push forward into the dark. Mining isn’t glamorous. It’s methodical. The repetition is part of the safety.

Copper Tools and Unwanted Company

This is where the copper tools finally earn their place. They’re noticeably faster than stone, even if they still feel temporary. Copper doesn’t inspire confidence the way iron does, but it’s an upgrade, and upgrades matter.

I keep checking the outside light between stretches of digging. If I step out of the mine, I want to know what might be waiting. The world above doesn’t pause just because I’m underground.

During one of those checks, I don’t even make it to the entrance before I hear it. The wet, hollow sound of a Drowned somewhere nearby. I don’t investigate. I don’t test my odds. I retreat back into the mine immediately. The stone feels safer than the shoreline.

The Loneliest Iron Ore

Eventually, the mine rewards me with iron. Not a vein. Not a cluster. One single block.

It’s enough to matter, technically. One piece solves flint and steel. It does nothing for armour. Nothing for weapons. It’s progress, but modest progress.

I also uncover lapis lazuli. That’s for later. Useful for enchantments eventually, decorative in the meantime. A reminder that the mine isn’t empty, just selective.

When my final copper pickaxe breaks, I take it as a sign. The mine itself isn’t finished, but this trip is. Pushing further without tools would just be stubbornness dressed up as ambition.

Back Home, Finally Sleeping

I head back to the house and count the run as a success. The gains are modest, but they’re real. Coal for fuel. Flint for the future. One piece of iron that shifts the long-term plan slightly forward.

I’ve been avoiding sleep for days, staying awake to control spawns and movement. That needs to stop. Fatigue in survival games doesn’t show up as a mechanic. It shows up as bad decisions.

I could move a bed into the mine. That would be practical. It would also remove the small ritual of returning home, and I’m not ready to give that up yet.

One night’s sleep. Then it’s back underground.

Continue the Journey

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Stranded Hub

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Survivor’s Log: The Map Hub Is Complete

Survivor’s Log: The Map Hub Is Complete

Game: The Long Dark
Status: Every region and transition zone documented


This one took time. Every region. Every transition zone. No shortcuts.

The Long Dark Map Hub is now fully complete.
All regions.
All transition zones.
All supported difficulties — including Interloper and Misery.

What started as “I should organise these properly” turned into a full structural rebuild.
Every map now links to a survival-focused breakdown.
Hazards, loot routes, forge locations, questline starts, Glimmer Fog, contamination mechanics —
it’s all there.

No hype. No recycled wiki summaries.
Just practical information written by someone who’s frozen in every one of them.

What’s Covered

Each region now includes:

  • Environmental hazards that actually matter
  • Key loot locations and realistic expectations
  • Forge and workbench availability
  • Questline starting points where relevant
  • Base recommendations that won’t get you killed
  • Difficulty considerations across modes

Transition zones are included too.
If it connects regions, it counts.

Why It Exists

Maps in The Long Dark are tools — not guarantees.
RNG shifts loot.
Difficulty changes spawns.
Weather does what it wants.

This hub isn’t here to promise perfection.
It’s here to give structure.
Direction.
Context.

If you’re new, it helps you choose wisely.
If you’re returning, it helps you plan smarter.
If you’re playing Interloper or Misery, it helps you avoid false assumptions.

Explore the Full Hub

The structure is finished.
The learning never is.


The Long Dark Region & Transition Zone Survival Guide

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Survivors Log: Year End

Status: Still standing
Theme: Survival over spectacle

The year ends the same way most of these runs do: not with a clean win, but with something still breathing.

Some worlds were conquered. Some were abandoned. A few are still waiting patiently, half-built, half-haunting, exactly where I left them.

That’s survival.

What Held

  • The rule sets worked. Fewer restarts. More stories.
  • Lower difficulty didn’t weaken the experience — it strengthened it.
  • Permadeath stayed meaningful without becoming punishment.
  • Writing stayed honest, even when progress slowed.

What Fell Apart (As Intended)

  • Runs that stopped being fun were ended.
  • Ideas that existed only on paper stayed there.
  • Perfection was ignored.

No apologies. Survival means knowing when to walk away.

The Ongoing Truth

This site isn’t about mastery.

It’s about learning a system, bending it slightly, and seeing how long you last.

This site began by pushing back against the idea that easier difficulties don’t count.

It’s evolved into something simpler: difficulty isn’t the point — survival is.

That hasn’t changed.

Looking Forward

  • Fewer series. Better focus.
  • More logs. Less noise.
  • The rules may change.
  • The chaos will stay.

Adaptation is part of survival. Refusal to adapt is how runs end early.

Log Conditions

Log recorded: Final days of the year.
Conditions: Cold outside. Quiet inside.

No deadline pressure. No content calendar panic. Just time enough to take stock before stepping back into whatever comes next.

No Roadmap

There’s no roadmap.

No checklist. No promise that every idea will make it to the end.

That uncertainty is deliberate. Survival doesn’t come with guarantees — just decisions made under pressure.

Rule Reminder

Reminder: These runs aren’t about winning.

They’re about lasting long enough to leave notes behind.

Marks on the map. Lessons learned the hard way. Evidence that someone was here, tried, and didn’t immediately disappear.

A Quiet Thanks

If you’ve stumbled onto this little corner of the internet — intentionally or by accident — thanks for sticking around.

No algorithms to beat. No hype cycle to chase. Just survival logs, written as they happen.

If you’re still reading at this point, you’re already part of the experiment.

End of year status: Alive. Scarred. Still playing.

Next log: When the cold, the dark, or something worse decides to test me again.

Surviving, Not Suffering.

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Super Mario 64 Randomizer – Log 1: A Metal Start & a Sandstorm Surprise

Platform: Steam Deck
Settings: Vanilla Mario & Music — because some chaos speaks for itself.
“Somewhere between turning to metal and getting launched at Bowser before lunch, I realised the randomizer doesn’t believe in pacing.”

The Super Mario 64 Randomizer wastes no time reminding you that reality is optional. My first warp dropped me straight into the Metal Cap stage — a place I had no right being this early on, but apparently this version of Mario is a trendsetter. After a brief moment of “wait, how did I get here?”, I grabbed the cap, collected what I could, and escaped before the chaos decided to double down.

Moments later, I opened another door… and there he was. Bowser in the Dark World, staring back at me with that “you’re not supposed to be here yet” kind of energy. Naturally, I went in anyway.

Watch Log 1:

Early Bowser, Early Panic

I wasn’t mentally or physically prepared for an early Bowser fight. My hands were still in “collect coins and admire textures” mode, not “avoid spinning platforms over the void” mode. But somehow, it worked out. Bowser got tossed into oblivion, my confidence went up by about 10%, and my sense of direction dropped by 80%.

From there, I stumbled into Shifting Sand Land. You know, the one full of quicksand and angry wildlife. Not exactly where I expected to end up next, but at least it looked warm. A few exploratory jumps later, I realised I’d achieved very little besides confirming that sand hurts — so I retreated to something more comforting: the Secret Slide.

The Slide Before the Storm

Ah, the Secret Slide — the calmest, most reassuring part of this randomizer so far. No enemies, no bottomless pits, just gravity and mild regret. I took the scenic route (read: I fell off twice), grabbed both stars, and left feeling momentarily competent.

Naturally, that feeling didn’t last. My next warp took me back to Shifting Sand Land, which seems determined to be my home base now. Between the quicksand, whirlwinds, and the constant threat of instant death, it’s a lot like visiting a beach if the beach actively wanted you gone.

Log 1 Summary

  • Stars Collected: 6
  • Stars Remaining: 114
  • Lives: 4
  • Areas Cleared: Metal Cap, Secret Slide, Bowser in the Dark World

For a first outing, this randomizer threw everything at me except the kitchen sink (and let’s be honest, that might still show up later). Metal Mario, Bowser, sandstorms, slides — it’s been a full day’s work in about half an hour. I’ve no idea what the next warp will bring, but I’m bringing extra lives and zero expectations.

Lessons from Log 1

  • Metal Mario early is fun — until gravity remembers he’s heavy.
  • Bowser fights don’t need context to cause panic.
  • Shifting Sand Land: 10/10 for sun exposure, 0/10 for safety.
  • Secret Slide remains the only form of therapy in this castle.
Continue the journey:
Log 1 (You Are Here) |
Log 2
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🩸 Derailed & Doomed: A Choo Choo Charles Survival Diary Log 4: Pickles, Papers, and Payback

Platform: Steam Deck |

Apex Predator Rule: Three strikes to start. Only Charles can take them.
Each egg restores one — never more than three total.

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the lady obsessed with pickles. Or the one hunting Slender Man. But hey—scrap is scrap.”

🎥 Survivor’s Reel: Log 4 – Pickles, Papers, and Payback (No Commentary)

The Pickle Lady Cometh

My first stop was a house belonging to someone I can only describe as the Pickle Lady. According to her, there’s “one last jar of pickles” hidden deep in her pickle cave. She wanted me to retrieve it, and honestly, the promise of scrap was enough for me to overlook how absolutely unhinged she seemed.

Charles, mercifully, must have agreed—because he didn’t interrupt this one. Maybe even he thought, “Yeah, she’s crazy,” and decided to give me a pass. Pickles retrieved, reward collected, and my sanity mostly intact.

The Slender Situation

Next up was Sasha, who casually informed me that the Slender Man was also apparently hanging around the island. She’d already collected eight pages and wanted me to grab the next set. Logical, right? Because clearly, one supernatural monster just isn’t enough.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans. No sooner had I finished talking to her than that familiar whistle pierced the air. Charles. I bolted for my train, but he was faster. The beast blindsided me and shredded my health bar like paper. Charles earns his first win. Two chances left.

Still annoyed—and slightly traumatized—I decided to humor Sasha anyway. I managed to grab three pages before some unseen Slender-like presence told me to “go away.” Quest abandoned. Sanity preserved.

Bridge Over Terrifying Waters

After a quick recovery, I shifted gears and tracked down Santiago’s journal. Delivered it safely—though apparently, I could’ve snooped inside first. Missed opportunities, I guess. My next stop was Eugene’s son, who still believes his father is alive and well on the mainland. I didn’t have the heart to correct him.

He handed me a set of explosives and outlined the island’s master plan: lure Charles onto a wooden bridge, blow it sky-high, and end this nightmare once and for all. It’s a bold plan. Questionable, sure—but bold. I now have the temple key for when it’s time to place the eggs and start the final battle.

Preparing for Round Two

As the day closed, I parked the train near a resident’s home rumored to hold another weapon. After my last run-in with Charles, I’m more than ready to upgrade my firepower. Whether or not I get a moment’s peace to actually do it—that’s another story.

For now, I’ve survived long enough to plan my next move. But I can’t shake the feeling that Charles is circling again, waiting for round two.

Continue the journey:
Log 3: Explosions and Evasion |
Log 5 (Coming Soon)
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