Progress: 70+ Stars Reached Platform: Steam Deck Settings: Vanilla Mario & Music
“Today’s plan was simple. The execution, less so.”
I went in with one goal: finish Jolly Roger Bay and Dire, Dire Docks. Two courses I’d already poked at, now ready to be properly cleared.
Jolly Roger Bay: Chests, Coins, and Precision Jumping
First up was the treasure chest star. Finding the first chest took less time than expected, which immediately made me suspicious.
Chests two and four were conveniently paired together. Chest three, naturally, required a cannon.
With the chests dealt with, only the Red Coin Star and the 100-Coin Star remained.
The 100-coin star was painless. No drama. No surprises.
The red coins were another matter.
One coin sat in a position that rejected every sensible solution I tried. Triple jumps failed. Cannon angles failed. Repeated attempts achieved nothing except frustration.
In the end, the answer was a backflip. One precise position. One clean jump.
It worked immediately.
Jolly Roger Bay: cleared.
Dire, Dire Docks: Clean Water, Better Decisions
Next stop was Dire, Dire Docks.
This time, I changed approach. I focused on collecting all the red coins first, or at least most of them, before worrying about the 100-coin star.
The level behaved itself. No forced exits. No sudden ejections back to the castle.
I didn’t get sucked out of the course this time, which confirms that last log was just bad luck rather than punishment.
With the red coins secured, the 100-coin star followed naturally.
Dire, Dire Docks: finished without incident.
Log 13 Status
Total Stars: Past 70
Courses Cleared This Log: Jolly Roger Bay, Dire Dire Docks
Remaining Stars: 50
Wing Cap: Still missing
Two more courses off the board. The castle is opening up fast now.
Unprepared Log 11: Three Arrows Cold, One Step Forward
Difficulty: Interloper Region: Mystery Lake Survivor: Will
I woke up at dawn and the game immediately informed me it hated me.
The day starts with the kind of cold you can measure in regret: three arrows.
The wind is also doing its best to make sure I feel personally targeted.
My hunger bar still has a bit left in it, so I spend that “free” time researching for an hour.
I head outside, confirm it’s still miserable, then go back in and research again.
I can’t stay in the lookout all day. I want to, but even I know that would make for a thrilling entry titled:
“Man Stares at Wall, Becomes Slightly More Educated.”
Back Down the Path
I decide to move while I still have daylight and nerve.
The plan is simple: head toward Camp Office, then try to find the cave I know exists nearby.
The ptarmigans are gone.
Either they moved on, or they saw me coming and chose life.
I skip any attempt at the plane today.
It’s too cold, and I’d rather reach Camp Office first so I can warm up without doing the Interloper shuffle in torn clothing.
The Derailment Detour Pays Off
On the way, I finally check the derailment I wanted to look at last time.
For once, curiosity actually rewards me: I find a set of simple tools.
I take them immediately.
If Interloper wants me to craft my way out of misery, I’m at least going to do it with proper equipment.
Camp Office: Warmth, Pots, and My “Great” Eyesight
I reach Camp Office and step inside like I’ve just arrived at a five-star resort.
Warmth. Shelter. A door I can close in the wind’s face.
While I’m getting my temperature back out of the red, I notice something I somehow missed on my last visit:
a cooking pot.
My observation skills remain second to none.
I carry it upstairs and place it beside my cooking skillet on the two-hob stove.
It’s not a full kitchen, but it’s dangerously close to comfort.
The Cave I Definitely Know Exists
Now for the cave.
I know where it is. I’ve been there before.
I’ve even used the route I wanted to use.
And yet, somehow, I cannot find it.
I push around in the cold until Interloper starts billing me in injuries.
First I sprain an ankle, then my wrist, and eventually I accept the truth:
I’m not exploring right now, I’m just donating condition to the weather.
I regroup and head back to Camp Office.
During the scramble, I spot a rope leading up to the cave area I was trying to reach.
So that’s a thing.
A helpful thing.
A “why didn’t I see that sooner” thing.
Furniture Crime and Firewood Math
Back inside, I decide to dismantle a chair for firewood.
The game says it takes two hours.
Fine.
The result: four reclaimed wood.
Which I’m calling nonsense on.
I’ve seen chairs with less structure than that.
I go out one more time and grab extra firewood, then return to Camp Office for the night.
Today’s theme is “warmth first, ambitions second.”
Cooking, Water, and the First Aurora
With the fire going, I use the cooking pot to make as much water as it’ll allow.
I also cook what I can to keep my cooking skill climbing.
Interloper doesn’t reward laziness, and I’m trying to get ahead of food poisoning roulette.
While I’m working, I get my first aurora of the run.
I’m not stupid enough to go outside and “see what happens.”
I stay put and read the message on the computer instead.
Safe thrills only.
Improvised Hatchet: The Scrap Metal Problem
Before I sleep, I check what I need for an improvised hatchet,
because I’m getting fed up with the game reminding me I don’t have one.
The answer is simple and annoying: five scrap metal.
I do have some scrap metal, but I was saving it for arrowheads.
Now it’s a choice between “future hunting” and “stop bleeding time to basic tasks.”
It also feels like the game is nudging me toward Broken Railroad and the forge there.
I don’t want to go.
But if I can’t scrounge more scrap in Mystery Lake, I might have to.
Interloper loves forcing a road trip at the worst time.
Stranded – Log 2: Bridges, Wheat, and Future Problems
Game: Minecraft Platform: Steam Deck Mode: Survival Difficulty: Hard
With a bed and a door sorted, I can finally start thinking a little further ahead.
The immediate threats are handled. I can sleep. I can shut something between me and whatever wanders past at night. That buys me space to think beyond surviving the next five minutes.
The first decision feels obvious. If I’m staying here, even temporarily, I need more room.
A Bridge to Somewhere Else
Before expanding the house itself, I turn my attention outward. I want a mine that isn’t directly under my base, and the spot I’ve chosen sits across the water. Swimming back and forth every time I need stone sounds manageable in theory and irritating in practice, so I build a bridge.
It’s two blocks wide and functional. That’s about as kind as I can be about it. It won’t win any awards, but it means I can cross quickly without risking a drowned deciding to get involved. Sometimes “not pretty” is good enough.
The mine entrance will take more thought. I have ideas for something that looks intentional rather than accidental, but Minecraft has a habit of humbling overconfidence. What looks impressive in your head can end up looking like a shed with ambition issues. I’ll see how brave I’m feeling when I actually commit to it.
Farming: The Water Betrayal
Next comes food security. In my head this is simple: block off some water, leave a neat irrigation pocket, plant wheat, become responsible. Minecraft disagrees.
Blocking the water off does not preserve a helpful little irrigation square. It removes the water entirely and leaves me staring at dirt and poor planning. I undo the mistake, restore the water, and prepare the ground properly this time.
A few wheat seeds go in. It’s not much yet, but it’s a start. On Hard mode, progress isn’t flashy. It’s incremental. You survive by stacking small, sensible decisions on top of each other until they resemble stability.
House Expansion (Still Keeping It Narrow)
I keep the house three blocks wide but extend it outward so I have space for storage, furnaces, and whatever else inevitably accumulates. I’d originally pictured the base in oak and birch, something neat and coordinated.
Then I looked around and realised the surrounding area is almost entirely jungle wood. At some point you stop arguing with the environment and start working with it. So jungle wood it is. If the world is offering it in abundance, I may as well use it.
Glass, Because I’d Like to See My Death Coming
I get some glass smelting as well. If this is going to be one of my homes, I want windows. I want to see what’s outside before I open the door and step into it.
That isn’t paranoia. It’s awareness. I’d rather spot a problem through glass than meet it face to face without warning.
Sleeping Through the Problem
During the extension, I sleep more than once. I’m not interested in managing hostile mobs while the base is half-finished and my inventory is filled with building materials instead of weapons.
The water nearby means drowned are a possibility. I tell myself that if I stay out of the water, they’ll stay out of my life. It’s an optimistic assumption, but for now it’s holding.
Exploring the Area (And Immediately Finding a Chasm)
I explore a little further out and quickly find a chasm. There’s a cave system visible at the bottom, which immediately shifts my thinking from curiosity to logistics. Getting down is easy. Getting back up safely is what matters.
Ladders are the current favourite. Stairs are safer but slower. The decision will probably come down to how patient I feel when I stand at the edge looking down into it.
I also spot coal in the distance. It’s not immediately accessible, which means it will require some digging and planning. That’s fine. Coal might not feel dramatic, but it’s foundational. Torches don’t light themselves.
Wolves and the Temptation to Get Attached
Wolves roam the area as well. At first I think I’m seeing hostile mobs burning in daylight, but it’s just a wolf dismantling cows and pigs with impressive efficiency. Nature handling its own logistics.
I attempt to tame one using a porkchop. Hearts appear, but not enough to make it permanent. Lesson learned: bones, not pork. Which means skeletons, which means night, which means risk.
I’m also aware that if I do tame one and it dies, it’s going to bother me more than it should. So I’m not rushing that decision. Survival first. Attachments later.
A Different Biome Nearby
Off in the distance, I spot another biome entirely. The cacti make it obvious what kind of place it is. Useful information, even if I’m not heading there yet. Knowing your surroundings matters long before you exploit them.
The Roof Overhang (Because Spiders Are Freeloaders)
I add a small overhang to the roof. Torches are already placed around the house, but I don’t want spiders deciding the roof is their new gathering point. Prevention is easier than eviction.
It takes longer than I expect, but once it’s finished, the house looks intentional rather than improvised. Less “I panicked and stacked blocks” and more “this might actually be a plan.”
Ending the Day
By the end of it, the base is larger. The farm exists. The bridge connects me to future mining plans. I’ve identified a chasm, nearby coal, a new biome, and a potential mine entrance.
On paper, things are going well.
Experience tells me that usually means the world is preparing a correction.
Video Log
Full no-commentary gameplay for this log is available below.
Gold doesn’t solve every problem. But right now, it would solve most of mine.
Money is becoming a recurring issue. Spells cost gold. Food costs gold. Staying alive costs gold.
With that in mind, I checked the local inn in Riverwood for work. They had a bounty available and pointed me toward a few other opportunities. None of them sounded safe. All of them sounded necessary.
I added everything to the list.
Cold-Blooded – Log 3 (No Commentary)
Full gameplay footage from Riverwood to Whiterun, including the Western Watchtower dragon fight.
The Road to Whiterun
On the way to Whiterun, I spotted a fight in progress. A giant. Several people. A lot of shouting.
I hadn’t decided who to help by the time the giant was already dead.
That earned me a mild scolding for not joining in sooner. Turns out the group were the Companions. They take jobs. Dangerous ones. For gold.
I made a mental note. I may need them.
As they left, I noticed something else. Crops. A lot of crops. Vegetables everywhere. Unattended. Unclaimed. No warnings. No angry NPC dialogue.
I harvested all of it.
I then walked past the farmer who owned those crops.
He’s in for a surprise.
Whiterun Business
Once inside Whiterun, I went straight to the inn. More work was available. One job stood out.
I was asked to retrieve something called Nettlebane.
I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it’s a weapon. But it sounds valuable enough to investigate.
From there, I spoke to the Jarl.
He asked if I could help his court wizard, Farengar. I handed over the Dragonstone. Apparently, I’d already done the hard part.
As a reward, the Jarl offered me the chance to buy a house in Whiterun.
Buy being the key word.
The Western Watchtower
A dragon had been sighted at the Western Watchtower.
I was asked if I could help.
I agreed, reluctantly.
The dragon stayed just out of spell range most of the fight. When I could hit it, I did. When I couldn’t, I waited and tried not to die.
I need better spells. That means gold. Farengar already suggested Winterhold.
No.
I’m an Argonian.
The clue is in the name: Winterhold.
An Unexpected Title
The dragon fell.
I took what I could from it. Then I absorbed its soul.
I’ve finally gotten round to a couple of long-overdue Subnautica jobs — the kind that make the site easier to use and stop everything from drifting into chaos.
First, there’s now a proper Subnautica Hub. One place to collect everything Subnautica-related — logs, guides, maps, and future posts — without needing to hunt through tags or old links.
Second, I’ve built a Subnautica Crafting Reference page. This isn’t a lore dump or a wiki replacement — it’s a practical, at-a-glance list of what you need to craft things, grouped by crafting device and built to be useful while you’re actually playing.
Difficulty: Interloper Region: Mystery Lake Survivor: Will
Thankfully the recording survived. The wolves did too. Probably.
Thankfully the recording for this and the next log didn’t get corrupted, so I can actually prove I made it through the day.
With a heavy hammer sitting safely in Trapper’s Homestead, that’s one major goal off the list.
Next goal: find a firestriker or a magnifying glass.
I’m tired of living match-to-match like some kind of frozen Victorian chimney sweep.
Charcoal, Caches, and the Bow Clock Ticking
A quick use of charcoal showed I was close to a memento cache.
I had no clue where it actually was, so I did what I always do when I’m unsure: wander deeper into the region and hope it becomes Future Me’s problem.
The wandering at least had value. I found a bunch of birch saplings and hauled them back toward Trapper’s for curing.
The bow phase is coming whether I’m ready or not, and I’d rather not arrive there with the survival equivalent of empty pockets and false confidence.
Hunter’s Blind: A Win With a Catch
I checked the nearby hunter’s blind and finally got a win: a firestriker.
The condition was under 50%, which is not what you want to see on Interloper, but it still counts as “fire insurance.”
Still no magnifying glass, though. Of course.
The game will happily give me the tool I can break, but not the one that turns sunlight into free survival.
Accidental Navigation and the Lookout Plan
Then I did something stupid: I headed off without a path in mind.
No plan, no route, just vibes and cold air.
But once I spotted the Forestry Lookout, my brain finally clicked into place.
I’ve been there on other Mystery Lake visits, so at least this was a stupid decision with a familiar destination.
On the way, I spotted ptarmigans.
My rock-throwing aim remains consistently impressive in the worst way: I missed by miles, spooked them, and watched them fly off like they’d just attended my personal comedy show.
Forestry Lookout: Warmth, Mapping, and a Skillet
The lookout gave me a cooking skillet, which immediately made it feel like I’d walked into a luxury apartment.
It was also warm inside, but I could still use charcoal.
That’s the sweet spot: shelter, warmth, and the ability to map.
I scouted, updated the area, and let myself pretend I was in control for a few minutes.
The Crashed Plane: A Great Idea That Hurt Immediately
From the lookout, I spotted a crashed plane.
And I immediately had that survival-gremlin thought: “There’s definitely something useful in there.”
Only problem: I had absolutely no clue how I was meant to reach it.
I tried a few different approaches, each one worse than the last.
I ended up in pain and tearing my clothes, which is exactly the kind of price Interloper charges for curiosity.
With night coming in, I accepted reality and retreated back to the lookout before I turned a bad climb into a body recovery mission.
Night Prep and the Suspicious Lack of Teeth
Back at the lookout, I prepped like a responsible adult survivor: cooked what I could, repaired what I could, and tried to patch up the damage caused by my brief aviation obsession.
And then it hit me.
I don’t think I saw a single predator today.
Which means they’re either:
all stuck behind a rock somewhere, or
having a meeting to decide who gets to be the first one to ruin my week.
I’m betting on the meeting.
Interloper loves a coordinated effort.
Progress: Snowman’s Land Cleared Platform: Steam Deck Settings: Vanilla Mario & Music
“Sometimes the problem isn’t finding the star. It’s reaching it once you do.”
With two stars left in Snowman’s Land, my first question is simple: where are the red coins?
I’d like to confidently say none of them are inside the igloo. I cannot say that with confidence.
At the same time, I decide to roll the Red Coin Star and the 100-Coin Star into one attempt. This is an old habit from vanilla Super Mario 64. It usually saves time.
Coin Counting in a Frozen Economy
Finding the red coins isn’t the hard part. The real issue becomes obvious very quickly: where do 100 coins come from in this course?
The answer is the igloo.
I head inside and clear out every coin I can find. Outside, I mop up enemies wherever possible. Eventually, the numbers add up and the 100-Coin Star appears.
That’s when problem number three shows up.
The red coin star is there. I can see it. I just can’t reach it.
Everything Except Shouting at the Screen
I try:
Standard jumps
Awkward camera angles
The cannon
Nothing works.
Eventually, it clicks. This star wants a Koopa Shell.
There’s just one issue: I already used the shell earlier in the run.
Rather than exit the course, I take a deliberate death. It’s faster, and at this point, efficiency matters more than pride.
The Shell Gamble
One more trip into Snowman’s Land.
I head straight for the box I hope contains the Koopa Shell. There’s no guarantee. The seed could absolutely ruin me here.
Thankfully, the shell is exactly where it should be.
I slow everything down. No risks. No clever movement. Just controlled progress.
The shell does its job. The red coin star is collected.
Snowman’s Land is finished.
Next Move: Chasing Familiar Ground
With the course cleared, I make a mental note for the next castle visit.
I want to head toward where Snowman’s Land normally sits in vanilla Mario 64. At this point, I’m nearly halfway through the star count, and momentum matters.
This seed hasn’t been kind, but it has been fair. I want to keep that balance on my side.
YouTube – Log 11 Video
One shell, one reset, and one course fully crossed off the list.
Log 11 Summary
Course
Snowman’s Land
Stars Cleared
7 / 7
100-Coin Star
Collected
Red Coin Star
Collected (with shell)
Tactical Deaths
1 (on purpose)
Next Objective
Follow vanilla paths, keep momentum
Sometimes progress means knowing when to reset instead of forcing a bad situation.
This is another short pipeline note rather than an announcement. Just a record of what’s coming next and why.
There are two games lined up, both relatively contained, and both chosen because they fit the kind of survival experiences I want to document right now.
Slender: The Arrival
The first is Slender: The Arrival.
I originally played it when it first released. Since then, it’s received a 10th Anniversary update that effectively rebuilds the experience and introduces new content, including an additional location.
Because of that reset, this isn’t a nostalgia run. It’s closer to approaching a familiar idea in a form that’s changed enough to warrant a fresh look.
This will sit under Survivor’s Dread, recorded as a single-attempt run, with the logs reflecting how the attempt unfolds rather than aiming for a specific outcome.
Iron Lung
The second is Iron Lung.
Interest around it has increased recently because of the upcoming film adaptation, which is what initially put it on my radar.
What actually held my attention was hearing how personal the project was, and how much of the atmosphere and intent came directly from the game itself.
I’ve been aware of the creator behind the adaptation for a while, but I’ve never followed their content directly. What stood out wasn’t who was making the film, but the decision to make a film at all.
Choosing to adapt a small, largely unknown game suggested there was something specific in the source material that made it worth that level of commitment.
That curiosity is what led me here — to the game itself, rather than the adaptation built around it.
This will be treated as a one-off survival horror run. A single attempt, recorded without embellishment, documenting the experience as it unfolds.
Nothing Locked In
There are no dates attached to either of these yet. They’ll be recorded and published when there’s space, rather than being slotted in to chase relevance.
As always, the point isn’t to follow momentum elsewhere. It’s to document things that feel worth documenting at the time.
This isn’t an announcement post and it isn’t a schedule. It’s a quick check-in on what’s been drafted, scoped, and quietly prepared in the background.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been tightening rules, reducing sprawl, and making sure each series has a reason to exist beyond “I felt like playing it”.
As a result, there are three series sitting in the pipeline.
Orbis
Orbis is a new survival diary set in Hytale.
The game is currently in early access and exists as an ever-updating world, so the goal is deliberately simple: survive for as long as possible.
Solo only
One life
No fixed end goal
Survival measured by time, not progress
There’s no checklist and no finish line. When death happens, the diary ends.
One Against the Horde
One Against the Horde is a finite series built around Zombie Army Trilogy.
Each entry covers a single map played solo, on Marksman difficulty, with no collectibles and no padding.
One map per entry
Two failures ends the run
No grinding, no clean-up runs
If the horde wins twice, that’s the end of the diary.
Sunburnt & Sinking (Return)
Sunburnt & Sinking will be returning in Stranded Deep.
This time the run uses a simple strike system.
Three strikes total
Each death costs one strike
Lose all three and the run ends
The goal remains unchanged: defeat the three bosses and escape. Deaths are part of the story, not something to be edited out.
Where This Fits
February is already mapped out with scheduled posts and videos, which gives me the space to keep building quietly rather than rushing anything out.
These three series aren’t replacing what’s currently running. They’re sitting alongside it, ready to move when there’s room.
For now, this is about direction rather than output. The work is done early so the writing can happen when there’s something worth writing.
Survivor Incognito 