Weather / Loot / Mood

• Weather: Sunny with a calm breeze, deceptively inviting for a day of mistakes
• Loot: Two refined knives (both broken), crude knife, potato crop, yucca fruit, several speared fish
• Mood: Parched → resourceful → frustrated → plotting escape

Death by Dehydration and Knife-Based Regret

Day 2 started the way all my survival days seem to — fighting to stay alive with fewer resources than the average beach picnic. Water was the clear priority, so I cracked open a few coconuts to keep my hydration meter from flatlining. Just as I started to feel less like a dried-out husk and more like an actual human being… snap. My refined knife broke in my hand.

One second I had my most valuable tool, the next it was reduced to the kind of scrap metal you’d find washed up on a stormy shore. With it gone, my ability to gather resources properly took a nosedive, and I was back to square one.

Knife? Check. Brain? Debatable.

Thankfully, making a crude knife was easy enough. Unfortunately, I forgot that I could use that knife to craft another refined one. It was like having the solution in my pocket but refusing to read the instructions. In my defence, dehydration may have been quietly sabotaging my brain function.

When I finally pieced it together, I felt like the island’s least stylish blacksmith, reforging my refined knife like it was a lost relic. Feeling smug, I checked the crafting menu for new possibilities. A fire pit? Doable and quick. A water still? Perfect — except it needed cloth. And cloth, as far as I could tell, was rarer on this island than polite seagulls.

My Kingdom for a Rag

The water still became my new obsession. If I could build one, I’d solve my hydration issues for good. But without cloth, it was a dream just out of reach. I decided to prepare the other materials in advance, so all I’d need to do was slot the fabric into place once I found it.

In the process, I managed to break my second refined knife of the day. The culprit? The island’s one unyielding yucca tree, which I kept attacking like it was hiding a secret stash of loot. If anything, it only seemed to grow more smug about my failures. On the bright side, my scavenging turned up a potato crop and a yucca fruit — the makings of a future farm if I could ever get beyond the “not dying of thirst” stage of survival.

Spearfishing for Sadness

Needing a morale boost, I took to the ocean with a crude spear, ready to prove I could at least feed myself. The fish were easy enough to catch — a few quick jabs and they were mine. I strutted back to shore with my haul, already picturing a beachside fish roast.

That fantasy crumbled faster than my knives when I discovered my fire pit wasn’t suitable for cooking fish. Apparently, I needed something more advanced — a smoker, a spit, or possibly a degree in tropical culinary arts. The fish went into storage, and my dreams went up in smoke without ever lighting the fire.

As the sun set, I stared out toward the horizon. Tomorrow, I’d choose an island and head for it. Either it would have cloth, or I’d be stuck crafting a distress flag out of coconut husks, stubborn yucca bark, and pure spite.

Continue the Journey

Day 1 |
Day 2 (You Are Here) |
Day 3 |
Final Day