Tag: Survival Diary

SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries – Day Fourteen: Suspension Trials & Chevy Rescue Plans

SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries – Day 14: Suspension Trials & Chevy Rescue Plans

Frank’s New Legs

With Frank’s brand-new raised suspension fitted, I decide today’s the day to finish up The Essentials.
One small problem: Frank’s pointing the wrong way.
The boulder-clearing job from before opened a fresh path, so I follow it — partly to see where it goes, partly to avoid the awkward Austin Powers-style manoeuvring. It leads me to something familiar: another Chevrolet, the very same model I started my SnowRunner journey with.

The Stranded Chevy

I park Frank up alongside and jump in for a look. It’s going to need some upgrades before it’s worth driving… and then I notice the real problem.
It’s in no state to move at all — repairs come first. That makes this a job for Red. For now, I hop back into Frank, wiggle the wheel a few times, and get him facing the right way back toward the garage.

Warehouse Run

Back at the garage, I remember there’s a warehouse in this region with wooden planks. That’s exactly what I need for the farm delivery, and it’s perfect for two reasons:
1. I can see exactly how much fuel Frank burns on a long run.
2. I can avoid those soul-draining loading screens from switching regions.

The road’s a good test for the new suspension too. Frank does take a couple of damage points — entirely my fault for forgetting to flick on AWD — but otherwise glides over the bumps. By the time we reach the warehouse, the fuel gauge says I’ve burned about 45–50 litres. Not bad at all.

Planks on Board

I load Frank up with the planks and set off toward the farm, confident the suspension upgrade was worth every bolt.

The trip back is uneventful until I reach the flooded road leading to the farm. I spot an unflooded road I could have taken… and promptly ignore it, because this is a perfect water test for Frank.
The difference is night and day compared to before — he still struggles a little, but nothing like the swamp-crawling misery of old. The planks are dropped off, and The Essentials is finally complete.

Hungry Workers, Hungrier Roads

With Frank proving himself, I decide to tackle the Hungry Workers task next. Back to the garage for a full tank, then back to the farm for consumables. The road isn’t exactly Frank’s favourite terrain, but we reach the Drilling Site in one piece — and ding! Rank 6 unlocked.

That means one thing: new tyres. All we have to do is get back to the garage.

The Italian Job (SnowRunner Edition)

On the way back, I take an alternate route. Frank decides this is the perfect time to audition for a role in a remake of The Italian Job. One quick winch later, and I save him from early retirement.

Back at the garage, I reward him with a fresh set of All-Terrain Tyres — the perfect ending to a busy, productive day.

Continue the Journey

Day 13 | Day 14 (You Are Here) | Day 15

More from SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries

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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 2: The Depths of Progress

Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 2: The Depths of Progress

Difficulty: Survival (Steam Deck Survival)
Optional Features: Grav Trap Deployed for Science and Snacks

“Silver is rarer than common sense on this planet.”

After yesterday’s fire-fighting and frantic crafting, I started the day with a new radio message: Lifepod 17 had also crashed somewhere nearby — right next to the Seamoth Bay, apparently. But priorities are priorities, and since Lifepod 3 radioed me first, they got first rescue attempt.

Priorities, Podcasts, and PDAs

Lifepod 3 wasn’t exactly a rescue success.
I did, however, find a blueprint for a compass — the kind of thing that makes you wonder why your pod didn’t come with one pre-installed. I added it straight to the “to-craft-once-I-can-see-straight” list, along with a PDA I’ll read later when I’m not holding my breath underwater. No survivors… unless you count me, which I do, enthusiastically.

Back at my pod, I realised something important: I can’t see a damn thing once it gets dark. So I finally crafted a torch — apparently the galaxy’s most underrated invention — along with a survival knife because there’s nothing like a little sharp-edged comfort in an ocean full of unknown lifeforms.

Lifepod 17 and the Great Seamoth Discovery

Next stop: Lifepod 17.
Predictably, it was another empty seat arrangement, but I did strike technological gold — enough Seamoth fragments to unlock the blueprint. I just need a Mobile Vehicle Bay now, which sounds easy enough until you remember I’m surviving on cooked bladderfish and spite.

While exploring the wrecks, I also found the last few materials to upgrade my O₂ tank. More air equals more curiosity, and more curiosity usually equals more trouble, so that’s a win all around.

Incoming Messages and Explosive Warnings

Just as I was feeling productive, I got a new transmission — this time from the Sunbeam. They wanted a response, but my comms system is, and I quote, “irreparably damaged.” Translation: I’m talking to myself for the foreseeable future.

With no one to call and no Netflix subscription in sight, I built a Grav Trap and tossed it outside the Lifepod to watch it work. Instant sushi buffet. Fish helplessly drawn into an invisible vortex of doom. It’s oddly soothing.

Science in Motion

Full gameplay log below — forty minutes of exploration, crafting, and the occasional panic swim. Featuring Grav Trap testing, Lifepod 17 dives, and my ongoing battle with visibility and oxygen management.

Watch on YouTube

I even had enough parts for a Rebreather, further extending my underwater escapades. Everything was going fine… right up until the PDA told me the Aurora will explode in approximately two hours.
Sure. Two hours to stop a planet-sized reactor meltdown with nothing but a knife and optimism. Sounds totally achievable.

Silver, Sunbeam, and Sinking Realisations

I spent the rest of the day chasing one thing: silver. I’d convinced myself it didn’t exist anymore, that I’d mined the planet dry earlier. But after far too many dives and muttered curses, I finally found some glimmering salvation among the sandstone outcrops.

Back at the Lifepod, another message awaited — the Sunbeam again. They’ve spotted the wreckage of the Aurora and are coming to investigate. They’ll be here within the week.

So not all doom and gloom then. Just mild existential dread… and a new compass freshly crafted to help me get lost in the right direction next time.

Continue the Journey:
Log 1 |
Log 3
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Survivor Log #1 – October 2025

🪵 Survivor Log #1 – October 2025: Riding the Rails of Terror

“The trains are running again. Unfortunately, so are the screams.”

Back on Track

The Survivor Logs are officially back — revived, refuelled, and just in time for Halloween. It’s been a while since the last campfire catch-up, so let’s dive straight into what’s coming down the tracks.

Derailed & Doomed Takes the Spotlight

Choo Choo Charles has pulled into the station, and it’s hungry. October’s focus is firmly on Derailed & Doomed: A Choo Choo Charles Survival Diary, running under the Apex Predator Rule. Three lives, one monstrous train, and plenty of tracks to regret walking down. Expect new logs throughout the month — assuming I survive long enough to post them.

Other Series on Standby

While Charles hogs the spotlight, the rest of the Survivor Incognito universe is catching its breath. Alien: Isolation and Subnautica entries will appear intermittently, but October’s chaos belongs to the rails. Once the screams die down (or I do), we’ll see which world gets the next diary spotlight.

Looking Ahead

I’m keeping this month’s log short and sharp — like the claws of a certain spider-train hybrid. Expect the next Survivor Log once the Halloween smoke clears, complete with reflections on the run, blog milestones, and maybe a few hints of what’s waiting in November’s frost.

Continue the Journey

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Isolation Protocol – Log 5: The Joes Know

Isolation Protocol – Log 5: The Joes Know

Difficulty: Survivor Mode (Permadeath Rule in Effect)

“I was ready for the Alien. I wasn’t ready for a bunch of plastic-faced androids with the bedside manner of a toaster.”

Starting where I left off, I spotted a Working Joe in the distance. Their glowing eyes cut through the sterile white corridors, and the way they moved — steady, unhurried — felt more unsettling than if they’d been running. With a little help from my motion tracker, I eventually found a computer up a set of stairs that looked like it might let me contact the Torrens. Unfortunately, Apollo essentially told me, “NOPE.” Back to square one.

Not wanting to deal with the Joe directly, I ducked into a vent. The metal clanged beneath my hands as I crawled through the stale air, only to find myself right back where I started. Brilliant navigation, 10/10.

Sneaking Past the Plastic Brigade

My second attempt was a little more productive. Using the tracker’s handy objective marker, I pushed forward, only to find two Joes patrolling opposite sides of the room. Their footsteps echoed across the floor like someone tapping on the inside of a coffin. Staying crouched and moving like my life depended on it (because it did), I managed to slip past them.

Along the way, I picked up the blueprint for EMP v1.1. Not sure how effective it is against the Joes, but it went into my collection of “items I’ll probably forget exist when I need them most.”

Soon after, I stumbled on a save point. Though I’m not religious, I thanked some higher power for that little glowing box of mercy. One save later, and I was thrown into three hacking games in quick succession — tense but surprisingly fun, especially with the eerie hum of machinery pressing in around me.

Contact with Samuels

At long last, I made contact with someone from the Torrens: Samuels. I could have hugged him through the screen. He was with Taylor, who looked in rough shape and needed medical help. Samuels couldn’t leave her side, but he promised to send transport for me. All I had to do was make it back to them.

Which, naturally, was when the alarm went off. The lights strobed red, the siren wailed like a dying animal, and every Joe in the area decided it was time to reenact Terminator.

Panic, Chaos, and Dripping Vents

This is where stealth went straight out the window. I’d like to say I handled it like Snake in a cardboard box. Dear reader: I did not. Instead, I panicked, sprinted, hid badly, and almost ended the entire run then and there.

Rather than just tell you about it, here’s the video in full:

Yes, I could have used the EMPs. No, I didn’t — because I forgot I had them in the chaos. And the revolver? Pretty sure it’s about as effective as shouting at the Joes, given what I’ve seen. Meanwhile, the Alien was making its presence known again, dripping from the vents like the world’s worst plumbing problem.

I even had a staring contest with one of the Joes. Spoiler: they can, in fact, see me. And if they can find me in lockers, what chance do I have against the Xenomorph?

Somehow, against all odds, I survived the chase and stumbled into the SciMed Tower. Samuels and Taylor are waiting… if I can actually reach them next time.

Continue the Journey:

Log 4 |
Log 6 Coming Soon

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SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries – Day Eleven: Red’s Day Out

SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries – Day 11: Red’s Day Out

Today was Red’s time to shine. No trailers, no urgent deliveries — just exploration, practice, and a bit of light road-conquering in the name of science.

Finding the Quarry (and Trouble)

I started by taking Red along a road I hadn’t explored yet, which eventually led me to a quarry. Always good to know where the future cargo headaches will be coming from. I tried following the road deeper in, but it came to a natural stop, so I turned back and tried another route.

The “Road” That Was Mostly Water

This second route led to a flooded stretch of road. The map confirmed it was indeed a road — apparently someone at the Department of Transport here has a sense of humour. I was convinced Red would sink or stall, but to my surprise he waded through like a champ, slow but steady. On the way, I even found a raised suspension upgrade for him. I thought I already had it installed, but hey — spares are spares.

Watchtowers, Fuel Stops, and Mystery Upgrades

At the end of the flooded road, I had a choice: plunge into the unknown or head for a nearby Watchtower. No prizes for guessing which option I took. The tower revealed an upgrade, but before I could investigate, Red needed a refuel. Thankfully, I’d given him fuel cans in an earlier upgrade, so one quick pit stop later and we were good to go.

The upgrade turned out to be an engageable AWD… for something. I forgot to check which vehicle. Classic me.

Low+ and Loving It

Another Watchtower was on the map, so we headed there. This is where Red’s sweet spot revealed itself: Low+. He still bounced, but it was more of a playful hop than a chaotic pogo stick. I reached the tower, got briefly excited when I thought I’d found a second fuel station in Smithville Dam, then realised the map was upside down and it was just the same one I already knew about. Disappointment levels: high.

More Upgrades and a New Task

The tower also revealed another upgrade, perched right at the water’s edge. Given Red’s aquatic performance today, I wasn’t worried. We collected it — raised suspension for the Scout — which might just drag him out of retirement. While I was at it, Red got another refuel before heading back to the garage, where I discovered he’d been on stock suspension all this time. No wonder he’d been so bouncy. Raised suspension went on immediately.

“Boulders” and the To-Do List

Before calling it a day, I checked out a new task called Boulders. It involves two service spare parts to clear a road — easy enough in theory, but the waterlogged section leading there will be a problem until Frank gets his own raised suspension. I’m adding that one to the to-do list for now.

All in all, Red outdid himself today. From quarries to questionable road conditions, he handled everything without a tow truck rescue. He’s earned a well-deserved rest.

Continue the Journey

Day 10 |
You Are Here |
Day 12

More from SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries

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Seven Days to Survive – Day 3: Honey, Zombies, and Home Improvements

Difficulty: Default Survival
Optional Rules: Permadeath, one horde night per week
“If you ever find yourself cornered by two zombies in a stranger’s living room, just remember: honey is nature’s antibiotic. Who knew bee juice would keep me alive?”

The Fetch Quest of Doom

The morning began with me jogging toward the latest house that Trader Rekt wanted looted for supplies. From the outside, it looked quiet — shutters drawn, roof sagging slightly, just another abandoned suburban home. But this is 7 Days to Die, so I knew the interior would be less “suburban charm” and more “screaming corpses.”

Sure enough, as soon as I hit the flag at the back of the property and stepped inside, the soundscape turned into a zombie alarm clock. Two of them barreled toward me, cutting off my escape. I managed to fight my way out, but not without a parting gift: infection. Perfect.

After clearing the stragglers and pocketing the supplies, I searched my pack for antibiotics. Nothing. A return trip to Papaw Residence confirmed the same — unless you count decorative piles of junk and a near-useless jar of murky water. But buried in a chest was salvation: honey. Exactly the right cure for my low-level infection. Bee magic saves the day.

Medical Centre Run

I staggered back to Rekt’s, handed over the supplies, and chose skill books as my reward. Then I spent some coin on more honey, because clearly zombies see me as a chew toy. Another fetch quest? Why not. This one sent me toward what looked like a pop-up medical centre — white tarps, overturned stretchers, and the distinct impression that the last patients didn’t leave voluntarily.

The zombies inside were fewer and slower, which suited my still-throbbing wounds. Looting the shelves, I stumbled on something that felt like Christmas morning: a cooking grill. Finally, the days of choking down charred snake meat are behind me. Now I can prepare food that doesn’t taste like it came out of a campfire accident.

I cleared the building, snagged the supplies, and returned to Rekt. My reward? Charred meat. Honestly, I think the man is trolling me. “Here’s some food, survivor.” Yes, Rekt, I literally just looted the thing that makes your reward obsolete. Thanks for nothing, champ.

Dew Collector Dreams

Back at Papaw, I started eyeing my supplies. Between yesterday’s scavenging and today’s haul, I realised I was close to crafting a Dew Collector. After a bit more rummaging and resource-gathering, the parts came together. I placed the contraption outside, whispered a hopeful prayer to the condensation gods, and waited.

After five minutes of staring at a metal bucket with mesh, I admitted that Dew Collectors are not exciting to watch in real time. With thirst still an issue, I decided to channel my boredom into base-building. The first layer of the horde base is now fully cobblestone. The second layer is patchwork, half cobble, half wood. The third layer? Still dreams and dust. At least I can say progress is being made, even if it looks more like a construction site than a fortress.

Thirst, the Silent Killer

The Dew Collector is great in theory, but water production is glacial. By mid-afternoon I was dehydrated again — stumbling around with blurry vision like I’d been on a pub crawl with the undead. Tomorrow, water is priority number one. Either the trader sells me a stash, or I’m boiling every murky puddle I find.

Still, the looming problem isn’t just thirst. It’s the horde night clock. Day 4 is practically here, and my base is still an empty shell. If I don’t switch gears soon, the zombies will be less “contained threat” and more “unwanted guests knocking down my half-finished walls.” Tomorrow, the hammer and cobblestone get priority — fetch quests can wait.

Continue the Journey

Day 2 | Day 3 (You Are Here) | Day 4 (Coming Soon)

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Isolation Protocol – Log 4: The Joes Aren’t Alright

Rule Set: Three Strikes (Xenomorph only)
Location: Seegson Communications
“I’ve seen enough sci-fi to know that when the friendly android offers you a seat, you probably shouldn’t sit down.”

Back Upstairs, Back in Trouble

After possibly releasing the galaxy’s worst houseguest, I have no choice but to keep moving toward Seegson Communications. The other survivors? They can fend for themselves—if they’re still breathing.

I creep upstairs just in time to hear the Xenomorph deal with the group who wanted me dead. That’s… justice? Karma? Either way, I don’t plan on joining the casualty list. I get a quick glimpse of the creature before ducking behind a box. No thanks, not burning Strike One yet.

Moments later, I slip into the elevator, tuner in hand, praying it doesn’t decide to test its claws on the doors.

Welcome to Seegson Communications

The elevator opens, and who’s waiting? A Working Joe android. I can tell the designers blew the budget on “creepy plastic skin” and “unsettling stare mode.” Still, the first one politely offers me a seat. I decline. I’ve already got chairs at home.

Exploring further, I try to explain I need to contact the Torrens. The Joes, in their usual customer-service-death-mask tone, tell me that Communications is off-limits. Naturally, this means I’m going to have to sneak in.

Tracker, Toys, and Trust Issues

In the middle of poking around, I find something glorious: the motion tracker. Not only does it point toward objectives, but it immediately informs me that something is behind me. Cue panic—until I realise it’s just another Joe, calmly asking if everything is alright. (No, everything is not alright, pal.)

I also stumble on a blueprint for a noisemaker. Given how much stomping and hissing I’ve heard lately, this feels like crafting salvation.

But then I see it: Joes can’t be trusted. A human survivor argues with one, pulls a gun, fires—does nothing. The Joe responds by snapping him in half like a breadstick. Great. Now I know they’re not just weird, they’re actively homicidal. Thanks, random gun guy. You doomed us all.

Shut Down the Cameras

My objective: disable the surveillance cameras so I can sneak through. Problem: I have no idea where I’m going. Solution: follow the magic beeping rectangle.

The tracker points me toward the controls, while also telling me there are two Joes nearby. Excellent—nothing like disabling security while feeling like the least secure person alive.

I find the panel, turn off the cameras, and pocket a survivor’s ID tag because looting under pressure is apparently my thing. Then I wait. And wait. And wait for the world’s slowest elevator. I swear it was coming from the far side of the station.

Hope on the Airwaves

At last, I reach Communications. And then I hear it: the voice of the Torrens, cutting through the static. Actual hope, actual contact, actual chance of escape. For a moment, Sevastopol doesn’t feel like a tomb—it feels like a finish line I might actually reach.

Of course, the Joes are still wandering the halls, the Xenomorph is still on the loose, and the whole station feels one breath away from falling apart. But right now? I’ve got a signal. And that’s enough to keep going.

Log 4 Pro Tips

  • Never assume the Joes are harmless. They’re not.
  • Motion tracker = survival MVP. Treasure it.
  • Don’t trust other survivors with guns—they’ll get you all killed.
  • If an elevator takes too long, assume it’s mocking you.
Continue the journey:
Log 3 |
Log 4 (You Are Here) |
Log 5
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SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries – Day Ten: Bridges, Bumps, and Broken Dreams

SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries – Day 10: Bridges, Bumps, and Broken Dreams

Mode: Permagear Rules | Optional Features: Winch-assisted woodland detours

Back to the Dam

I start the day by taking Red back to the Smithville Dam garage to decide on my next move. Both of my current main objectives need wooden planks, and as far as I can tell, the only viable source is back in Black River. The plan: build the bridge first, then worry about the rest.

I hop into Frank for the job, only to be faced with the first challenge — actually getting him there. Instead of taking the standard road, I opt for a less-beaten path through the trees, using the winch liberally and clambering over rocks like a determined mountain goat in truck form. If Frank had feelings, I’d say he was trying to prove something.

Frank: The Reliable Workhorse

Once in Black River, I load up the planks and head back to Smithville Dam. Along the way, I can’t help but admire Frank’s handling — reliable, sturdy, and never letting you down. He’s the truck equivalent of that one friend who always brings snacks and never cancels plans.

I top him up at the fuel station as a precaution (he probably didn’t need it, but who doesn’t like a full tank?). Crossing the Dam, I briefly flash back to the Dam level in GoldenEye 64, half-expecting to see polygons of Soviet guards wandering about.

Bridge Complete

The delivery goes smoothly, and with the wooden planks in place, the bridge is now a reality. Objective one: done. Frank earns a well-deserved rest while I swap into Red for some post-bridge exploration.

Red’s Bouncy Adventure

Immediately, I’m reminded of the difference in handling: Frank sticks to the ground like he’s got magnetic tyres; Red prefers to bounce along it like an over-caffeinated pogo stick. Past the bridge, I find a promising-looking track and decide to follow it.

The path is a mix of mud, stones, and one dodgy river crossing that all but confirms Red will need a raised exhaust if such a thing exists. After wrestling through, I spot an upgrade ahead and let my hopes soar — could this be the elusive raised suspension for Frank I’ve been searching for? In my head, I’m already firing him up for a triumphant drive back to the garage.

Reality Check

It isn’t. Instead, it’s Engageable AWD for a White Star truck — a vehicle I don’t own. Still, at least it’s unlocked for the future. I follow the road and, somewhat anticlimactically, end up back on the other side of the bridge.

That’s where I call it for the day. Tomorrow, Red will keep exploring, and maybe — just maybe — I’ll finally complete The Essentials task.

Continue the Journey

Day 9 | Day 10 (You Are Here) | Day 11

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Seven Days to Survive – Day 2: Chickens, Bandages, and Pipe Bomb Decisions

Difficulty: Chill Solo
Optional Features: XP set to 150%

“The chicken wasn’t faster than me — it was simply playing 4D chess while I was stuck with a stone axe.”

Adjustments and Priorities

Loading back in, I realised I’d left my XP multiplier at default. Rookie mistake. Bumped it up to 150% — because if I’m going to die to zombies, I’d at least like to die while leveling a little faster.
First order of business: a buried food stash quest. Second: the elusive dew collector. The recipe calls for 100 scrap polymers, 4 short iron pipes, 4 duct tape, and ideally a water filter. Since I don’t have the filter yet, I’ll only get murky water — but with a cooking pot in the campfire, I can still boil it into something drinkable. Not glamorous, but thirst makes you less picky.

Survivor’s Tip: Dew Collector Water

  • With Water Filter: Collects clean water directly — no cooking needed.
  • Without Water Filter: Collects murky water. Use a cooking pot on the campfire to boil it safe.
  • Murky water is better than no water — just don’t forget to boil it, unless you enjoy dysentery roleplay.

The Chicken Incident

On the way, I decide to test my hunting skills. Enter: chicken. Exit: all my dignity. The little feathered gremlin zig-zagged through the grass like a professional sprinter, forcing me to waste more arrows than I care to admit.
After some zombie interference (probably hired muscle for the chicken mafia), I finally down it. A bone knife later, I had meat for dinner and a stockpile of feathers for arrows.

Blood and Bandages

At the buried stash location, a zombie ambushed me and managed to inflict a bleed. Thank you, starting bandage — you’ve earned your retirement.
Note to self: learn how to craft more. Turns out all you need is cotton → cloth fragments → bandage. Problem solved. My feather surplus also became arrow surplus. Feeling slightly more capable, I dug up the stash and headed back to Trader Rekt.

Pipe Bombs for Later

Rekt offered me a tough choice of rewards. I went with five pipe bombs, because nothing says “Horde Night insurance” like handheld explosives.
Next stop: Papaw residence to unload my loot, then scouting a new Horde base location.

First Steps Toward Horde Night

I laid out the foundations of a 6×3 base. Not glamorous, not reinforced, but it’s a start. I’ll reveal more of its design on the big night — for now, just know it exists, it’s square-ish, and it’s mine.
With daylight fading, I tried to squeeze in a fetch quest, but after one zombie fight it was already 9pm. Jogging zombies are not on my wishlist, so I postponed.

Evening at Papaw’s

Back at Papaw’s, I cooked up my chicken, learned eggs can be eaten raw (filed under: desperate measures), and salvaged what I could.
A zombie came knocking on my door uninvited, so I introduced them to my club. Afterwards, I excitedly crafted an armor crafting kit — only to immediately discover I had no clue how to use it. Survival irony at its finest.

Looking Ahead

Day 2 ends with preparations in motion but confidence on shaky legs. I’ve got pipe bombs, a half-built base, and one less chicken in the world. Tomorrow, I’ll knock out that fetch quest early and dedicate daylight to shoring up my defenses. Horde Night is coming, and I need all the help I can get.

Continue the journey:
Day 1 | Day 2 (You Are Here) | Day 3
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Surviving the Milky Way: An Elite Dangerous Survival Diary – Day 4: Pirates, Powerplay, and Pointless Terminals

Day 4 – Pirates, Powerplay, and Pointless Terminals

Playstyle: Courier–Bounty Hybrid (very heavy on the “hybrid”)
Optional Features: Unplanned NPC babysitting, mild existential dread

“These are the voyages of Commander Incognito aboard the Rustbucket: to dodge charity collectors, fail gracefully at space combat, and boldly lean on NPCs where no pride has survived before.”

Ramaswamy Point greeted me with the kind of smile you see on a fundraiser who’s already holding your wallet. Donation missions everywhere. Worthy causes, sure—if your definition of “worthy” includes me being broke. I decided to invest my credits in something more sustainable: self-preservation and very questionable career choices.

Mission Board Math: Credits Out vs. Hull Intact

After declining the interstellar charity gala, I grabbed two bounties that looked doable (or at least survivable): Emily Santopietro lurking in Col 285 Sector GJ-I a39-0, and a flamboyantly named menace called The Universal Alchemist in HR 7674. The order was obvious: Emily first. Why? Because between me and the Alchemist was a moon, and contrary to popular belief, I can’t Frame Shift through solid rock. Goals are good; physics is better.

Target #1: Emily Santopietro (Featuring: My Aim)

I dropped into the instance with the confidence of a pilot who’s watched several tutorials but retained none of the important bits. Pulse lasers primed, target locked, heroic music in my head—then reality. If I landed a single shot, it must have been by accident. Thankfully, the galaxy delivered: a few NPC bounty hunters showed up and treated Emily like an overdue library book. I contributed… moral support. And evasive maneuvers. Mostly evasive maneuvers.

Result: Emily down. My pride? Also down, but technically not on the mission summary screen, so we’re calling it a win.

Target #2: The Universal Alchemist (and the Loosely Organized Lunatics)

Next up: the Alchemist, a local headache apparently on the radar of an outfit calling themselves the Loosely Organized Lunatics. They asked me to “deal with him,” which feels like strong wording for someone who just discovered their own safety is optional. Still, I accepted and engaged.

Combat went much like the last one—lasers buzzing, shields whining, me squinting at the reticle like it owed me money. Once again, NPCs took the hint and piled in. Team effort! Where “team” is doing a lot of heavy lifting and I’m mostly yelling “pew pew” in the background. Nevertheless: bounty complete, hull intact, dignity negotiable.

Back to Ramaswamy Point: Rewards Claimed, Dreams Denied

I returned to Ramaswamy Point, strutted into the Contacts office like I alone had saved civilized space, and cashed out both bounties. Then I did the sensible thing: straight to Outfitting to improve my “combat performance,” which is a generous phrase for “I would like my lasers to hit things now.”

Outfitting, however, had the vibe of a pawn shop at closing time. No better pulse lasers. No real upgrades worth selling my soul for. The Rustbucket remained exactly that: rusty, bucket-shaped, and underarmed.

Courier Hop to HR 7674 (A Detour Into Powerplay)

Spotting a courier contract to HR 7674, I took it and set course for Tenn Terminal, hoping their stock list wasn’t just “no.” En route, the nav panel dangled a shiny new concept: Powerplay, where twelve galactic powers offer perks in exchange for loyalty and a suspicious amount of paperwork. Interesting, but I’m still figuring out how to keep my nose pointed at the enemy. Filing under: research later, pledge never (for now).

Tenn Terminal: Nothing to See Here, Keep Moving

I delivered the courier package, collected the pay, and jogged over to Outfitting like a kid on Life Day. The shelves? Empty of anything useful. Not a single upgrade I needed. Not even a pity laser. Apparently, HR 7674 believes in character growth via disappointment.

The mission board was heavy on bounties, which would’ve been poetic if I hadn’t just proven my lasers are purely ornamental. I parked the Rustbucket, powered down, and promised myself tomorrow would be more… accurate.

Ship Log: Rustbucket Status & Notes

  • Combat reality check: Pulse lasers feel like sternly worded emails. Consider gimballed weapons or multis when I find a station that isn’t allergic to upgrades.
  • Allies matter: NPC bounty hunters are my current business model. Must not rely on this forever (or at least learn to pretend I don’t).
  • Route planning: “There’s a moon in the way” is a valid operational constraint. Add to checklist: confirm approach vector before heroic declarations.
  • Powerplay: Interesting benefits, but I should actually win a 1v1 before choosing a galactic overlord.

Lessons Learned (So I Stop Re-Learning Them)

  • Target practice is not optional: Practice in a Resource Extraction Site (Low) or a training scenario before accepting anything with the word “notorious” in it.
  • Shields save lives: If I can’t upgrade guns yet, upgrade survival: boosters, better shield generator, maybe a hull reinforcement or two.
  • Stations aren’t equal: When looking for gear, prioritize High Tech / Large starports. “We sell dreams” is code for “we sell nothing you need.”

Continue the Journey

Elite Dangerous Hub |
Day 1 |
Day 2 |
Day 3 |
Day 4 (You Are Here) |
Day 5

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