Tag: Survival Diary

Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 13: Detours, Moose, and Cabin Fever Math

Unprepared Log 13: Detours, Moose, and Cabin Fever Math

Difficulty: Interloper
Region: Mystery Lake → Mountain Town
Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Will

I woke up with a plan. The game woke up with a fog bank and spite.

First thought: check the snare I set yesterday, because free rabbit is the closest thing Interloper has to joy.
The problem is I can’t see five feet in front of me.
It’s full-on “walk forward and become a landmark” visibility.

So I do what any brave survivor would do: I go back inside and pretend this is part of my strategy.
If the world is going to hide itself, I’m going to sit down and research until it feels embarrassed.

Arrow Plans Meet Scrap Reality

With the weather refusing to cooperate, I do a quick sanity check on what I need for arrows.
And it’s the usual Interloper punchline: I need an improvised knife.

Which means scrap metal.
I have two.
Two scrap metal is not a plan, it’s a suggestion.

That changes everything.
I decide I’m heading to Milton, grabbing whatever scrap I can, and then pushing on to Forlorn Muskeg.
It’s not what I wanted to do, but Interloper doesn’t do “wanted.”

Through the Cave, With the Usual Drama

I take the cave route toward Mountain Town.
It goes fine, which is suspicious on its own.

When I reach the transition and the rope down into Milton, I hit the usual problem:
I can’t take everything.
So I dump gear at the top of the rope with the classic lie I tell myself every time:
“I’ll be back for this.”

I do get one small win.
In a nearby cave I find matches.
It’s not a hammer, but it’s also not death, so I’ll take it.

New Rope, Same Nonsense: The Moose

I climb another rope and, at the top, there’s a moose waiting for me.
Just standing there like it pays rent.

I swear it’s the same moose from Mystery Lake.
I know that’s not how the game works.
I also know the moose doesn’t care what I know.

I give it space and continue into town, because I’m not getting stomped into paste today if I can help it.

The Orca Gas Station Problem

I try to hit the Orca Gas Station, because it’s a solid loot stop and I’m here anyway.
Except I don’t have a prybar.

Because I left it back in Mystery Lake.
Because I didn’t think I was coming here.
Because I’m apparently doing a challenge run called “Forget the One Tool You Need.”

I do a quick look around in the hope I find another one.
No joy.
So I pivot and start looting what I can actually enter.

Milton House Tour: Scrap Notes and Low Excitement

I go house to house, grabbing what I can.
Nothing is wildly exciting, but I make a mental note of where the decent scrap is for later.
If I’m going to Forlorn Muskeg, I want to go with more than two sad bits of metal rattling in my pocket.

The trip stays surprisingly calm.
No ambush wolves.
No sudden blizzards halfway through a street crossing.
Just the moose lurking like a tax collector.

Greymother’s: Water, Pots, and a Small Clothing Win

I reach Greymother’s house without any hassle and immediately get to work on the basics:
boil water, organise gear, and pretend I’m in control.

Loot-wise, I find a couple of cooking pots.
That’s actually useful.
More water, faster cooking, less time spent watching a fire like it’s a live sports event.

I also find combat pants.
Which means I now have something in each slot.
Well… except the slot where the moose satchel would go.
But we’re not talking about that yet.

Tomorrow’s Plan: Prybar, Hammer, and a Bit of Hope

Tomorrow I want a prybar.
Ideally I also find a hammer, because my “go to a forge” plan is currently being held together with optimism and poor timing.

Mountain Town should have enough scrap to set me up properly.
The only question is whether the game lets me collect it without turning the streets into a predator convention.

And Then Interloper Remembers Cabin Fever Exists

I head to bed in Greymother’s feeling like I’ve at least moved the run forward.
Which is when the game throws the one thing I thought I was avoiding:
Cabin Fever risk.

I forgot the grace period is shorter on Interloper.
Of course it is.
Of course the punishment system is also on hard mode.

Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 12 |
Unprepared Log 14

1

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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Cold-Blooded: A Skyrim Survival Diary – Log 5: Swindlers, Spell Noise, and Unexpected Backup

Cold-Blooded – Log 5: Swindlers, Spell Noise, and Unexpected Backup

Game: Skyrim Special Edition
Mode: Survival Mode
Difficulty: Adept
Survivor: Treads-Through-Cold (Argonian Mage)

I didn’t plan to clear Swindler’s Den. Being there made the decision for me.

Since I was already inside Swindler’s Den, leaving unexplored space behind felt inefficient. In Survival Mode, walking away from shelter and loot without a reason usually comes back to punish you later.

The den made its first impression quickly. Not all bandits are thinkers.

Swindler’s Den: First Contact

The first bandit I encountered ran headfirst into an object and failed to recover. No tactics. No awareness. Just momentum and regret.

I took the opening and moved on, but the den immediately highlighted a growing problem in my setup.

I’ve been trying to build the habit of casting Oakflesh before engagements. Armor is a scarce resource for a mage in Survival Mode, and temporary protection is better than none.

The downside became obvious fast.

Oakflesh is not subtle. Every cast echoed through the cave like an announcement. Sneak into a side tunnel. Cast Oakflesh. Instantly alert every bandit within earshot.

Effective defense. Terrible stealth.

Slow Progress, Sudden Panic

I slowed my pace, checking corners and backing out of rooms instead of pushing forward. Ambushes in enclosed spaces end runs quickly.

The plan unraveled when I realized one of the bandits was a spellcaster.

At the same moment, my magicka bar hit zero.

That combination doesn’t invite confidence.

I retreated, burned through health potions, and had a brief flash of panic about Lydia’s positioning. I half-expected to hear her death cry echo through the den.

It didn’t.

Lydia held the line.

Instead of collapsing, she pushed forward, absorbed the pressure, and removed the threat. No heroics. Just competence.

Loot Decisions and Rule Checks

With the immediate danger cleared, I slowed down and searched the den properly.

  • Spell Tome: Candlelight
  • Magic Staff: Unspecified, but functional
  • Hide Helmet: Increased magicka

Candlelight isn’t flashy, but light matters underground when torches burn out and magicka management gets tight.

The staff prompted a rules check. There’s nothing in my setup that forbids staff usage. It uses magicka efficiently and gives me options when spells aren’t viable.

I equipped it.

I also upgraded Lydia’s loadout with heavy armor. She’s clearly earning her keep, and better protection keeps her standing longer.

The hide helmet turned out to be more important than it first appeared.

Cleaning House

The bandit leader went down without incident. The final member followed shortly after.

No dramatic finish. No close calls. Just a cleared den.

With Swindler’s Den secured, I turned toward Rorikstead to deal with unfinished business.

Road Encounters

On the road, I crossed paths with a member of the Imperial Legion.

I fully expected hostility. Instead, I got polite conversation and a casual suggestion that I should enlist.

I acknowledged it and moved on. Survival first. Politics later.

In Rorikstead, the Alik’r warriors confirmed their target and asked me to escort her to the stables outside Whiterun.

Why they couldn’t wait there themselves remains unanswered.

Testing Limits

On the return journey, I experimented.

The hide helmet gave me just enough magicka to successfully conjure a Flame Atronach. It worked, but the cost was steep.

This build needs more magicka if conjuration is going to be more than an emergency option.

Resolution in Whiterun

Back in Whiterun, I convinced the Redguard woman to go to the stables.

An Alik’r warrior was waiting. A spell was cast. The bounty was settled.

My share was modest, but clean. No guards. No complications.

Darkness was already setting in. In Survival Mode, that’s a warning, not scenery.

I headed for the inn and ended the day before cold or exhaustion could interfere.

End of Day Thoughts

I don’t have a clear plan for tomorrow.

But Swindler’s Den is cleared. Lydia proved reliable. My options expanded.

That’s enough progress for one day.

Video Log

No commentary gameplay footage for this log:

Continue the Journey

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Log 4
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Log 6

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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 12: The Lens Was In The Box

Unprepared Log 12: The Lens Was In The Box

Difficulty: Interloper
Region: Mystery Lake
Survivor: Will

The answer was not at the top of a rope. It was in a box I walked past.

This was attempt number two at the cave above the Camp Office.
This time, I committed properly: I dropped anything I didn’t absolutely need.
Rope climbing on Interloper is simple math — if you’re overencumbered, you’re not climbing.

This was the last place left in Mystery Lake that I was sure could hold the magnifying lens.
If it wasn’t here, I genuinely had no next step.

The Rope, The Ledge, The Nothing

The climb itself was uneventful.
I stopped at the ledge to catch my breath, then pushed on to the cave.

Inside the cave, there was nothing.
No magnifying lens. No useful loot.
Just cold stone and the quiet confirmation that I’d wasted the effort.

Disheartened, I climbed back down and headed for the Camp Office,
already accepting that I’d be heading to a forge run without the lens.

The Box That Mocked Me

Before committing to the long walk toward Forlorn Muskeg,
I decided to do one last check of the Camp Office.

I walked in.
I opened a box.

The magnifying lens was sitting inside it.
Found almost immediately.
Apparently waiting for me to finish wasting time elsewhere.

A lot of effort, zero reward — until suddenly there was.
Problem solved, irritation earned.

I did a quick supply check, dropped anything I didn’t need,
and staged gear at the Camp Office for later.
The next priority was clear: I needed the hammer.

A Moose With Opinions

The moose had made a grand return outside the Camp Office.
Not charging, not leaving — just existing with purpose.

I’m fairly sure it decided to follow me for part of the way.
It didn’t attack, but it didn’t help morale either.

Trapper’s Homestead and Rabbit Politics

The walk to Trapper’s Homestead was otherwise uneventful.
No wolves, no weather tantrums.
A rare gift.

Once there, I immediately entered another round of combat with rabbits.
The rabbits mostly won.

I did manage to get one eventually,
which counts as a victory under Interloper standards.

I also attempted to locate a memento cache that was supposedly in the nearby cave.
Instead, I wasted time outside the cave.
This is becoming a theme.

Reset, Cure, Sleep

Back at the Homestead, I harvested the rabbit,
set the hide and gut curing,
cooked the meat,
and shut everything down for the night.

Tomorrow’s plan is unavoidable.
I need to head for Forlorn Muskeg and start working on arrowheads.

I don’t want to go.
But I need arrows.

Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 11 |
Unprepared Log 13

1

Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 3: Curiosity, Copper, and a Very Bad Hole


Stranded – Log 3: Curiosity, Copper, and a Very Bad Hole

Game: Minecraft
Mode: Survival
Platform: Steam Deck

“Every sensible plan is one misplaced block away from disaster.”

Today was meant to be about mining preparation. Sensible progress. Expand infrastructure, gather materials, move forward carefully. That was the intention.

Naturally, I got distracted.

Farm Expansion and a Fence That Might Work

Before heading underground, I expanded the farm. More crops, more space, better spacing between rows. It isn’t glamorous work, but food security is survival security, especially on Hard mode.

I also began building a fence. Wolves appear to be managing the local cow population without supervision, but relying on that feels optimistic. The fence gives me control.

I didn’t install a gate. For now, I can hop around the side without issue. It feels efficient. It will almost certainly prove to be shortsighted.

A Cave, Lava, and Future Bad Decisions

With the farm sorted, I explored across the water and found a cave where lava was flowing directly into it. That’s more than scenery. Lava and water mean obsidian. Obsidian means the Nether is no longer theoretical.

I’m not ready for that step yet. I still need iron to mine obsidian properly. I still need flint and steel to activate a portal. But knowing the resource is there shifts the long-term plan forward.

One step at a time. The Nether can wait.

The Chasm Wins (Again)

The nearby chasm continues to demand attention. It’s difficult to ignore a massive cut in the earth promising both resources and a quick death.

Night began to fall before I committed to it, so I backed off and slept instead. I’ve avoided hostile mobs reasonably well so far. That streak won’t last forever. I’d rather choose my risks than stumble into them.

Enderman Quality Control

The following day, I headed toward the chasm and got my first proper look at an Enderman. Tall, still, quietly observing.

I considered turning around. Instead, I watched. I wanted to see if it would start rearranging my work. If it approved of the farm. The house. The layout.

Nothing was touched. Either I passed inspection, or I wasn’t interesting enough.

Down the Waterfall

A waterfall offered a controlled way to reach the bottom of the chasm. Controlled in theory, at least. The Enderman had reached the same conclusion, which made the descent feel less clever.

I mined for a short while and gathered a respectable amount of copper. The constant sound of nearby zombies wore on me, though. Add an Enderman within teleporting distance and the calculation changes. This wasn’t a place to push my luck.

I left with copper. Not ideal, but still progress.

Copper Armour Over False Confidence

Back at base, I smelted the copper and compared tool stats. Copper tools are effectively identical to stone. That makes the decision simple.

Stone remains my tool material. Copper becomes armour. It isn’t perfect protection, but it’s better than optimism.

Iron would be better. Armour now is better than waiting.

The Mine That Almost Ended the Run

The next day, I attempted to start a mine closer to base. I thought I had planned it properly. Measured the height. Checked the angle.

I broke through and dropped straight into water below. No warning. No graceful landing. Just a sudden descent and immediate disorientation.

Oxygen became the priority instantly. Blocks were in the way. The current wasn’t helping. For a few seconds, it was just frantic movement and calculation — break this, place that, get air, don’t panic.

I managed to carve out enough space to breathe, then found the right angle and broke the final block to escape.

That entrance was sealed immediately. No debate. No second attempt. Some mistakes only need to happen once.

Back to the Original Plan

I returned to the original mine location and started again. This entrance is two blocks wide. No tight squeezes. No hidden drops. If something goes wrong, it won’t be because I misjudged a single block.

Night arrived sooner than expected, so I headed home rather than tempt it.

One near-drowning. One Enderman inspection. Copper secured. Plans adjusted.

Progress, even if it came with a reminder that comfort underground is earned, not assumed.

Video

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Stranded – Log 2
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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 11: Threw Arrows Cold, One Step Forward

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.

Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 10 |
Unprepared Log 12

1

Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 2: Bridges, Wheat, and Future Problems

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.

Continue the Journey

Previous:
Log 1 — Sheep, Skeletons, and a 3×3 Start
Next:
Log 3

1

Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 10: Quiet Before the Teeth

Unprepared Log 10: Quiet Before the Teeth

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.

Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 9 |
Unprepared Log 11

1

Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 1: Sheep, Skeletons, and a 3×3 Start

Stranded – Log 1: Sheep, Skeletons, and a 3×3 Start

Game: Minecraft
Platform: Steam Deck
Mode: Survival
Difficulty: Hard

I spawn in a wooded area, right next to sheep. That immediately solves one very important problem.

A bed.

All I need is three pieces of wool of the same colour. Minecraft is very picky about that.

I punch a tree, grab enough wood to get started, and craft a table so I can make a wooden axe and pickaxe. When I turn back, the sheep have vanished.

Of course they have.

It takes longer than I’d like, but eventually I track down three sheep of the same colour. Three sheep later, I have enough wool for a bed.

That alone changes everything. Being able to skip nights means I don’t have to deal with monsters until I decide I’m ready.

Video Log

Full no-commentary gameplay for this log is available below.

Big Ideas, Bad Timing

With the bed sorted, my thoughts immediately jump ahead.

I want a base of operations. Somewhere I can sleep, store things, and eventually start a farm. From there, I can mine properly instead of poking holes in the ground and hoping for the best.

I wander into a nearby cave. Not deep — maybe ten or twenty blocks.

I see a skeleton.

The skeleton sees me.

An arrow hits me almost immediately, followed by another. Hard difficulty is not interested in easing me in.

I’m not equipped for this, and I’m not throwing the run away on day one.

I run.

Ignoring the Lesson

A little later, I try again.

This time, it’s because I spot coal. Torches would be useful, and optimism briefly wins out over common sense.

The skeleton is still there. It now has a creeper for company.

At this point, even I take the hint.

I cut my losses and leave the cave alone.

Some problems are better solved later.

Surface Coal and a Night’s Rest

It’s not all bad.

Across the water, I spot coal exposed on the surface. A decent amount of it, too.

No skeletons. No creepers. No arrows flying out of the dark.

It’s getting late, so I carve out a small alcove, place my bed, and sleep.

Day one ends without disaster, which feels like an achievement in itself.

Day Two: Follow the Water

I wake up with no real plan.

Rather than force one, I decide to see where the water leads.

I start swimming, then remember boats exist and immediately regret not thinking of that sooner.

I make a boat and quickly realise it’s going to take some practice to steer properly.

Still, it does the job.

After a bit of travel, I find a flat area right next to the water. Trees nearby. Sand close enough to grab.

This feels like somewhere I could actually stay.

A House, Barely

I gather wood, grass, and some sand. I want windows eventually, even if they don’t happen today.

I also start nudging the water around slightly, laying the groundwork for a future wheat farm.

For now, though, the priority is simple.

I build a small 3×3 structure out of wooden planks. No windows. No decoration.

But it has a door.

That alone means I can come and go without breaking blocks every time, which already feels like progress.

It’s not much, but it’s mine.

Ending the Day

During my wandering, I’ve picked up some meat and a bit of copper ore.

I craft a furnace, cook the meat, and leave the copper smelting while I sleep.

I’ve no idea what day three will bring.

But I have a bed, a door, food sorted, and a place I can stand still without worrying.

On Hard difficulty, that’s more than enough for now.

Continue the Journey

Next entry:
Log 2 — Bridges, Wheat, and Future Problems

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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 3: A Dangerous Amount of Luck

Unprepared Log 5 – Day 3: A Dangerous Amount of Luck

Difficulty: Interloper
Survivor: Will

I woke up to a still-burning fire. That felt like a warning.

I could have slept longer, but I didn’t risk it. If the fire died while I was unconscious, this run would have ended quietly and for no good reason.

I packed the bedroll, lit a torch, and went looking for rabbits.

I found a wolf instead.

Only three days in, and it was already tracking me.

I backed off toward the cave, swapped torches, and tried to create space. It followed anyway. Calm. Patient. Waiting.

I made for the nearby basement. Inside, I found shelter—and a pair of socks. Not exciting, but warmer feet matter more than pride.

Listening Instead of Seeing

I left the basement and pushed toward Coastal Highway.

The cold was immediate. Visibility was worse. I couldn’t see far enough ahead to plan, so I relied on sound.

Crows.

They led me to a deer carcass half-buried in the snow.

I started a fire right beside it. The plan was simple: wait until it thawed enough to harvest by hand. No hacksaw. No hatchet. No margin for error.

Once it hit the threshold, I took what I could. Meat first. Then the hide. One gut came with it—useful as a decoy if things went bad, but hopefully something I could cure.

The meat went straight on the fire. I didn’t linger.

Pressure Never Really Leaves

I checked the nearby fishing hut for matches.

There were none.

As soon as I stepped back outside, another wolf appeared. I didn’t hesitate. I headed straight for the nearest house and got indoors.

Inside, I found something this run had been refusing to give me.

Matches.

I don’t know if they were there the last time I passed through. It didn’t matter. They were there now.

I took everything useful and moved on toward Quonset Garage, with yet another wolf keeping pace behind me.

Quonset Feels Wrong

The garage was generous.

Too generous.

More supplies than last time. Still no hacksaw—but then I saw another box of matches.

At that point, it stopped feeling like luck.

I now had over thirty matches. Enough that, for the first time this run, I considered not keeping a fire burning just to build skill.

There was even a lantern.

Interloper doesn’t usually feel this forgiving. When it does, it’s usually planning something.

Ending the Day on a Win

I didn’t change the plan.

Quonset is tempting, but staying too long is how runs stall and die. Mystery Lake is still the goal.

Before sleeping, I crafted a snare. If I have to stop near a rabbit grove, I want options. Rabbit hides mean gloves and hats—assuming I survive long enough to need them.

Day 3 ended on a win.

That doesn’t mean much on Interloper.

But tonight, it’s enough.

Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 5 – Day 2 |
Unprepared Log 5 – Day 4

1

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