Tag: Surviving Not Suffering

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

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Survivor’s Log: Two in the Pipeline

Survivor’s Log: Two in the Pipeline

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.

Surviving, Not Suffering

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Survivor’s Log: What’s in the Pipeline

Survivor’s Log: What’s in the Pipeline

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.

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Housekeeping: Choosing Peace Over Point-Scoring

Sometimes the best survival strategy isn’t another torch… it’s knowing when to leave a room.

This is just a quick housekeeping update.

I’ve stepped away from a Facebook group I was previously part of. No names, no call-outs, and no “here’s what REALLY happened” thread — because that’s not what this blog is for, and it’s not the sort of energy I want anywhere near this space.

The simple version is this:

  • I made a mistake.
  • I owned it.
  • I was willing to follow the rules to return.

I did ask for a small amount of leeway so the return process could actually reflect the profile I’m actively using. Not to argue, not to negotiate, not to start a debate — purely for practical reasons so the review would be a fair representation.

But it became clear a decision had already been made, and the conversation wasn’t going anywhere useful.

So I left.

No drama. No hard feelings. Just a calm decision to remove myself from a situation that wasn’t going to improve.

Important note: I’m not here for screenshots, rumours, or “this is what happened” commentary.

If that shows up in the comments, it will be removed. Repeat behaviour will result in a block.

What Matters More

I’m focusing my time and energy where it actually counts:

  • writing survival logs that are fun to read (and occasionally painful to live through),
  • building hubs and guides that actually help people,
  • growing Survivor Incognito into a community that stays welcoming, inclusive, and drama-free.

If you’re here for survival gaming content, structured playthrough diaries, maps, guides, and the philosophy of Surviving, Not Suffering — you’re in the right place.

Back to Business

Right. Enough life admin.

Now, back to the important things:

  • finding food,
  • making questionable decisions with confidence,
  • and getting personally victimised by weather systems.

More posts coming soon.

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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #3 – Day 1

Unprepared Log 3 – Day 1: Close Enough to Matter

Difficulty: Interloper
Survivor: Astrid

I decided to mix things up and go as Astrid. The game thought the same thing and sent me to Desolation Point.

Already, this felt like a better start.

I’ve been here a few times on easier difficulties. Not confident — just familiar enough to believe I had a chance. Compared to some Interloper spawns, this felt almost reasonable.

I headed straight for the lighthouse. Closest structure. It wasn’t warm enough to keep me comfortable, but it was shelter, and at this point that was enough.

I found nothing useful inside, so I moved on.

Same Bridge, Same Problem

I considered the church, but I rated my chances higher at the Whale Processing Unit.

Then I saw the bridge.

And, of course, there was a moose on it.

I’m convinced that moose lives there. Every time I want to cross, it’s waiting. Not aggressive. Just present. Like it knows.

I rerouted to the Riken instead. It felt like a smart move right up until I stepped inside and realised I couldn’t see a thing.

No light. No fire. No patience.

I backed out and committed to the Whale Processing Unit.

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A Small Win

I checked the trailers first. Barely warm, but warm enough to slow the temperature drop.

I searched for cloth. Nothing. Not a single scrap. Which meant no makeshift hat and an exposed head for the foreseeable future.

I stepped back outside and immediately walked into a blizzard.

Perfect timing.

The Whale Processing Unit was right there, so I made a run for it — and finally caught a break.

Matches.

Twelve of them. Actual progress. I got a fire going, made water, pulled torches, and kept that fire alive as long as I could.

I found a nearby safe. Some food. Some cash. Nothing else.

Still, for Interloper, this felt like momentum.

The Riken Mistake

Then the worst thing happened.

I got itchy feet.

I knew there was a forge on the Riken. I stood there watching water boil, convincing myself it was worth the risk.

It wasn’t.

The Riken had nothing useful. No tools. No help. Just a note and the key for a memento cache.

Then I made the mistake that quietly followed me for the rest of the run.

I slept for a couple of hours and forgot that sleeping automatically extinguishes a torch.

When I woke up, it was dark — and the only way to get moving again was to burn a match to relight it.

One small lapse. One less match. I moved on without realising how much that would matter later.

Losing the Thread

I headed back toward the Whale Processing Unit to look for the memento cache.

Something got angry out on the ice.

I never saw it, but my money was on a moose. I’ve heard them casually wandering around in blizzards before. They’re built differently.

I searched for the cache but couldn’t pinpoint it. I knew the area, just not well enough.

Rather than waste daylight, I moved on.

I eventually reached another trailer and found a fire barrel. I got it going and checked inside.

Nothing useful. There was a bed.

I ignored it.

Scruffy’s Cave

I wanted the Abandoned Mine. Surely that would pay out.

I grabbed sticks, fed the fire, took a few torches, and set off.

Along the way I picked up three wolves. As long as the torches stayed lit, they kept their distance.

I reached a cave and went inside.

The plan was simple: pick a wall, follow it, and let the cave lead me somewhere useful.

I found a deer carcass. Meat on the ground. If I could get a fire going, this run might actually stabilise.

Then the music changed.

I wasn’t alone.

I’d walked straight into Scruffy’s cave.

I still had a torch, but I was already paying for the mistake I’d made earlier on the Riken.

That wasted match meant less margin, less flexibility, and no room for hesitation.

Scruffy didn’t hesitate. He ignored the flame, charged straight through it, and ended the run.

Time survived: 17 hours.

My longest run so far.

Not ended by one bad decision — but by a small one made hours earlier.

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Video Log

Continue the journey:
Unprepared Log 2 – Day 1 |
Unprepared Log 4 – Day 1

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Survivors Log: Year End

Status: Still standing
Theme: Survival over spectacle

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

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

That’s survival.

What Held

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

What Fell Apart (As Intended)

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

No apologies. Survival means knowing when to walk away.

The Ongoing Truth

This site isn’t about mastery.

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

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

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

That hasn’t changed.

Looking Forward

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

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

Log Conditions

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

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

No Roadmap

There’s no roadmap.

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

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

Rule Reminder

Reminder: These runs aren’t about winning.

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

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

A Quiet Thanks

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

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

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

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

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

Surviving, Not Suffering.

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Dead by Daylight Isn’t Dead — But It Is Wearing Me Down

Dead by Daylight Isn’t Dead — But It Is Wearing Me Down

This is a harder post to write than I expected.
Not because I’m angry, but because Dead by Daylight is a game I used to genuinely love.
That’s what makes this year stand out — not one disaster, but how many small issues stacked up until enthusiasm quietly drained away.

On paper, Behaviour had a strong year.
In practice, it felt messy, defensive, and increasingly disconnected from the people actually playing the game.

Big Swings, Weak Follow-Through

There were real wins:

  • Major crossover moments
  • Long-requested licenses
  • Continued visibility and solid player numbers

But almost every win came with friction.
Momentum rarely turned into confidence.

The PTBs That Didn’t Listen

Twice this year, Behaviour tried to address slugging and tunnelling through PTBs.

The community response was immediate and consistent:

  • This won’t fix the problem
  • This adds frustration
  • This targets symptoms, not causes

Disagreement is normal.
Unified feedback being ignored is not.

When PTBs stop feeling like tests and start feeling like rehearsals for decisions already made, trust erodes fast.

The Livestream That Became a Case Study

The Walking Dead livestream should have been simple:

  • High-profile guest
  • One of the biggest DBD creators
  • A crossover meant to rebuild hype

Instead, it unravelled live.

Technical issues happen.
What mattered was watching the creator actively offer practical solutions — and being shut down by the developers on air.

That moment did more damage than the outage itself.
Flexibility gave way to control, and the optics flipped instantly.

Losing Michael Myers Changes Everything

This is no longer hypothetical.

Michael Myers — Dead by Daylight’s first licensed killer — is confirmed to be leaving the store.

Yes, if you own the chapter, you keep it.
The character will not disappear from existing accounts.

That does not soften the impact.

  • Myers isn’t just another license
  • He’s part of the game’s foundation
  • He proved licensed horror could work long-term in DBD

After Hellraiser, this confirms a pattern rather than an exception.
The unspoken promise that some things were permanent is gone.

“You Keep What You Bought” Isn’t Reassuring Anymore

Nothing is being taken away from existing players.
But the consequences are real:

  • New players lose access to a core horror icon
  • Foundational killers become legacy content
  • The game’s identity fragments over time

Live service games rely on trust that long-term investment matters.
That trust took a direct hit this year.

Licenses Won’t Fix Systems

Jason Voorhees would help.

  • Huge recognition
  • Immediate hype
  • A short-term surge in attention

But licenses don’t solve:

  • Tunnelling incentives
  • Slugging as pressure
  • Solo queue frustration
  • Meta fatigue

Without structural change, a new killer is a sugar rush — not a recovery.

This Isn’t Death. It’s Erosion.

Dead by Daylight isn’t dying.

What’s happening is quieter:

  • Players log in less
  • Defend the game less
  • Recommend it less
  • Shrug when things go wrong

That’s more dangerous than a loud collapse.

Why I’m Stepping Back — And Why That Makes Me Sad

This isn’t a goodbye post.

It’s a pause — and one I didn’t expect to need.

I wasn’t expecting to write a Dead by Daylight post for this blog at all.
At one point, I’d even planned a full page dedicated solely to DBD maps — layouts, loops, dead zones, the works.

That idea felt exciting then.
Now, it feels like a ship that sailed while I was still deciding whether to board.

Not because the maps stopped being interesting, but because my confidence in the game staying stable long-term quietly faded.
Without that confidence, it’s hard to justify investing that kind of time and care.

Maybe that changes one day.
I’d like it to.
But right now, this post exists not because I planned it — but because I needed to be honest about where things stand.

If Behaviour wants to steady the ship:

  • Announce less
  • Ship more
  • Fix incentives, not behaviour
  • Close the loop on feedback

Do that, and goodwill returns.

Without it, the game won’t collapse.
It’ll coast — carried by licenses and habit — while the people who cared most slowly disengage.

And that’s the part that genuinely makes me sad to write.

Clarification Note

  • Licensed content removed from sale is not removed from existing accounts
  • This post focuses on access, stability, and trust
  • Michael Myers’ removal is confirmed; broader concerns are based on precedent
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🧭 Survivor’s Log — November 2025

When the dice roll a natural 1, you reschedule, regroup, and log the chaos anyway.

Log Date: December 1, 2025 · Filed By: Survivor Incognito

When the Dice Betray You

November was supposed to be packed: more logs, more videos, and at least one new project stepping out of the shadows. Instead, as mentioned previously, life rolled a natural 1 on me. A few plans had to be shelved so the offline chaos could be handled first.

The result? Fewer posts than planned, but the campfire is still lit, the hubs are still standing, and the backlog of ideas remains very much alive.

Rediscovering Tyria

On the plus side, I rediscovered Guild Wars. Dropping back into Tyria after all this time felt oddly right — comfortable, dangerous, and full of bad pulls waiting to happen.

With Guild Wars Reforged on the horizon, you can safely assume a lot of my spare time is going to vanish into mission runs, build tinkering, and seeing how much trouble I can get into with heroes and henchmen. Some habits never die; they just wait by the outpost gate.

A Quieter Month at Camp

Because November went sideways, the blog shifted into “keep the lights on” mode rather than “all systems go.” That meant:

  • Some planned entries were delayed or pushed back to a saner month.
  • Ongoing series like Isolation Protocol, Submerged, and 7 Days to Survive stayed on a lighter schedule than intended.
  • The recent site-wide updates to the FAQ, About Me, Rules of Survival, and Surviving, Not Suffering continued to do their job quietly in the background.

Not flashy, but the camp stayed organised, and nothing caught fire that wasn’t supposed to.

Small Wins Still Count

Even in a slower month, a few things still managed to land:

  • The shift to a 2 PM GMT posting schedule continued, giving posts and videos a better overlap with UK, EU, and US readers.
  • The end of Derailed & Doomed: A Choo Choo Charles Survival Diary remained a highlight — the blog’s first full documented win still doing the rounds.
  • Survivor’s Shorts and other videos quietly fed into the archive, strengthening the connection between written logs and gameplay.
  • Ko-fi stayed live in the background, available but unobtrusive — just how it should be.

Not the explosive November originally planned, but still progress. Sometimes survival looks like momentum; sometimes it just looks like not dropping anything important.

Looking Ahead (Carefully)

December’s plans are simple and realistic:

  • Pick up the threads of Isolation Protocol, Submerged, and 7 Days to Survive as time and dice rolls allow.
  • Keep refining the hubs so it’s easier to find older runs and finished series.
  • Let the Guild Wars and Reforged hype simmer in the background and see where it leads on the blog side.

No grand promises, just one core rule: keep the stories moving when possible, and when not, keep the camp ready for when things calm down.

December should bring more structure, more stories, and — inevitably — more things trying to kill me. Business as usual.

Continue the Journey

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🌊 Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 5.5: Racing the Sunbeam

5.5

“Rescue was coming. Naturally, that meant it was time to start a new project instead.”

Platform: Steam Deck
Difficulty: Survival
Recording: Lost due to file corruption — because the ocean clearly wasn’t done messing with me.

Author’s Note: Unfortunately, my recording for this session corrupted before I noticed. So this entry is reconstructed from memory — a cautionary tale for all survivors who trust autosave more than their capture software.

Message from the Heavens

It begins with the crackle of static — another message from the Sunbeam. They’ve located a landing site. They’re on their way. Forty minutes until pickup.

Forty minutes until salvation.

Naturally, I decide to ignore the pending rescue entirely and go chase the final piece of the Mobile Vehicle Bay instead. Priorities.

The Hunt for Titanium and Sanity

I swim toward the Sunbeam’s coordinates, eyes peeled for fragments. Just as I’m starting to lose hope — there it is. The final piece.

I bolt back toward my lifepod like my oxygen tank depends on it (which, to be fair, it always does). The excitement of progress pushes me faster than any propulsion cannon ever could. I check the crafting requirements — Titanium Ingot, Power Cell, a few odds and ends I already have scattered in lockers. Easy enough.

And since I clearly have time before rescue, I think, “Why not go bigger?” Enter: the Seamoth. The personal submersible of my dreams.

Building the Dream

The Mobile Vehicle Bay is first on the list. Titanium gathered, ingot forged, power cell crafted from the remains of old batteries. When it finally deploys and floats proudly on the surface, it feels like progress — real progress.

I climb aboard, ready to build my Seamoth, and immediately realise I’ve made a rookie mistake. No Titanium Ingot. Again. The ocean mocks me with its silence as I swim off once more, scavenging every bit of wreckage I can find.

Eventually, success. The Seamoth blueprint completes, and the little sub rises from the water like a gift from the deep. She’s beautiful — and mine. I climb in, listen to the AI purr, and feel an unfamiliar thing: hope.

There’s still time before the Sunbeam arrives. I point my Seamoth toward the landing site. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it in time to see the sky light up with something other than plasma fire.

Next: The Sky Burns

I set course for the island, my Seamoth slicing through the water like it was always meant to be there. The radio says twenty minutes until the Sunbeam arrives. The ocean says otherwise.

Continue the Journey:
Log 5: Waiting for the Sunbeam | Log 6

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

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

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

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

Watch Log 1:

Early Bowser, Early Panic

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

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

The Slide Before the Storm

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

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

Log 1 Summary

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

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

Lessons from Log 1

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