Tag: survivor’s dread

Isolation Protocol: An Alien Isolation Survival Diary – Log 4: The Cost of Opening Doors

Isolation Protocol Log 4: The Cost of Opening Doors

Platform: Steam Deck
Difficulty: Medium
Rule Set: Apex Predator Rule Active

Video: Lockdown disabled, Xenomorph encounter, motion tracker acquired, Working Joes escalate (no commentary)

I need to lift the lockdown. I’m not convinced that is the right move.

The corridor I needed was sealed off completely. Doors red. Shutters down. No obvious way around it. I checked a nearby terminal first, hoping for something reassuring in the logs, but all I found was confusion. Staff unsure what was happening. Systems failing. No one really in control. It read like a station that already knew it was in trouble.

Eventually I disabled the security measures. There wasn’t another viable route forward. The moment I did, there was a metallic shift above me — subtle, but unmistakable once you recognise it. I barely had time to register the sound before it dropped from the ceiling.

The Xenomorph.

It landed with control. No rush. No panic. Just deliberate movement. I slid under the nearest desk and stayed perfectly still, forcing myself not to adjust position or overcorrect the camera. Its tail moved in and out of view at the edge of my vision, slow and patient. I couldn’t tell if it genuinely hadn’t seen me or if it simply hadn’t decided I was worth the effort yet.

After a stretch of silence that felt far longer than it probably was, it moved through the doorway I had just reopened. That was when it settled in. I hadn’t cleared an obstacle. I had expanded its territory.

The Rule Becomes Real

This was the moment the Apex Predator Rule stopped being theoretical. Five deaths to it and the run ends. If I complete the station and finish the game, I win. Everything else is background noise. The humans don’t decide the outcome. The androids don’t decide the outcome. The thing in the vents does.

Narrowing the threat makes it sharper. I don’t have to fear everything equally. I just have to respect it.

The Room Beyond

The next door required another hack. I matched the symbols more carefully than usual, fully aware that the ceiling mattered just as much as the floor. When the door opened, I heard screaming before I saw anything. It was already in the room.

I stayed back and watched it move. It was quick and disturbingly controlled. There was no frenzy in the way it hunted — just intent. Then it climbed into a vent. Right above where I needed to go to progress.

For a moment I stood there weighing whether to wait or gamble. I also noticed something I hadn’t seen before: it left someone alive. I’ve watched it clear this exact room without hesitation in previous playthroughs. This time it didn’t. That unpredictability unsettled me more than the violence did.

I moved carefully after that. Another terminal. Another quiet hack. When the door shut behind me, I saw it further down the corridor. Not charging. Not searching wildly. Just present.

That felt intentional.

The Working Joes

The Working Joes were calm at first. Polite. Neutral. One instructed me to sit down and wait for assistance. I declined. Waiting has not proven to be a reliable survival strategy here.

I explained that I needed to contact the Torrens. The response was measured but unhelpful. Whether they couldn’t assist or simply wouldn’t was impossible to tell. Their tone never changes, and that makes them difficult to read.

I kept moving and eventually found something more useful than conversation: the motion tracker.

The Motion Tracker

It’s a small device, but it changes everything. For the first time, I wasn’t relying purely on sound and instinct. When it pinged behind me and I was already prepared for movement, I realised how exposed I had been before.

It doesn’t remove the fear. It just gives it structure.

The Shift

The change didn’t build gradually. It flipped.

A man panicked. I didn’t fully understand what he was trying to do, but his actions triggered something within the station’s systems — within Apollo itself. Whatever line the Working Joes had been standing behind vanished.

Their tone flattened further. Their posture shifted. The polite distance disappeared. It wasn’t random aggression. It was a response.

His decision caused it.

From that moment on, they were no longer passive obstacles. The station had reclassified the situation, and I was now part of the problem.

The Elevator

An elevator blocked the path forward, monitored by a security camera. I watched its sweep pattern carefully before slipping into a nearby room to disable it. Even after turning it off, I waited a few seconds longer than necessary. This station punishes impatience.

Calling the lift felt louder than it should have. The wait stretched. With the tracker in hand, every quiet second felt temporary.

When the doors finally closed, I caught sight of the Torrens again through the glass. Verlaine was still broadcasting for help. I don’t know who is left on this station capable of answering her.

The Xenomorph moves through the ceilings. The Working Joes control the corridors. I’m trying to survive in the narrow spaces between them.

Continue the journey:
Isolation Protocol Log 3 |
Isolation Protocol Log 5
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Eight Pages – A Slender: The Arrival Survival Diary Log 2: Strike One

Eight Pages – Log 2: Strike One

Platform: Steam Deck
Rule Set: Apex Predator Rule Active (1 / 3 Strikes)

Video: First strike recorded, a choke point mistake, and a second attempt under pressure (no commentary)

The forest drew first blood.

A little transparency before we begin properly. I had already stepped into this map once, collected the scrapbook items, and then realised I wasn’t recording. That’s why those pickups don’t show the usual notification. A strong start. Completely intentional. Obviously.

We continue where Log 1 left us. Survival instincts of a potato fully engaged, I head deeper into Oakside Park. As I pass what I assume is the canoe rental building — based entirely on a large sign suggesting that it is — my character slows. I hear something. It sounds like whispers carried on the air. Or maybe just wind doing a very good impression.

The pace returns to normal, but something has shifted. This is where the chapter really begins.

I reach the park layout sign and stop. The paths are mapped out clearly. Landmarks marked. I try to commit as much of it to memory as I can. I know this is going to matter later. Behind the sign is the first page. I take it.

And then I hear that sound.

It’s been over ten years since I last heard it, but it hasn’t lost its edge. That low, deliberate cue that signals one thing and one thing only: Slender has taken his first step.

Eight pages are scattered across the park. I need to collect them before he catches me. Simple objective. Complicated execution.

I didn’t make it to eight.

On page five, I entered a building. It had one entrance and one exit. I knew that. I went in anyway. I grabbed the page and turned around. He was already standing in the doorway.

No dramatic chase. No narrow escape. Just a blocked exit and rising static. I tried to push past him. He didn’t move. The screen filled with noise and the forest claimed its first strike.

Strike One.

Before going back in, I want to peel the curtain back for a moment.

This map never changes its shape. The paths stay where they are. The landmarks don’t move. There are nine key locations across the park, and eight of them will contain a page. Which eight changes each run, but the layout itself remains constant.

Slender’s behaviour escalates with every page collected. The more you gather, the more aggressive he becomes. By page seven, he is relentless. Sprinting feels like control, but stamina drains quickly, and once you commit to a bad position late-game, there’s little room for error.

Entering a single-exit building at five pages wasn’t unfair. It was poor timing. The forest didn’t cheat. It capitalised.

So I went back in.

Same park. Same layout. Different page placements. This time I found that same building early and cleared it immediately. I didn’t want to face that choke point near the end again. With the landmarks fixed in place, it becomes possible to track where you’ve been. Once you confirm a location has no page, you eliminate it from consideration. The park starts to shrink.

He appeared several times. Close enough to raise the static. Close enough to make me question my route. But not close enough to end it.

Seven pages collected. One missing.

I reached a fork in the path and hesitated. I took the right route first. It led back toward the car. Not what I needed. I doubled back, expecting him to be waiting. He wasn’t.

The other path led to a tent. And pinned against it, almost casually, was page eight.

I grabbed it. The footsteps stopped.

He appeared behind me. My character suddenly decided cardio was a priority and broke into a sprint before everything faded to black.

Map cleared.

But the forest has already taken one strike.

Two remain.

Log 2 Takeaways

  • A single-exit building at five pages is a calculated risk, not bad luck.
  • The map layout stays the same — page placement does not.
  • Slender escalates with every page collected.
  • Clearing choke points early changes the late-game pressure.
  • Strike One proves the Apex Predator Rule is active.
Continue the journey:

Log 1 |
Log 2 (You are here) |
Log 3

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Eight Pages – A Slender: The Arrival Survival Diary Log 1: For Sale, No Exit

Eight Pages – Log 1: For Sale, No Exit

Platform: Steam Deck
POV: Handheld camera (battery + recording timer on-screen)

Video: First steps into Oakside: the house, the generator, and Oakside Park (no commentary)


I start filming outside a giant “Land for Sale” sign, and somehow end the night being told to “FIND ME LAUREN.”
Normal property viewings don’t usually escalate like this.

My POV is through a handheld camera, complete with battery life and a recording timer in the corner.
I’ve no idea if the timer will behave across multiple recordings (because I’m doing this over several),
but we’ll find out together.

The first thing I see is a huge sign advertising land for sale, telling me to contact Kate.
I’m supposedly driving somewhere important. I’m just not told where or why.

The road is blocked by a fallen tree.
We don’t know who did it, but I’m running the theory that Kate did.
Easier to drop a tree across the road than take down a massive sign with your name on it.
Either way, I don’t take it as a no.
Instead of getting back in the car and leaving, I go for a hike.

The light drops fast.
Oakside might be a mountain town, but surely physics still applies.
Either the sun is speedrunning the sky, or my character timed this trip perfectly for sunset.
By the time I reach a house—likely part of the land Kate was selling—it’s fully night.

Both the front door and garage door are open.
I let myself in.
Because that’s always a strong opening move.

The House: Half Powered, Fully Suspicious

The house is confusing.
I check one phone: no power.
I check another: there’s a message on the answering machine.
So either one half of the house has electricity and the other doesn’t,
or the wiring here follows horror rules instead of logic.

I find scattered notes and a flashlight.
The flashlight becomes essential immediately.
The camera throws out a brief burst of static during my tour,
which is the kind of detail you pretend you didn’t notice.

The location is good, though.
Remote. Quiet. Surrounded by forest.
If you ignore the notes, the power issues, and the open doors,
it’s practically ideal.

There’s a locked door.
The key is in the bathroom.
Exactly where I’d hide something important.

The Locked Room: Paper Walls and Beacon Talk

The unlocked room is covered in paper.
Every wall layered with writing.
Panic used as wallpaper.

One note mentions someone being scared of a beacon.
That’s not a phrase you want to read at night with limited battery.
Add it to the list of things to ask Kate.

I notice the back gate is open.
Instead of leaving in my car like a sensible person,
I decide to go through it.
Survival instincts of a potato.

Before that, a quick go on the slide.
No reason.
Just committing to the bit.

Generator Detour and a Burned House

A short walk down the path leads to a generator.
It turns on easily.
Too easily.

Nearby is a burned down house and another note.
I read it.
A small child appears in front of me, back turned.

I move around to see their face.
Quick jump scare.
I leave.
For once, a decent decision.

I circle the house briefly.
Not lost.
Just getting steps in.

Eventually I reach a sign: Oakside Park.

Oakside Park: “FIND ME LAUREN”

I’ve already entered two buildings uninvited.
One more won’t hurt.

Inside, graffiti covers more paper in the same style as the locked room.
Large, direct, personal:
FIND ME LAUREN.

I’m guessing I’m Lauren.
Because Oakside doesn’t seem interested in subtlety.

Log 1 Takeaways

  • The camera HUD keeps me informed and mildly stressed.
  • Kate’s land sale feels more like a trap than an advert.
  • Sunset in Oakside runs on horror time.
  • If a key is easy to find, it was meant to be.
  • “FIND ME LAUREN” suggests this is personal.
Continue the journey:

Log 1 (You are here) |
Log 2

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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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The Outlast Trials – Log 9: Kill the Politician (The Kress Twins)


Prime Asset: The Kress Twins
Trial: Kill the Politician
Difficulty: Standard
Grade: A


Back to The Outlast Trials hub

Thanks to Prime Asset Roulette, I was assigned the Kress Twins.
Which means I now have two problems instead of one.

My only available option for this log was Kill the Politician,
so that’s what we’re doing.

I’m keeping this on Standard too,
because the last few trials have been a bit of a disaster and I’m not in the mood to press my luck.

Things started off simple enough.
I accidentally found a fuse, got a prompt to pick it up,
and realised I’d just stumbled into the task required to get inside the shopping mall.

I grabbed the second fuse and was allowed in.

Cue more fuse hunting.
I could already see the pattern forming.

I also got my first proper look at the Twins.
Pretty sure they didn’t see me, but I’m not loving the fact they seem to have
360 degree vision.

Which means stealth isn’t optional.
I need to stay hidden…
or, to put it another way:
I need to stay Incognito.

Three fuses later, I was allowed into the department store.
This time, my objective was to spend $40.

There were multiple boxes scattered around the store, each with a different price.
I didn’t even notice that at first.

So I was about $10 in before realising I could have made smarter choices.
Classic.

The Twins were also inside the store with me,
and it was oddly interesting hearing them speak to each other.
From what I could gather, they don’t like Easterman,
and they want out of whatever hell they’ve been put into.

I also couldn’t help noticing something in their dialogue.
It isn’t just “villain banter”.
There’s something uncomfortable about it — the kind of vibe where you start wondering what exactly their relationship is meant to be.

Whatever it is, it adds a whole extra layer of unease.
And frankly, I’d have preferred not to notice it.

It does make me wonder how the Prime Assets are treated outside the Trials.
I’m guessing the answer is “badly”.

Once I hit $40, I was finally allowed to join the political rally.

And then I was told to go fix the water pressure.

At this point, I’m convinced Murkoff is preparing me for employment once I graduate.
I’m not being brainwashed.
I’m being trained as a handyman.

You’d think the valves would be close together, because that would make sense.
They were not.

Four different spots across the mall.

So now I’m running around doing:

  • map reading
  • basic maths for each valve
  • trial survival, on top of plumbing

Again: handyman.

Once that was handled, it was finally time to deal with the actual goal:
spraying the politician with acid.

Naturally, I had to prime the acid first.
And naturally, this required playing a carnival-style game.

I thought electrocuting the Snitch was bad.
I was wrong.

And I’m fairly sure the Twins have been chatting with Coyle,
because they also felt the need to ambush me during this part.

I had to loop the mall a few times, hide a few times,
and basically accept that my life now consists of sprinting away and making bad decisions at speed.

Eventually, I completed the objective.
Politician: solved.

Then it was time to leave.
And the Twins also decided it was time to leave —
because they were waiting at the shuttle area like they were running security.

I hid, waited them out, and once they finally moved off,
I slipped past and escaped.

In the end, I walked away with an A.

That’s an improvement —
and I’m choosing to believe it’s because I’m learning.
Not because the mall temporarily took pity on me.

Video

Surviving, not suffering.

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Survivor’s Log – The Outlast Trials – Murkoff Handyman Training

The Outlast Trials: I’m Not Being Brainwashed… I’m Being Trained as a Handyman

I’m starting to suspect Murkoff isn’t reprogramming me.

They’re training me for employment.

Think about it.

  • Fix the water pressure.
  • Locate and install fuses.
  • Turn valves using maths I haven’t used since school.
  • Power generators like I work in maintenance.

All while being chased by the worst people imaginable.

By the time I’m finished with these Trials, I won’t be “reborn”.
I’ll be qualified to repair a shopping centre with nothing but a wrench and trauma.

Honestly, I’ve played a lot of horror games.
None of them have made me do so much plumbing.

The Outlast Trials hub:

The Outlast Trials


Surviving, not suffering.

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The Outlast Trials – Log 8: Poison the Medicine (Franco Barbi)

Prime Asset: Franco Barbi
Trial: Poison the Medicine
Difficulty: Standard
Grade: C+


Back to The Outlast Trials hub

This was my first trial using Prime Asset Roulette.

I didn’t choose who I was facing next — I was assigned a Prime Asset,
and the trial choice had to follow from that.

This time, the assignment was Franco Barbi.
I’d heard his name, but I hadn’t properly met him yet.
And if I’m about to be introduced to someone new in this game, I’d rather not do it on a difficulty setting that punishes curiosity.

So I kept this one on Standard and went for Poison the Medicine.

The trial started off almost suspiciously calmly.
It was quiet enough that I actually had to double check I was on the right difficulty.

Then I met Franco.

And by “met”, I mean I didn’t even realise he was there until I pushed a button —
and the second I did, it felt like I’d just punched a clock.
As if that interaction was my way of politely informing Franco that his shift had begun.

A big part of The Outlast Trials is being reminded you’re never really alone.
Franco just has a more direct way of making the point.

Once I reached the laboratory, the job was straightforward:
move the drugs from point A to point B.

Done.

Except it wasn’t done, because I was then told to go collect more.
Which tells me whoever delivered the first two batches has already been fired —
or “reassigned” — for incompetence.

Either way, it looks like I’m the delivery driver now.

I had to push a trolley to collect the remaining drugs,
and I was given a decoder to help with the task.

It took me a moment to figure out what it was actually doing,
but I noticed the numbers would spin faster the closer I got to the correct symbols.

That helped me find the second one quickly enough.

The third one, on the other hand, felt like the game had moved it
purely to ensure I stayed humble.

Eventually though: drugs collected, drugs delivered, objectives moving.

And then the trial remembered what it was.

Next objective: poison the medicine.

The first bottle was easy enough to locate.
The remaining two?
Not so much.

I spent a lot of time wandering with the sort of confidence that only comes from having no idea what you’re doing.
I’m fairly sure the game started helping me because it realised I was going to spend the rest of the evening circling the same corridor.

The bottles also did a nice little extra thing where they poisoned me while I carried them.
Which, again, feels fair.
Murkoff wouldn’t want me getting ideas about comfort.

And just to keep it lively, I managed to set off traps left, right and centre.
I’m not sure if the traps were genuinely everywhere, or if I was simply magnetised to them.

Once the medicine was poisoned, it was time to transport it to the cargo hold.

Franco made another appearance around this point,
just in case I’d started thinking the trial was back under control.

That’s the thing about this game — you can do everything correctly,
but if someone decides they’re interested in you, you’re suddenly making very different decisions.

I got the drugs into the hold.
I started stashing them.
I felt like I was getting on top of it.

And then I realised I had absolutely no idea how to get out.

For a moment, I thought I’d managed to trap myself in the cargo hold.
Which would be a very “me” way to end the trial.

Then it clicked:
if Franco found his way in, there must be another entrance.

Sure enough, there was.
Not only was there another way in — it was obvious enough that I felt personally judged by the architecture.

Drugs stashed.
Exit located.
Sprint away before anything else happens.

In the end, I escaped with a C+.

Honestly?
Fair.

I survived, I completed the objectives, and I didn’t get permanently adopted by Franco.
That feels like success.

I probably could have done better if I wasn’t personally responsible for most of the trap activations in the facility,
but we’re learning.

Video

Surviving, not suffering.

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Outlast – Entry 1: Red Flags as a Route Map

Platform: Steam Deck
Run Type: Apex Predator Rule (3 strikes and I’m out)
Location: Mount Massive Asylum
Status: Alive, unsettled, and still walking forward

Series Hub:

Outlast – Apex Predator Run Hub

I’m driving toward Mount Massive Asylum with a camera on the passenger seat and an email from a whistleblower glowing like a warning label.

The message is simple: bad things are happening here. Come see it for yourself.

My character treats this less like a warning and more like a treasure map.

The red flags stack up quickly. Trespassing. Isolation. A building that looks abandoned even when it isn’t.

I break in. The asylum responds by killing the lights almost immediately.

I continue onward anyway.

The First Hint (Ignored)

The atmosphere is wrong. Not just old or decayed — more like the building is aware I’m here.

I find a man impaled on a massive spike. He’s still alive long enough to give me advice.

“Get out.”

It’s the clearest instruction I’ll receive all night. I ignore it.

I try to leave. I can’t. The only way forward is through the security room.

Going back the way I came is no longer an option. Horror logic has made that decision for me.

Chris Walker Makes a Point

I don’t reach the security room before the asylum escalates.

A very large, half-naked man appears, calls me “little pig”, and throws me through a window.

I land one floor below, alive, shaken, and very aware that my camera is not a weapon.

He doesn’t chase me.

That somehow makes it worse.

A Higher Calling

Not long after, I encounter a man dressed like a priest — or at least someone borrowing the aesthetic.

He tells me I have a higher calling.

Then he leaves me alone in the dark.

I explore further. The inmates are hostile. Interviews are cancelled.

Eventually, I find what I actually need: the keycard for the security office.

Security Room Problems

I swipe the keycard and prepare for progress.

Instead, the religious man reappears. He knows I’ve been watching him through the cameras.

To prove the point, he shuts down the generator.

The asylum drops onto backup power.

Objective: restart the generator in the basement.

The game tells me to hide.

I listen.

Through the door comes the large man again. I record him, because my character keeps confusing documentation with safety.

Files I’ve picked up finally give him a name.

Chris Walker.

I now need to go to the basement.

I have a feeling Chris Walker will be there first.

Video

Apex Predator Rule Reminder

  • Every death counts as one strike.
  • Three strikes ends the run.
  • Panic, curiosity, and bad decisions are not exemptions.

Continue the journey:
Outlast – Entry 1 (You are here) |
Outlast – Entry 2

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Survivor’s Log: The Outlast Trials – Prime Asset Roulette (Rule Update)

The Outlast Trials – Prime Asset Roulette (Rule Update)

This is a quick update for The Outlast Trials series.

Why I’m Changing the Format

After completing several trials, I realised I was falling into a pattern:
choosing what felt manageable, avoiding what didn’t, and slowly turning the Trials into something predictable.

That’s not really what this game is supposed to feel like.
And it’s definitely not what Murkoff would allow.

Prime Asset Roulette

Going forward, I’m introducing a simple twist:
I’m no longer choosing which Prime Asset I face next.

Instead, I get an external pick (because naturally I’m outsourcing my survival decisions),
and I choose my next trial based on that assignment.

  • I don’t choose the Prime Asset.
  • I choose the trial based on whoever I’m assigned.
  • If the assignment isn’t available or isn’t unlocked, I reroll.

Optimisation is no longer the point.
Unpredictability is.

Is Anyone Else Doing This?

I had a quick look around to see if anyone else was running this exact format.

People are definitely doing roulette-style runs in The Outlast Trials —
randomised Trial Maker setups, and other “roulette” ideas —
but I couldn’t find anyone doing this specific version:
Prime Asset Roulette, where the Prime Asset is assigned first and the trial choice is made based on that.

So, either this is genuinely uncommon… or I’m just bad at searching.
Both are possible.

Where This Fits

This series sits under Survivor’s Dread, and the whole point is documenting survival under pressure.
Prime Asset Roulette keeps that pressure intact, even when I’d rather not deal with it.

In other words: Murkoff picks who hunts me next.
I just try to leave with my organs still inside my body.

The Outlast Trials hub:


Outlast Trials Main Hub

Surviving, not suffering.

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The Outlast Trials – Log 7: Feed the Children


Location: Orphanage
Trial: Feed the Children
Difficulty: Standard
Grade: A


Back to The Outlast Trials hub

After spending some points upgrading my X-ray rig, I decided to stick with Standard difficulty for one more trial.

I’ll be honest — this decision was influenced by having a fairly miserable time on Day 5 of my
Stalker Instinct run in The Long Dark.
Sometimes you don’t need to make things harder.

This time, the trial was Feed the Children.

Going purely by the name, this one sounded… nice.

It was not.

I was tasked with feeding the children soup.
Not just any soup — one made with a corpse, and finished off with a generous amount of bleach.

My upgraded X-ray rig helped a lot here.
I’d upgraded it enough that it recharged my night vision and provided objective information.

What it didn’t help with was the ex-pop.

Every time I spotted a bottle, an ex-pop seemed to appear out of nowhere.
They got hold of me more than once, and did a fair amount of damage.

Thankfully, Hide and Heal pulled its weight.
The X-ray rig did too.
I’ll need to experiment with the other rigs eventually, but this one definitely earned its keep.

I’d like to say things got easier after collecting two bottles.

They did not.

I somehow managed to walk into the same ex-pop at least twice —
both times in the exact same area.

Once I finally fed the children, I had a feeling Mother Gooseberry was going to make an appearance.

She did.

I managed to sneak past her once again, and make my way out.

After everything that happened, I was genuinely surprised to walk away with an A.

I was fully expecting a B at best.

Watch the Trial

Surviving, not suffering.

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