Chris is Trying

Steam tells me that I've played The Long Dark for over 1200 hours over the last several years. I've jumped in & out of other games but TLD has been a consistent mainstay. I can't get away from it.

It's a survival game set in the eternal winter of a post-apocalyptic Canadian island (named Great Bear Island) where you're the only survivor, battling against the elements and the wildlife for as long as possible. The world is too cold for you to just walk around forever; shelter and warmth are critical otherwise you'll die in hours.

You'll initially get by with lightweight clothing, racing between man-made shelters where you can eat packaged snacks and canned goods to avoid starvation, but eventually you'll need to embrace what's available from Mother Nature; spending more time hunting & gathering, and upgrading your clothing using natural hides from the animals you've killed along the way. In the Long Dark, the only goal is to survive as long as possible, and since permadeath is enabled, one major mistake might end your run forever.

500 days is often seen as the 'finale' of any Long Dark run; if you're able to survive that long then you can essentially survive forever, and it's an achievement that is taken fairly seriously in the TLD community. If you've done that, you've practically mastered the game.

The Long Dark 500 days - Camp Office, Mystery Lake

The difficulty level of your TLD run is the main way you can set the tone of how you play: changing it drastically changes the amount of hostile wildlife, the type of loot you can find and the harshness of the environmental conditions – which can either make your life in Great Bear frantic & uncertain or peaceful & straightforward. But regardless of play style, ticking off 500 days in any difficulty still shows a level of perseverance and determination.

There's no denying that the game mechanics can get repetitive after the first 100-200 days; there's only so much you can do in a cold, harsh, mostly-lifeless game world, so most experienced TLD players end up defining their own goals. Kill every single bear & moose spawn in the world. Fill up the jerry cans you find with oil generated from cooking the fish you've caught.

With no goal but to survive, you really do have to choose your own adventure. What's always grabbed me about TLD is the mindfulness of just living in the game world draws out in people. The 'cosy' atmosphere of setting up your base with chairs and rugs while a blizzard rages outside will work for some players, while others will crank up the custom difficulty settings to truly test their skill. You can get seriously attached to your run, especially if you have the intent of playing it without an end date in mind. This game often generates the most heartfelt writing I've seen about a computer game, simply paying homage to a game world that dominated their lives for several hundred hours or more through their personal memories (give this and this a read if you like).


Roleplaying and execution

As for me, I've enjoyed the quasi-cosplaying element of a lone survivor, journalling his thoughts using the in-game note function every few days when he has a chance to collect his thoughts. The solitude element of the Long Dark is hard to avoid; there is hardly any dialogue apart from the occasional complaint of being too cold/hungry/thirsty/tired (although if you want, the Wintermute story mode has plenty of characters to interact with) – and I've found that the journaling aspect is a reasonable way for a lonely survivor to avoid going completely insane.

I almost exclusively play on the Interloper difficulty, which was the hardest difficulty until mid-2024 when the brutal Misery mode was released. On Interloper, loot in general is hard to find, most high-end clothing and food items don't exist at all, and the overall temperature of the game world gets colder over time, affecting how far you can travel without freezing and requiring you to craft good clothing as a high priority.

The Long Dark 500 days - Blackrock Prison, Blackrock

Nobody would be advised to play on Interloper when starting to play The Long Dark, of course. The world of Great Bear Island is formidable at first, and the variety of regions with their unique challenges mean that if you're unprepared in the slightest your run is over. At the very least, you need to learn the region maps to a general extent if you're going to attempt the harder difficulty levels – at the very least knowing where the main shelters are (and the best paths between them), knowing where to find forges & workbenches, and where certain types of wildlife can be found.

I also enjoy 'loper because of the urgency to execute on a regular basis, otherwise your game run is over. Interloper forces you into forward planning; you need to kill that deer otherwise there's no decent food source in easy access. You need to gather more wood otherwise this fire will die out and you'll freeze too much and then you'll die before getting to the next cave. You need to carefully avoid this bear seeing you, because your arrows are all broken and if it mauls you, you're done for. And so on and so forth.

So yes, the game is completely out to get you (that's the point) but if you put some preparation into what you're doing, you'll stand a good chance. You'll learn what kind of contingency plans work for you, such as carrying a few pieces of coal so you can always warm up with a fire in the toughest conditions, or always having an emergency stim (or two) to get out of a tough situation with timberwolves or a rampaging moose. It's all manageable, at the cost of your precious inventory space.


My 500 day run – the first days

Every TLD run is a hugely personal journey, and many players love sharing key moments & experiences of their survival (or lack of). I've relied on my in-game journaling, and some select screenshots to recall my time during my current run and selected some of my favourite moments of the run.

On Interloper, you get a random spawn – and only in the more challenging regions. However, I was lucky enough to spawn in Ash Canyon, the mountainous region in the north-east of Great Bear:

Needless to say, I was pretty lucky. Matches and a hammer on day 1 is a great start, and heading towards the backpack in the gold mine on day 2 (+5kg of permanent inventory space) was even better. When the cougar was introduced, in Ash Canyon it was placed outside the natural exit of the gold mine meaning that you couldn't easily grab the backpack and exit Ash Canyon efficiently unless you were prepared to kill a cougar, so grabbing it before it spawned on day 10 was a real blessing.

My path out of Ash Canyon was clear & known to me – zip down through Timberwolf Mountain then loot the plane crash, which has a good chance of clothing items lying around.

After this point, the run followed a fairly standard trajectory familiar to all experienced Long Dark players – get all of the various items to make a bow & some arrows, so you can defend yourself from predators and start killing big game for long-term food survival. To do that, you need a hammer to forge arrowheads, you need to cure some birch & maple saplings for the bow & arrow shafts (which can only be cut by using a hacksaw, or by forging a hatchet) and curing some guts from small game that will act as the bow's string.

As you go, you need to start curing hides so that you can craft better clothing to stay warm and better protected (remember, the game world is getting colder as you go), while at the same time you're running all over Great Bear looting all of the major spots and staying out of trouble.

It's at this point that you're incentivised to be as efficient as possible – how many places can you trek to and loot in a day, while also being in a good position to move on to the next region? It feels like you're constantly solving a 'Seven Bridges of Konigsburg' problem, so that you aren't wasting time, retracing your steps unnecessarily, and digging into the reserve food that you're carrying around.

The 7 bridges of Konigsburg, Prussia

You can easily spend 50-60 days traversing the entire game world, visiting all of the major regions. I ended up travelling through the more central regions of Mystery Lake and Pleasant Valley several times, and planned on 'loops' that visited a few regions, bringing back high-value loot to my home base in the Camp Office in Mystery Lake. The loops included:

  • Leaving via the Ravine and going to Coastal Highway & Desolation Point – always a favourite part of GBI given the high amount of loot and the beachcombing loot you find along the way
  • Heading through Forlorn Muskeg and on to Broken Railroad – not a high priority but the Muskeg includes a forge which you need to visit early on
  • Mountain Town & Hushed River Valley – plenty of houses to loot in the former, and guaranteed high value loot in the latter
  • Ash Canyon & Timberwolf Mountain – great for getting the technical backpack and also checking out the Summit, respectively

I left Bleak Inlet and Blackrock for later – you don't want to be fending off timberwolves without a bow & plenty of arrows.

Infact, it took me until day 81 to make my way into the fabled Bleak Inlet workshop, where I was able to use the milling machine and repair my tools:


Round 2, i.e. building up the bases

So what do you do once you've visited all of the regions, you've crafted some pretty good clothing and you're feeling pretty confident in moving around the world?

Well, you visit all those places again.

Instead of the Contiki-like whirlwind tour from the first 60-80 days, it was time to properly build up some bases with food, water and cured stuffs. It's a proper focus on hunting big game, while at the same time looting the out-of-the-way areas. If you're feeling particularly relaxed, you can use some of that charcoal and map out parts of the region you're spending time in.

All of those little trips become mini-holidays in a way – you work on the achievement of building up your stockpiles, spend 10 to 15 days hunting whatever comes around, and all the while the world of Great Bear puts a smile on your face in the oddest moments.

The bear on the tree

Day 100 was spent in the Deer Clearing area of Timberwolf Mountain:

The Long Dark 500 days - day 100 - bear 1

The Long Dark 500 days - day 100 - bear 2

Fun note: that fire underneath the bear kept me perfectly warm while I was on the tree branch harvesting it up!

The first cougar kill

I mixed up the base stockpiling with other mini-goals along the way, such as hunting a cougar for the first time, selecting the Wood Lot in Mystery Lake on day 149 as my first hunting ground:

The beachcombing boat

And I remember the confusion on my face when doing some casual beachcombing along the Crumbling Highway, and seeing an actual boat washed up on shore. And it was lootable!

The Long Dark 500 days - Crumbling Highway coastline, shipwrecked boat 1

The Long Dark 500 days - Crumbling Highway coastline, shipwrecked boat 2


A lot of people say that The Long Dark is all about the early game – the panicked rushing around of finding the best loot as fast as possible, making snap decisions of which part of the world to visit based on your capabilities, and balancing the risk-reward of battling the weather, your health, and the mere potential of finding the next critical item to help you on your journey.

But the unique memories from Great Bear Island tend to come from later on – when your adventures become more of a meander, and the story unfolds in front of you when you least expect it. You also feel a lot more attuned to the wider world as hunting becomes your primary food source.

I'll share some other logs & screenshots of the rest of my 500 days journey in another post. For now, I hope you enjoy your own Long Dark run, and if you haven't gotten into it, maybe give the game a go yourself!

#TheLongDark #gaming #SurvivalGames

The last front fence on our street came down about two or three years ago – I can't quite remember. Before that, a decent proportion of the front fences between properties were already getting ripped down. It made more sense to easily move between the yards & garden beds that neighbours were sharing, and most owners enjoyed the fact that it was one less thing that can break or fall over.

This year, I'll be using the vegetable beds in our front yard to focus on tomatoes and cucumbers. Leanne a few houses down is doing zucchini, and Gareth across the road is focusing on a range of herbs in his front yard. He already has a great rosemary bush that we all take from; he says he's going to plant another one. Noone will be able to get away from cooking minestrone, I guess!

Grocery stores are still crucial, but the fresh food section only stocks items out of season – it doesn't matter how cheap the in-season stock is, it rarely sells because the same stuff available on our street is free (and obviously tastes better). So they only focus on selling the goods that you can't easily get in the current climate. Still, there isn't a huge amount. We adjust our meals based on what's around.


The first big “penny drop” moment for most people came when food manufacturers had to put labels on food which showed the distance that the food had to travel to get to the grocery store. 'From Picked to Placed' was the marketing campaign for the legislation. I remember that ready-to-cook fish fillets was a really large distance, causing us to learn that frozen fish were sent halfway across the world just to get descaled, then shipped back again. Everyone found it ridiculous. The number on the label was also converted into an equivalent volume of carbon using some average figure and displayed below the distance.

I still remember that first conversation while doing my weekly shopping trip (i.e. 'the old way') when the labels started to appear, and hearing a gasp from a fellow shopper which prompted me to strike up a conversation. Everyone had a few of those 'firsts' as we discovered how global our food supply was, and so the trend of home gardening gradually took off.

The thing with most food is that when the harvest comes, you either need to sell it or share it. Because people had to find a seller before the food goes off, it was just easier to put it in a cardboard box out the front of the house. Not too many people minded that they were giving away their hard work for free – most people enjoyed the satisfaction of doing a bit more gardening in their lives. Plus, the pay-it-forward mindset meant that most of the time you were receiving instead of providing.

So we were all amateur farmers & traders, using the space we had available. The simple act of being out the front of our house more often meant striking up conversations was far more commonplace. For the households that didn't have a green thumb, they turned their front yard into a communal play area or gathering area. Ol' Man Jerry (he liked the nickname, enjoyed how endearing it was) built a few workbenches using some wood from the torn down fences and turned his garage into a shared tool library and DIY area. He was happy to keep it clean, manage the sign-in/sign-out sheet and teach a few basic handyman tips from time to time, but often he retreated into his front room and read a book. He was just happy that the garage was being put to good use, especially since he sold his car over a decade ago. I can't remember the last time I had to buy a tool; we've all gotten by on the 'Noahs Ark' of tools. We all had to chip in to replace the lawn mower a few months ago; the collection box in Jerry's garage got the required amount within two days.


I'm especially looking forward to this winter. Arthur & Bea who moved in a few years ago have tried to organise a 'community calendar' to keep things fun during the colder months, and stop us from being in our own homes every night. There's a simple roster of Sunday group dinners that five or six houses have signed up for hosting, and Thursdays are board game nights. In a few Fridays time there will be a bonfire party; me and a few others have promised to each bring along an old favourite whiskey, and do a bit of a mini-tasting event. Play it up a bit, pretend we're experts. Should be a good laugh.

#fiction #TheFuture

It is far too easy to fall into despair, cynicism, hopelessness, apathy, isolation, solitude, mindlessness, and a variety of other negative feelings, given today's world. Many people can relate to this: it's a mood that reduces your agency and aspiration in the world around you, leaves you feeling lethargic, fatigued, and barely able to get through the day.

The modern world – at least how it appears in developed countries – shows a polished veneer of civilised society full of mod cons and general abundance, but in the back of our minds we're thinking about social inequality, long-term damage to the Earth's environment, late-stage capitalism, and the ease of political division & the erosion of the sense of community that comes with it.

And so the malaise sets in. If you're lucky, you'll know when to turn off the news, look after your mental health and try to get through another day without falling apart. The alternative is to let it consume you to the point of resorting to unhealthy behaviours (doom scrolling, comfort eating, drinking), all of which make it harder for you to get back into a good mental or physical space to look after yourself.

These feelings and experiences have become more familiar in recent years. It's often related to any combination of the global issues facing humanity, which feel abstract, complex, and way too much for a single person to get around. So what do I do? I do what most people do, which is to say “it's all too hard”, avoid taking even the slightest step forward, and hope that the malaise doesn't come up too often. I've done the mental gymnastics enough times that it feels rehearsed, and is now the 'default' response. I've trained myself to push it under the rug.

It's a decision that is rewarded with a sense of comfort (“things are pretty okay for our household right now”), simplicity (“global issues aren't for me to solve, I just need to plan out this week's meals”), and a false sense of confidence (if I keep this up, the future looks pretty good!“).


Of course, it's daylight robbery from your future self. No one wants to be in the twilight of their life, regretting that they didn't devote their most active years doing something more meaningful – perhaps working for a niche environmental not-for-profit, or regularly protesting against governments or corporations, or building up a local charity to help people in need.

But putting that argument aside, there's another solid reason why living within the 'default' approach of ignoring major issues and letting the malaise sink in is bad. It's simply not fun. When you accept that things are the way they are and you can't change them, you lock yourself out of having imagination from your life. You have baked certainty into your future, at the expense of hope, potential and wonder. Out of the infinite possibilities that may lie ahead, you are intentionally chosen the one path where you are on rails, acting passively as the world meanders along it's chaotic, destructive, violent path.

The alternative is to develop a practice of hope & optimism. For the sole reason that it keeps the gate open to all of the other pathways in your future, and lets you imagine “what if” about everything you care about.

This involves developing a habit of imagining your ideal future, regardless of how far fetched it is. Do it once a week, do it daily, do it every time you go to the toilet – the key point is to get yourself comfortable with imagining a different future. You can think about a specific part of the future – maybe your local community being more connected, or a world where air quality is better – or something at a larger scale. Just train the muscle.

It's an easy, first step of whatever rebellion or revolution you'd love to see – just start by imagining it. As that imagination builds up an amazing world in your mind, connections will start to take form. How did your local food co-operative end up being formed? What led the government to halt any future deforestation in your region? The answers will come, but only after you develop the habit of imagining your future.

Don't worry about the next step – at least for a little while. But starting with a hopeful, imagined future that you've created will arm you with the right tools to figure that out.


So that's how I'm approaching 2026: with some optimism, a bit of imagination, and a bit of blind trust that I'll work out the next step when the time is right. For now, I'm imagining what our little suburb looks like in the near future, after a range of cultural changes that range from a reduced reliance on cars, a bigger focus on shared/common spaces, and a more local economy. For now I'm writing some small fictional descriptions, but maybe it'll evolve into something more tactical.

And of course it's only half way through January as I write this, but when these practices get nurtured over a few months they start to take on a life of their own. I can only hope.

#TheFuture #thinking #imagination