A bit late, but here I am again with another ship’s log.

How are you doing?

What have you been up to since the last one?

As for my end, I’ve been getting through my driving lessons. I’m finally at a point where driving is actually quite enjoyable, and I’m learning some neat tricks of the car that help me get rid of bad habits.

It has been touch and go in places and boy howdy I hope instructors are well compensated. I would not be comfortable riding shotgun with myself behind the wheel. But it is a learning process. The only issue now, aside from getting good enough to pass a driving test, is finding a driving test location that’s not halfway to Narnia from my town.

Who’d’ve thought getting a driving license would be so popular at this exact time of year? I heard someone mention scalpers for these appointments, but I haven’t seen evidence of it. Could it be true?

Tangentially related to my driving is of course my moving. And the last few months have consisted of packing and sending boxes to the new home. Turns out it’s much, much cheaper to just ship your stuff with the postal service than to hire someone to take everything in one go. I did the math, and the difference was night and day.

Why I’m bringing that up here? Well, my boxes are arriving in a state that leaves something to be desired.

It’s not in my nature to name and shame a company (or person) to start beef but in paying for the shipping, I expected my boxes to be handled by a professional business, not the Unbridled Punching Society. It irks me just a little bit more since they recently upped their prices. Well, lesson learned. I’ve started wrapping everything in extra layers of wrapping paper and boxes inside the boxes to keep everything safe.

But enough about that. Let’s get into the meat of this log.

Looking Further Afield

Last time, I mentioned playing Fields of Mistria and the cooking skill. Well that has been a frequent subject of discussion here of late.

We’ll be living out in the boonies where we won’t have the most reliable access to shops for our daily convenience, and shifting political dynamics has seen prices of certain goods shift for the worse. Food scarcity is something we all need to take seriously.

The place we’re moving to just so happens to have a lot of space for farming. If not in the earth itself - that would take more work - we’ll definitely have room for raised planters. Seems like this is a great time to finally get good at growing our own produce, after several shaky previous attempts. And, as it turns out, there are courses for people looking to start eco farming.

Maybe I’ll look into it.

Who knows? By next year, I may not need a farming game - I’ll just be growing my own potatoes. Well at least that’s one option.

I have a lot of paths to take from here, so we’ll see which one ends up sticking. Of course, amongst all that will be my Eastbound project which is beginning very soon with some short stories to tell, and that will be a continuous project long after we have moved as I work with my girlfriend and our little startup.

I do look forward to that first part.

On That Note…

There are currently two main projects that I have my works on. And since I have nothing else on my mind to write, I might as well share a little of what those are about.

For some time now, I’ve been in the midst of writing a sci-fi story about space colonisation and the adventures it entails. Or rather, the attempt of it and the misadventures that follows. This story is called ‘ExoGenesis: So Apparently, I’m a Space Camper Now?’ and I’ve been writing it for a little over a year at this point. We’re up to about chapter 30 with my first draft, but the story is also undergoing a small rewrite as it’s being published on Royal Road.

I won’t make a secret out of the fact that the story will, and is, informed by a series of events that played out in my time playing RimWorld, which inspired me to write this in the first place. As I’m not a YouTuber, I did not make a habit of recording these events prior to publishing, so they are instead retold and sensationalised through my own prose.

It’s not a picture book series, per se, but since I have some experience with digital art, I am including a doodle from an early chapter of the rewritten version. And probably more to follow as they come.

The second project is called ‘Honey & Sixten’ which is going to be a collection of short stories (both personal and fictional) between myself and my girlfriend, who’s also participating in the project.

Honey represents my girlfriend, and Sixten represents myself, an anthropomorphic New World bunny and Old World cat respectively. With a twist. In addition, it will also feature a series of fun and and silly illustrations and comics that we might think to share.

👉 Read ExoGenesis: So, Apparently I’m a Space Camper Now? on the Resilience Substack or check out the new edited chapters on Royal Road.

👉 Sixten & Honey will launch sometime in July. Probably.

What’s Next for Me

As for what I’ll be doing next? Well, taking my driving test very soon is the most obvious thing for me, and hopefully I can pass it on the first try. Otherwise there’s a very slim chance I’ll have a license before I move, haha!

I’d cross my fingers, but at this point I have no idea if that would jinx it.

Until July, my friend.

-Sten

Where Do You Want to Go Next?

⚓ The Resilience, Main Port
🏴‍☠️ Resilience Writers
🌶️ The Snuggery

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~

EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
Copyright © 2025 CF Sten - All rights reserved

New Reader? Start Here: So Apparently, I’m a Space Camper Now?

Anthony’s Chapter 28 Recap: “I made it back down the mountain sore, bruised, and unfortunately alive enough for everyone to start treating me like some kind of hero. Then Dexter showed me Curator’s version of events, which was less of a record and more a flattering lie with our mysterious clients inserted into the background like divine sponsors. Their names were Avory and Donny Dalton, apparently, and for once I was disappointed not to remember them.”

Scientifically Perfected Misery

Laying in bed to recover was boring enough as is, but when supplemented with scientifically perfected misery on a platter it was downright torture. Barely a whole day had gone by before I wanted nothing more than to fight another monster – or, rather, fight one for real this time. But without all the fight juices coursing through my body, everything was rather too painful. Even sighing in boredom punishing me with pangs.

Having accessed my PDA properly had seen me cursed with a variety of Get-Well messages from strangers up in HQ and no shortage of accolades to my bravery. But I knew the truth. I was just screaming like a deranged gremlin at the creature eating our equipment. Naomi saw what she wanted to. Someone dependable in the dark taking initiative. Even if I wanted to, I knew I would never voluntarily do that again. At least not without a gun.

I really wanted a gun. Naomi only had hers. I would feel safer if we could request more. If they could give us worthless shovels, surely they had some spare hardware, right? Especially now that we’ve confirmed big fauna.

Perhaps my biggest humiliation in all this was perusing through Curator’s… curated story of our quest to colonise this planet. I looked like the protagonist from a classical macho flick. Under the clearly divine guidance of our clients, I had apparently braved the badlands to lead Dexter and Naomi to an oasis to set our camp; only Naomi should have been missing for this part. I had supposedly used a bush machete to handcraft a whole village hall and palisade to protect us, despite me only actually making a campfire and some basic drying racks.

As if the story wasn’t already far flung, I had apparently also discovered a sapient merfolk and made contact, which I could only assume was the fish that built little nests. We were going straight into fable territory with this one. That awkward party we had with the captain resembled an absolute feast with our benefactors taking the main seats at the head of the table. Instead of a bunch of spacemen, we looked almost tribal. I didn’t even recognise anyone from the ship, not even the captain.

Finally our benefactors sent the three of us up the mountain to exploit its resources, where I fought a 6-legged dragon-something. I didn’t even hit it. Naomi took it out. And for some reason she was holding a crossbow instead of a gun. Instead of just being tackled, the dragon was sinking its teeth into me and I was stabbing it with my non-existent machete.

These were all told in generated murals giving small parts to a whole. It ignored all the times we split up as a group, and made everything a prevailing group effort.

It was all very silly. The thought that this was going to hang on some wall years into the future to teach a new generation of their “founding members”. Boy, I couldn’t wait to see the final part.

I was just about to toss my PDA aside when I remembered there was more to it. Games, for one, but also my final documents to speed up my space lapse recovery. I once again had a look at the files.

1. qualification_quiz_bowers_anthony - audio

2. dossier_bowers_anthony - text

3. identifications_bowers_anthony - text

4. statement_of_consent_bowers_anthony - text

5. interview_bowers_anthony_1 - video

6. interview_bowers_anthony_2 - video

Last time I listened to the quiz. I could read my dossier or identification, but I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to be spoonfed my own identity from a document. At least there were two videos I could watch that might feel more comfortable. Maybe they’d get my brain cooking.

I started the first interview video. The room being recorded looks awfully residential, not at all like an office. There was a dull red couch with a floral sheet thrown over it, and the wall was an unassuming magnolia, with a full floor green carpet, quite worn and in need of a bit of maintenance. A man stepped into view and sat down on the couch. But it wasn’t me. At least I was pretty sure it wasn’t me. His voice sounded a lot different from the quiz too, but I was somehow too emotional over hearing him speak that I didn’t really hear what he was saying.

He seemed to talk at length as he was being questioned about something or another, and his tone was that of enthusiasm and admiration. But it was only 5 minutes long, so I had to replay it over and over. I almost welled up in tears as I was beginning to understand that I was listening to my next of kin, Martin Bowers, my older brother. He was sharing stories about my various trips out in the wilds, those which he’d participated in. He seemed so exuberantly confident in my abilities, even as I now doubted my own more than any. But what got to me more than anything was that he was trying to convince someone to take me away from Earth, far away. And who knows when or if I’d even return.

The next video was much more of the same, but this was a much older man and a woman. Different house. They had similar accolades to share about me, and how adventurous I had been in my youth. It didn’t take long for me to piece it all together here, and this time I really did start crying. That was my Mum and Dad, Edith and Hector, and to no surprise he had a cup of coffee with him for the interview. Seeing, hearing, it was all I really needed to put more puzzle pieces together in my memory. I would have to make sure to thank the Captain when I had the chance for giving me these files. This was definitely a good pick-me-up.

Motivated, I tried to make my way out of bed, before every nerve in my body told me I was not ready for quite a while yet. Demotivated, I laid back in bed. I could have sworn I had broken a rib or something, but Naomi assured me I was in one piece, just bruised like a bad fruit. Dexter said I should feel better in two days, and that they wouldn’t need any more RDMs while I recovered. I was immediately missing the ‘good old days’ when we just had tents and a campfire. Probably because I hadn’t found out about the monster yet.

I hoped we wouldn’t be finding ourselves having to go back up there any time soon. If the Curator had its fan fiction way with us, we’d probably already be up there with pickaxes trying to extract precious gems and minerals like greedy goblins. And I could not for the life of me imagine that life. Not to mention it would mean more encounters with monsters.

Monsters? No… it was the local fauna. I would normally be risking encounters with the occasional shy bear in the woods who likely wanted nothing to do with me. Now I was dealing with machine-eating mega monsters who had no history with humanity and no reason to fear them.

I could barely hear the sound of someone stoking the campfire and the clonking of wood being stacked. Someone was managing the campfire in my stead. Not sure why, but that did bring some comfort. Though I had no reason to necessarily suspect that the native wildlife had any strong aversion to fire. Please be scared of fire. As long as that campfire remains lit, I could at least hope it was giving us some protection.

[Last Update: 21 May, 2026]

Where Do You Want to Go Next?

🏠 ExoGenesis: So Apparently, I’m a Space Camper Now
⬅️ 28, The Dumbass Who Survived by Pure Luck
➡️ 30, Coming Soon. Probably.

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~

Hello again, what are the odds we’d keep seeing each other like this?

Since last I wrote, I celebrated my anniversary with my girlfriend who gifted me a copy of the Early Access game Fields of Mistria. I had already bought this game for my older brother who proceeded to binge play it for 40 hours in the span of 3 days… Not sure how much he slept in that time, but he gave it a stellar recommendation.

Well, now it was my time to give it a go and it’s been a pretty addictive bit of entertainment, let me tell you. I already have well over 50 hours on it and I’m enjoying the content that it offers.

Fields of Mistria is a very cosy 80’s anime aesthetic farming game. And with farming game you usually also get cottagecore! And, my, how much of it I feel! It’s a lot like someone peeking on the homeworks of Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing, tweaking what they did, and making a whole package that just brims with life. At least as far as NPCs can have them.

The townspeople travel around town, make visits to each other, hang out, have conversations, and generally feel like their lives are going on even when you’re not around.

The fact that not every conversation involves you just adds that extra bit of life. You’re just listening in on conversations some of the time. I know how these people know each other, who they are friends with, who they like to hang out with, and what they like talking about to each other. I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if they ended up marrying each other while I was busy in the mines or going fishing for days on end.

That is to say, where Stardew Valley walked, Fields of Mistria is running. Pretty high praise for an Early Access game. I know. I have a few stories to share about the fun moments I’ve had in this game. They may not all fit into this ship log, but I can paint a picture of my general experience.

Frolicking in the Fields

Fields of Mistria begins in the small town Mistria that just experienced an earthquake, which left the place worse for wear. Unfortunately they neither have the funds nor the manpower to restore the town back to its former glory. That’s when the acting mayor has the idea to invite the help from people outside with the promise of land in return for their servicea. This is where you, the player comes in.

You are quickly introduced to a colourful cast who show you around town and help you get settled. As with any game, the beginning is slow, but the calendar tells me there are weekly meet up events on Fridays at the local Inn. And I can see where everyone is at any given time on the map by just looking at it. Wow! Quality of Life additions I sorely missed in Stardew Valley!

I get to work setting myself up, slowly being introduced to more mechanics as I progress the game’s built-in progress ladder. When Friday suddenly comes around, I check the Inn out and expect it to be something like Stardew Valley, each one to a table of their own, minding their own business. But, no! They are hanging out and socialising with each other!

One group is playing cards, the other is playing an in-universe version of DnD, and another group are being wine snobs, and the kids upstairs and planning a heist! Everything feels alive and I can feel the sense of community! A feeling I’ve felt from time to time in the small fishing village I’ve called home many summers and winters back in the day. Games, songs, food, and fun. Family, friends, and everyone in-between.

I expected a repeat the next week, but the conversations were all brand new! The DnD game had progressed in the story, the card game dynamics had changed, the heist plans was coming along and about to be executed, and the wine snobs had brought in new drinks from out of town now that we had repaired the bridge.

But that’s not all! Because I repaired the bridge, the second Saturday of the game now hosted a Saturday Market! 4 new characters from out of town came in to sell their stock and everyone in town had gathered to shop. The town felt positively bustling with life!

The next week was their Spring Festival and I was challenged to collect flowers for the event. And I did so with gusto! Breaking the historical record, I was the champion of the Spring Festival, rewarded with a flower crown that forever adorned my head for the rest of the game. I went from adventure from out of time, beginner farmer, to the prince of all faeries!

And so went my days in the town of Mistria. Weeks passed by, every time I spoke to an NPC felt like a new conversation because I barely saw any repeats. Seasons passed, more festivals to celebrate, and just when I started thinking running around was taking a little too much time, I suddenly find myself randomly coming upon a magical horse that will carry me around even faster!

Now I’m positively frolicking through the fields of Mistria getting my chores done, chatting up the townsfolk, and upgrading my farmstead! I was quite late to the adoption of animals to my farm, which ended up biting me in the back when a sudden Animal Festival came to show. Which is kind of funny as it was foreshadowed back in spring. But I think I’ll have my revenge next time, because I’ve been breeding special gold and silver livestock to take that medal! (Oh, yeah, you can breed your livestock in this game and unlock new and unique coats and plumages on the cute little critters.)

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this game so far, and am eagerly looking forward to it’s 1.0 release.

Shilling for a Killing…

This week we have a special offer involving Klöver the green spring cat and his friends from the Äppelpaj Seasons collection. If you follow the captain on Instagram, you might have seen her monthly goal bingo cards. Well, we have made a whole season’s worth of them and they are now available in our Ko-Fi shop. For FREE! But only until the end of this month.

The idea is simple: turn your to-do list into a game. Fill the squares with your goals or chores and tick them off as you complete them. Plan some treats for each bingo and celebrate them in style.

This first set of cards are digital och designed for social media and digital planners, but we have print-at-home versions in A4 and US Letter coming to in case you’d like to stick them to the fridge or keep them in your physical planner.

We’re starting out small, but it’s the beginning of a rather ambitious plan. Klöver is the spring cat. Solana will bring summer, then we have Rönn arriving in autumn and Lumi just in time for winter. Each season comes with its own colour palette, its own bingo cards, and a few more vignettes from the Äppelpaj Orchard.

What’s Next for Me

Well the flat is getting emptier and emptier. I’ve recently started taking driving lessons again to finally get my driver’s license. And I’m both anxious and excited to put that to practice when it comes time to go back to Sweden.

Before I’ve maintained I do not much enjoy driving, but during my last lesson I ended up actually enjoying it a bit. So that’s a good sign! Though I doubt I’ll ever be the one to go for joy rides. I’m still a hermit at heart.

-Sten

Where Do You Want to Go Next?

⚓ The Resilience, Main Deck
🏴‍☠️ Resilience Writers
🌶️ The Snuggery

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~

EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
Copyright © 2025 CF Sten - All rights reserved

New Reader? Start Here: So Apparently, I’m a Space Camper Now?

Anthony’s Chapter 27 Recap: “I learned three things: that cave predators have very little respect for expensive equipment, that a dislocated shoulder makes for a long walk home, and that apparently I defended a geological probe with nothing but a knife. I have no memory of deciding to do that.”

The Dumbass Who Survived by Pure Luck

When the first light came, I only had two things on my mind:

One, I did not look forward to the walk back down the mountain on this leg.

Two, I was quite uncomfortable with the unearned approval I had suddenly been afforded.

I was already awake when Naomi came back into the tent to fetch me, and we made hasty work to pack up the tent. I was quite comfortable with the silence over our first meal, as I had nothing to contribute to any conversation she may have had. Well, other than to carefully explain that under no circumstance was I daft enough to fight an alien monster just to protect a piece of equipment I barely even knew what it was, let alone how it worked.

Speaking of the monster, it was still there. Splayed out and lifeless, though much farther away from the device it had mauled now. The more I looked at it, the more it resembled the bastard son of a dragon and a very lucky, or unlucky, weasel. Lithe and long - with teeth that pointed inwards to prevent any would-be prey from freeing itself - this thing could definitely go full sprint through a narrow tunnel.

“What do you want to call it?” Naomi asked, gently.

“Dead.” I had no intention of dignifying that thing with a name.

We didn’t say much more after that, but I could swear Naomi was glancing at me a few times. Though, to be fair, most of those times coincided with me trying to use my previously dislocated arm, or adjusting my seating to relieve the pain in my leg.

Getting back up on my feet was no easy feat and sadly, for me, we couldn’t just make a beeline for the camp. We had to pick up the probes along the way, too. Thus began my limp of shame. I tried to keep pace with Naomi and be as self-reliant as possible, if only for the sake of my pride, but she was gracefully helpful when I stumbled and encouraged me to lean on her. I would have been more inclined to do so, had I not been concerned that, should I lose my footing, we might both fall to our deaths.

By the time we collected the final probe, I greatly desired a rest. But I had an even greater desire not to have another encounter with the probe-eaters that resided within these mountain halls. That would have to be something for our wealthy benefactors to deal with.

The last trek down the mountain was thankfully not eventful. Though the caverns were looming in my mind the entire time, we had no intention to explore them in the foreseeable future. And for that I was grateful as there was no telling if there were more of the creatures and, if so, how many there might be. Trying to be optimistic, I wanted to assume this had just been a lone creature, especially since only the one probe had been attacked. Still, we had no way of knowing unless we checked.

“You don’t suppose we’re safe from any more encounters down by the camp?” I asked Naomi, tentatively.

“We’ve done fine in the tents so far, and now we have the barracks. We should be fine.” She gave her firearm a jostle. “But at least now we know we’ll be needing this. And maybe some more ammunition, just in case.”

“How many shots you got?”

“Enough to take out a few more. Long as I don’t waste any on target practice.”

Well, that was reassuring.

Stepping out into the clearing of our camp, I beheld its new, modernised, space-age state. Dexter had taken his tent down. Now our campfire and the primitive drying rack sat next to the high-tech, rapid deployment modules that featured a full suite of necessities and amenities.

“What the fuck am I even here for?” I groaned aloud. “What am I even contributing to the group at this point?”

Naomi laughed. “You sound exactly like my old company back on Idunn. We don’t always appreciate our place when we’re competing with technology.”

Well, that was hardly a boost to my ego. I would have liked to have a piece of paper that set out, in detail, what made my addition to this whole project so important. Given Dexter’s previous despair over our situation, however, I had no reason to believe our clients had any intelligent or logical explanations to give me.

I looked at the three squared imprints our tents had left in the grass and was struck with a profound sense of loss and nostalgia. I would have liked to keep the tents, but my newfound fear of the actual fauna on this planet helped me accept that the barracks were a better option. And to seal the deal, as Naomi helped me up on the foundation, I had to admit that laying down on a real bed was exactly what I needed right now.

Before I had even made myself comfortable, Dexter came in to check on me.

“Well, that doesn’t look too bad,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Check this out,” I replied and zipped open my jumpsuit.

It was hard to say who was more surprised at the sight of my bruised body, Dexter or I. I didn’t even know skin could be whatever that colour on my chest was.

“Never mind, you do look like shit.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Risk your life for a piece of equipment.” He tapped his head. “Not a smart thing to do. We can replace those. There’s no replacing you.”

“Why, thank you for your consideration.”

I wanted to nip this story in the bud before it became mythologised and I had to confess to just standing there like an idiot as the dangerous beast attacked me. I was no Heracles, at most I was the dumbass who had survived by pure luck.

“So, what was going through your mind? The pictures suggest it was pretty big. Maybe even swallow-you-whole-big. I could see the shadow of the damn thing from down here.”

I thought about that for a moment.

“Big fucking monster. I don’t want to die.”

“Seems reasonable.” Dexter nodded. “Short and simple. Might not look too good on the plaque, though.”

“Plaque? What are you on about? Are you writing it down?”

“No, not me. But everything we’re doing is logged and documented, remember? Everything gets reported back to HQ. I’m sure they’ll want to print a book or something as a founder’s log when this planet gets going.”

“Right. We’re making history.” I moaned.

“You seem embarrassed. Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll find a flattering angle for you. Maybe they’ll even paint some muscles on you. Make you look real manly.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Right, you’re only using your PDA as a toy.” Dexter chuckled and brought his own out. What he showed me was horrifying.

There were images of us, there on the planet, but they weren’t photographs or paintings. Something in-between. Like a fantastical representation of previous events.

“What the hell is that?!” I yelped. “Who made these?!”

“No one. They’re done by Curator, an artificial intelligence up in orbit. It parses everything that happens, rewrites it into a story, and produces images in our likeness to go with them.”

Dexter looked at the images before he turned his PDA back to me.

“Well, sort of. There’s some weird fuckery to it. I’m always too tall and Naomi much too short in all of them.”

I took the proffered PDA and scrolled through the images. There were snippets of stories attached to each one, but what confused me the most was the persistent element present in most of them. Another man and woman, usually pointing at something or striking a pose somewhere in the background, but never actually doing anything. They looked stoic or dignified, and they both had a weird glow to them.

“Who the fuck are these people?!”

“Our clients. I guess the Curator is programmed to add them in wherever it can.” Dexter shrugged again. “They aren’t shown in the images of us in the drop pods, so technically they aren’t lying about their inclusion.”

My head went to a lot of places trying to analyse what I was seeing. Perhaps the best thing would be to read all of it myself. I asked Dexter to show me where to find this gallery on my own PDA and laid back down. My incredulity had begun to fade, and with that, the pain I had momentarily forgotten returned.

Naomi entered the barracks carrying a tray of cooked food and drink. “Oh, you’re finally using your PDA,” she said cheerily and set the tray down by my side.”

“He just discovered Curator,” Dexter said.

“Oh, that thing.”

Naomi knew too? Once again it was just me, the person with space lapse, who was out of the loop.

“I can’t wait to see how that comes out,” she sighed. “It’ll be a total butchering of the real story, no doubt.”

“For sure,” Dexter agreed. “I’d love to see the instructions on that machine. They totally programmed it to edit our appearances to match their ideals and make us look superhuman.”

“Superhuman? I look like a shaved lumberjack on a meat diet,” I muttered, looking at an image of myself from the days of setting up our first camp.

“I look like a kid.” Naomi chuckled. “They shrank every piece of me. My muscles, my ass, my tits, the works. I can’t tell what’s sadder - the missus thinking I’m too feminine, or the mister finding me too intimidating.”

I nodded in agreement before I could catch myself.

Dexter just laughed. “And the captain looks 30 years younger! There’s clearly some strict ‘beauty’ standards that must be included in their story.”

“Question…” I started. “Why aren’t we calling our clients by name? We do know who we’re working for, right?”

Naomi and Dexter both went silent for a moment.

“Oh, right, you don’t remember.” Dexter cleared his throat. “That joke actually started with you.”

“Me?” I asked with surprise.

“Yeah. The company we’re working for is ExoGenesis, and our clients are contracting us through them. The joke was that they were so reclusive and secretive that there was no point remembering their names. It kind of stuck.”

“And, frankly, in the two weeks we had to meet them, I only saw them twice,” Naomi added, “so I struggle to remember their names too.”

“Avory and Donny Dalton,” Dexter supplied.

They both looked at me as if this information should have jogged my mind, but no. Absolutely nothing about their names rang a bell. 4

For the first time since we landed, I was actually disappointed to relearn something.

[Last Update: 30 March, 2026]

Where Do You Want to Go Next?

🏠 ExoGenesis: So Apparently, I’m a Space Camper Now
⬅️ 27, Things That Go Thrum in the Night
➡️ 29, Scientifically Perfected Misery

Enjoying Sten’s stories?

☕ Support him with a small contribution to his tea fund.

Want to read all of our Deck Tales?

🔓 Upgrade to access the Resilience Archives

The More the Merrier

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✍️ Leave a comment below, DM me, or join the chat.

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Hello again, it’s that time once more.

I wish I could tell you I had played some more cottagecore games since my last post, but at least I finished the available content for Runescape: Dragonwilds and I’m still awaiting their Fishing update expected to come some time next month. Instead I’ve been playing Dying Light 2 and not been very cosy at all.

That is not why we are here, though!

No, this time I have something else to talk about. It is one thing to be muttering about cottagecore on the Internet, or LARPing it on your tradwife TikTok account. It is another thing entirely to live it. And as of the last post I made, there have been some developments.

I may, or may not, have mentioned that I am moving out of the UK and back to Sweden later this year as part of some sort of “manufacturer’s recall” by family. Well, we’ve recently come to an agreement of where we will stay.

And that, as it turns out, is going to be out in the sticks. Literally. Trees everywhere!

My grandparents (on my father’s side) owned a lofty house deep into the Swedish woodlands. It’s so remote couldn’t even call it the “countryside”, due to the sheer density of the trees preventing you from seeing much of any “country”, let alone a “side” thereof, at all. This house mainly functions as holiday retreat for the family these days, but now it seems like yours truly is about to become a permanent tenant in this place.

Indeed, it’s so far away from civilisation that you need a car to go anywhere. It’s practically in the wilds. If you’re driving down the road, the inlet to this place is a “blink and you’ll miss it”, but it carries a lot of nostalgia for me.

I’ve been there for a good few Christmases as a child, and I’ve even been Santa Claus for the next generation after me once or twice. It is a lovely place. Quiet, serene, and positively… cottagecore.

There’s even a well nearby if you get tired of modern plumbing.

So, yes. It’s one thing to talk and play cottagecore, but another thing entirely to live it. And live it is exactly what I am about to do.

Reports will follow.

Cottagecore Actualisation

There are a lot of things that I’ve been pushing for in my life that never truly materialised. Moving to my current flat, for example, I was excited to spend the next few years making a proper home of this place. We’d turn the back garden into a proper allotment, set up a gazebo, and let the cats enjoy some fresh air.

Or so we thought. Then some belligerent youths smashed a window above our flat and scattered broken glass all over the place. And then they did it again. And again. Then they kicked a hole in the fence that turned out to be so thoroughly rotted it toppled over in a storm a few weeks later. Then it collapsed again after some less than stellar repair works from our landlord.

No… We were never going to turn this place into a forever home.

Now, however, we finally have the opportunity to do that. Even if I don’t end up living in that house out in the woods forever, it is a family home that we all frequent. I now have every incentive to start doing something with the place. Something materially persistent.

The first thought that came to my mind was trying to grow some crops again. I tried during the pandemic, but a record heatwave in London made it impossible to keep those poor sprouts alive. Maybe this time I’ll actually be able to grow a tomato or two. Fancy that!

And my cats will be able to walk outside again without fear of traffic. If they’re up for it. I know the dog will be zooming around like a rocket once we get there, but the cats may take a little convincing.

Eastbound at Last

It’s not just me looking to move to Sweden. My girlfriend of many years, tragically still in the USA, has been waiting to move in with me. There’s a process to it that’s not worked in our favour so far, but with a more permanent home on the horizon we can take a step closer to that dream together. That is something I fondly look forward to.

To get her Eastbound, we are starting up a joint venture to share our stories, to entertain, and to fund our dreams. It is a project we are looking to launch pretty soon.

That’s not all words, though. We’re working on some designs for the project, and today I’m happy to share this draft of one of the characters involved.

Every little project needs a mascot, and ours has two. This is one of them. A tuxedo cat, still unnamed, who’ll star in the various dishes we’ve got cooking.

As an artist, I’ve regretfully left a lot of fun drawings and comics gathering dust in my old folders that all deserve a chance at daylight. And what better way to revive them than with a fresh coat of paint?

I’m looking forward to bringing them to light over on our Eastbound stack very soon! A lot of these pieces were made in the early to late 2000s, so hopefully they can bring a smile and a touch of nostalgia to people.

What’s Next for Me

All that said, what is next for me?

Well, I am finally getting my driver’s license sorted out. The pandemic put that on hold for a long while, and I’ve never lived anywhere where I had any need of a car due to extremely accessible and affordable public transport. And I don’t spend nearly enough on transportation to warrant owning a car in the first place. But now I’m moving into the sticks, so that is changing.

Also I might also be driving back to Sweden. A whole road drip with the family in tow. I’ve already done it once before, so I looking forward to doing it again.

I am also getting ready to publish an edited version of my ExoGenesis space fantasy serial on Royal Road this month. To celebrate that and all the other changes we have ahead of us this year, I am making it free to read here on the stack from Easter Eve to the end of the month. A little Easter Egg, if you will.

And on that note, I take my leave of you for this time. I’ll be back again in May with another progress update and, hopefully, an Eastbound taster or two.

Until then, fair winds and smooth sailing.

-Sten

Where Do You Want to Go Next?

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
Copyright © 2025 CF Sten - All rights reserved

New Reader? Start Here: So Apparently, I’m a Space Camper Now?

Anthony’s Chapter 26 Recap: “I kept pace with a woman who runs until she gets bored, learned what a flechette is, and discovered that surviving prolonged warfare costs rather more than just money. Also, the tent situation. Let’s not elaborate on the tent situation.”

Things That Go Thrum in the Night

Part of me knew I must have roughed it out in the wild a few times on even, hard, or outright unfriendly terrain. But clearly, I had not worn a helmet any of those times.

There was no angle or form I could take that didn’t bend my neck in a way that I never thought possible. And once I could stop my tossing and turning and just bite the bullet – mercifully before I had annoyed Naomi enough to shoot me with a real one – I realised that I could actually hear the nearby probe scanning the mountain. A persistent, evenly spaced out thrum seemed to reverberate all through me, and I swore it was trying to undo every cell in my body. Or maybe that was just my paranoia.

I am no geologist, but I would have guessed we didn’t have such technology back on Earth, and if we did - it certainly was not commonplace. It made me very uncomfortable.

Naomi was apparently fine, and I could only assume she was fast asleep by now. Lucky her. Dexter did not seem to need anything, because time passed and I heard nothing from him. I was tempted to start a conversation on my own, but I doubted he’d be very talkative this time of day.

Unable to fall asleep, I eventually decided to brave the dark and take in the fresh air. Though a smidge colder than I would have liked, it was not freezing, and the night view was certainly a sight to behold.

Standing on my feet, I didn’t feel the trembling of the probe as much, and I could focus on myself and being somewhat at peace. I could just about see the campfire back at base. It was rather comforting to know we had a place down there to return to once we were done. And now that I knew what the probing experience was all about, I quite looked forward to sleeping in those barracks we just got.

“How’s it going down there, Dexter?” I asked into the microphone.

There was a short pause.

“Everything is fine,” Dexter responded. “The probes are all responding and I am sifting through the data as it develops.”

“How’s it looking?” I asked despite knowing full well I wouldn’t understand any of it.

“Do you want me to list all the minerals and metals we’re detecting, or are you asking me to describe the map?”

I thought for a moment.

“The map, I suppose?”

Dexter seemed to sigh before turning to a more polite tone.

“From what the imaging is showing so far, it looks like the mountain has some notable ore deposits not too deep from the surface. There appears to be some series of aquifers within the mountain that may be fed from snowmelt up top, but I don’t have a clear image of that yet. I would guess some of our freshwater comes from this mountain. There are a few winding caverns below the probes that stick out a little, and I’ve been waiting for the scans to clean them up and glean more information.”

Wait, caverns? Under the mountain? That sounded pretty cool. I was tempted to go investigate right away, but I didn’t have much in the way of equipment to do so. Not to mention I certainly didn’t want to know what other kinds of beetles and bugs might be skulking around in the dark on the way there. The Bombardment Beetles had already sullied my appreciation for the local fauna. What I wouldn’t give for a bird or a lizard to come eat them all! I’d even take a spider, at a stretch!

“What about the caverns stick out to you?”

“While I’m not an expert on mountains,” Dexter prefaced with heavy emphasis, “they look perfectly normal at first. But I can’t shake the feeling that some of the formations are tunnels; artificially made. They look cleaner, more linear. Purposeful.”

“Hang on, you’re saying we’re looking at potential diggers in this mountain? Not people, right? We were the first ones here, didn’t you say?”

“Not people. No, I don’t think so. Possibly some kind of fauna. Could be a big discovery.”

“Something worth investigating?” I asked, somewhat hesitantly.

“I don’t think you have much choice. Some of those tunnels seem very close to where you came up the mountain.”

I was both apprehensive and curious at the same time. So far, we had only encountered fish and bugs. I had yet to see any birds in the sky, so a chance to discover new fauna seemed like a dream come true. Well at least if I had been a researcher of some kind. Regrettably, I had turned out to be nothing more than a run-of-the-mill outdoorsman. But then again, I had Naomi with me. That had to count for something!

“Get some sleep, Anthony. I might ask you two to check it out on your way back. I don’t want any surprises down the line.”

“Sure.”

I knew I wouldn’t get any sleep in that tent, but there was no harm in trying to get some rest at least. However, before I could enter the tent again, Dexter chimed back in.

“Where on the mountain are you?”

I hummed and stammered as I looked around.

“We should be on the north side, facing the camp. I can see the campfire from here.”

“Mind shining a light my way? Your PDA and helmet should both have one.”

My helmet had a flashlight? I took it off and gave it another look. Hard to do in the dark, but it had some buttons on the side of the earpiece that I hadn’t taken the time to figure out yet. A quick press and two hidden lamps came on, blinding me with the intensity of the light.

After digging my eyes back out from the deep recesses of the void, I could see just enough to know where the camp was. I put the helmet back on and faced it, waving my arms as if my hands could magically dazzle Dexter from however many kilometers away we were.

“Ah, that could be a problem,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m looking out the window, and it seems like something dark is moving across the mountain. Not sure if it’s a cloud shadow, but it’s coming your way.”

Every hair on my back stood up and for the second time I felt like I was being stared down by a predator. I pivoted to my left and saw one… two… three… four small dots glowing back at me, and growing in size.

Frozen in place, I was not quite sure what to do.

“Your light disappeared,” Dexter called out. “Can you see anything?”

See, I did. A shape emerged out of the dark and into my headlights. Four eyes reflecting back to me almost in a circle around a maw with rows of reflective teeth. Its fur was thick and bristled, pale grey with dark spots and streaks.

It had a steady poise and moved with purpose, and its claws looked sharp enough to disembowel a polar bear. And it was staring right at me.

A feeling of dread overtook me and the world just seemed to disappear around me. The only thing left in the world was the creature before me and what I must do to survive.

Fight? Flee? Freeze?

My breathing had almost completely stopped. My heart was beating strangely, vibrating through my entire body down to my feet. Or was it the other way around? I might as well have dropped all my limbs and inner organs the way I had dropped whatever semblance of courage that had caused me to step outside, into the night, on an alien planet. And for what? A bit of fresh air.

What would it be like to be devoured by this monster? Faster than jumping to my death? Could I outrun it and live? If I screamed, would Naomi wake up in time to do something heroic?

Time came to a standstill as I pondered my options.

Thrum. Pause. Thrum. Pause. Thrum. Pause.

Every time the beat came, the creature moved. Every time it stopped, the creature stopped. In a few more beats it would be close enough to strike.

Heartbeats? Heart-thrums?

Had time truly slowed down?

Now so close that I could smell its breath, my throat somehow clamped down to deny it reciprocity. I had not moved an inch.

Then it pounced.

Pulled off my feet, I hit the ground like a log. The creature’s bristled fur tore at my skin like sandpaper, and I could have sworn it had broken at least one bone in my body. The last I saw of it looked like a tail, then there was only stars.

Stars? I was alive?

I got on my feet as fast as I could and pivoted around. Where did it go? Did it miss me? I had to act now while there still was hope.

“Stop yelling!” Dexter yelled through the comms.

I whipped my head around, eyes scanning the terrain until they locked on the creature. Its fur blended so well with the stone, but in moments I could make out its writhing mass against the mountain wall. It had pounced something and was tearing into it ferociously.

Do something! Anything! I tried to will myself to take action, but my left arm was dangling lifelessly by my side, and the way my left leg was shaking it could barely hold me up.

Now would have been the perfect time to retreat, but I couldn’t see myself running in this state. Maybe I could at least warn Naomi.

“Answer me, Anthony! What the fuck is going on?!” Dexter yelled into my ear.

A series of double-bangs rang out behind me, and the creature screeched in agony as large holes popped open all across its body. Before long it went still and I could see the victim of its attack - one of our probes.

In a moment of soon fading clarity, I realised what had happened. The probes must have disturbed the cave-dwelling creature, causing it to come out to investigate the potential prey or rival.

This was what Dexter had wanted us to investigate on our way back.

As the situation came to its brutal end, I felt myself rapidly deflate. My left leg gave out under me, and I crashed to my knees. Then the pain truly hit me.

My mind went muddled. I tried to make a noise, but my jaw was clenched so tight my teeth were on the verge of shattering. From somewhere far away, I heard Naomi’s muted voice and felt her hand on my shoulder.

Her headlights were so bright I couldn’t see her, but I knew it was her who carried me into the tent. She took my helmet off and aimed its lights up to the ceiling to light up the interior. She surveyed my whole body.

Me left arm had been dislocated. I could barely make out a word she was saying, but her face seemed to suggest she was trying to help and that was enough for me. It wasn’t until she set my arm back in place, I regained control of my voice.

“THE PROBES! IT WENT AFTER THE PROBES!!”

I’m pretty sure I spat on her the way I howled with the pain.

“Yes, I can see that. But why didn’t you take my rifle? It would have been a lot more effective than a knife.”

Knife? What knife? I looked down to my right hand and saw my knife strangled in a death grip. My hand simply refused to let go of it. When the hell did I pull out my knife?

Raising my arm, I could see both my hand and the knife were soaked with blood; but I couldn’t say whether it belonged to that creature or myself. It seemed far more likely that I’d managed to stab myself than actually find the the machismo to fight a space monster. Nowhere, not even deep in the fibers of my being, had I ever thought of myself as a ‘punch-a-bear-in-the-fucking-mouth’ kind of man. Not me. I was fairly certain I was the ‘love-the-wild-but-don’t-forget-the-bear-spray’ type.

Naomi tended to my injuries, and I inhaled sharply as she swabbed my bruised and bleeding skin with alcohol wipes. She frequently paused to survey our surroundings, making sure we had no more surprises coming.

As far as I could tell, we were safe now. Mostly safe. I still had a giant woman straddling me and treating my wounds. I had yet to recover from my skirmish with the four-eyed tooth monster - figuring out how I felt about my current situation was pretty far back on my list of priorities.

Dexter’s voice rang out from somewhere in the distance. Naomi had either turned her radio turned off, or she was ignoring him. She slowly zipped my jumpsuit back up, then she took my hand and slowly, but firmly, pried it open to extract the knife. I’m sure it was very grateful to be able to breathe again.

Only when she was done taking care of me did she tap her helmet.

“Dexter, are you still there?”

I couldn’t hear his response.

“We had a situation. We’ve made our first encounter with some type of mega fauna up here on the mountain. It was tearing up one of the probes. Please advise.”

There was a short silence.

“Lost signal? I feared as much. We’ll have to make do with what we have. Anthony is injured. I’ll be taking him back down as soon as we have light. He tried to defend the probe with nothing but his knife.”

No, I fucking didn’t! Was she lying to him, or was that her honest assessment of the situation?

“He’s roughed up,” she continued, “but will recover if allowed to rest. He’s sturdier than he looks.”

Wow, a compliment?

“You told him? And he still took the knife?”

She looked down at me, but I wasn’t sure what to make of her expression. What was going on?

“Well I think we have an idea of what those tunnels are about now. I can still give them a look if you want. No? Alright, we’ll head back down at first daylight.”

She slowly packed up the medical supplies and grabbed her rifle. Then she moved my helmet closer to my head and ruffled my hair, almost gently.

“I didn’t know you had that kind of stuff in you, little man. Good job!” She slowly climbed off me, grabbed her rifle, and shut the tent on her way out.

No idea what to make of her tone, or what was going through her mind, I let out the most pent-up sigh I had ever stored up, I turned off the lights, crossed my legs and rolled to my side. I couldn’t decide what scared me more - encountering another monster, or whatever it had awakened in Naomi.

I had to get some sleep so I could stop thinking about it. I could hear Dexter voice from the helmet behind me, but I ignored him.

[Last Update: 19 March, 2026]

Where Do You Want to Go Next?

🏠 ExoGenesis: So Apparently, I’m a Space Camper Now
⬅️ 26, Field Notes on Firearms and Fallen Soldiers
➡️ 28, Coming Soon. Probably.

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Welcome to this week’s gathering of the Tart & Tipples Society at Smugglers Cove, down the docks in Libertalia.

I’ve made two posts so far that both talk a bit about that #cottagecore aesthetic. But why am I so fond of it, where did it start, and why does it affect my gameplay preferences?

Well I guess it started all the way back here when I was a little lad:

So what is this? This is Pettson and Findus by the Swedish author Sven Nordqvist. I grew up with these cosy books as a child and it inspired a few things in me. Firstly that I love cats, secondly my comfort with and nostalgia for the simple cottage life that these books are centred around, and, of course, the seemingly simple pleasures of life as it was before big tech took over and became ubiquitous.

As a 90’s kid, I grew up in that transition, running around in parks and forests with my friends and gaming with my buddies at home. By the time I was a young adult, I was thoroughly immersed in the digital age where everything was online and long distance. Most people I knew as a child are not hundreds of miles away from me, yet I can’t recall the last time I saw them face-to-face.

I’m not bitter, though. Despite my adventurous youth, I have always been an introvert at heart, content to be left to my own devices. Nevertheless, I find myself enjoying that simple lifestyle ideal, despite paradoxically being addicted to my digital age amenities. The compromise? As long as I have a solid Internet access, running water, and a roof over my head, I am generally comfortable anywhere.

What was I saying? Oh yeah, cottagecore. I enjoy survival games and a lot of them just so happen to line up with that cottage aesthetic by virtue of having you build things with wood and explore survival mechanics such as cooking. You see it a lot, to the point that some players are sick of it. Fair enough, I guess. These kinds of games are always better with friends, which not everyone can organise on a whim. Much easier to start up an RPG or join a competitive lobby.

There is another point to this. When it comes to survival games, there are always parts that people are drawn to. Some want to fight monsters. Others want to explore. Builders take up a portion as well. And then you have the logistics people, the ones who see to resources and managing supplies and making sure the base is organised and everyone has what they need. A logistician, quartermaster, or Camp Mum, if you would; that is where I fit in.

I’m not the strongest combatant, I don’t go crazy for adventure, and I don’t try to build the next great wonder of the world. What I like is to find a safe place to build a cosy home where every need can be met without struggle. That means an organised stockpile of resources, a fully stocked kitchen with foods, medical supplies, beds and personal storage, and easy access to amenities (via portals or signposts).

As a result of this, I am generally back at the base building and improving while other players are out exploring. Once the shelves are restocked, the food is cooked, and the gear is upgraded, I like to tidy up the place which sometimes incudes completely rebuilding the base just to make it more pleasant to look at.

This is even true when I play these types of games solo. I am something of a turtle player. I play defence all the time until the time is right, or when I am forced to. It was how I played Minecraft, my first big step into the survival genre. As far as cottagecore goes, that game leaves a little to be desired. The mechanics is flimsy and reductive, and you need mods to truly get anything out of it. I am not a big modder, but the play style stuck with me.

Mushroom World Maladies to My Cottagecore Fancy

Last time I wrote, I spoke about a game called Enshrouded. Lately I’ve been playing Runescape Dragonwilds, which was gifted to me by my girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. I have not had enough time to dig into the games potential for cottagecore yet, though I can see the potential.

So far, I know you can build pretty houses and that it has all the elements needed to make for perhaps the cosiest cottagecore experience to date. And if you’ve played Enshrouded, this game is easy to get into — they are practically twins but farming is much better in Dragonwilds. You have to micromanage it much more in this game or weeds will grow in empty plots and disease spread amongst the plants.

Oh, and there’s that constantly looming presence of a Dragon that keeps spraying you and your house with poison sludge. Oh, boy... I’ve never felt so nervous about exploring new grounds. Thankfully, I managed to kill that pest last night before writing that post so here’s hoping it will be a little more peaceful going forward. Unless I jinx myself.

So, what is this cottagecore I keep talking about? Let me directly quote Wikipedia:

Cottagecore is an internet aesthetic and subculture concerned with an idealised rural lifestyle. The aesthetic centres on traditional and vernacular architecture, clothing, interior design and crafts. Based primarily on the visual and material culture of rural Europe, cottagecore was first named on Tumblr in 2018 and is related to similar internet aesthetics including goblincore and dark academia. A subculture of Millennials and Generation Z, cottagecore developed as a response to economic pressures faced by young people; the aesthetic emphasises sustainability, agrarianism and slow living.

While a lot of people on the Internet romanticise the cottagecore aesthetic, I tend to view myself as uniquely experienced in that lifestyle. I’ve lived in a rural village by the coast, a cottage without running water, no plumbing or indoor toilet, or even electricity; just the vibes of nature and the sound of the ocean, which is where I’d go to wash myself and where I learned how to swim.

This was a big part of my childhood, and it means a lot to me. I understand both the good and the bad aspects of this lifestyle. It’s definitely not as cosy as it looks. If you’re not a fan of spiders or flies, you can only imagine what going to the toilet was like. What I am saying is: cottagecore is a wonderful aesthetic that I enjoy reliving, but from personal experience it’s not something I aspire to return to. I indulge in my nostalgia through video games instead of travelling back to my little costal village to live the dream out in person.

It also helps that common tropes of survival games is fishing and the farming of crops and vegetables. These were the staples of my diet growing up. Not only does it look like home, but the food “tastes” like home too. Let me make pudding rice in the winter and I’m a happy camper!

So, What About Runescape Dragonwilds?

As I mentioned before, I haven’t really played the game long enough to truly get into the part I enjoy about survival games yet, but let’s take a moment to talk about what I have experienced, shall we?

This game (I’ll just call it Dragonwilds from here on) is a game that has been on my radar ever since it was first announced. And by announced, I mean I randomly spotted it in the Steam store and thought it looked frightfully bareboned. I watched a video or two on YouTube and thought “maybe once the game is fully released.”

Well, Dragonwilds is still in Early Access, but I’ve already dipped into it and what is currently there is just enough for me to call it a “good game”. The base building is intuitive, the snapping and grid assist is a really cool addition to the mechanic, and it comes together to make building a house easier than ever! It also retains the charm of Runescape where you can fail at cooking food, but at least now you can still compost the burnt foods. Oh, joy! I kind of wish I could milk the cows and make a cake, too, but last time I stepped close to one, it tried to kill me. Yikes!

An addition I would like to see is the ability to tame cows and chickens to could farm them. Apparently, you can ride the Terrorbirds. I don’t know how, but it does make me want to farm animals all the more.

But I’m getting ahead of myself again. Before I could get into cosy, I first had to experience the complete opposite. You remember that dragon in Skyrim? Alduin? He flies over Bleakfalls Barrow and you can hear some NPCs talking about seeing him, but you never encounter any more dragons in that game until you complete a specific quest (ignoring the DLC).

Not so in Dragonwilds.

Before I knew it, or even what triggered it, the dragon cruising across the sky decided I was way too happy-go-lucky for his liking and needed to be humbled. Thus began my first strafing of poisonous sludge. It was also my first death in the game. After that, every 15-30 minutes, that dragon would come roaring and force me into hiding.

I’m telling you, it is very hard to feel the joys of gardening with the ever-present threat of a big dragon that will come and spew acid all over your homestead every so often. It takes some of the joy out of cutting trees, exploring, or just cooking your meals, too. Pair that with random goblin raids and you are going to find yourself quite stressed.

I was many hours into the game when I discovered a cave that is inaccessible by foot. You can only get in by high-jumping or building stairs. Goblins, as it turns out, can do neither so there I was, safe in my new little “hobbit” hole, while the dragon wasted his time spraying the cliff walls with his poison. Well, at least until I mustered the courage to go out to battle and kill it. Fourth time’s the charm, as they say! Not that it took me four tries, and I certainly did not die from poison damage on the final try as I struck the finishing blow!

With my dragon neighbour dead and my home secure, the cosy cave life has become a lot quieter. The goblin raids don’t even warrant my concern, and I can farm my flax, snapdragons, and pumpkins at my leisure. The new quiet has opened up my creative eye and I’ve started dolling up my base. But it’s still not quite there. What’s missing is the ability to place my cooked meals onto a table and arrange a dinner hall.

What happens next?

Well, it’s not like I’ve beaten the whole game. Just north of where I fought the great dragon is a new region. One of the dead and undead. Jolly!

To enter this world I had to undergo a process called “Withering”, which seemed to place me somewhere in between the land of the living and the not alive. Fair enough. What they failed to let me know, however, was that as long as I’m Withered, I’ll shine like a beacon to another dragon who will come chase me down.

Are. You. Serious?!

That was absolutely terrifying! Let’s not do that again! Oh, but I get the feeling I’ll have to. And that’s where I am now.

According to the developers’ roadmap, they’re going to add Fishing in March! My cottagecore hype for this game is going up!

Next for Me

Life is changing again and I’m taking the appropriate steps to prepare for it. First of all, I’m finally getting around to getting my driver’s license. I’ve had a provisional one for a long time, but COVID saw me isolate and since then I’ve not made it a priority. Well, the time has come. And I hope to get it done before (the end of) April.

Secondly, and related to the first note, the time has also come for us to move again. The new place we’ve got our eyes on would see me return to Sweden after more than two decades away. How it’s related to me finally getting a driver’s license? Well, paying for a removals company to take our stuff to Sweden would cost an arm and a leg, but it’s only a fraction of the cost if you drive there yourself. Guess what I’m thinking of doing?

If all goes to plan, this will be my third road trip through Europe but the first one where I’m the one driving. I’m not sure whether we’ll be camping along the way or booking some nice Bed and Breakfasts, but the idea at the moment is to make it a combined house move and holiday trip.

This year is going to be quite interesting, that’s for sure. And who knows - I might even reclaim some of that lost cottagecore of my childhood. Only this time, I’ll make sure we have water and electricity. And a solid Internet connection.

Have a wonderful day!

CF Sten

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
Copyright © 2025 CF Sten - All rights reserved

New Reader? Start Here: So Apparently, I’m a Space Camper Now?

Anthony’s Chapter 25 Recap: “I learned three things: that real men dig unnecessary holes, that composting toilets make shovels redundant, and that Naomi has absolutely no opinion on nudity whatsoever. I, on the other hand, have many.”

Field Notes on Firearms and Fallen Soldiers

We had walked for about an hour or so by my reckoning, using my hand to measure the sun’s position. Of course, it wasn’t a precise measure given the days were longer on this planet, but at least I knew we had walked far enough to no longer be able to spot our old camp. Any smoke from the campfire was hard to spot from most angles, given the dense vegetation.

I would have wanted to stop and catalogue some of my discoveries on the way, because I could not remember ever seeing such variety in colours in the trees. Various shades of red, green, and even orange. One type of tree even looked like it was scaly, and each scale had its own colour, forming what I imagined was this planet’s version of a rainbow. Naomi, for some reason, did not find this particularly interesting.

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Welcome to this week’s gathering of the Tart & Tipples Society at Smugglers Cove, down the docks in Libertalia. Yes, we are still on shore leave.

It sure has been a while since I last made a post to share, so why not continue where I left off? Today, I’ll carry on blabbering about my love of adventure and the #cottagecore experience and playstyle.

Last time, I spoke of the game Valheim, and all its Viking ventures and victories. Unfortunately, that game hasn’t had any meaningful updates since last I played, but over Christmas (yes, people on the Left still call it that; I don’t know why I keep seeing online agitators pretend otherwise) I was gifted a game by my sister that held some promise. That game is Enshrouded.

From Moreish Muffins to Mushroom World Maladies

I first found out about Enshrouded from my older brother who wanted us to give the game a try. As it was in Early Access (and still is as of writing this), I decided to pass on it. But when visiting him, he had me try. I died, and I died a lot, because I wasn’t sure what I was doing. But it was a good enough experience that I knew I’d be back to play this on release.

Well that didn’t happen. As mentioned, my sister bought the game for me for Christmas, so I decided to dive in head-first immediately.

I once jokingly summarized the plot as follows:

So I run the tutorial, figure out he controls, and appropriate an old ruin into my first base. Soon after I rescue some survivors in jars, put them in my pocket, then summon them to my base. There I find out I am the Flameborn (I can’t remember why they call me that), and I am soon swamped with a million quests to do.

Unfortunately, the game gave me two tools that would quickly derail all natural progression the game was going for: a pickaxe, and a paraglider.

See, the Shroud is this thick mist of fungal spores that chokes you out over time. You can only survive for so long before you need a breather. But then there’s Deadly Shroud which kills you in seconds that normal Shroud does in minutes. Well, the natural solution to that would be the mechanic Strengthen the Flame, which required giving tribute to the Fire Altars you build when building bases. Oh yeah, this is a survival crafting game with base building. Maybe I didn’t mention that.

What does Strengthen the Flame do? It makes you stronger, lets you survive in the Shroud longer, and increases your Shroud Passage Level. What is that? Well, I’d tell you, but I would immediately forget about that third part for the next… what?… 60 hours?

What was I saying? Oh yeah, pickaxe and paraglider! There were two things I laser-focused on whilst playing Enshrouded: completing quests, and exploring new areas. Whenever I was met with Deadly Shroud, I would either find a way to paraglide over it, or dig around it with my pickaxe. As a result I reached deep to the east early in the game, and struggled a lot with some enemy encounters. But I found a lot of survivors, and found a lot of crops doing this (oh yeah, this is where that cottagecore is going to creep in).

Before long, it became hard to manage my base, because of it’s cramped space in an old ruin and the fact that it was pincered by Shrouded areas front and back. But I hadn’t gotten comfortable with the base building yet, either. You see Enshrouded used Minecraft’s block-based building system, but when you build you have access to a lot of shapes to work with to make it easier.

However, as I was exploring I came upon the perfect shortcut. An abandoned farm called Fenrig’s Farm. It was a little run down, had a bit of a spider problem, and a few holes. It was perfect. I patched up the holes and moved my base and tenants over. Well… most of them. I had too many, and frankly I didn’t care about some of them. And for the sake of history it only made sense not to dismantle my old base. Thus my old base became the old hut for rejects.

Fenrig’s Farm had everything I needed. Shelter, fertile farm lands, and walls. It just needed some TLC. And suddenly I was farming in earnest! This became my main interest for a good while. Farm crops, look for more crops to farm, then farm those crops. And I unlocked so many foods to eat as well doing this! What I did not do, however, was unlock gear.

You see, thanks to my abusing the paraglider and the pickaxe, I had broken the intended sequence of the game. I was wondering when I would get to upgrade my backpack, and that is how I realised I had completely forgotten to follow the story. I had travelled far to the east. What I had not done was travel north like the game wanted me to. And for that reason I missed out on important materials and supplies that I needed later in the game. Oops! The game was called Enshrouded, but I was playing it like Minecraft.

If not Minecraft? Why Minecraft shaped?

I spent a few hours doing low-level quests that I had long since out leveled and corrected my mistake. Back to farming! Back to cooking! Back to enjoying my little homestead! (Well, it wasn’t exactly mine. It belonged to old man Fenrig, and he was still alive, so now he has a lot of roommates.)

I have just about explored every area the game has to offer… possibly. I would delve into the story, but I can’t say there is much of any. I’ve fought some bosses, I’ve done a lot of quests, and I’ve died more times than I can count. So where does that leave me?

The cottagecore!

Now that I’ve played Enshrouded for around 80 hours, how does the cottagecore compare to Valheim?

Well… honestly, it’s a mixed pack. There’s a lot more control and opportunity to finetune your aesthetic to your liking in Enshrouded. And there are a lot more cosy food and drink to play with and decorate your dining hall. But… you don’t actually do any of that food prep yourself. The game has a bunch of workstations to process items into other items. But the actual meat and potatoes of the game’s crafting system relies on the survivors you recruit - specifically, the craftsmen.

I don’t cook food. No. I farm crops, process some of them into ingredients, and then bring them over to the Farmer in my house who’ll snap her finger and instantly transmute them into drinks and dishes. It’s… not exactly what I wanted. I like a more involved experience. The game has the right UI and mechanics to allow me to cook properly, but the game instead lets the NPCs handle it for me.

It kind of just takes the player out of the experience. It makes it feel like I’m playing a single-player MMO.

But can I at least enjoy the decorating and serving of foods? Well… sort of. Food items and drinks are surprisingly large and take up a lot of space on a table. So you can’t fit a whole lot on there before it is full. I could get a bigger table, but then I’d have to expand my farmhouse too. It’s a weird balance. And since I didn’t directly cook the foods myself, I honestly feel more like a waiter than a chef. It’s a weird feeling.

Enshrouded LOOKS more cottagecore than Valheim, but Valheim PLAYS more cottagecore than Enshrouded. Also, unlike in Valheim, you can’t fail at cooking. I would compare the farming, but aside from a minor difference in the farming cycle, it feels just about the same in both.

I can’t say that I am disappointed, not really. I’m enjoying the game a lot. But specifically for cottagecore, I think the lack of involvement holds it back a little. Oh well!

On a separate matter: I am seriously questioning the logic of food storage. I don’t mind that foods don’t perish, but I do mind when item stacks don’t make sense. Valheim has item slots, item stacks, and a carry weight mechanic. Enshrouded only has item slots, and item stacks. However those item stacks often leaves me scratching my head. Why do Hazelnuts only stack up to 20? Why does Milk stack up to 100? And why do Pumpkins stack up to 250? It just doesn’t make sense! Make it make sense!

Side tangent aside: I just wanted to talk about cottagecore some more. Maybe next time I’ll explore the cottagecore of Hytale. If it has it.

Just so we’re clear on what I mean with cottagecore in gaming, it means the following: a) you can build a house, or have a house, b) you can farm, or forage, for food, and c) you can cook said food and display it. This is just my definition. It might not be the most accurate, but it is what I focus on.

Times are Changing

Other than continuing to write So Apparently, I’m a Space Camper Now?, I now have a few other projects on the table to tackle. Recently I made the decision to move back to Sweden to live closer to family. It’s going to feel weird leaving the UK having spent more than half my life here, but I guess this is the right decision.

I also want to move in with my girlfriend of several years who’s still living in the US, so once I’m back in Sweden we’ll see about her pathway to emigrate there to live with me. To that end, we’re starting a joint project currently named Eastbound to help get us there with funding and support.

This is all predicated on the tentative hope that the current US president doesn’t decide to throw whatever wits he has left and invade Greenland and start a war with the entirety of NATO just for a landgrab and to satisfy his fear mongering. Not sure what will happen if that comes to pass, but I can only imagine all hell breaking loose. I shudder to imagine it.

Fingers crossed peace prevails and nothing comes of it, and I’ll have more to say about our project at a later date.

With the world being what it is, I wish I had something whimsical to share. But I really don’t. I just play a lot of games of late to distract myself from the world, but paradoxically I’ve been listening more and more to what is going on to stay informed.

Look after yourself.

Next Port of Call

I may have phoned in this post a little, but truly I have very little to share at this time. Perhaps next time life will have been more eventful in a positive way that I have more to share. But until then, this is about as much as I can offer.

And, if not, I’ll figure out something else to share. I’m sure there’s something in that old noggin of mine worth jogging.

Have a wonderful day!

CF Sten

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
Copyright © 2025 CF Sten - All rights reserved

🏠 Story Index

Quick recap: Anthony woke with grand plans to christen the new kitchen, only to find Dexter had beaten him to the coffee pot. The rich aroma triggered an unexpectedly vivid memory of his father, whose funeral had been celebrated with coffee and pastries rather than tears. Sadly, their first proper meal from the fancy new kitchen turned out to be “pharmaceutically optimised” bread and medicinal soup that made their old ration bars seem like gourmet fare.

The day’s agenda brought better news, though. Anthony and Naomi would be trekking up the mountain for a day or two to place geological probes for metal deposit scanning. As they packed their tents and supplies – including Anthony’s handmade stone hatchet that had become his pride and joy – he learned they’d be getting a new foundation module and barracks. Complete with an actual toilet. In the grand scheme of interplanetary colonisation, it …

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
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Quick recap: As night fell, Anthony explored the new modules with considerably less enthusiasm than one might expect for humanity’s march of progress. The hydroponics made him a plant babysitter, and the kitchen’s grey water disposal had both him and Dexter fretting about fish welfare.

Finally ready to confront his past, Anthony inserted the captain’s data chip into his PDA and discovered a treasure trove of self-discovery: qualification quizzes, consent forms, and video interviews. The audio file featured a suspiciously sultry recruiter whose emerald eyes and expensive earrings must have short-circuited Past Anthony’s better judgement. Between visceral reactions to her voice and recovered memories of the interview, he learned he’d been motivated by equal parts adventure and family loyalty. And that he’d literally consented to the risk of memory loss.

With two video files still unwatched and…

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
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Quick recap: What began as a momentous day for humanity – the official start of planetary colonisation – quickly devolved into a budget-conscious corporate affair with uninspired speeches. The Captain of the Lavenders In May arrived by shuttle (considerably nicer than Anthony’s pod experience), delivered some phoned-in remarks about “making history,” and revealed the whole operation was just a contract for clients still sleeping in orbit.

The celebration featured the largest cake Anthony had ever seen, triggering a cascade of recovered birthday memories: his brother, his separated parents, his foraging grandparents. Alas, his joy was short-lived as he attempted to introduce himself to a familiar-looking woman named Ruby and botched it by calling her “Rabychel”.

The visitors installed two new modules – hydroponics (Anthony: designated plant babysitter) and the habitation utility module (the “k…

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
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Quick recap: The captain and crew of the Lavenders in May arrived via shuttle for humanity’s most underwhelming colonisation ceremony. Corporate budget constraints meant no fancy speeches – just cake, awkward small talk, and the revelation that this entire planetary venture is contract work. Anthony learned his survival expertise might be more “backyard camper” than “professional,” received a mysterious dossier to help with his space lapse, and discovered that making history comes with absolutely zero fanfare when you’re on the budget plan.

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
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Quick recap: What began as a peaceful stakeout filled with interplanetary politics and vegetarian revelations quickly escalated into Anthony’s worst day yet. After learning more about Idunn’s bizarre colonial conflicts and Naomi’s surprisingly plant-based upbringing, the pair finally achieved their goal when the forest came alive with a magnificent insect orchestra.

Their triumph was short-lived, however, as the beautiful beetle symphony transformed into a deafening cacophony before the performers. Large, iridescent creatures the size of fists began to dive-bomb them like feathered coconuts. Naomi’s patience snapped along with their cover, and she christened the attackers “Bombardment Beetles” as she hoisted a shell-shocked Anthony over her shoulder and sprinted back to camp through a gauntlet of spooked bugs.

Left bruised both in body and dignity, Anthony retreated to his tent to nurse his…

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
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Quick recap: While testing their bush-based surveillance setup, Anthony and Naomi found themselves with time to kill as Dexter conducted increasingly profanity-laden connection tests from his trek back to base camp. Their intimate chat in the makeshift hide revealed more of Anthony’s recovering memories – childhood adventures with his grandparents, seasonal harvest work, and camping expeditions with a close-knit travel group. Together, they painted a picture of why he’d been drawn to this interplanetary venture.

Naomi, initially evasive about her homeworld, eventually opened up about Idunn’s three-way civil war between First-landers, Coastals, and her own Gardener faction. She explained decades of robotic warfare over territorial disputes that made no logical sense, while Dexter’s radio checks grew progressively more colourful, culminating in him wondering why his “cunts” weren’t answering …

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
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Quick recap: Anthony’s enthusiasm for the wildlife reconnaissance mission got off to a rocky start when he decided to play human alarm clock to his decidedly non-morning-person teammates. He nearly got himself shot by a very alert Naomi and thoroughly annoyed vampire-corpse Dexter in the process. Once his crew grudgingly assembled, however, they ventured into the alien forest where Dexter discovered more Crowned Pearl Beetles while Anthony marvelled at the industrious little creatures building elaborate stone huts along the riverbed like underwater estate agents competing for prime real estate.

The team’s collaborative spirit finally kicked in as they crafted camouflage gear: Naomi gathered materials, Dexter cleared a observation post, and Anthony channelled his inner fashion designer to create ghillie suits and a tiny ground-level tree hut. With their “inspired” bush cosplay complete and c…

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
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Quick recap: Anthony shared his theory about the suspiciously quiet forests with his towering teammate, Naomi. Convinced that the local wildlife might be hiding from their human presence, he proposed a reconnaissance mission using camouflage to observe any creatures they might be inadvertently scaring away. Naomi, bored with pacing around camp and eager for some proper military-style action, readily agreed to join the expedition.

Fish Villages and Fashion Disasters

Morning arose without much fanfare. The growling in my stomach suggested I had slept in quite a bit, and I was craving a snack; almost angrily so. To my surprise, I seemed to be the first one up and awake. Instead of waking the crew up, I took my time enjoying my ration and water – which admittedly was becoming rather boring to eat every meal – and stacked more firewood on the campfire between bites.

The sun wasn’t very high above …

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
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Quick recap: A snack break turned into a spiral of existential dread as our hero realised the forest might be avoiding them entirely. With a growing hunch that the local wildlife only gets chatty when he’s off the radar (read: soaking wet and half-drowned). Meanwhile, Dexter brought “news” from HQ – something about a password reset – and Naomi was off being mysterious until she suddenly wasn’t. The day ended with big dreams of mushroom stews, scenic selfies, and the cold realisation that this pretty little slice of wilderness might be destined to become a suburban hellscape of prefab flatpacks and mining drills…

Forest Whispers and Finger Guns

To say I was excited to wake up tomorrow would be a lie, but then again it was far too late to have any second thoughts on colonising a new planet. It wasn’t for me.

If my conversations with Dexter and Naomi was anything to go by, I was here for a pay c…

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
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Quick recap: Having survived another round of heavy lifting courtesy of Naomi's construction bootcamp, Anthony had some quality tent time to recover. Dexter's excitement over the newly operational command centre led to their first formal communication with HQ, though Anthony found himself locked out of the social chat room thanks to his amnesia-induced password problems. Undeterred, our resourceful space camper channelled his frustrations into productive craftwork: building a self-feeding campfire and mushroom drying racks with his trusty stone hatchet. Despite an unplanned second dip in the river, he successfully made several improvements to the camp and began to feel like he was actually getting the hang of this whole “primitive space homesteading” business...

Bubble Burst and Reality Bites

I hadn’t got too far into my next plan before my stomach was complaining. I took a stop by the old po…

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EXOGENESIS: SO APPARENTLY, I’M A SPACE CAMPER NOW?
Copyright © 2025 CF Sten - All rights reserved

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Quick recap: Having survived the gruelling installation of the command centre and solar array (not to mention Naomi’s idea of motivational coaching), Anthony discovered his talent for primitive craftsmanship. Armed with a stone hatchet of questionable quality but undeniable pride, he set about making their alien campsite feel more like home – one drying rack and self-feeding fireplace at a time. Meanwhile, Dexter established proper communications with HQ, though Anthony's amnesia-induced password problems left him locked out of the social chat room. Progress, it seemed, came in many forms.

When in Doubt – Build Stuff

Having rested a while, I started playing Solitaire. After only a few rounds, I heard a call from Dexter. He sounded quite excited about something.

I shuffled my way out of my tent and saw him at the doorway of the command centre, beckoning us to come inside. It was remarkably spa…

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