Why Did I do This?

[The Starver]

So, I asked AI to write a DS story... I got this:

Once upon a time, in the eerie and treacherous world of Don’t Starve, where sanity wavered like a flickering flame, 
a group of unlikely survivors found themselves trapped. Their existence was a delicate balance between hunger, fear, 
and the ever-present threat of monstrous creatures.

Wilson, the brilliant scientist, muttered to himself as he examined the peculiar flora around him. 
“It’s even more science-ey than the last one!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with curiosity. 
But science alone couldn’t save them from the encroaching darkness.

Wendy, the melancholic girl haunted by her twin sister’s ghost, clutched her luxury axe. 
“There’s no luxury like contributing to deforestation,” she mused, her voice echoing through the twisted forest. 
She knew that survival required sacrifices, even if they weighed heavy on her soul.

Webber, the spider-boy, scurried about, his multiple eyes scanning the horizon. “That sounded like a big meanie,” 
he warned when a giant approached. His eight-legged companions chittered in agreement, 
weaving webs to protect their fragile camp.

Maxwell, the enigmatic puppet master, reveled in the chaos. “This must be game logic,” 
he chuckled, breaking the fourth wall as he wielded his opulent pickaxe. 
His words held secrets, hints of a deeper truth hidden within the twisted reality.

Willow, the firestarter, huddled under a tree during a rainstorm. “You’re good for more than burning after all,” 
she muttered, her damp clothes clinging to her skin. The rain extinguished her flames, 
but her determination burned brighter than ever.

As days turned into nights, the survivors faced new challenges. WX-78, the emotionless automaton, examined a skeleton. 
“HA,” it declared, its metallic voice devoid of sympathy. Death was a mere inconvenience for this mechanical being.

Woodie, the lumberjack with a penchant for transformation, surveyed the landscape. 
“This is like watching meat dry in rain,” he grumbled, eyeing a pile of charcoal. 
His cursed axe awaited its next victim, ready to consume more trees and sanity.

And then there was Wigfrid, the Viking actress who longed for battle. She stared at the majestic moose. 
“I wish I cöuld ride it intö battle,” she lamented, her warrior spirit yearning for glory. 
But the moose remained elusive, a mythical beast beyond her grasp.

In this twisted realm, where shadows whispered and sanity teetered on the edge, the survivors clung to each other. 
They shared their cryptic quotes, their fears, and their hopes. For in Don’t Starve, 
survival wasn’t just about food and shelter—it was about unraveling the mysteries of a world that defied reason and sanity.

And so, their story continued, a patchwork of words and survival instincts, 
etched into the very fabric of this nightmarish land. For in Don’t Starve, 
every quote held a fragment of truth, waiting to be discovered by those brave enough to endure.

But whether they would ever escape this twisted reality remained uncertain. As Maxwell once said, 
“The gem conjures water springs in conjunction with the ‘Moon’s’ cycles.” 
Perhaps the answers lay hidden in the moon’s enigmatic glow. 
Or perhaps they were doomed to wander forever, caught in a perpetual dance between life and madness.

And so, dear reader, if you ever find yourself lost in the wilderness, remember these words: 
“Cooked evil is still evil, even in lasagna.” For in Don’t Starve, 
even a seemingly harmless meal could lead to your demise.

The end? Or perhaps just the beginning of another twisted tale in this unforgiving world.