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Don't Starve Together

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  1. I have loved this game for a while now- the art style, the mechanics, the wonderful characters, the strange environment and creatures, the rich but mysterious background lore, Klei's teasing us with puzzles outside the game - but something I always found of the most interest was the official timeline for the game, and one simple aspect of it. Why was Wilson the last one captured? Why did Maxwell seem to have to go out of his way to trap him by getting him to make a portal? What are the long-term consequences of moving all these people on both worlds? What other secrets might unravel if a little light is shed upon them? Just a few of the things I decided to look at as I delved into my exploration and interpretation of the lore through this writing. I plan to post some art as well, but until I've practice enough to where I'm comfortable with how I'm drawing this wonderful universe, please enjoy this first installment of my literary ramblings. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ Don't Starve Together - Lineage * Chapter 1 * The sky… it was always the same. No matter how many seasons had passed, how many places he’d been, the sky always remained the same - a pale, slightly grayish canvas with no variation, except on the occasions when rain was coming. The sky, however, was not the problem. Wilson sighed from where he was laying in the grass, letting his head tilt over to the side, gazing blearily at the activity a few yards from him, that of his fellow survivors busily at work building up their camp. Their newest camp at any rate; which one this was he’d lost count of now. Their latest rebuild after a world wiped clean by Charlie after they had all been killed. Just when it seemed like they might be gaining ground, getting into a position where perhaps they could live a somewhat comfortable, if unusual life, something always happened to destroy it all. Wilson let his head roll back towards the sky, closing his eyes and just laying there. He heard the footsteps of someone approaching him and stopping just short. He didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Hey Wilson… Are you alright?” It was Willow. “No.” There was a long pause. If she’d been waiting for Wilson to elaborate, it wasn’t coming. “The camp’s almost done, and Warly’s making lunch. Do you want to come sit by the fire? It’s kinda cold today,” Willow would coax. “No.” “Wigfrid found some gold, and we still have supplies, maybe you’d like to put the science machine together?” Wilson didn’t answer this time, rolling over onto his side facing away from Willow, eyes remaining closed. Willow scratched the back of her head with a frown, realizing that was probably not the best thing to have said. “Well, okay… we’ll be over here if you want to join us. We’ll save some lunch for you.” It wasn’t until Willow had walked away that Wilson would frown, giving another sigh. It was the blasted science machine that had caused the trouble this time - Wilson had been too occupied with fiddling with it, having an itch at the back of his mind that maybe there was something he hadn’t found yet, some secrets the gizmo had not show him yet among the clutter of broken thoughts and persistent inklings of information that the Forbidden Knowledge had left him when Maxwell had given it to him. The only part of that information that had ever been clear was the designs of the portal, the rest of the information was scattered chaos that only the strange mechanisms of the science machine and the alchemy engine seemed to help bring into focus in his mind. He often wondered if that was intentional or if Maxwell simply didn’t have any control of it, or even bothered to care, when he’d shoved it into Wilson’s head. It was in that focus, fiddling with the machine and grasping at the ideas just out of his reach, that he’d been too distracted to hear the sounds of the coming Deerclops before it was right on top of the base. The only one at the base at that time, and Wilson too absorbed in his work, he’d been taken down easily, as were the others as they trickled back to camp, or were taken down by the hounds that attacked soon after. An ‘extraordinarily ill-turn of events’ Wickerbottom had described it in the aftermath as they were all put back to life and dumped back on the newly rebuilt world; or perhaps they had just been dumped on one of the numerous islands that Maxwell had built that they just hadn’t been to yet, it was anyone’s guess. Wilson however was convinced it had happened because of his messing with the science machine. The timing was just too perfect, it had to have been punishment from Charlie for whatever it was Wilson was trying to work out. The others had tried to convince him otherwise, of course, but Wilson’s depression remained. The worst of it was when they were revived. Any other time, regardless of the circumstances, he remembered everything he’d learned, but whenever they all died, when every physical possession was taken from them, so too was the progress of his understanding the knowledge robbed from Wilson. A reminder it wasn’t actually his, perhaps, and a bitter reminder that he was still failing to discover anything original of any significance in his explorations as a scientist. It made Wilson cringe, curling up and trying to push the thoughts from his mind. By all things he held dear, he was never a religious man, but if a Hell truly existed, it was this wretched place. “Is Mr. Wilson going to be okay?” Webber asked, looking across the campfire they were all sitting around, having their meal. “He’ll be alright, deary. He’s lost his confidence, but that should mend in time,” Wickerbottom would say in a comforting tone. “It was a rough transition this time.” “Aye. Bad omens still hang in the air,” Wigfrid would say. “Well he’s being stupid!” Willow would snap. “He needs to stop being a dork and do some work. That sort of stuff can happen to anyone! Remember when Woody had us set up camp near that giant forest and we wound up with ten tree guards invading the camp at night? Or when Wolfgang got lost and didn’t make it back to the Antlion in time to calm that baby down. And I don’t even want to talk about the Varg.” “I said I was sorry!” Warly grimaced. “I didn’t realize the tracks circled back towards camp, it was dark!” “Point is we all got over it and got back to work. Sulking isn’t going to help us get control of the situation again,” Willow huffed. “Control is a fleeting illusion to comfort one’s self in the face of their mortality,” Wendy spoke placidly. “You need to get a hobby, kid,” Willow, looking at her weirdly. “And not like the last time. You know, when you were just staring at the skeletons all day…” “For now it’s just best to give Mr. Higgsbury his space until he’s settled down,” Wickerbottom would say. “He’s never been one to give up. He was the one out of all of us that made it to Maxwell, after all. He met his death a hundred times but he kept after him until he finally reached him. But everyone needs a rest, now in then. He’ll be back to it in time.” The rest of the day carried on without incident - wood was gathered, grass cut, twigs collected, rabbits terrified… Wilson eventually came into the camp to sit by the fire but he would not eat anything, just staring into the flames, brooding. The others brought him materials, but Wilson did little more than push the materials around with a twig that he had been using to poke the fire, not directly touching any of it. Really anyone could have built the science machine, but the more technical items always seemed to work better when Wilson built them (much to Winona’s ire), and they were probably hoping him playing scientist would bring him out of his funk. Playing. That’s all I ever did with any of my education. I’m a hobbyist, not a scientist. “Well this is a lovely picture. A shame you couldn’t have been this well behaved before. We all would have been in better situations.” “Go away, Maxwell,” Wilson said dully, not looking up at the obnoxious man. This only prompted the magician to sit down beside him though. Wilson tried to ignore him, but a puff of smoke in his direction would cause him to start coughing, breaking his composure. “Damn it Maxwell, take that somewhere else! Where did you even find a cigar around here?! We were all just revived!” “I don’t find them, I make them. I’ve learned to be resourceful after you so rudely removed me from my throne,” Maxwell spoke, still with his tone of royalty. “It’s hard work to acquire the finer things in life here, and I shall enjoy them where I please.” “You haven’t done any hard work since the day we decided to let you stay in the group with us instead of running you off for kidnapping all of us, or executing you on sight every time you revived,” Wilson growled. “Try bringing in a full day’s worth of cutting logs, or gathering stone.” “Now why should I do that when I have all the rest of you better suited to sweating to do such things?” Wilson didn’t bother to pursue the conversation, too tired and irritated at the course of the day. Instead he went upwind of the fire and Maxwell’s cigar before putting down a bed roll. Maybe this could all just be one convoluted nightmare from the fumes of his chemistry equipment and he would wake up in his own bed… “Sweet dreams, Higgsbury.” * * * A forest dense with foliage, and shrouded by the dark of the night, made worse by a veil of thin fog hanging in the air. All was quiet aside from the occasional brushing sound of the leaves as they were traveled through. Ahead, a slow, continuous movement in the fog, a bushy tail, that of a red fox, who occasionally looked back at the one following it. Eventually the forest gave way to a clearing, an open hill upon which a house sat abandoned, beginning to decay. The fox paused, looking back again and making a brief noise, then began to prowl forward towards the house, slowly circling and approaching it with caution. The back was in worse shape, a hole torn by lightning and fire, a portion of the floors above collapsed by the strain of a great weight. Among the rubble something sat awkwardly, shrouded by the darkness and the rubble. A machine… * * * Mmm… that dream again… I wonder if Maxwell’s causing it… Wilson sat up, rubbing the side of his head to chase out the cobwebs as he roused. He was having it frequently now, the dream of how his house had aged. Every time he had the dream he got a little closer to the house. If that was him. He was never sure if that was supposed to be himself in the dream following the fox, or if he was meant to be something else and seeing through their eyes. Really he didn’t even know why there was a fox in the dream either, other than that it was one of the few critters that remained around the place after he had moved in. Most other wildlife seemed to have moved out after the first fire, but occasionally he’d see a curious fox poking around in the bushes at the edge of the clearing, or being brazen enough in the evening to investigate his trashcans. Perhaps in his mind that was the only creature bold enough to venture up to his house after he’d cursed it with building that portal. Or maybe it was just the fact that red was his favorite color, and it was the first thing his mind went to when filling the cast for a half-lucid nigh time delusion. Wilson pushed the dream out of his mind as he rubbed his eyes, taking in stock of the camp. It was already mid-day, most of the rest of their ‘troop’ had already gotten to work or otherwise left the camp. I should get to work too. No reason for me to be to be a lazy leech like Maxwell living off of other people’s work. Sulking isn’t going to get anything done. Wilson took a moment to take a deep breath, then gave one final sigh. “Alright science, time to get to it.” The rest of the day went quickly by, the bounty of resources provided by the other survivors making Wilson’s work go swiftly. Perhaps he wasn’t fully losing the knowledge, as he was remembering what materials went into his creations, it was just a matter of remembering how to put everything together, like a word on the tip of your tongue struggling to get out without a hint. Or maybe Maxwell and Charlie were somehow blocking the knowledge just to inconvenience me into doing everything all over again. Wilson decided not to dwell on it, instead throwing himself into making gear for everyone from the materials they’d provided. By the time dusk had arrived, he had assembled a backpack for everyone, each loaded with goods and tools, even one for Maxwell, though he suspected it would go unused. Wilson was finally starting to feel pretty good about the situation, until a familiar smokey scent caught his nostrils. “Well it’s about time, Higgsbury,” Maxwell spoke as he came up behind Wilson, smoking that cigar again. Or maybe it was a new one, Wilson couldn’t tell. “Maxwell, just what is it in there you’re smoking?” The scientist would ask. Maxwell seemed briefly surprised, then gave Wilson a suspicious look. “Why the sudden interest in my recreation, Higgsbury?” “I had a weird dream last night. The last time I had it you were also smoking one of those cigars that same night.” “Ah. Allay your fears, my furry friend, I don’t have anything hallucinogenic in my cigars. Any delusions your twisted little mind might be dreaming up are strictly your own fault.” “My fault?” Now Wilson was irritated. “I don’t know, I would think perhaps the person who kidnapped me into a twisted. nightmarish version of a wilderness might have the most to do with any weird dreams I’m having.” “Ah, but I didn’t kidnap you,” Maxwell countered. “I just gave you some knowledge that might be useful, and pointed out an interesting little gizmo. You were the one who decided to build and test it, with some minimal encouragement from me. I can’t help it that you never realized that without anything else to offer in your place, that you’d wind up being the test subject for it.” That, for Wilson, was the last straw on his already worn-thin patience. With no more warning the dropping the tool he had been working with, the scientist turned on Maxwell to attack him. Wilson had little time to do more than grab Maxwell before the others at camp intervened, separating them before the scientist could strangle the magician or worse. “That’s it! I’m done with this!! I’m tired of being your passive little punching bag, Maxwell!” Wilson shouted from where Willow and Wigfrid were holding him back, Wolfgang having grabbed Maxwell by the scruff of his suit to keep him out of reach of Wilson, barely. “Easy now there, lad. No need to get riled up over that dark mage’s mangy hide,” Wigfrid tried to consul. Wilson would move away from Maxwell, pulling out of the grip of the two women, looking even more angry now. “He’s done this to all of us, and you’re all protecting him!? I’m not standing for this anymore! Let him deal with and die in his torture chamber on his own! I’m done with ALL of this,” He turned swiftly from the group, grabbing up one of the backpacks and throwing it over his shoulder, starting to storm out of camp. “Wilson! Where are you going, it’s almost night you dork!” Willow yelled after him. “I’ve got a torch. I’m setting my own camp. Good riddance,” Wilson growled. And with that he disappeared among the trees, leaving the shocked survivors in his wake. * * * Knock-knock-knock “Come in, Willow.” “...Wow...” She had been expecting a campfire and a few chests, but as Willow cautiously opened and entered the gate of Wilson’s new location, what she found was a wood walled, fully stocked camp with storage, cook pot, drying racks, a tent, workbench, even an alchemy engine. “It’s…nice…” She finally decided. “Big, for..you know, one overnight…” “I build fast when I’m motivated, and can’t sleep…” Wilson answered, sitting on a log near his fire pit, his tone and expression somewhere between irritated and… sad. “About last night… we’re all sorry,” Willow started to say. Wilson looked surprised, if not alarmed. “Oh no, it’s not your fault! Not anyone’s fault. Except mine,” Wilson answered, looking dejected again. “It’s my fault Maxwell’s here to make us miserable. I got him off the throne. I didn’t kill him when I had the chance to when we met in the wilderness once I was off the throne. I helped and fed him when I realized he wasn’t capable of surviving in his own world he’d created. And I was the one that protected him and said we shouldn’t stoop to his level, when we all started to gather together and the rest of you wanted to lynch him for everything he did to us.” “Well, you were right,” Willow said sitting down beside him. “We’re not murderous madmen like he was. And he would’ve just come back anyways if we’d killed him with how this stupid place works. We would’ve been wasting our time. We’ve all had our snapping point with him, it was finally your turn. If you want to stay away from us for awhile, we understand.” “I don’t want to leave you guys, I just don’t want to be around Maxwell for a while,” Wilson decided. “I’m not moving out or anything, I’ll still be around camp. I sorta just want someplace I can go to when he gets to be too much. I think I’ll use this place as a laboratory. Some place I can mess around with things, without worrying about being too close to the rest of you, if something goes wrong…” “Well I guess it’s good to have a backup camp. In case I burn it down, you know, or Woody goes sleep-walking as the beaver again and chews up anything made of wood at the camp,” Willow said, looking towards the still-open gate. “We, uh.. just kinda figured you’d wind up going father away than a 10 minute walk around the trees…” “Well there wasn’t a lot of time before night, and like I said I didn’t want to get too far from you guys, just Maxwell. He does so little he’d probably be out of breath before he got halfway here,” Wilson mused. “Yeah. Maybe if you keep away from him for a bit those dreams will settle down.” “Ms. Wickerbottom mentioned that, eh?” Wilson asked. “Yeah I asked her before if she knew what might be causing it, since she knows so much about all sorts of random things. Wasn’t really much that helped, just a lot of possibilities. I guess I’m getting homesick, thinking about what’s happened to my place since I haven’t been around. I suppose I should just be happy I’m not having actual nightmares. And that I lived so far out of the way that no-one should stumble onto that portal before it decays.” I guess that’s one good thing about being on bad terms with the rest of my family, no-one cares to check when you’ve been gone for too long. “Alright. Well, I’d better get back to the main camp, let everyone know what’s going on,” Willow would say, starting to get up. “Do you.. want to come along, maybe?” “Sorry, no. I think it’s too soon for me to see Maxwell again. Please give everyone my sincerest apologies,” Wilson would answer. “Is there anything we can do?” Willow asked. “Yes, actually. Can you try to find out what Maxwell’s been putting in his cigars?” “What, do you want some of that nasty stuff?” Willow was giving Wilson a weird look. “No, I want to get rid of whatever his source is. I swear he’s only making those things just to torture the rest of us,” Wilson said with an annoyed look at the thought of it. “I hear that. Even I won’t light those things for him,” She said making a face. “I’ll have everyone keep an eye out.” “Thanks Willow.” The next few days went on without much trouble out of the ordinary. Wilson received frequent visits from the other survivors (minus Maxwell who was wisely staying away, and WX-78 who just didn’t care), and he made visits to the main camp as well to upgrade and maintain the equipment. It was by the fourth day that Wilson realized that he hadn’t seen Maxwell at all the entire time. “Yeah, that purple-suited devil hasn’t been around much. Pops in now and then, and sleeps overnight at the camp, but otherwise he’s been scarce,” Woodie would say after Wilson had inquired. “Me and Lucy tried to follow him a couple of times, but he’s a wily one, keeps giving us the slip.” “He’s so scrawny it’s hard to tell him apart from a tree trunk!” The talking axe piped up. “Thanks, I guess. You haven’t noticed him doing anything strange when he has been around, have you?” Wilson asked. “Not really. The robot’s been acting suspicious, though. The walking can’s been swiping supplies here and there, getting defensive if he gets caught and trying to divert our attention. We’re used to him trying to make off with the gears to eat, but it’s been regular stuff. Rocks and twigs, grass ropes, that sorta stuff. Ms. Wickerbottom thinks he’s taken enough stuff to make his own camp by now.” “Maybe. He’s never really cared about any of us, other than that the more of us there are around, the less likely he’s going to be targeted,” Wilson answered, rubbing his chin in thought, puzzling over the behavior as well. “You haven’t seen him and Maxwell together, have you?” “Not that I can recall. How about you, Lucy?” “Nope, they’ve been staying away from each other when they’re at the camp.” “That’s strange. They seemed to be getting pretty friendly with each other on the last world,” Wilson said, now suspicious as well. “You think the ‘bot and the ‘suit are in cahoots with each other?” Woodie asked. “Maybe. WX steals the supplies while Maxwell sets up camp,” Wilson surmised. “Or he’s just running distraction while Maxwell is up to other mischief. We’d better keep an eye on the both of them…” Wilson then frowned. “IF I can keep an eye on them. I haven’t seen either of them since I set up my lab.” “No worries, Wils, Lucy and I’ll keep an eye out for them. We’ll deal them some swift woodlands justice if they’re up to trouble,” Woodie said proudly, holding up Lucy. “Just try to keep ‘em in one piece. I’ll have some questions for them once they get caught at something,” Wilson answered, picking up his backpack to head out. “Where you off to now?” Woodie asked. “Back to the lab, I got a lot of work to do. Winter will be here soon and I want to get equipment ready for spring before we get stuck huddling by the campfires all winter. I’d rather not be trying to set up the lightning rods again while the thunderstorms are are already on top of us,” Wilson answered. “Haha, that was a fun night. Good thing WX took the hits instead. I can still smell smoke on him sometimes,” Woodie laughed. “Just make sure you’re getting some sleep, Wils. The dark circles around your eyes are looking worse than normal.” “Maybe once I get the equipment done. I haven’t exactly been eager at the prospect of dreaming again. The only dreams I’ve had lately are making me homesick.” “Home’s wherever you make it, so long as you got the people around you that you care about. Ain’t that right, Lucy?” “Oh you’re so sweet, Woodie!” Wilson frowned, starting to head out. He knew what Woodie had meant, about the other people they’d become friends with that were here with them in the Constant, but now he was feeling homesick again. He might not have gotten along with his family…but it would’ve been nice to see them again. Maybe I should’ve thought about that before I moved out into the middle of no-where with no way to reach human society…even if they were jerks… His mood now sour instead of homesick, Wilson marched himself back to his lab, throwing himself into his work. What did it matter now what his family was up to? He was here now, all he could do was try to make the best of it. * * * The fog… the walk through the forest.. the approach of the house… the eerie stillness all around… All was the same as before, creeping once again closer to the machine in the dark. And then… pausing… Slowly the gaze traveled around the room, trying to see details in the dark, searching for something unseen… The fox took a step at a time closer, moving with great caution, gazing at the machine… The movement was sudden, the unnatural glow of the machine as it sprang to life, like the switch thrown by unseen hands. In an instant those hands shot forward, shadows incarnate, grabbing the fox and yanking it into the darkness, swallowed by the shadows before it could finish uttering a yelp. The wandering gaze of the unseen had snapped back to the portal at the light and the movement, but it had all happened too quick for it to have taken any action. Around the portal the shadows had begun to swell up, starting to move towards the gazer, but a different source of light would cause them to shudder, shrinking back and disappearing entirely, leaving the portal and the rubble in the room now fully visible. Everything inside the house had been left utterly destroyed, except the portal… The gaze turned once more on the portal, everything else seeming to lose focus as it stared at the malicious machine. And then with great speed it moved forward, rushing to the portal… * * * Wilson woke with a start, looking around in panic, gasping. Slowly he started to calm down, putting a hand to his head to clear the cold sweat on his brow. He was at his workbench, having fallen asleep in the middle of his project. It was full night now, but his fire was still lit, so he couldn’t have been asleep very long. Tonight was the full moon, so it wouldn’t have mattered, but the still burning fire gave him some comfort. Wilson pushed his seat away from the work bench, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, and the dream from his mind. The eerie feeling continued to hang around him though, causing him great discomfort. Why would the shadows care about snatching a woodlands animal? Why was he having these dreams now-turned nightmare in the first place? Why did he even care about a stupid delusion about some place he could never get back to? Wilson got up from his seat, heading quickly for his gate without bothering to grab any supplies, just wanting to be out of his camp. After a few moments walk in the cold night air the creepy feeling would leave him, but he did not feel any better. I want to go home… not back to that house.. back to those woods. I want to go… home… Wilson turned his head towards the sky, staring at the heartless ‘moon’ for several moments in anguish before he let his head drop back down, starting to rub his eyes before the tears could finish forming. A gentleman did not cry, despite whatever the circumstances. He needed to be strong for the people around him. But he was so tired… It was like when Charlie took the powers of the throne from him, she also took a piece of himself as well. Perhaps that was the price of his freedom from the throne, that he could never be the same again. The cold, quiet air seemed to be helping, Wilson slowly calming down. Maybe the breakdown was inevitable, but he was glad he didn’t have it in front of the others. But where do I go from here… Wilson hugged himself with his arms, shivering as he finally started to feel the bite of the cold night. Winter was almost on top of them now, much quicker than normal. He didn’t have the luxury of sulking anymore, he needed to get back to work. It was as he was turning to head back to his lab that a movement caught his eye, something moving in the darkness at the edge of the trees. The eerie feeling started to creep back up Wilson’s spine as the man turning to look for the movement. He couldn’t see anything moving now that he was looking for it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there… Then a different movement caught his eye, something more distant. A human form? Squinting into the dark, Wilson soon realized what he saw skulking about in the nighttime air was none other than Maxwell, whose gaze was focused intently on the ground. He seemed most focused on the flowers, pausing when he would encounter one, inspecting it thoroughly before moving onto the next. He must have been looking for evil flowers, which bloomed most often under the pale light of the full moon. “Looking for Nightmare Fuel components?” Maxwell jumped at the sudden noise, straightening up quickly from the flower he had been stooping to inspect, then looking annoyed once he realized who had come up on him. “Higgsbury. Shouldn’t you be busy getting your hands caught in some gears or burning your workbench?” “I thought I might enjoy the night air before making my workbench into charcoal,” Wilson replied acidly. “Why are you skulking around so late?” “What does it look like to you? I’m gathering resources,” Maxwell replied in his royal tone. “For your own twisted motives or for everyone?” “Dear little Higgsbury, when will you learn, whatever most benefits me also benefits everyone else.” “We need to to talk about how exactly your cigars are not benefiting everyone else,” Wilson answered in a deadpan tone. “Now now, Higgsbury, we went over this before…” Maxwell started to lecture, but Wilson was no-longer listening to him. His eye had caught a movement again, but this time he saw it more clearly - one of the shadow creatures. A chill went down his spine again - he had no headache, none of the physical symptoms he had whenever his sanity was in danger - but he could still see the shadow creature, as well as others, starting to creep through the trees, moving as though they had purpose. “Are you listening to me, Higgsbury?!” Maxwell barked, annoyed at the scientist seeming to tune him out. He followed Wilson’s gaze to the trees, and then he too seemed surprised at the sight of the moving shadows. “Isn’t the camp… Higgsbury!” Wilson had abandoned Maxwell, taking off after the shadows at a run, having too realized what way the shadows were traveling. He only caught occasional glimpses of the darkness incarnate, but after chasing them for a short while he realized their destination was somewhere else, missing the main camp by a fair distance. They were headed for the portal… Wilson slowed down, moving into the treeline, trying to give himself some cover. He almost jumped as Maxwell arrived behind him, out of breath, also doing the same. “You annoying… little midget… you just left me….” “Quiet!” Wilson hissed, looking back to the Florid Postern, watching as the shadows settled in around the plants and trees, hiding themselves a short distance from the portal, then making no other movements. They were just… waiting for something… The normally invisible passage of the portal would become visible, glowing faintly with its swirling energy as a shapeless blob of shadows seemed to melt out of it. Wilson looked briefly at Maxwell, seeing an equally puzzled expression on the magician as he gazed at the lump of shadows. He’d never seen the shadows actually use the portal, they seemed able to move themselves between worlds without direct aid, so long as some kind of bridge had been made between them, like the Florid Postern, or the Teleportato. Wilson’s attention was drawn back to the portal, the blob of shadows moving away from the portal, and the hidden shadows rearing up from their hiding places, starting to gather around the portal like shapeless snakes poised to strike… The glow on the portal became brighter, behaving now as it would for a normal arrival, emitting a brief surge of light as the new form emerged. In that instant the shadows struck, all surging forward, striking like a hammer from all angles before the form had finished appearing, surrounding and swarming it. Alarmed, Wilson started to run towards the portal, but he got no more than two steps before he was yanked to a stop, grabbed by his arm by Maxwell. “Don’t be stupid, Higgsbury!” “We have to help!” Wilson yelled. “What do you expect to do!? We don’t even know what that is!” Maxwell snapped back, digging his fingernails into Wilson’s arm to prevent his escape. Wilson tried to fight the grip, but a strange noise turned his head back to the portal. The shadows were changing shape, looking more like a bubble, straining to stay small but being stretched to its limit. An instant later and the breaking point was reached, a bright flash of light blinding both humans and causing both of them to shield their eyes, Maxwell releasing Wilson on reflex. The scientist tried to rub the glare out of his eyes, looking back to the portal again to see fragments of shadows trying to gather themselves back, scattered in a wide radius around a glowing form. A white body that shined not with the light of the moon, but from its own glowing light; four legs with cloven hooves, stamping angrily at the ground; a long, lion-like tail that lashed back and forth; all connected to a horse-like body that ended in a glowing spiral horn, brandished threateningly towards the first blob of shadow that had emerged, now also laying partway exposed to reveal a trapped red fox, crying out for aid. Wilson stood in utter shock, the continuation of his last lucid dream now playing out right before his concision eyes in alarming clarity. Wilson almost took a step forward, but he was suddenly yanked back again, Maxwell having grabbed the collar of the scientist’s shirt, pulling him into the trees. “STOP IT Maxwell!! Let me-!” “Shut up, Higgsbury!” Maxwell hissed, clamping a hand over the scientist’s mouth. Wilson tried to pry the hand off of his mouth, but Maxwell’s demeanor made him stop short, greatly concerned. He’d never seen the magician look so alarmed. Bright flashes of light, followed by surges of consuming shadows, danced among the trees that Maxwell had made them hide in, Wilson’s eyes only able to catch brief glimpses as shadow and light warred at the Florid Postern. Then a single brilliant flash, followed by an overwhelming silence… Shadows seemed to settle back into the area. Normal shadows, not the living manifestations of nightmare fuel. This time Wilson was able to gently pry Maxwell’s grip off of him, the magician not trying to grab him again. Wilson crept carefully through the trees, pushing aside the branches to gaze out at the portal. Light glowed in front of the portal, the unicorn nuzzling the red fox, which seemed no worse for wear, leaning back against the unicorn’s muzzle. Its little friend now safe, the unicorn straightened up, for the first time taking stock of where it was. The shadows that had tried to swarm it were gone, all crawled back into invisibility in the darkness. It looked back at the portal, now dark and closed, then gazed up at the sky, and the shining full ‘moon’ above. Finally it turned is gaze towards the ground and the surrounding area, and then, towards Wilson… The scientist found himself frozen, unable to move, not daring to. Its eyes were locked upon him for he didn’t know how long, staring at him, staring into him… Finally the unicorn turned, looking back towards the fox briefly before it turned its whole body towards another stand of trees, taking off at a brief pace, followed quickly by the little fox. By the time Wilson finally moved, it was already gone, lost in the fog among the trees.
  2. Looking for some one who can draw all of the DS and RoG characters, I have a plot for a fanfic, but I reeeally want it to be a comic, so who can draw? (Cause I really can't draw) My main characters will be Wilson, Wendy, Abigail, Wigfrid, Webber and Maxwell, although Charlie will also appear a bunch. If you're interested, show me how you draw these characters. I would like some one who's pretty flexible, because I can be kinda particular and that can come off as rude, unfortunately. In advance, if I'm like 'I don't like how you draw their nose' or something, just say I'm being petty and I'll probably stop. I promise I won't take offense, since I know I am petty. Please let me know if you'd like to help! Seems like I've found someone, thanks Minespatch! *Please note, this is just a first draft of the very start. If my writing isn't it's best, I apologize. Also yes, Wigfrid is supposed to be overly dramatic* the script for the very beginning is done, it is inclosed below, and more is on the way. I'm going for pretty short chapters, that way I can probably write 1-3 a week. And #2 is here as well! Because of the completely maddening formatting, you have to click though two spoilers to get to it, my apologies!
  3. Yes if you see this and you have seen the title in a forum category saying Tales of Life and Death. When I read tales, I thought it was for fanfics and things like that but it wasn't, so unfortunately I had to hide that forum. And start a new one here. If you didn't see the other forum, well that's alright you won't miss anything... Anyway back to the why I made this... Secrets of The Higgsbury Family is a story about Wilson, an OC I made, an OC that @Quoth143 made and few other characters. Wilson knows as few secrets to his family but decides to hide it from everyone else. One night after Wilson was attacked by the new chess peice, the survivors try to decipher what Wendy's nightmare meant to them and their survival. I also will post some Fanart here as well, from time to time.
  4. Chapter I: Another Day With Them Wilson woke up from his slumber to the familiar feel of a slightly lumpy, yet comforting spring mattress. He sat up, and looked around, a bit confused. It was his old bedroom, back at the....well, others wouldn't call it a mansion. But Mister Higgsbury often referred to it as such. All the familiar things were there. A few blueprints lying on a wooden stool next to the bed, a bureau with a childhood photo of himself displayed in a wooden frame, a small metal toolbox with certain supplies. It all seemed so strange. What had happened...who knows how long ago? He looked at the wall facing his bed, where there was a rather old-looking calendar. By the looks of it, he had only been gone for one day. The days certainly seemed a lot longer. How could that be? He looked out his bedroom window, at the road leading up to the decrepid mansion. The twisting road and gnarled, leafless trees seemed so very unchanged. The skies were clear for a change. Wilson stepped back and shook his head in surprise. Was it all a dream? The man on the radio, the machine, the strange hands? All the things he had made in the strange wilderness were gone. Maybe it was all a fever dream of some sort. He hurried downstairs, and headed into the "living room", where the machine had been. It was gone, as if it had never existed. A thick line of static came from the radio. All the scientific equipment and lab animals were there, with an almost uncanny level of organization. Wilson stopped and shook his head even harder, the idea of it actually all not being real having trouble sinking in. A relieved sigh escaped the scientist's lips. He left the living room and headed into the main hall. On a golden stand was a fine black jacket and top hat. After what had just happened, maybe a break from science was in order. A bit of socializing would do the mind good. He put on the coat and top hat, and put his hand on the knob of the front door to leave, when suddenly, he heard something from the radio, just barely. A single, solitary, "Hey." Against better judgement, he walked back over to the radio. "Say, pal..." came the radio's voice. It was the exact same one from his strange dream. A wave of dread overtook Wilson. He slowly started to back away. "Hey! Pal, where do you think you're running off to?" Wilson couldn't bring himself to answer. He bolted back into the hall and out the door. He didn't want anything more to do with that voice. All he really wanted was to be as far away from that place as possible, for a while. Unfortunately, he didn't even make it down past the porch before he was stopped by two familiar, shadowy claws, transparent, yet visible, waiting for him. He barely had time to scream before they grabbed him, choking him and slowly pulling him into darkness. He could hear a loud hiss. He awoke again with a scream, this time returned to the smell of a fire pit that had just gone out, a spear at his side, and the cawing of a crow. That was a dream, instead. This land is Wilson's nightmare, one that is all too real.
  5. This is my Don't Starve comic/fic. I have a character of mine who is also in them too. I'll be updating it and hopefully making more if you guys like it. Thanks! (Sorry about the size issues, I tried to fix it)
  6. Co-written by Tjally and Catface *Edit* font was all messed up, reposted the fanfic, cannot use tab to make dents. - Reverted Ascend - Once the sun had set Wilson snuck out of his bed, entered the hallway and slowly made his way towards his father's study, tip-toeing past his parent's bedroom with held breath. With the door ajar and the moonlight illuminating his surroundings he slipped into the murky room and approached his father's desk. Crouching he retrieved his father's suitcase from it's hiding place just under the desk, spawning a cloud of dust as he pulled out the old thing. They would never miss it, he told himself. It wasn't... It wouldn't be stealing if... He cut himself off there, opening the case with a soft clack. Inside he found a few of his father's forgotten clothes, some inconspicuous documents and even the illustrated bible his old man had accused him of burning when he was younger. It had been one of his earlier experiments, but that would have been infinitely worse to admit than the burning of his father's bible. Once he had tossed aside the old junk he dragged the leather suitcase back to his own room - his shoulders tense as bowstrings when he snuck it past his sleeping parents.Inside he put down the case next to his bed and began to pack everything he needed. He had already taken considerable time to collect his belongings for the journey, it would take only a minute or so to complete the task; both of the books he owned, two sets of clothing, paper, pens, ink, his notebook, all of the money he had saved, and last of all; the directions to an abandoned house near the town of Shanter, soon to become inhabit-ed. Once the last of his gear was stashed inside he silently closed the leather suitcase with a click, stood up and made his way towards the front door, crossing the hallway and descending the stairs before approaching the doorstep. Even though the stairs had creaked under the weight of the heavy suitcase his parents remained asleep, and with a shiver he found himself hoping they would remain so forever, so they would never witness what he had done... "Son, don't listen to what those mad people say. Pity them instead. They lost their connection to God, and choose to plague His children with their nonsense" Staring at the door handle he took a moment to look around and soak in his familiar suroundings, feeling both queasy and excited at the thought of never seeing it again. A wooden cross looming over him- one of many in his parents' house - leered at him with fury judgement, reminding him of the many times the priests had forcefully tried to expel the demons from his body.As silently as he could he grabbed a black winter coat - the warmest his mother owned - before slipping outside during the depths of the night.When he was two streets away, snow began to silently fall on the roofs and streets, cloaking his departure.Once at the train station he looked around and found the platforms nearly empty, only a few poor souls mulled around, spending the night on benches otherwise meant for travelers. Their bloodshot eyes gazed at him as he passed each one of them, and he hid behind his coat to avoid their fey looks. "Don't look at them Wilson... Oh, don't feel sorry for them. Their choices are what led them there, and God always gives His children what we deserve." Wilson shook his head and snowflakes fell out of his hair as he turned his focus towards the lights coming in from the distance. His ride had arrived.With the huffing and puffing of old metal and steam the machine eventually came to a stop, the doors opened and Wilson went aboard.Shivering he took seat in one of the empty wagons, looking outside he could see an im-maculate blanket of white disappear into the dense forests. Less than five minutes later he watched his hometown slowly vanish from his sight, and tried to swallow down the knot in his throat. Where he'd be going, there would be no more crosses, holy water or other sacred things, only science. "Scientists are infidels, they speak nothing but lies!" Wilson fumbled with the handle on his suitcase. Science is not devilry, Science is not sin, science is not devilry... He still only half believed it.The train rode on for the night, and half of the following day, stopping every now and then to pick up other travelers or to drop them off at their point of destination. After what seemed like an eternity of passing from train to train, Wilson finally arrived at his destination; Shanter.Shanter was an old town, and miraculously it had never grown large or diminished. It was rumoured to be cursed or so he had heard, so maybe that was the reason. A large pine forest on top of soft hills surrounded the village, and apart from the train station it was effectively cut off from civilization. It could very well be that was the reason if Shanter's neutral growth.The people of the village were quiet and sullen, their eyes almost locked to Wilson's back as he passed them with his heavy suitcase. It took all the willpower he had not to break into a jog and run from their prying judgement, but in the end he managed to maintain his composure and continue his casual stroll. It seemed to take ages until he'd passed the last house, and even then the few minutes it took him to disappear into the forest felt longer that they were supposed to. As he closed in on his destination, he could still sense those strange and suspicious looks, staring right through the forest. He shivered. "How does God know what we do good and wrong? Why that's simple, He' is always watching us Wilson, we're not a moment alone in this cold world." Wilson had reached the end of the path, and a ragged house on top of a desolate hill appeared from behind the trees. A worn sign stood in front of it, proclaiming:HAUNTED - DO NOT ENTERWilson walked up to the sign, pulled it out of the ground and tossed it down near the deteriorating fence. "Science knows no ghosts." Still, an eerie chill went down his spine as he continued towards the house, and the ominous creaking of the door made him think of the Devil's laughter. The inside was dusty, and only partially furnished. Of the furniture, the tables, bookshelves and a big chair were all covered in cloth, the white fabric thick with dust and grime.He put his suitcase onto the table and took out the books he'd taken with him. Taken from the library just a few days ago. He hadn't dared to read them until now, and even just flipping them open had made him queasy in anxiety. God is always watching... Science says there is no God. "... People who are lost from God are the only ones bold enough to lie in the light of truth." He stared at the book, his fingers lingering on the cover. He could read all of it in peace and complete silence. There would be no one here to scold him for practicing science, no forced prayers, fearful looks, nothing of that! He flipped open the book and immersed himself in the detailed illustrations of a dissection, hundreds of small notes scribbles around to explain the use and nature of each individual muscle and sinew. Organs held almost half of the book, and in the very back were the obsecure instructions to a Scientific vivisection.Wilson felt a half crazed smile creep over his lips, and he pulled the money from his suitcase, together with the half-burned notebook which held all of his theories.He started putting all of it in their rightful places, coat in a corner, notes spread out on the table, and books finally flipped open and spread like eagle wings on the wooden surface of the table. It was a meager start, but it was more than he'd ever had before. This was his laboratory.He started with the books that had always been forbidden to him from a young age. "Those books speak the Devil's words, boy!""Science is a dark art, a demon that attempts to stray you from the path of God, Wilson.""What did you do to that mouse?! Why did you do this Wilson, answer me!""There he is, that strange little boy, stay away from him child, he's a devil""-hair like the devil's horns... Sometimes I worry so much father, what can I do?!" He didn't sleep that night, the two forbidden books absorbing all his attention until the very last word had been consumed. Once he'd finished, he feared for himself. What the books spoke of was devil work, evil and untruths, vile lies to mislead from the path of God, and yet it made him buzz in excitement and itch from longing.He ran a hand through his hair, finding the strange crooked horns that refused to fall like normal hair ought to. His throat hurt. "- banish the demon from this child, let him once again follow the serene guidance of God! Amen!" He stared at the illustrations in his book, and where disgust should have devoured him, only a hunger to imitate lingered within him. Wilson leaned back in his chair and tried to quell the knot that was in his throat. His arrival here had been the start, now the real work would begin.He took a piece of paper and a pen, and started on his list of all the things he would need, copying nearly every other mentioned book from the ones he'd just finished. Then he took the wintercoat from its place in the corner and left his new house to buy at last the things he'd need for his first experiments. It is only at midnight that he returns from his shopping spree, his suitcase stuffed full of new items and a cage with white mice squeaking under his arm. He nearly breaks a leg, running as fast as he can once he's exited the train. He doesn't even bother closing the door behind him when he runs inside - nor does he pay attention to the lenghty shadows quivering inside his house across the walls... Once he has tossed his suitcase and the mice-cage onto the table he light a few candles.His hands tremble when the instruments touch them, and with a smile almost wider than his face spreads them over the table. Sharp scalpels, small tools, drills, nails, chemicals in small jars, glass beakers and tubes...Even a book that would have gotten him lynched in his hometown!He reaches into the mice cage and pulls out a fat struggling mouse from the straw. He could see it now, his eyes glancing over the white critter: he could cut it open, and nobody would be drowning him in holy water, or scolding him.The idea was nearly enough to bring him to the brink of despair. Would he? Could he do it? He wanted to, yet his stomach roiled and his eyes watered. Selling his soul, buying his one-way ticket to hell. Undoing all the priests and prayers had done for him in order to keep him on the holy path of God.He held the mouse to the table, and hammered its paws to the table. "Oh lord...I am weak, I am weak! I can't resist... Please, lord, forgive me, forgive me..."The mice in the cage screamed and squeaked, the one pinned to the table wailing in agony. Wilson fumbled with the case around the scalpels and nearly cut his hand on the blades. He could barely call it science, what he did to that mouse. His cut was messy and the organs were left ruined beyond recognition beneath the little pools of blood. His throat ached but he couldn't get himself to stop smiling. It was complete and utter freedom! As the creature died on the table Wilson laid the scalpel aside, peering into the dying flesh from above. Even as unrecognizable as the organs were, it was a delight to observe without the fear of discovery. There would be no screaming maids, hiding the little corpse. He could even leave it and see how it would dry or rot in humid or dry locations! Try out all the different forms of mummifcation or body preserving! Bringing them back from the dead, giving them intelligence, immortality. What was there to stop him now!? "This is not right Wilson, you're sick. You can't keep doing this! Promise me you never do anything like this again!" The next day he went into town again, coming home with two nervous rabbits in a box and even stranger things he needed for his scientific research. A few people in the town gave him strange looks and whispered behind his back, and Wilson wished fervently none of them would get the idea to follow him. One woman in particular sent a terrible chill down his spine, so much did she look like his mother. As he fled the town he swore he could see a woman's shadow stalking him... "Please, don't hurt him! He is but a child!""But is there no other way?! There has to be another way!""How could you do this to me again Wilson..." He nearly crashed into an old woman, but her angry words couldn't drown out the voice.