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Found 16 results

  1. A scientist, a robot, and a human/spider hybrid. Not really what one would expect a group of friends to look like. But when something very similar happens to each of them, they find themselves thrown into a world where the shadows are just a bit too dark, the air is just a bit too hostile, and everything, EVERYTHING, is against them. Follow Wilson, the Gentleman Scientist who is secretly a bit too quick to anger; WX-78, the Soulless Automaton, who isn't really as bad as he seems... or maybe he is; and Webber, the Indigestible, who is just a kid looking for someone who could accept him for him, as they face this cruel world. You can't trust anyone, and no one is safe. Anyone could be the next victim, although maybe... just maybe... they can find a few friends to aid them in their survival... The battle has begun. Cover Art by Toxicdusk on Deviantart
  2. Summary: Welcome to the Umbra Region a melting pot for people and Pokemon alike… Where life continues just as it has for as long as it’s existed… But this isn’t about legendary fights, or evil teams… Join me Professor Wilson Higgsbury into a fantastical world… The world of Pokemon. (Banner: @Aileen-Rose ) The Professor “Hello! My name is Professor Wilson Higgsbury! But those in these parts call me The Pokemon Professor! I’m here to help new trainers start their journey as a special hub through the Umbra region a melting pot of different Pokemon and people too! Please don’t hesitate to stop by my laboratory and choose the Pokemon who will become your partner!” Wilson Higgsbury sighed as he listened to his old recording. He was much younger back then and things had seemed to much brighter. Fresh out of college, finally able to start his own lab and provide starters for new trainers like his grandfather had before him. It was ten years since that day and now at thirty three.. It seemed no one wanted to even walk in the door. He admitted the place was intimidating upon first glance but he had to build it that way! They’d all get out if he didn’t! And he thought it looked nice… “Let’s face it… No one wants a Pokemon from crazy Ol’ Wilson…” He looked out the window half hoping to see some new faces scurrying up the steps. But no. That wasn’t happening. He sighed giving a stretch before getting up and grabbing a feed bucket. “Well that’s what happens when people choose to willfully be ignorant…” For you see… In those ten years, there had been plenty of new baby starter Pokemon for Wilson to give out from the various regions… But since no one would ever claim them, he instead wound up with Pokemon who evolved at their own pace and bred. So there was more than enough to fill up his property. He had to duck as two charizards flew by him, roaring at one another. “REMEMBER YOUR MANNERS!” He yelled, shaking his fist at them as he went on his way to deposit the feed for the fire types. He smiled as a group of tiny fire starters huddled around one bowl, happy to eat. He knelt down rubbing the head of a small charmander as it squealed a little. A chimchar climbed up his back, holding onto his head, chittering as it played with his hair. “Chimchar!” Wilson laughed. “Don’t be naughty now!” The others looked at them, back at their food and back to Wilson… Wilson knew the look as he scrambled to get up. “CHAR!/FENNEKIN!/TOR!/CHIM!/TEP!/CYNDAQUIL!” He was tackled to the ground under a pile of very warm, very cuddly pokemon. He sighed before grinning, hugging them all close to him as best as he could. While it got lonely up there… he would admit, he loved nothing more than playing with the Pokemon and tending to them. Giving attention to the little ones, organizing training battles to help them run off some energy. Grooming some, or giving baths to others. “Tepig, do not eat those pokeblock out of my pocket-Chimchar my hair is not a chew toy! Charmander, I told you not to eat those granola bars-Torchic that tickles and-CYNDAQUIL!” The small Johto starter seemed to snicker to itself as it ran off with his shoe in its mouth. Wilson pointed to it. “Get them!” The tiny herd scurried off as they more so play wrestled. He eventually was able to swoop in and take his prize back. “Whew…” He went about his routine, getting everyone fed, checking up on those who had managed to scrape themselves up. It took a long time but worth it. Be it swimming with the water types, or having the grass types lift him up to get to other areas faster… He loved it. Wilson looked down from a rock he was seated upon on a cliff that overlooked his whole property. All the different pokemon from every region… and all of them under his care. While ideally he hoped one day some trainers would come and ease him of a few of the little ones… He just wasn’t sure anymore if he could separate them. It was rare for professors in charge of starters to be able to naturally see on their own property how the individual types interacted with one another. And while they were all different types there was one thing he was positive of… They were family. His family. oooooo At least… most of them were. Occasionally, during the spring, when most young trainers from their childhood to late teens were leaving home, he would still get boxes of new starter pokeballs. During these events he would give them time until late spring at the longest to let them be separate from the herds out back… But most of the time he still wound up introducing them since in his ten years of being their caretaker no starter liked staying in their pokeball forever. I swear one of these days I’m going to send them all back! Maybe take a few spare evolution stones and send ‘em back loyal to me. See how those other guys think sending more to me is a great idea! He thought bitterly one morning as he unloaded three new pokeballs from Kalos. He could only say his thanks that the Umbra Region’s ties with the mysterious Alola Region wasn’t tight enough that he was getting a box of starters from there too. “I do not need fire kittens or grass owls in addition to everyone else.” He sighed, letting the new arrivals out for their morning feed. He looked out the window after making sure everyone was playing nice. And couldn’t believe his eyes. Someone was coming up the walkway. He felt giddy. Maybe someone finally didn’t believe the rumors about his sanity! “Okay, be cool, be cool.” Wilson took a deep breath steadying himself. He looked out the window raising an eyebrow as the person was coming into view. They were too old to be a new trainer… He would admit, he knew some people didn’t get pokemon at the usual ages but that was unusual. It was a young woman with long dark hair tied into two long ponytails. She was wearing a pair of copper red pants with a pink shirt and a scarf that looked almost like it was made out of fire. There was soon a knock at the door. Wilson hurried to open it. “U-Um hello.” He greeted mentally cursing himself. “Where are they?” The woman asked trying to brush past him. “H-Hey excuse me!” Wilson threw an arm out in front of her. “It’s common courtesy to say “hello” back you know!” “E-Erm sorry!” The woman apologized giving a sheepish look. “I heard you had a whole ton of different fire types… I… Wanted to see them.” Wilson blinked. “See them? … You’re not here to take a starter?” “W-What? Oh no I grew up in Kalos, so I got mine from the professor there about… Ten years ago I believe?” “What’s your name?” He asked. “And I apologize for my manners, I’m Wilson Higgsbury, the man in charge.” “Willow Ashworth sir.” She smirked, crossing her arms. “But I’m better known as The Firestarter.” The Firestarter… Where have I heard that name before? “I see? But why are you here if you just want to see fire types? There’s plenty of places in the world.. The Charicific Valley in Johto, the volcano on Cinnabar Island-” “I wanna see just fire starters. I think they're adorable… And I don’t wanna go to those places. Been there and done that.” She smirked holding up a pokeball that was attached to a necklace she wore. “Me and my delphox have seen most of it. As have my team.” “So your delphox wouldn’t be interested in a kit?” He asked pointing to the latest Fennekin who was eating. Willow looked at it and squealed, darting over picking up, the little fox. “Oh my goodness I haven’t seen one of you since I was ten!” “Fen?” The little Pokemon tilted it, head, wondering why this strange lady was holding it. “Aww! Delphi used to do that too!” Willow squealed, hugging it close to her, nuzzling the top of its head, enjoying the warmth. “And oh torchic and charmander…” She knelt down looking at the baby Pokemon with nostalgia in her eyes. “I had those too!” “Did you now?” Wilson asked curious. “Yep. Fully evolved into blaziken and charizard… I wish I could have baby pokemon again but I don’t have the room… I stopped traveling awhile ago and my place is only big enough for the seven of us.” She explained, getting her chance to hug the other fire type starters, quietly squealing as they kept close. “I just love them!” “Heh… You should see out back.” She looked to him curious. “What’s out back?” Wilson grinned. It had been a long time since he was able to show off his pokemon. “Come and see.” oooooo Willow gasped as Wilson lead her to his cliffside. “This… is what I get to do every day.” He said, making a wide gesture as a pair of charizards flew by. Groups of sceptile and serperior sunning themselves atop the backs of torterras. Venusaurs and their herds of bulbasaur and ivysaur. A large blastoise stretched over the edge of the lake before a few squirtles jumped onto its back as it jumped into the water causing a wave that swept back an empoleon and its piplup. Infernape's and blazikens trained against one another. A group of delphox practiced with their mysterious fire, showing younger braixen how it was done. A typhlosion gave a roar before scooping up a cyndaquil, heading off. “You get to raise them all?” “Oh, their parents do that for them!” Wilson laughed. “I just help… But most of the pokemon on this property I’ve helped hatch or deliver in the last ten years. Some are starters from last year’s batch but they fit in with the rest. The others just take them in as their own.” “But doesn’t it hurt them more then when trainers come?” Willow asked, not taking her eyes off the property. Wilson smirked, a saddened look in his eyes. “Who says trainers ever come for them? You could take those little ones in the main part of the lab away and no trainers would ever come. This isn’t just where I raise starters…” He looked back over the property. “This is where I raise the unwanted.” Willow looked to him, frowning a little. “No one’s ever come for starters from you… Have they?” “Not in the ten years I’ve been here and likely not in the ten years to come. But that’s alright.” He smiled a little. “After all this time… I can’t bear to part with the ones I’ve helped take care of since they were small. It’s easier when they’re freshly out of their regions… But as much as I love having new additions… I feel bad they’re never able to do what other starters get to. And it’s hard doing it all alone. By the time I’m done feeding everyone breakfast, it’s lunch time and by the time that’s done, I do a bit of my research… But then the dinner bell rings and-Yeah…” “You look exhausted too.” Willow said, taking note of the dark circles around his eyes. He shrugged. “It honestly doesn’t bother me. When you have new little ones as often as I do you’re used to getting up in the middle of the night to tend to them.” “But it has to get lonely..” “It does sometimes. I won’t lie.” He motioned for her to follow him as he started walking back down. “But I have my family. And that’s all that matters.” “You seriously are alone here, huh?” “Indeed I am my dear.” Willow looked around biting her lip. Her own travels hadn’t exactly been full of friendships and joy. Most people were afraid of her and she got thrown out of gyms for setting the places on fire occasionally by accident. Usually grass gyms. Ugh I’m on a lifetime ban from the Celadon City gym… She sighed. “Hey, Professor.” “Hm? And please, just Wilson will do.” “I’m coming by again tomorrow.” He stopped short, looking at her perplexed. He hadn’t had anyone saying they’d visit since… Since before his grandfather had retired and closed his own labs’ doors! “What?” “Is there a problem?” “N-No.” He shook his head. “No problem at all… But… Why do you want to come back?” “I wanna help.” She told him with a small smirk. “I have nowhere important to be.” “Are you sure? It’s going to be messy.” He warned her. “I never back down from a challenge. The Firestarter never backs down.” “... Very well. In fact, if you want to help, I could use it right now.” Willow perked up grinning. “Alrighty! What do I do first?” Wilson gave a perfectly innocent smile before offering her a shovel. “... What’s this for?” “I’m digging a new mud pit for the tepig evolutionary line. You can help me with it!” “U-Um I was thinking like… Training some of the other pokemon with mine. O-Or playing with the babies.” “Well the little tepigs love playing in the dirt.” Wilson smirked. “Now chop chop. Time is food around here.” He pointed to where it was as she shrugged, heading off to do her task grumbling a bit. Heh…We’ll see if she actually wants to come back. Grandfather had me mucking out stalls for ponyta and rapidash when I was a lad! Willow waited until Wilson had his back turned before an idea came to her. She grinned to herself as she grabbed one of her pokeballs. “Let’s go arcanine!” She called throwing an ultra ball high into the air as the firey wolf formed from the light. “Use dig! Make a nice deep hole!” Arcanine gave a gleeful look. Finally something to dig up besides the neighbor’s rose bush! Wilson jumped seeing a large amount of dirt flying as Willow laughed to herself. “YES! HAHA! KEEP AT IT BOY!” “What in the name of Arceus?” He wondered aloud. The meganium who was laying near him shook her head before four little chikorita jumped on her back. “True I should’ve stayed close by. I’ll be back.” He hurried over dodging dirt… Seeing a deep enough pool to house a fully grown venusaur and torterra comfortably. “WILLOW WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” “Hey Wil!” She called up waving. “I’m digging!” “T-That’s deep enough!” He called down making an X shape with his arms. “Stop!” “Arcanine that’s enough!” She called her pokemon back mid-digging spree. “Well?” Wilson rubbed his forehead looking at it. It was large… But it was… oddly perfect. “... Okay… You win. It’s fine. Thank you.” “And I can dig more-” “NO!” She might be a valuable asset… If my lab survives her Arcanine!
  3. Before the fall of the king, there was many others... The stories that went untold until now. Those of the past, that echo through the ages.The Shadow King, the Gentleman Scientist, the Firestarter and many more. Open up and see what's inside. ------ To those wondering, the reason this one is not going under the Survive the Shadow - Story thread is for the sake of consistency. We didn't want to cause confusion so we wanted these set of stories to have their own personal thread. Just so people don't get lost and so things stay organized. So yeah, this is part of the Survive the Shadows canon just so everyone knows. We're going by our interpretations so, just bear that in mind okay? Okay. Good. Enjoy! Sequel: Survive the Shadow - Story FF.net: Book of Shadows FF.net AO3: Book of Shadows AO3 tumblr: survivetheshadows.tumblr
  4. So, Mr.BlazingIce26 makes pixel art, and he writes "stories", but making two threads would make him seem a bit... entitled, eh? so, what does he do? he makes one, All purpose, all Fiction thread in which he can post his fanfiction (not that kind >.>) and his pixel art!, Behold! BOW BEFORE ME! Pixel art and writing like you've probably seen it before! Here's a bunch of pixel-art i did on my old thread, all wrapped up into one comfy PNG for all you file-size conscious people, And, for the promised fanfiction, the first chapter of which i also posted in a long, long forgotten thread, but the 2nd chapter (part 1 of it, mind you) Is brand new! Chapter 1 - Forbidden Knowledge Spoilered because it's a pretty big wall of text, and some of you may have read it before Chapter 2 - Part 1 - Say Pal, I awoke with a start, the first things I noticed as I awoke were the colors, they were all too.... much. The greens much too green, the yellows blindingly bright, hurt my eyes. After wiping the sleep out of my eyes I noticed a sort of *poof* to my left, I turned to look at it. The smoke cleared, and in its place stood a tall, dapper man, looking as if he were in his 40s, pale as a ghost. He looked down at me and uttered a few words. "Say pal, you don't look so good. You better find something to eat before night comes!" Weird, it seemed as if he emphasised the last part a bit more then the rest. Then he disappeared in the same cloud of smoke of which he appeared. Leaving me alone to contend with whatever forces were at work here, Heeding the mans advice, I started my search for sustenance, my niece completely driven from my mind by the events at hand. ------------------------------------- Hope you enjoy'd the arts and the reads, as more will becoming soon, and if you didn't, well, you clicked on the thread, not me.
  5. Hi everyone. I've been writing a little fanfiction, and after the first four chapters I came to a realization: I need a beta reader. It's difficult to keep track of everything (game mechanics, lore, etc.) on my own. I'd like someone to bounce ideas off of to see if they make sense, and to generally be a safety net. If you have grammatical fluency, I will consider that a bonus. I only require that you have a handle on the game's mechanics, know the characters somewhat, and most importantly know the story that the game has already.
  6. So, i've been thinking I might want to make a Don't Starve fanfic. And i'm definitely wanting to go for a horror vibe. But i've seen enough creepypastas and crappy horror prose to know that I don't want it to be lame. I was wondering if anyone here might have any tips/pointers/advice on how to make it interesting without being lame, juvenile, cliche or phoned in. If you want to know, the initial idea has to do with trying to explain how Abigail died.
  7. I'm going to write a short, all OC story! View the rules and other important notes in the link. No account is needed to send in OC's, and no limit on the amount of OC's you can send in. See you there! Greets from Tjally RULES AND SEND IN: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9817276/1/What-will-pass
  8. I write. Kind of a lot but not as much as I should. I tend to write shorts mostly, little bite sized things perfect for a midday snack. Here's one to start. Not So Alone Alone. That was the best way to describe this hellish place. He was alone here. It was a lonely forsaken place. Nothing sane lived here. Monsters, beasts, mind-numbing impossibilities, oh this place crawled with them. Wilson stared into his meager campfire, listening to the sounds around him. Within the inky blackness distances didn't seem to matter. The snoring beefalo he knew to be only a stone's throw away sounded farther than the croaking frogs several clicks distant. That darkness was oppressive, dangerous, and Wilson had the very real sense that if he stepped out into it the darkness itself would be the thing to take him. He poked at the fire as he thought. He thought wistfully about his laboratory. Not the first time he fantasized about turning that damned radio off, never shedding his blood for the pursuit of some 'hidden knowledge' that no man was ever meant to know. But unlike every other time he thought about it, the expected regret... It wasn't there. Not anymore. His life out there had been so alone. He was alone in his laboratory. He'd fled his family when he learned they were going to have him sent to a sanitarium for his experiments. He had no wife, no children, no colleagues, no friends, no one to miss him. No one to comfort him. No one. It was a lonely forsaken place. The darkness crept forward as his fire sputtered in the dark. He tossed another log on the flame, stoking it back to brightness. A faint snoring caught his ear as the darkness pulled away. Wilson glanced down at the creature he'd found, that followed him loyally all through this place. Certainly no sane god designed this creature with its wooly coat, its round feet, its bounding gait, its hinged jaw, even its unwillingness to digest those things he asked it to swallow. 'Otto von Chesterfield, Esquire', he'd named it. He called it 'Chester', a play on words, a pun concocted concerning its usefulness. Wilson ran his fingers through the creature's fur, listening to it rumble in its sleep. A small smile played on his lips as he sank to the ground to sit next to the creature, pulling it into his lap. Chester awoke, confused, but didn't resist; it merely snuggled into its new position and fell back to sleep as Wilson continued to stroke its fur. Perhaps he wasn't so alone. Not anymore.
  9. 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.
  10. Hey everyone, this is a thread for the small fanfics I write for Don't Starve. This game is my dream and it inspired me more than anything else ever did before. A note: Not everything in this fanfic is game accurate, but know that I made those choices to make for a better story. Here we go: MacTusk's Trophey MacTusk groaned as he put the last few pieces of the igloo in place. His son had proved to be largely useless, putting down a whole two ice-blocks before running after a jackrabbit with the hounds. Maybe it was time for him to pick up the darts, at least he'd come back from his little play trips with something to show for it. MacTusk started to unpack his bag, and immediately strapped his darts to his belt. He'd been out hunting here before, and it was never safe, no matter how tranquil it all seemed. Good thing that wee MacTusk took the hounds, you never know. A chirping roar alerts MacTusk of his sons arrival, and the two blue hounds yip and bark in excitement. Maybe MacTusk had wanted to be a little cross with his son for not helping him set up the igloo, but when the young walrus shows him his catch (a seriously chewed up jackrabbit) he can't stay mad. Tomorrow they would go hunting for real, and junior would get his first lessons in hunting on the evil grounds. The next day they were up early, and MacTusk had made additional darts, just in case they come across something more needy of death than your average jackrabbits ice birds. He sure hoped so, he came here more for enjoyment than food-collecting. They set out, blue hounds excitedly sniffing about, and wee Mactusk pointing out non-existant marks of prey, even going so far as to spot Koelephant footsteps in a pinecone. He still needed more practice than just this one hunting trip, but his excitement more than made up for it. MacTusk shot a dart at a rabbit, and it keeled clean over. The missus at home had hinted on a coat of soft jackrabbit fur, and it wouldn't be too much work to peel the skin off. He'd set junior on that task right after they'd caught enough rabbits. He shoots darts until he only has a few more hanging from his belt, and then the hunters return to their igloo, arms full of rabbits and hounds whining for scraps at their feet. It is right when Junior is bringing the meat inside that MacTusk sees a new threat, far too close to their camp. He doesn't recognize it, and it dives behind a tree when he tries to get a better look. By the time he reaches the tree, the thing is gone, leaving only unrecognizable prints in the snow. He sends the hounds after it immediately, but they return a while later with clean snouts. MacTusk can't help but love the chill that runs through him. Who knew what they were up against! Even if it turned out to be a defenseless little thing, it would be one of a kind, and MacTusk would like that on his wall, as would his wife! Maybe even more than that coat she had been hinting at! He restocks his darts as quickly as he can, and urges junior to follow him and he strange prints in the snow. It would be a glorious first trophey for his son, a never before seen animal from the cursed island! The tracks are strange, and almost frighteningly straight. This thing knows where it is going, and doesn't waste time on twists and turns. Wee Mactusk helps him spot the next tracks, and then they arrive at a crude camp. Dried hunks of animal hang on dirty ropes, and several wooden boxes almost burst out of their seams, so filled are they with random junk and treasure. The tracks are all over the place, but still, the animal is nowhere to be seen. It's a smart creature, frighteningly so, and it would make for a better trophey than anything else! Anyone could off a Beefalo, a few pigs or a Tallbird. This predator already had, judging from the animals hunks drying on the racks. Wee Mactusk looked worried, and he clenched his own darts tightly in his flippers. This would be no ordinary hunt. It would be an ambush of a deadly creature. The waiting was long, and the tension grew between son and father, but finally, a rustling from the forest signalized the return of the animal. Both walruses held their breath and had their darts at the ready as their target appeared. The creature was indeed unlike they had ever seen. Three black curled horns adorned the head, making a ghostly white face stand out from beneath. It was dressed in the corpses of its prey, Koelephant snout stuffed with beefalo fur and spiderwebbings, crude earmuffs made from jackalope fur, and a backpack made from pig leather. It saw them, and made a startled jump backwards. For just a moment, MacTusk wanted to see the beast in its full glory, before ending its life and presenting its evil horned head to his family. He roared, and the hounds shot from their positions towards the menace. MacTusk himself immediately blew a dart at it as well. It screamed loudly as it hit, and took off into the forest, faster than he had expected. The hounds ran after it with loud howls. He prepared a second dart, and signalled for his son to follow in the persuit. The hounds whined in the distance, and he could hear one of them scream in its death throes. Both father and son arrived just in time to see the horned creature drive a pointed spear right through their last hound. Then it turned his sights onto them, and shudders of delight went through MacTusk's hide. Eye to eye with the predator! Trying to outsmart the other, a true fight of life and death! Hah. He would show this creature, who is the smartest! He blew another dart, and the creature cried out in rage and pain, raising its weapon threateningly. It howled a choked up battlecry, and charged forward. MacTusk knew better than to stand still, and he fled from the wild beast, heart pounding. He was outrunning it, but only barely! He turned his head just in time to see the predator catching up to his son. He roared out a warning, but it was too late. The pointed tip of the weapon dug into wee MacTusk's side, and he squealed in pain. Suddenly the thrill of the hunt had turned into the ice-cold fear that he might lose his son. The beast crooned in victory, and raised it's spear for the final blow. Any caution was blown in the wind by old MacTusk. Forgetting all the safety rules when dealing with wild animals, he charged at the monster attempting to kill his son, and managed to bash the harmful creature out of the way, catching the spear in his left flipper as he did so. Wee MacTusk was a ghostly pale, but he stumbled to his feet as his father took a blowdart from his belt. The expression of fear on the predator's strange snout would have been comical if not a bit piteous before to MacTusk, but now he only felt gratification. He blew his dart at the creature, and it hit it square in the chest. With an almost walrus-like moan, the predator sank to its knees, the weapon dropped from its talons and its throphey's slowly going red from blood. They were victorious. His son stood shaking behind him, and stared at the animal struggling for its life in the snow. Such a mighty predator, now weakly pawing at the snow in its death throes. It's struggling soon slowed, and it just laid breathing and bleeding on the ground. It's intelligent eyes were hazy with pain and panic, and even as it started losing consciousness, they could tell it was still trying to think a way out of its situation. MacTusk treated his sons wounds, as they waited for the beast to die, and in the end, wee MacTusk could even grin, boasting that a scar from such a dangerous creature would make him more attractive. MacTusk could only agree, and thank whatever gods there were for the life of his son. Together they watched the creature faint and die, before they bound it and dragged it through the snow to their igloo. The MacTusks left early that winter, and from that winter forth, in their home, resides the one and only taxidermied, black-horned beast.
  11. I always attempt to write something I haven't seen written before. Took me some time, here is some weird drabble thing. I may post other DS fanfictions in here as well. If there are inconsistencies, do tell so I can fix 'em up. I take all advice and critique i can get with a smile I did write more than what is posted here, but I found this a suitable ending as well so here you go, unless I decide to post the rest as well. Enjoy~! Tjally Hell's keeper The record played on, its cheery tune almost gloomy in the current setting. There was dust at his feet, dust and bones from the man that had sat this throne before him. The one gust of wind that had torn Maxwell apart had been the only stirring in the air since Wilson's arrival, and he had the faint idea it wasn't going to change anytime soon. His heart hammered like a panicked creature in his chest, while clawed hands held him still against his prison throne. “They will show you things. It will change you like it changed me...” Wilson tried to tell himself there had been no choice but to free Maxwell, but he knew that would be a lie. He could have let the old devil rot away, but then he too would have been doomed. He'd taken the bait, freed Maxwell, and only because there was still that traiterous part of him that whispered; 'all the buried mysteries mysteries in the world, and here you're handed a shovel.' If Maxwell had been speaking the truth, if he had created all of this world, then what could Wilson do with it? Why, maybe even find an escape like Maxwell never could. He can feel them now better than ever. He'd known they were there before, watching him in the night, sometimes following him. He'd blamed it on extended periods of solitude, his lack of sleep, lack of food, but he can feel how real they are now. Almost as if confirming his thoughts, the hands locking him to the throne tighten around his arms. He finds himself wondering, just like Maxwell; What do you want from me!? There is no answer, and still, the visions Maxwell had been foretelling refused to come. Perhaps he was doomed to an even worse fate than Maxwell, worse yet than an eternity long of the same painful throne and a short moment of freedom before death finally swooped by. Wilson could barely imagine a fate worse, but just half a year ago the thought of a different dimension led by a trapped, all powerful man would have made him bark out with laughter. He taps his fingers on the black throne, and stares upwards into the dark. He wants more light than just these marble torches. Any light. He almost wishes he'd lit the berry-bushes and grass tufts on fire. With a loud smash a bout of lightening drops from the sky, right on a grass tuft, together with the sudden image of electricity finding its origin in the thick black clouds. How had he not known that before? Wilson stared at the burning tuft in the distance. They had been talking to him. He never could have guessed lightening came from the polarities in clouds! How about the pigmen then? How did they find their origin? He waited, and soon after he just knew, like someone had been leisurely pouring knowlegde into his head from a kettle. The hounds, pets created from loneliness, the night monster Charlie, for when the hounds slept, berry bushes and bees in memory of sweet treats from home... He had even made the gobbler, so he didn't have to see the berries rot away. All Maxwells creations were clear as a raindrop in his minds eye. He knew all, the very core of the world, just like Maxwell had. It was when the last blade of grass had been explained, that throne and its watchers took him deeper. He recoiled in the throne. Maxwell was right. Wilson had only touched the surface of knowlegde these wretches beings posessed. A thousand colours he had never seen before swirled in his mind, creatures of impossible build and geometry flashed by him. His mind could not comprehend, could not make sense of it, yet at the same time he understood it all like he had abruptly understood the hounds and the pigmen. Monsters, creatures dimensions magics gemsemotionsaliensdeathlifeworldhumanminddestruction- Like an endless reel entire worlds and posibillities flashed through his mind, and all he could do was shrink back in the black throne and cling onto his last sense of reality. He couldn't tell how much time had passed when it finally stopped. The torches that had been burning when he freed Maxwell had gone dark. The dark didn't bother him, now that he knew the why and how of this world. Even charlie, the monster that had been one of his biggest fears, was now harmless as a housepet to Wilson. He felt like he had been split in two, like the watchers had taken half of him, and let it spoil. The fact that he considered the shadow monster Charlie as welcome company said as much. He knew things that his human mind could not understand, but he knew. He knew how he could create things similair as to what Maxwell created, like how one knows a tune on a piano without ever seeing the sheet music. It was in his fingertips, but not in his head. Maxwell's knights were rusting on the checkered flooring, and Wilson got rid of them. Next were Maxwells statues, the hounds, the tentacles... This world was only a shameful pile, compared to all the worlds the throne had shown him. So few animals, so few minerals or plants. Barely any biodiversity, or even floral diversity! Half-heartedly Wilson added a few things to the world. They were additions barely worth of mentioning, adding mice, adding catterpillars, adding weeds... He stopped adding almost before he had begun. There was no joy to be found. He'd never been an artist, he hadn't strived to create the new, but to discover it in the things that already existed! He turned to the watchers, and stared back at them with the intense patience of a well-taught Scientist. Observation is always the first step before attempting any experiments. The world stood idle, and the staring contest continued. At moments, Wilson is almost certain that he can see a flicker of human emotion in their gazes. Frustration, sometimes, or interest. He reaches closer to their domain, and even though they don't change outwardly, he feels like he is reaching into the back of a lion's throat. They still watch, and he does the same, now one step closer. It is not much later when Wilson wonders; What is their threat, when I come close? Death would not be a threat, and eternal imprisonment was already his fate. What was their punishment, if he came too close? It was that thought, and the thrill of the unknown, that made him reach out even closer to his watchers. He could almost feel the lion's teeth scraping his skin, and yet still there was no bite. He continued to watch, and the longer he stared back at them, the more he was convinced of the fleeting and vague human emotions that sometimes swirled by. Over time, he stepped closer and closer, waiting and watching until he felt like he could move without tempting the punishment that the watchers threatened with. It is funny really, how his never sated curiosity both got him into hell, and allowed him to slowly crawl out of it. With the throne holding his hands locked to the rail, he knew how far Maxwell had gone in his attempt to reach the watchers. He had surpassed that point the last time he stepped closer. At one point, he stood in the middle of them. It reminded him of the first time he had shared turf with a large herd of beefalo in heat, with only a shoddy hat to keep him safe. It certainly wasn't a hat that allowed him to stand in the middle of them, but he could not find the reason for their tolerance. He took one last step, until he was behind them. And then he found that their gaze did not follow him. They still stared, and when he turned his gaze to follow theirs, he saw himself, beard grown to his feet and shackled to the throne. He didn't know what it meant. He had not left his body, nor had he made a copy of himself in better times, like Maxwell had done. Had he split himself in two? Was he a soul, a spirit without a body? His hands were present, so was his enormous beard. He looked back at the watchers. There had been rules, as to what he could create, and they had been enforcing those rules with the same threat they had given him when he got too close. One of those rules, was; do not remove the throne. Do not attempt to harm the watchers. Wilson's curiosity reared its head, and he approached the watchers. He reached for one, and almost as if he'd touched a millenia old statue made of sticky meat, and stinking heaps of black flesh slumped to the ground. Almost as he had touched a domino in a long row of stones, the other watchers fell apart. The throne disappeared, and right before his eyes, he could see himself fall to the ground. He had expected it to remain motionless. He was here, no longer inside of that husk, but it moved, and softened its fall. It was aging rapidly, beard growing grey in seconds and eyes going clouded, but as he watched, he could see himself die. In a sudden panic, he tried to save his body, his mind racing ever so hard to understand how and why, but before he could think the body shrivelled up and remained like a mummy on the dark floor. How? How could he have been in there, while he'd also been here?! He stalked forward in long strides, to where his now mummified body lied in the shimmer of Maxwell's lit pillar, and arrived just in time to find that the world was slowly dissolving. The rock ground beneath his feet fell away, and even the air that should rush about him during his fall was absent. Maxwell's light was gone with a light crunching sound, and his body, after all, turned into dust. There was nothing left. Nothing but the void, and him.
  12. Chapter 1:Maxwell's Journal It was quite a boring day for Wilson, he had nothing to do, other than to live of course. He has an abundance of food, a little overstocked on supplies, shaved his beard for the 56.567th time (according to his theory), and he had officially hunted down and exterminated every single spider den on the island, above and under ground. He decided to look around the old graveyard down the path for anything, even though he had dug up all the graves. He looked over in one of the graves and noticed something that he missed, a book. He picked it up and looked at the cover. It was an average sized journal with the name William Carter written on the front. He looked over and every page had been filled out. He had never been so excited to have someone elses diary before, this would keep him occupied for then next few months or so. He went back to his fortified bunker of stone, made a fire for the night and began to read.
  13. LAST UPDATE: 4/11/13Quick Note: This is a slightly AU fanfic. Please keep that in mind while reading. Enjoy!Don’t Starve: Chronicles of SurvivalChapter 1The First Two Days“Say, pal, you don’t look so good.”The boy began to stir upon hearing the familiar voice. When the boy’s eyes cracked open, they spotted the numerous white clouds covering the sky. The boy groaned before his hands dug into the ground, the boy pushing himself up a moment later. The boy’s tired gaze glanced around the grassy plain, a few tall tufts of grass and small saplings dotting the landscape. A split second later, the boy awoke fully, head twisting left and right in quick movements.“Where am I?!” The boy, after remaining still and thinking for a moment, turned around and saw a thin man wearing a black suit towering a few feet behind. The boy’s gaze transformed into a glare as a snarl formed in his throat. “Maxwell…” The boy rose to his feet, but the aggression faded as a dizzy spell struck, the boy raising a hand to his head to pinch his forehead.The thin man smirked in response. “You better find something to eat before night comes!” In a puff of smoke, the man disappeared.The boy released a gasp upon seeing Maxwell vanish. The boy’s anger soon returned, however. “If I see him again…” With a sigh, the boy returned to scanning the environment as a hand ran through his black hair. “What have you gotten yourself into, Wilson? You should’ve known you couldn’t trust him. What was I even thinking, going along with him…?” Another sigh passed by the boy’s lips before he straightened up. “Well, standing around won’t solve anything. I’ve already wasted enough time.” Wilson, after pulling his fingerless gloves back, walked over to and picked up a sharp piece of flint. “I better look around and find some materials I can use since I’m in the middle of nowhere, it seems.” The boy turned towards a nearby grass tuft and, using the flint he picked up earlier, cut the grass then placed it in his right front pocket. Wilson repeated the process with several other tufts of grass until he spotted another piece of flint on the ground near a small sapling. After picking up the piece of flint, the boy sliced off several of the sapling’s branches. However, one twig fell near a leafy plant that caught the boy’s attention.Wilson knelt next to and examined the leafy plant before pulling it up. The boy smiled upon recognizing the orange vegetable and placed the carrot in his left front pocket. As Wilson stood up, he saw a berry bush a few feet away and walked over to it. Wilson plucked one berry off of the bush, and, after examining the berry, nodded and ate it. After grabbing the rest of the berries on that bush, Wilson then continued harvesting grass, flint, saplings, carrots, and berries while wandering around the grassy field for hours.While walking, Wilson heard the sound of waves crashing. The boy glanced around until he headed towards the source of the sound. Wilson soon found himself staring out at the water below the cliff he stood on, a strange mist hiding what lay beyond the western horizon. “Salt water… This doesn’t help me at all.” The boy licked his lips before saying, “I do need to find a good source of water, though…” Wilson turned his head to follow the edge of the land. “I might as well see how far it goes. Maybe I’ll come across a river in the process…” Wilson followed the land’s edge for a couple of hours, grabbing any nearby food and materials. The boy, however, took notice of a forest of evergreen trees to the south. The boy paused to think then looked up at the sky. Upon seeing the sun approaching the horizon, the boy turned his attention back to the trees. Wilson walked over to a small tree and examined its bark. With another moment of thought, the boy came up with an idea. The boy pulled out a piece of flint and a few twigs from his pocket. With a nod, Wilson began combining the two items faster than the normal eye could follow. Wilson then held up an axe and gained a devilish smirk. The boy swung the axe at the tree several times. Within minutes, the tree fell to the ground. The boy gained a triumphant grin. “Take that, nature!” The boy then began chopping the tree trunk into smaller logs. However, the sky turned red as the sun began to creep below the horizon. Wilson looked up upon hearing screeches of fear. The boy watched as several strange horned rabbits ran towards various rabbit holes in the ground. Wilson continued staring in the direction of the rabbits for a short time.“Were those…?” The boy shook his head as he noticed all the birds in the area fly away. “I better start a fire. Who knows what could be out here…”Wilson sat down and arranged some of the logs to form the base of a campfire. The boy then pulled out a handful of grass and placed it on top of the logs. After a short pause, Wilson pulled out two pieces of flint and began scraping them together. Wilson continued this for a few minutes until a couple of sparks landed on the grass and started a fire. While watching the fire, the sun fell completely behind the horizon, darkness covering all but the area closest to the fire.Wilson turned his gaze to the sky. “Strange… There aren’t any stars in the sky. And it looks like it’s a new moon right now, too.” The boy’s stomach growled a few seconds later. “I guess now’s a good time to eat. Then again, how long was I unconscious…?” The boy pulled out several of the berries and a few carrots. After gazing at them, the boy thought of an idea. Wilson pulled out a long twig and a piece of flint from his pocket. The boy used the flint to slice the carrots, and once a couple of the carrots were cut, he forced several berries and carrot slices onto the twig. Wilson held the twig a few feet above the fire, twisting the twig every now and then. Several minutes passed before the boy pulled the twig back and examined the cooked berries and carrot slices.“It’s nowhere near gourmet, but it’ll do.” The boy began eating the cooked food on the twig. Several minutes passed as the boy ate in silence. Once Wilson ate his fill, he leaned back and poked the crackling fire with the long twig. The boy, after tossing the long twig into the fire, fished a notebook and pen out of his back left pocket. Wilson flipped through a couple of pages in the notebook before reaching a page with a drawing of a strange machine.“If I could make my science machine…” The boy closed his eyes for a brief moment and lowered his head. “I’ve already found some wood, but I’ll need to find some good quality stones if I want to make it. And a piece of gold…” Wilson tossed a small log onto the small campfire. “How I’m going to carry this wood, I don’t know… yet.”Wilson pulled out all of the food and materials he gathered during the day. After skewering more berries and carrots on long twigs, the boy forced the twigs into the dirt near the fire. The boy then turned his attention to the twigs, grass, and flint lying before him. Wilson soon began nodding to himself, a smile appearing on his face. The boy grabbed several handfuls of grass and twigs and, in several quick motions, began crafting a new item. Wilson’s brow furrowed as he transformed the grass and twigs into something new, but he soon gained a smirk as he finished the job. After twisting the twig hosting the cooking food, the boy turned the pale yellow backpack around and opened the front pocket.“This’ll do. This’ll do just nicely… Now I can carry a lot more.” As Wilson began packing the logs into the backpack, rays of light broke up the darkness. “Morning already? It didn’t seem to be that long of a night. Anyways, I better take a look around. Maybe I’ll find some rocks… or a way back to civilization.”Before leaving the campfire, Wilson removed the toasted food from the twigs and placed it in the backpack’s side pockets. The boy left after slinging the backpack over his shoulder and adjusting the straps. As Wilson headed east, he came across a sparse forest, a layer of dead leaves hiding the ground beneath. The boy wandered past several trees for several minutes. However, Wilson soon spotted something and ran over to the cobble path.The boy knelt down and examined the curving path. “This path… Someone put a lot of care into making this, even though it does end here. …Does that mean I’m not the only person here?” Wilson’s gaze followed the path until it disappeared behind a group of trees. “It couldn’t hurt to follow it… It’s not like I really have anything better to do.”Wilson followed the curving path through the forest. While following the path, the boy spotted another grassy plain with several saplings and a few grass tufts and berry bushes. Wilson wandered off of the path and gathered some twigs, grass, and berries before returning to and following the path. Wilson’s stomach grumbled a short time after returning to the path, prompting him to pull out and munch on a couple of roasted berries. After following the path for an hour, munching on a few more cooked berries along the way, the trees began to thin out. The boy gasped upon seeing the rocky terrain and the several boulders lying about.“This is perfect…” Wilson then thought of a problem. “But I need something to break the rocks apart. Like a pick…” Wilson gained a smile as an idea formed in his head.The boy pulled out a few twigs and pieces of flint. Wilson, using swift movements, began combining the two materials. Within a couple of minutes, Wilson held up and examined the pickaxe in his right hand. The boy nodded then walked over to one of the smaller boulders. Wilson then began swinging the pickaxe at the boulder. The first impact created a small indentation, and the following swings lengthened cracks extending from the first impact site. The boy continued pounding away at the rock until it shattered into several pieces, flint and stones falling to the ground.After catching his breath, Wilson picked up and examined the stones. “Yes, yes… These will be perfect for my making my science machine!” The boy gathered all of the stones and flint and stored them in the right front pocket. “Hmm… I’ll probably need a few more rocks in the future. I’ll mine a couple more of these rocks then move on.” The boy strolled over to another nearby boulder. With a deep breath, Wilson began hacking at the large rock. The boy spent several minutes swinging until the boulder finally broke apart to reveal more rocks and flint. Wilson then grabbed all of the spoils before deciding to swing at another smaller boulder. The boulder took fewer swings to destroy than the previous one, and when it crumbled, something shiny fell to the ground along with the flint and rocks. The shiny object caught Wilson’s attention.“Was that…?” The boy fished out a shiny yellow chunk. “It… it’s gold!” A laugh escaped Wilson’s throat. “I can’t believe it!” The boy then thought of something. “But the science machine won’t be able to move once I make it…” Wilson’s gaze turned to the sky, the sun approaching the horizon. “A base… Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I’ll just follow the path a little longer and see if I can find a good area.”Wilson returned to the path and followed it deeper into the rocky terrain. However, the boy ran into a fork in the road as sunset covered the area in the setting sun’s light. One split in the path headed north while the other split headed to the east. Wilson glanced in each direction before heading towards the center of the crossroads. Wilson slid the backpack off onto the rocky ground near where the northern and eastern paths met. The boy pulled out the logs and began arranging a few into another campfire, but a rock slid out of his pocket and landed on the ground with a thud.Wilson grabbed the rock and almost put it back into the pocket until an idea struck him. The boy emptied his pockets of all the rocks, twigs, grass, and flint. Wilson began arranging the stones into a circular pattern around the logs. Once the circle of rocks was finished, Wilson grabbed two pieces of flint and began scraping them together. The resulting sparks eventually lit the logs on fire just a few moments before total darkness surrounded the rest of the area.Wilson sighed after seeing the roaring fire. “Made it just in time…” With another sigh, the boy pulled out the berries he picked during the daytime. “I better start cooking these. Then I’ll make my science machine.”The boy slipped all the berries onto a couple of twigs. After glancing around, the boy stuck the twigs into a crack in the ground close to the fire. Wilson then turned his attention to the spare logs and rocks on the ground. Wilson pulled out the gold nugget before he looked around the area. The boy tossed a few twigs onto the fire, the light illuminating more of the area. With the additional light, Wilson spotted a flat region then nodded. The boy picked up the logs and rocks and carried them over to the level area. Wilson then began to combine the three types of items in a series of swift movements. A few of the logs soon became a wooden stool with three legs. A structure made of rock, a small slit adorning one side, then came to rest on top of the stool. The boy soon constructed a wooden lever on one side of the machine, and two wood gears connected by a tread formed on another side of the machine. A wooden funnel formed on and decorated the top of the machine before Wilson backed away. “It’s done…” A small tear formed in the corner of the boy’s eye, but he quickly wiped it away. “You’re even more beautiful than you were before, my science machine.” Wilson then gained a smile. “And now, it’s time to put you to the test.” The boy fished a rock out of his pocket and tossed it into the funnel on top of the contraption. Wilson then grabbed the lever. “For science!”Wilson pulled the lever down then backed away. The gears and tread on the machine started turning slowly before speeding up. Clunking sounds emanated from the center of the machine. Soon the whole machine began hopping up and down as the clunking noises grew louder and more prominent. However, the machine settled down a few moments later, a puff of smoke escaping through the funnel as a dinging noise resounded through the area. A few chiming noises then sounded as a small strip of paper with writing covering it slid out of the small slit on the machine. A panel opened on the last side of the machine, the rock falling out of it and landing on the ground with a thud.“Alright, let’s see…” Wilson walked around the machine and pulled out the strip of paper. The boy walked closer to the fire and read all the text on the paper. “Hunh… It’s quite rich in a variety of minerals. And sturdy, too…” The boy glanced at the rock, a small black scorch mark in one spot. “My science machine usually can’t put back together what it breaks apart.”A bright light then interrupted the scene. Wilson covered his eyes for a moment before they adjusted to the sun’s rays. With a sigh, the boy walked over to what remained of the fire and removed the berries from their skewers. Wilson pulled out some of the older berries and ate them before placing the fresher berries in the backpack. The boy then gathered all of the materials strewn about before realizing something.“I’m going to need more wood…” The boy looked around the area before spotting a few tall trees to the south. “I’ll explore over that way and cut down some trees while I do so.” With a nod, Wilson began trekking towards the trees.
  14. this is my thread for posting my fan fiction of the game don't starve its ok just don't expect Stephen King type work
  15. thought that the other character journals were cool. I'm just gonna post every 20 min or so of gameplay, hope this is fun.Day 1 My eyes opened to find myself lying in a grassy patch surrounded by forest. Maxwell stood there. He's so condescending... Sheesh. I really hate that guy, and now he'd really done it by sticking me onto one of his own personal realms of torture. He should probably be burned at the stake. All he did is wink, and said, being captain obvious "Say pal, you don't look so good. better find something to eat before night comes!". I groaned, and dragged myself off of the ground, thinking to break his jaw with my fist, but he snapped his fingers and disappeared with a puff of smoke. Ugg, that stuck me on a deserted island with no food, no friends, and a box full of matches in my pocket. I didn't even have my old teddy bear Alfred to keep my company. I thought about crying, but Maxwell's words ring in my ears. "Better find something to eat before night comes". I walked through some forest, and pop out into a grassland. Tall grass grew out of the ground, and some saplings and flint littered the area. I grabbed some sticks and grass, thinking I should make a torch for the night. Maxwell had told me about a few things in the realm he had prepared for me, such as his pet charlie who would love to take a bite out of me. I could probably scare him away with one of the matches in my pocket, but I really don't want to be stuck out at night. That's not good for your sanity... Just thought about that. In case I wasn't carrying enough, I fashioned an axe out of the materials on the ground and start hacking at a tree. The trunk wasn't too thick so I chopped through pretty quickly, wishing I had a chainsaw, and Alfred. I decided to stick by some sort of food source if I wanted to survive, possibly a cattle of some sort. To do that would take a bit of exploring, but would be worth it if it saved my life, so i grabbed some carrots and berries and marched into the woods again. I passed a small patch of savanna before running into a road. That's right, a paved road. Thinking about human life I ran north. Past a swamp, where I gathered some reeds and ran into some giant scary not-very easily burned tentacles, and into a village with absurdly small houses. Pig people walked about. That's right, pig people. I sighed. These where something Maxwell had told me about. At least I could have some company. I walked back onto the road, as night was starting to fall, looking for a good base camp. After about a five minute walk, I passed one of the savanna patches I had crossed getting to the pig village. There, around ten huge cow-buffalo type animals grazed. I'm embarrassed to say my mouth watered a little. It was then I realized i hadn't eaten all day. I shoved some berries into my mouth... Mmmmmm.... I grabbed my torch, as the sun set completely, and headed south. Day 2 Another pig village waited there, and in the center lay a bone with an eye on top. I picked it up, puzzled. I heard a boingy-boingy-boingy sound and looked up. A chest-shaped dog... thing.... Ran towards me, with a dog tag tied to it's neck saying "Otto Von Chesterfeild. If lost, return to grace of Warden." I laughed at the description. No way was I going to return my first pet to some dead guys grave. I stroked his horns for a little bit and headed back to the savanna.Day 3 That's where I am now, setting up a base camp. I need to get some sort of camp fire going for the long cold nights in Maxwell's realm, but other than that I'm good. I've put together some sort of science-y workbench research station that allows me to put together things to make better things. I'll be writing this journal on the papyrus that I've turned into a journal. It's nighttime now and I'll be working on it as I listen to the "beefalo"-what I've decided to call the buffalo made of beef- snore. I'm not all that great at writing, and I have no eraser here-all I'm using to write is some charcoal, mashed berries, and a twig- but hopefully I get off this island and can sell copies of this journal to become rich, though that's a little far off into the future. I shall be writing again soon, maybe even with some pictures.OK! next day done!Day 4I spent the day gathering sticks, mining rocks and picking grass. I managed to gather flint and some more carrots and berries. Midway through the day, it started raining. Most of the time I hate rain, it's a pain to light fires in, but this one was a thunderstorm. Lightning hit multiple saplings causing them to burst into glorious flame! I haven't been this happy since... yesterday when I found Chester, his fluffiness. I found that he would follow me when I carried his bone, and also, that he would store my stuff in his mouth! I'm feeling pretty confident that I'll survive longer than Maxwell thought I would. Tonight I've put together some walls and made a pitchfork to move the grass out of the way around my camp. I have a cozy little base now!Day 5I've fell into a sort of routine. Wake up, grab sticks, grab flint, grab grass, cut down tree, pick berries. It's calming, I feel a lot more sane than earlier, when i swear I was seeing eyes in the dark. Today, I ventured a different direction. Cutting down a tree, I realized something. The grass I picked four days ago had regrown. The trees grew from small to medium to large in a matter of days not weeks. Time seems to work differently here.. It's disconcerting. As I ventured further west, I saw a large flammable nest. I was tempted to go light it on fire when a very very tall bird walked into my sight, looking hostile. I decided to run. As i write this, I'm putting together a sort of "log suit" for protection against angry birds, and building more walls.Day 6Today I ran out of grass. I ventured further into the savanna and grabbed grass as I went along. I ran into a giant ebbed nest. Curious, i approached it. A giant spider the size of my head popped out. I smashed it's head in with my pitchfork. Monster meat for dinner... bleck. I prefer gobbler.Day 7Almost completed my walls!
  16. (Just a quick mood peice inspired by Don't Starve. May post more.)(Read on Google Docs | Read on tumblr)I’m on my back. I’m whole, I’m empty, I’m feeling nothing. I probably was nothing, before I came here to this field. Came before the suited demon. He grins wide, a cigar dangling from his fingers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him take a single pull from that cigar, yet it still dangles there, stinking of petrol and sulfur.“It’s been so long since I’ve actually seen you starve to death. Tell me, how did that feel?”I blink away, staring at moldy grey sky. Did that mean it would rain already? Or was it always like that? I can feel the gaps of knowledge, holes raked clean in my mind, searing in the muggy air. He couldn’t let me remember anymore. Not since I had gotten so close…“Ah well,” he taps a burning cinder onto my foot. “Looks like it’ll be dark soon, so how about you try for a more interesting death this time, hm?”I close my eyes, just try and struggle to my elbows. He leaves sooner that way, vanishing in a curling blast of cigar smoke. I get to my feet and walk, mind numb but body energized. It’s the best it’s ever felt, always in peak condition when I start. I always expect to stand, to feel old, to feel my knees buckle and be completely unable to go on. But I run anyway. No matter how many times I do this, I’m just up, and I just go.At least it always starts warm, I think numbly. At least it always starts here, in a sweet little meadow. Always has what I need. I yank up a carrot without breaking stride, dirt bouncing off my leg as I stuff it in my pocket. I pull fistfuls of berries and leaves from bushes, knowing I’d sort them later. I find a small tree, grab its base, and with a hiss I strip in bare in one clean motion. My hand’s cut up, with dirt in the cuts. Always like that, I think dully. Always turn so soft when I come back. Delicate, how they used to be. They’ll be fat callouses soon enough. No more blood, no refinement. Just fat hams built to survive.For days, I just run. Stop for the brief summer nights, and then charge off again in the morning. A pack bounces off my rear, it’s rattling a familiar sound. The straps cutting in my shoulders… Every time, I ask the same exact question. Was I always this frail?Well, there’s one thing this frail body can do, that becomes so, so very difficult the further I get from my old self.Finally, I find the spot. A place by an old road. A place with berry bushes to the north, bees to the west, a forest close at hand and frog ponds to the south. At a place with five tilled pieces of earth, if I can stand to stare at the fat, grinning head of the demon. If I can stand the smell of hot manure and dirt. Both of these are things that no longer bother me, but this body sometimes… It gags as I stuff seeds into the plots, first thing.I rock my shoulders and fling my pack off into the dirt. It lands with a heavy thump, and out spills the contents. Rocks, logs, a few flashes of gold and silver… I help upend it all, shaking everything I need out. This night I refuse to sleep. With a warm fire burning at my back, I get to work.Even though I’ve done this… I don’t know how many times, this is the moment. This is where everything truly starts to come together. The first time in days that I feel alive. My first breath after so much time under a thick blanket of empty mindlessness. This, this is what I live for, every, every, every time.The plans are always so sharp in my head, and my hands move quick and easy. Splitting boards, flattening gold, shaping rock. This is a machine I know backwards and forwards, that the demon would never take from me, that I’d sooner die than let him take it from me.A science machine. The spark of inspiration in mechanical form. The humming body of my old life, finally coming together before me. No matter how many times I do this, it’s such a rush to build. A wonderful feeling, just slotting all the pieces together, setting it in the stand, flipping the switch…!I spread my hands across it, set my forehead to its warm body, and just feel it buzz and hum beneath me. A laugh bubbles in my throat. Science, oh science, I have built you a shrine, and I worship at your wooden feet. In all these miles and miles of useless slop and dangerous creatures, you are the only thing worth a damn to me. Creation, destruction, all the possibilities of the world in my hands. All materials just a few little tweaks away from becoming my constructions. It doesn’t even take me the rest of the night to build everything I need. There’s a fire burning in my belly. At least, at last, my existence feels like it has meaning. The holes in my memory are swiftly filled, prototypes whipped together, an alchemy machine constructed. Meters and metrics set up in the farm, boxes filled and sorted. Nothing is beyond me now! NOTHING!I leave camp in the morning with hot flush across my face, stubble on my chin, and armor tucked under my arm, a spear in hand. This wilderness will be controlled! I am it’s master now. Great, powerful, and careful enough to never fear! I’ve survived months, maybe years like this, and I’ll keep doing it! For moments like these! For the chance to just build again!Hunting frogs, honestly, it’s terrible, nasty business. I’m covered in bumps and bruises from the experience, but this will help me, I’m sure it will. Already, as I hack and rip my fingernails through little froggy guts, numbers are streaming through my mind. How much do I need to kill to survive? How long will it keep for? Should I fish as well, or was that a waste of time? I have a few farms, but the fruits of that are for special occasions. And the berries won’t last forever, I’m going to have to find some beefalo soon, or maybe track and pen a koalafant. I’ve noticed a few footsteps here and there, if I could just spend the day tracking it…!At the end of each day I’m exhausted, spent, sometimes running back through the darkness with a torch in my hand. But I just sit with my back to my creative machines, let the thoughts flow and fill me, and everything seems wonderful. Knowledge, intelligence, this is all I ever wanted. In my old life, and here in this hell.It’s the need for more manure that drives me from home. The farms are starting to stink less, and a few loose Gobblers are making my berry farm burn faster than it should be. Even if a beefalo herd is far away, I could just camp there a week and bring all I need back. The distance from the science machines would hurt, a little bit. But the fact that I can build them at all…I follow the road east, further and further and further into unknown territory. I probably look like such a wild man. Wilted flowers stuffed and stuck in my hair, clothes made of wood and rope, a long, scraggly beard… Perhaps after this trip, it will do me good to shave. Maybe hunt some spiders, make myself some nicer clothes. I know that I can make clothes, but what exactly eludes me, the gaps in my knowledge, again, so wide and unfilled…I stop, quite suddenly, stunned.After all these times, doing this over and over and over.I’ve found something new.It’s the crank… well, the crank of the teleporter is nothing new. That demon started dropping them in here ages and ages past, taunting me with my very first mistake. What’s around it, that’s what makes me pause. Decorated with nice wooden flooring, marble pillars, practically a shrine to my failures, it is. But now, different from before, there sits a little mechanical bull, wound down and humming in a dull resting phase.I stare at it. Vaguely, I recall a need for mechanized parts for… for something. I didn’t have a clue where to find them, but now? The creature seemed powered by steam, puffs of hot, coppery air releasing from its snout. Of course, this is just like the demon. Giving me the understanding on how to proceed, then tucking the progress away in something that will certainly kill me to obtain. Here, now, on my way to another project and still coated in the bruises from frog farming, I don’t know if I can fight a mechanical beast.And yet, curiosity…I sidle up the road, watching the thing as it slowly awakes. I’m not afraid, of course not. Novelty is something to be revered, not frightened by. I backpedal a little more, keeping a good distance. Watching, fascinated as it hopped around, a spring serving as a sort of pogo. Fascinating creature, would be a wonderful time, just pulling it apart, seeing how it worked—It’s head shoots forward. An impossible distance. Hot bronze slams into my chest. My armor impacts, wood buries into my skin, a dull crunch. I can’t breathe. Shooting pain. Ribs cracked. No. Sternum.That’s it then.I topple backwards. Body gasping. Blood swelling up my throat. Pain just builds and builds and builds. Body doesn’t know how bad it is. Body’s panicking. I can feel it screaming, and I let it do so.But I’m removed. Just feeling everything react, it’s almost like it’s not me anymore.And it’ll be over quick enough.I can barely feel the ground as I hit it. And the sky just sucks itself away. Darkness, the final rest…Yet.I’m on my back. Whole, empty, feeling nothing. Probably am nothing. Just here, in the field again, with a suited demon standing before me. He grins, always grin, a horrible grin. His cigar smells like petrol and sulfur. Smells like the wind in hell.“I see you’ve met my Clockwork Knights! Fascinating, aren’t they?”I blink away, staring at moldy grey sky. Did that mean it would rain already? Or was it always like that?