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Found 19 results

  1. The Melon's Art Thread

    Well whaddya know? I've decided to be COMPLETELY unoriginal and make yet another art thread for you forumers to sift through. Please bear in mind that it's not going to be specifically Klei-related games that I'm drawing, and some might not even be "new", as I've drawn plenty of things in the past, but I've yet to "publish" them. Edit: @minespatch has the right word for it. Basically all my work are redraws of previously made work by different artists.So what I'm saying is yes, I did make these, but I do not claim to own the art that I redrew, nor do I claim that these are original works of my own fruition. Translation: I'm not plagiarizing Klei's magnificent work and I luv them a whole bloody bunch and I wish they'd take in my request to make a cardboard cutout of @jambell and stick it in their stream room so I'll stop demanding for Jambell every freaking time they stream and you should go buy all their games because they're a great dev studio and I wanna see them make big bucks and make more great games and maybe finally release the Rose Skins for Steam users and... *continues rambling* Regardless, what I'm trying to say is that I'm not blatantly trying to plagiarize Klei and their artwork. Anyways! I'm gonna start this off strong with my personal favourites: And yes, most of these will be black and white, because I'm simply too lazy to put time and effort into properly coloring. :3
  2. (Disclaimer: This is in no way meant to start a smear campaign towards Klei in any way. This was made as a way to help Klei find internal issues and fix them. In addition, this was proofread by several big names and experts in the community, just to deflect any bias accusations.) Klei Entertainment. Everyone's favorite video game company, without a doubt. They're genuinely great people that put the value of players over the value of money, unlike a large margin of the gaming industry. However, more and more of the community have started to worry in recent times, since Klei have made questionable decisions throughout 2019. The most prominent example is the recent Woodie rework. Even if we disregard it's rocky initial release, it still leaves Woodie mains with mixed feelings, and makes people that main characters like Wendy fearful as they don't want a complete reimagine of the character; They just an upgrade to make their character not suck. A "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" mentality, if you will. So, without further dilly dally, let's go through objective, un-biased, and common worries regarding Klei, and their methods of working on Don't Starve Together. Possible solutions to these problems will also be provided, in hopes that Klei will take this to heart. Newcomer Bias: Klei has seemingly made it apparent that they want to make a lot of mechanics easily accessible in early game, with a few notable exceptions (such as Willow still requiring beard hair for Bernie, and Warly's powerful crockpot recipes.). DST as a whole has become much easier with the addition to new characters, especially since a good portion of them don't have a downside. In the case of Wortox, he makes regaining health practically free. In addition, he has a new way of "dodging attacks". While this isn't a problem in of itself, he has 200 health on top of this, which allows him to be both a tank and a 'trickster' character. As for Winona, she has no practical downsides and has the ability to solo raid bosses with little to no combat effort on her end. The one time this year that Klei changed a character to flourish in mid-to-late game (Warly), it became absolutely broken in every sense of the word. For instance, a Wolfgang that's paired with Warly can do 600 damage per hit with the correct preparation. Six. Hundred. Damage. Even without Wolfgang's inherent x2 modifier, that's 300 damage for any other character. Back to Woodie, his rework has left Woodie mains disappointed. He is no longer "The Lumberjack" but now "The Canadian" that's a jack-of-all-trades character, which isn't exactly why Woodie mains picked him up in the first place. In short, people that have chosen to stick around for a long time and main a certain character are starting to feel alienated, or fearful for what's to come. It also goes without saying, but veterans to DST have been begging Klei to make the game harder for a long while now, whether the difficulty be optional, or progression-based. For these players, the game becomes extremely autonomous, repetitive, easy, and worst of all, boring. While yes, Klei has a lot of stuff on their plate in regards to 2019 and possibly 2020, the questionable part of this is that they haven't said a single word regarding this issue. This is problematic to say the least, as yes, there are always new players, the veterans to the game are the die-hard fans that keep this community alive. This goes into my next point quite smoothly. Balancing Issues: People are starting to question whether Klei themselves actively play their own game. The fact that this is even up in the air is a red flag towards Klei's method of balancing things as of late. For example (again), the Woodie rework. The initial release was a train wreck, however it got better when Klei implemented community-made ideas. This was also a thing with the Winona update to an extent, although nowhere near as severe as Woodie. To make sure that severe mis-steps don't happen again and make everything smooth sailing, let's propose this idea to Klei: Have a closed beta branch available to a select few trusted veterans within the community (the klei forums), chosen by Klei. In this branch, said veterans are able to test out the new character/mechanic/whatever and give Klei feedback. If these people give the beta code to other people, or leak the contents of the closed beta, they should be punished. (For example: If you willingly leak contents in the closed beta, your klei account could get temporarily suspended for, say, a month. Also, you'd lose access to the closed beta.) What's the difference between this closed beta and a public beta?: -The Veteran Closed Beta has much fewer people playtesting, however these people have been playing DST for a very long time, meaning that Klei would get more precise and useful feedback, and less non-helpful feedback. -Veterans are part of the community, and are not Klei staff, meaning that they are well aware of the intricate details of what people want, and know what will spark drama. In addition, they can be used as a "safety net" of sorts to prevent problematic mechanics and aspects before it reaches a public build, saving time. -Veterans have a clear vision on what "balanced" means in terms of Don't Starve Together, and are above the "Skill Level Plateau", meaning that they are easily able to grasp new mechanics, and apply them to normal gameplay, which is a good trait to have in terms of playtesters. -A good portion of the veteran community wants to see DST be a better game as a whole, meaning that most of them are willing to happily volunteer their time and effort for Klei, without the need of a paycheck. To be transparent, here are some possible downsides to this idea that should be considered: -Veterans are not Klei employees, and they may be a liability depending on the person. (Such as leaking content early.) -If they dont have a deadline, people will playtest on their own time. If they do have a deadline, it's possible that they'll be unable to playtest. In addition, for things like Character Updates, Klei can seek after veterans that main that character, since their thoughts are arguably more important than anyone else's. Now, on to the next topic that constantly sparks debate and discussion. DST's Difficulty curve. (or rather, lack of one.) Granted, this is not an easily fixable thing, and will most likely take a long time to implement correctly, given the fact that Klei is currently working on a lot of updates. However, this needs to be talked about in detail because it is a valid problem with the game, and how Klei avoids talking about said problem, which is a shame since the terms "Uncompromising Survival" and "Trial and Error" has seemingly been lost to time. Survival games aren't meant to be easy. In detail, here is a list of problems that most veterans have with DST: -After Late Game, the player is usually never in any risk or danger; the game becomes less of a survival game and more of a base-building sandbox. -In all stages of the game, it is easy to throw on a simple Football helmet and hambat and kite anything and everything that the game can throw at you. -Insanity is laughably easy, and it has no real risk to a player that knows what they're doing, save for a select few situations. -Most new and reworked characters lack an impactful downside. Here are some possible solutions: Make DST difficulty progression-based. With the exception of hound waves, the difficulty of the game stays just about the same throughout the entire run. While each person has a different idea of difficulty, depending on who you ask, here's generally one that no one has a problem with. When you accomplish a certain feat in the game, the world grows harder. For example, if you kill the Ancient Fuelweaver, Insanity would become more menacing to stay in, and Charlie could instantly kill players instead of hitting them for 100 (which is reduced to a measly 20 with a football helmet.) An optional "Hardcore mode". On world creation, there could be a "Server Difficulty" option to switch between "Default" and "Uncompromising". When the Uncompromising Difficulty is chosen and the world is generated, the following effects would take place. -Dead players leave their dead body behind, in addition to becoming a ghost. Instead of giving a heart or amulet to the ghost, players now have to give the heart to the dead body. if they are attuned to an effigy, they can revive themselves. If the player was wearing a life amulet upon death, they'll be resurrected. -Touchstones require to be touched by an individual player before they can resurrect with it. The way they'd resurrect would be similar to an effigy and/or singleplayer. -When there are no living players in a server that are attuned to a meat effigy / touchstone, the world is deleted. -Rollback is permanently disabled. -In the server browser, worlds that have this setting enabled are marked with a special icon, and/or highlighted in red. Of course, this mode would not be recommended for public servers. This Uncompromising Difficulty mode would be geared for those going out of their way for a challenge, and to make DST comparatively difficult to Singleplayer. Also, if Klei wants to add a temporary measure that they can get back to later, a "diet" version of the Uncompromising mode could make it so that servers only delete the world when nobody is left alive, and disables rollback. Alternatively, we could borrow ideas from another survival game: Terraria. That game has something called "Expert Mode", which increases the stats of almost every enemy in the game, such as attack and defense, with a select few mobs gaining additional attacks. However, this is meant to be risk/reward, as Expert Mode bosses drop special and powerful drops that are usually used throughout the entire run. All of these options have kept in mind the fact that newcomers struggle with the beginning of the game already. Hence, early-game is generally unaffected from these solutions unless the player goes out of their way to enable them. In addition, the "Uncompromising" mode could easily be implemented for the moment while Klei focuses on other things. Those are all of the main problems that Klei and DST have that is currently upsetting the community. Klei is most likely reading this, as they do indeed lurk the forums. I encourage them to reply to this, whether it's assuring that they care, saying that we're wrong about a few points, or anything really. These are genuine concerns that a good portion of the community share, because just about every single one of us wants Klei - and DST - to be the best that it possibly can be. With love, Don't Starve Veterans. @JoeW ------------------------------------------- Speaking on my own personal bias now, as in, these are my (Canis') personal thoughts. I have been a Woodie main for *at least* a year now. However, with this rework, I can't say that I want to keep playing as him. Yes, he's viable, but now he's just... bland. Sometimes I (and other people on the forums) feel like they're not being heard in terms of initial character perks for these reworks. Yes, if it's small enough (or we create enough drama) Klei will most likely add it, but we shouldn't NEED to set the forums on fire just to have something added. As of the Woodie update, my faith in Klei has been wavering, to say the least. Before this, I fully believed that Klei knows what they're doing, and they're fully transparent. However, the Woodie update was a kick in the rear end. I stopped being ignorant, and I realized that Klei has problems of their own, just like anyone else. They're not perfect. However, I still love Klei, which is why I'm so hard on them. I still really hope that we at least get a response, as opposed to the other threads in this vain. (Granted, most threads "in this vain" are mainly just rant/vent threads, which this thread isn't.)
  3. before we start: (Be warned I'm really bad at writing in general so I hope you have a better understanding of this and if it feels I've worded things wrong please let me know and I'll try my best to fix it!) who am I and my backstory with Don't starve: before I start this, I've been a fan of dont starve for a really long time I've seen a youtuber play it in around 2013 and in 2014 I bought it on ps vita having a small memory of the game, I played and loved it ever since learning and experimenting with the game, I shrieked and bounced around with excitement of the year dont starve together got released, ever since then whenever dont starve got an update, I would always watch the PC videos and spend my time just sitting and waiting for the updates to come! I'm even excited about salty dogs for as a person who knows a few about history and how people historically traveled out to gain spices,(which is salt) and riches, I think whatever we gain from any update no matter how small it is, I will still be excited to view and see it while squealing my head off over something silly such as a goose walking on water. I want you all to know my backstory so we can all feel related as a community and a group who will give our love and support to a team who rightfully earned our love and respect through the years! The average player expectation: Hello! Thank you for putting your time here to talk about a big problem between the dont starve community with the idea the game needs to be more challenging and hardcore, that it's only sucking up to new players, that people that are like Edgy Rick is the only people that should tell Klei what to do just because they can raid a boss with in 10 days and most new players/ experienced ones feel the need to make up for it but feel bad for not being able to walk out of their comfort zone and stay low sanity or somehow fight a boss within 3 days of entering a world. And after reading a post that came out (not saying what it is) and seeing the community turn on eachother, I couldnt help but make this, learn your own way: Dont starve is a game of experience! you learn how things work from dying and it should motivate you from trying harder to overpass your previous experiences to get better.why do you think there are so many different items in the game that you probably will never need, get to make in one playthrough of the game? Think about the dlc the original dont starve has, there solution to seeing the same thing over and over is basically making a whole new experience for people to enjoy and learn all over again. Shipwreck being harder for its resources spread out, and hamlet for having you to rely on the pigs, for a world where you are deprived of from your normal resources you take advantage of. Dont starve together being more forgiving: Now hear me out for saying this but I think that Dont starve together is more calm on punishing the characters from it being a story point of view then it being game wise! Notice the new difference in the atmosphere of dont starve and dont starve together for my first point the music! Notice how in dont starve together the autumn work music and combat has changed. The new one gives a more serious but catchy, and playful orchestra music. While the old one was sort of eerie, and unknown but still playful experience. Well I say from a view point of the story the characters have finally finished learning mistakes from the original dont starve where you were alone knowing nothing of the world and fearing your life in every corner, to now, the characters expecting what they can out on the constant and getting used to it. Evolving and building a civilization. To help my point Willow a poor girl who was mentally Ill enough to light stuff on fire, even at her own life, now has bernie as a coping mechanism for her troubles life has given her! events: Dont starve together the characters seem to put tradition in their lifestyle, even enough to make and wear costumes and hats of the creatures they once feared and fought, meaning their is a culture in their world. Nobody and I seriously mean nobody would be trapped in a wilderness land and just go, "oh! Hey, Halloween is almost here! Better put on my costume of my internal nightmares." Now the survivors are celebrating winters feast sleeping under trees, and celebrating the Chinese new year even playing a friendly match against the pig king and his guards. Meaning the game now sees us as a species of the world. A creature, just like everything else. character interactions in the newest trailers: let's see the trailers from dont starve hamlet and turn of tides. Look at wilson in the hamlet one, he is scared and constantly getting harrassed by everything coming his way even when things are finally coming his way, even a point of shipwrecked at the end of the teaser when wilson lands back on shore he gives the face of lost hope as he returns on the island he thought he escaped from. In dont starve we sort of get new things but more as of an approach of something brand new, we the player were here before these things came. Including the feel of the turn of tides trailer when we see the horror hound and moon pengull, with the music's creepy, and shocking tone giving a "this is new" then dont starves original "Oh god! Everything wants to kill me!" Vibe I'm going to make this short since my actual talk ( a kinda crappy one )was one the review which inspired me to make this one. What I'm saying Is maybe there is a reason to things that we truly dont know yet or maybe we haven't seen the whole side of the story yet, I fear that the community arguing what is right for the game will be so enflamed that the devs might just quit the game or be disappointed in all of us, so please let's all join together as a community and cherish this game we all know and love, and thank you for viewing.
  4. Preface: For starters? What is this post about? Well, it's a more technically focused discussion about the viability of a 64-bit structure to DST and why that it would potentially be a good idea for Klei to implement in the Windows version of the game. As well in the process I'll attempt to address some potential issues and concerns to the best of my ability, however I am not an expert on this issue nor do I claim to be one. If you see anything that is factually incorrect in this post please leave a comment to correct me. It will not be intentional, as I've tried my best to do research and discussion with more technically minded friends and several very "important" people who've explained why 64 bit on Windows would be a good but challenging thing. Why would 64-bit be a good thing for the Windows version of DST? It's important to understand the fundamental difference between a 32-bit structure (the one DST is currently using) and that of a 64-bit structure (the proposed improvement). 32-bit programs are limited to a maximum processing power of 4 gigabytes, which while more than enough to merely run the game, presents a significant limitation if one wishes to apply a large quantity of mods or host long-term servers* (which slow down relatively soon after launch). Having DST in a 64-bit structure would, in effect, remove this cap. This means servers would run better even in the long-term, and users could apply significantly more mods with a far less risk of the game lagging or running into issues. It is important to note that CPUs in this situation do matter, however I've found that the difference is marginal between a decent rig with 16 gigabytes of ram using a relatively nice CPU versus a laptop with a much worse CPU and only 8 gbs of ram (when one should obviously be much better). *I am aware that using dedicated servers helps "double" the ram usage as the dedicated server is being run off of a separate exe, but even that starts lagging rather quick and is fairly limited in mod capabilities It would also increase what mod creators are capable of doing with their work. Especially in mods which plan on utilizing more than two shards eventually, such as Island Adventures. No longer being limited to a maximum processing power of 4 gigabytes would allow more creative freedom. In a similar vein I have also heard a 64-bit version would fix the rather constrictive workshop upload limitations. This however I have not confirmed and should be taken with a grain of salt (If someone knows the answer please comment below). To my understanding, 64-bit would allow for all the assets in-game to be essentially turned high definition. Because of the way assets are currently loaded to save space they're compressed into a small size before usage leading to that blurry distortion on multiple items. This however is also unconfirmed but I've heard it from several of the people I've talked to in discussions while researching for this post. What are some of the issues? I think it's important to address by far the largest issue in the room, which is the cost of such an update. To my understanding, and from personal discussions with several key folks it is to my knowledge upgrading DST to 64-bit would be an expensive process, and in order to justify the effort required, Klei would need to receive some form of compensation (which is completely understandable). One solution which was offered to me was the potential of releasing an "HD" edition of DST on Steam, specifically structured in 64-bit. While this is a rather on-the-nose upfront cost I believe a majority of the active community would be fine with this decision, as long as the Steam Inventory is shared and some compatibility with 32-bit players and servers is maintained. Granted, it has recently been brought up that Klei is making a 64 bit version of DST, however it is solely for a version of Mac unfortunately. This does bring up questions of whether or not funding for such an improvement would be as necessary as previously assumed however. This would, however, based on the most recent information available to me be a confirmed issue. .Another potential issue would be cross-compatibility. Now on this subject I'd personally like to hear more, because I've heard that having two versions of the game, where the only difference is the structure, would both wildly split the community and also not be an issue at all. And since I'm not technically knowledgeable on this subject, I don't know which is true, if either. So if someone with more knowledge on that would like to inform me and the forums on that specific issue it'd be much appreciated. What I can say is that splitting the community, specifically in a game like this, would be an understandably bad idea, and should be avoided at all costs. So what's the takeaway? In my opinion, upgrading the current 32-bit Windows version of DST to 64-bit would be an excellent idea to improve user experience greatly. While there are a few concerns I think overall the benefits here would outweigh the costs assuming the only real issue that comes to fruition is the necessity of marketing an "HD" version of DST to the playerbase, something I think the vast majority of players would have no issue with assuming a shared Steam Inventory and compatibility with the 32-bit players. Apologies if this post would be more appropriate in suggestions/feedback however the purpose is more to see people's thoughts and potentially start discussion on the subject, which I think would be better suited for that goal in general discussion. Again if there are any edits I need to make to this post please comment below informing me, and feel free to discuss why this is a good/bad idea!
  5. As someone with some experience in game development, I just gotta say you do great work Klei. I love the your sense of humor and the difficulty you put into your games. I frequently play the heck out of a game and then toss it away forever, but DST has always kept me coming back, and each time I do I go deeper down the rabbit hole, finding more crazy things I never knew about and conquering things I used to consider impossible. This is why I am happy to pay for the new characters, and maybe even buy a skin pack here and there. Great work everyone!
  6. I've been thinking about a new skin for Halloween Willow and it came to my mind "why not make them disguised as other games for this occasion?", From there I came up with the idea of Willow in Wonderland with the suit of Alicess return, I made her an exclusive fund of possible new world.
  7. Hello. I couldn't see last stream live. But I will go insane if I don't find out what exactly brush Toni (who was drawing at the beginning) was using in Photoshop. I am not asking for skins png or tex files. Finding out what brush is bad too? Please, can someone help me with this damn good brush? It would be very nice if one of the developers wrote me. Thank you <3
  8. NationStates

    I'm sure you're all wondering what NationStates is, besides from the tags, a "Fun Simulator". Well, let me answer that with a direct quote: So, once and if you do establish a nation here, you can join the unofficial region of the Klei Entertainment Forums. Not much else to really tell you guys, just join it if you want, it's pretty fun IMO. So for those who want to join, let's make one of the greatest regions in NationStates! Any questions you have, there's an official FAQ right here.
  9. Klei Forums Rpg style game

    Klei Forums Battle Rpg You can choose from various different Klei Forum members and go on “quests” in the Forums. This game would be made with RPG maker, and would be a simple-ish game. The player chooses a Klei Forum member out of a list of them and then plays as them for the game. The player can change their character any time, but the other characters must first be purchased with in-game credits. The various areas that the Rpg takes place in are visual representations of threads. For example, Willete’s some art thread could be an area. The characters would each have an unique ability or two that they can use in combat. For example: Lord battal would have “Fire magic” which allows him to shoot fireballs. Each character could also have one or two disadvantages For example: Pecival would be “Hungerless” which would not allow him to eat food to regain health (he’s a voodoo doll, and voodoo dolls cannot eat) The quests would be things such as “Rabbitfist needs your help preventing derail. Kill 20 spam bots.” “Silentdarkness needs help finding an old post. Find the old post and return it to Silentdarkness1” Each quest would reward different things, such as Armor, credits, or characters. For this project I need lots of people to help such as, Artists, Game developers, Testers, Scripters, Idea donators, sounds, and a good strong group of leaders. Current team @F3RR1S Artist @Trentominous Ideas/Artist/Developer/Leader @Strangerdanger101 Tester @Subscriber01236 Tester/ Ideas @orian34 Tester/Ideas @Blazingice26 Developer @Mack18853 Story/Ideas @DwerBomb Story @Rabbitfist Story/Quests @Luggs Story @Lord_Battal Art/Story @ThePreChewedTree Sound effects/Music @Snob. Story/Quests/Leader @MycoLogical some stuff...? I need Clarification @vingw Story/Quests/Ideas/Leader This game is not intended to make a profit, but is solely for the purpose of having a Klei Forum Game. The game will be free to anyone who wants it. Likewise, nothing in game will cost any money. If you want yourself to be in the game, please PM one of the group leaders the following A picture of your characters appearance The characters “benefits” (powers, healing, etc) The characters “Disadvantages” (can’t eat food, can’t use certain items, etc) For example Trentominous Advantage: Nightmare magic (power) Advantage: Bone healing (Can heal himself with bones) Disadvantage: Hungerless (cannot eat food to heal himself) Disadvantage: Unarmored (weaker defense) If you don’t want to be in the game, then just simply tell us. Any and all help is appreciated PROJECT PERCENTILE DONE FOR FIRST UPDATE 0% Right now we need the following to be worked upon Introduction Title Screen Characters NPC's Areas Story Quests Enemys Checklist: -Get permission for use of forumers, for the game characters -Buy RPG maker for game developers -Assign direct roles, who will develop the game, etc -Story writers need to come up with appropriate storyline, including items and weapons -Developers have to discuss the RPG mechanics, such as health, weapons, titles, quests, etc [after story is developed] -Artists have to design sprites of characters, places, items, etc [after story is developed] -Musicians have to create music [after story is developed] -Quests will be suggested and refined -Developers have to collaborate to finish the creation of the game, after all steps are done PLANNING PHASE OF GAME DEVELOPMENT IS VITAL, RUSH THIS PHASE AND THE PROJECT WILL FAIL. (sorry @Snob for stealing this) IMPORTANT: JOIN THE KLEI RPG ADVENTURE GROUP ON STEAM IF YOU ARE WORKING ON THIS PROJECT
  10. Who's Who, Who I Missed?

    So I re-found this picture as I was searching for my Kickstarter confirmation email, and I'm trying to figure out who's who. I know Corey is up front, and Kevin is to the left and maybe Joew on the left of Corey, but who's who of the rest of them? I'm thinking Wade is in this picture too....
  11. Beta Test Video [Spoilers]

    edit: A little side note the first time I tried recording the deerclops died in two hits
  12. just telling you that i have made a new fan fiction called don't starve: son of the demontheres only one chapter on deviantart but soon.... soonwww.deviantart.devilx23.comalso look up on deviantart: helpmeoutthere.she's a friend of mine that had inspired me to make a fan-fic with her fan-fic
  13. The angels are knocking again. Wilson knows it, he's prepared, he's happy. Content. The look on his face would surprise you, I think. Something kind of... otherworldly, considering the circumstances. If you knew him well, you'd know why. Angels keep knocking. He lifts something up in his arm, but it's lackluster in motion. He doesn't really care about it. Just another little thing, rock on a stick with a rope. He forgot the last time he used anything else, though. He knows how to make it again. But they don't have names. Angels keep knocking. I think that the spear's taking hold of Wilson, not the other way round. He can see it closely. See his grin? Grin's fading a bit. Melancholy feelings. If you knew him well you'd care. If you knew him well you'd care very much. Something's comin'. Wilson stands up, stands up. He asks somebody, "Do you hear that?" Then he smiles again. Angels keep knocking. And the bird lifts its beak, it's gonna chirp, but it realizes where it is. It stares at the bars around it. Where's winter, it wonders. Wilson don't know either. "Do you hear that?" She does; but they don't have names. "Do you hear that?" Angels keep knocking. Still the sound is there, Wilson thinks. He don't say it. If you knew him, you'd know why. But you don't. Wilson don't know either. He's thinking about a happy place. His eyes are closed, didn't you see? He picks up somethin' else. But they don't have names. Little round hat, so tall and so proud. He dons it. Don't you look nice, Wilson. "Do you hear that?" Angels keep knocking. Once more, once more, he sets up the teeth. Whatcha gonna chew on today? Whatcha gonna chew on today? He looks at them again. Then again. The teeth are there. The mouths are open. Little smallbird's leg still stuck in one, but it'll have to do. Wilson thinks about it. Smiles. If you knew him, you'd wonder why. But you don't. You sure know why. Angels keep knocking. Blast of light, Wilson sees, yeah, Wilson sees the light. "Do you hear that?" But he doesn't ask. He doesn't hear a thing. He raises the spear. Bird chirps. Angel knocks. "Aim for the eyes!" he'd say. But Wilson already knows where to aim. Angels keep knocking. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Good morning. The grass doesn't stop flowing by, so quickly. Evening wind, Wilson says. Is he right? He hears a snore. The grass doesn't stop flowing by. He says, "Good morning." But it's not morning. They'll never see the morning. He can already feel heat. So close he is, the grass doesn't stop flowing by, Wilson is so close to the beefalo. The stick in his hand is already burnt. Good morning, he tells them. Is it forewarning? It's a gift. It's an offering. They won't see the morning again. And Wilson's glad. The hair comes off easily their smooth body. He cuts off a lot. It doesn't matter, he thinks. "Good morning," he says so far dozed off, because it doesn't matter how much it hurts. The beefalo shudders. Has it heard him? No, they never hear Wilson. They don't deserve to. Finally comes the moon. It stares at Wilson, he can look back endlessly into that abyss, but it hangs over the whole world. No waves to put you out, he thinks. No pig to save you today. "Good morning," he says, the torch now ablaze in his hands. Is Wilson crying? Is Wilson afraid? "Good morning," as he watches the fire burn. He can't see much else now. He hopes they can't. "Good morning." But they'll never see the morning. _________________________________________________________________________________________ "Chester!" There's enthusiasm in Wilson now. He's so giddy. "Chester, yes!" There's a panting, and he's here, this nice little animal. Wilson knows him. "Chester, yes..." How long have you been waiting? How long have you been gone? He's hugging the little creature, and Chester just makes a bark and a heavy breath. "Chester..." Inside again, "here we are," it's been so long. He jumps, such a bounding jump, haha, yes... Wilson's staring, his smile is faked, but he knows Chester's comfortable now. "Lay down," and Wilson points, the fireflies are uproar. He's set up so much for Chester. Does he like it? Does he know? "Oh, yes..." Wilson says, to take his mind off. The future is so grim. He scurries, Wilson does, the big pot of food. How there's still some soup inside- should he do it? Is it worth it? "N-not for you, Chester," he says. Chester wants it. He's grabbing his leg. Fake smile. Fake stare. "It's okay." He sits, he waits, the sun's still up so high, Wilson speaks of a game. He slides a rock across the ground, a line appears, Chester thinks this will go on forever. He's so happy, he's so content, the future's so grim. Marbles in the line, they slide so quickly side to side. Are there rules? Is there sense? It doesn't matter, Wilson thinks. "Chester..." Chester's getting hungry, he's hungry for more, but Wilson denies. Breakfast, he says, "Breakfast's the best!" Fake smile, fake stare, the future's so grim. He stops so quickly, his breath stiff, Wilson stands motionless. He thinks about time. He thinks about lies. How long have I waited? Why wait anymore? "Bedtime..." Chester's not confused. Wilson always stops. The sky is orange, the world's tinted too. Chester's wound down, wire strung around a spool, panting and panting. Wilson's ready. Chester's ready. Fake smile, fake stare. "Bedtime..." Chester's so happy. He's excited for breakfast. He's excited for tomorrow. Excitement is so powerful, Wilson thinks, he's raising the eye bone up. It stares, as if to ask, "Why?" He holds it like a club, fake smile, fake stare. Chester snores. Bedtime. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Morning begins itself, and the spider hisses. Not because it's angry or sad, but because of tradition. It used to have tradition. What does the stone prison bring it if not tradition? It stands slowly on four legs; it was asleep before. It begins to crawl over to a wall, peering at it, looking for something interesting. It doesn't find a thing. Again the spider moves, to another wall; it scratches a mark into it. Another mark. So many by now, I could make a picture, it thinks. But it already has. The stone wall is covered in marks, each one for a day. It saw Wilson do it, once. The spider liked looking at the numbers. It makes a bit of haste now, to an opening in the walls; to another room. This one has a wooden floor instead of one of stone, so comfortable in here. In the middle innocently sits a pile of red berries. Plentiful this time, the spider thinks, it begins to eat one or two, then another few. Sustenance, it thinks, and makes a little smile. But the spider can't eat anymore, so it just pushes the berries away with one limb, staring, its eyes squinting and depressed. It sits, letting its abdomen lower. The spider produces a fairly large web, a cobweb in the corner of the room of walls. It's for Wilson, the spider thinks. And here he was, so quickly; he sit atop a stone wall in a fetal position, looking down at the spider curiously. They stare at one another for awhile. The spider knows it's just a visit, to make sure everything's okay. Wilson says something, maybe he's apologizing, the spider hopes he's saying "I'm sorry I couldn't get more berries..." The spider doesn't want any more berries. It just wants Wilson to be sorry. "I'm sorry I locked you in here for weeks and months so I could harvest you every day for no reason at all just so you could suff..." The spider's given up thinking about it. It just lets Wilson talk. Let him say whatever he wants to say. And like that, Wilson's gone. His noise is gone. His aura is gone, and his smell is gone. The spider's alone again. The walls stare. _________________________________________________________________________________________ There was such a sudden crash, an explosion of noise and color and fire. Wilson was there already, holding a rose; it'd been plucked dead. The meteor was here, he thought. It sit in a pile of dirt and grass, surrounded by wood and stone. His small collection of walls had been decimated, but no matter. Wilson slowly stepped over to the meteorite, a still-hot chunk of rock, held it with both hands and lifted it up. He stared at it so intensely, with Wilson's own calculating eyes. It groaned in his palms, almost seemed to squirm in heat. He studied the crinkles of it, the little holes. He slowly sat down, still holding it, and let his right hand go limp. The rose fell slowly to the ground, and Wilson began staring at the two of them in unison. He smiled. Suddenly the rose sat up again on its own, wearing a fancy little top hat and a cane. It was so happy, Wilson thought, watching the rose dance for him. The meteorite stared. And then, as Wilson noticed, the meteorite really was groaning. It creaked and bumbled its sound. The sound of wood snapping announced itself; Wilson was falling. Through the floor, through the earth itself. The meteorite and dancer followed- enticed by the endless falling. Wilson looked along the walls, and they were so blank- but they passed by cave levels, glowing out, the mushrooms extended. He watched them, paralyzed, as they were the same every time. The meteorite groaned again. The tapdancer stared, Wilson stared. Slowly the meteorite split in half horizontally, opening up like a shell. It slowly uncurled itself until its hollow inside was revealed; a small wooden carving of a tall man with a threatening stare. The rose was not dancing, but Maxwell certainly was, the rose perched innocently on his tuxedo. He spun around a few times, the air resistance blowing the two around, until Maxwell faced him. He said to Wilson, "Hey pal, I can see you're not looking so good. I shouldn't tell you more than you need to know, but seek and you shall find. Better find a way outta here..." And he woke up. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Wilson sighed. No, but it was a relieving sigh, the one at the end of a story and a process. He'd finished it. Wilson stared. The raft was large in size, simplistic, it should float so well. The logs in a row so cleanly. A little pole stuck out between two, and Wilson wished he could hang something on it. He kicked it with his shoe once or twice, for good measure, then bent over. He pressed both hands against it, beginning to take a smile. Lightweight, he began to push. The groaning as the boat began to slide through the dirt leaving a trail enthralled him. Wilson laughed. Now it was truly going, the raft was, near the edge of the cliff. The ground sloped and it was off. Wilson quickly took his hands off, backed away, enthusiasm surged through him as he strafed toward his pile of things. The top hat, of course- a spear for good measure. "And..." But there wasn't anything else; Wilson was confident in himself to that point. And if he did die... The raft began to moan, creaking, about to fall off. Wilson quickly yelled to his group of stone walls, "Goodbye!" But he didn't think about them much. They were just... there, the contents so unknown and foreign that he almost didn't care. Wilson stood up, still looking at the walls, and then he wasn't; his vision blurred, he was running. Raft falls. Wilson jumps. The air brushed across him, ocean wind presenting itself again. Wilson landed on two feet, despite the uneven and rapidly changing ground of the raft. He pushed his legs apart and crouched between two logs, starting to grab hold of the pole. The raft was now soaring, the rapid waters crashing against it over and over. Quickly the two were pushed away from the stone cliffside, how demeaning and restricting it felt. But Wilson could leave now, he told himself that Maxwell truly gave up on him now. "I now let you go," Wilson imagined, his grin still bright. The pole shuddered, creaked, and Wilson hung on only more, pushing it into the raft. The water accelerated unlike a normal shore, the raft began leaping between huge waves. Wilson stopped his expression, his hands slowly sliding off the pole. And then in an enormous movement the raft went vertical. The pole was yanked off the raft's poles, and in one desperate maneuver Wilson grabbed for a rope. He aimed true. But the waves didn't let up, now they were more intense than ever; Wilson held with one hand as it turned right-side up, then grasped for both hands as it nearly flipped. Water soaked both sides, now tumbling and drowning Wilson. And then he gasped for air; nothing came. He stared around him, the world in slow motion, and watched sharks go by. And again he was back up, the raft nearly tearing itself in half. Wilson felt his arm dislocate and simply lay motionless on the top, belly up. The waves were gone. The water was gone. Maxwell had failed, surely. He slowly sat up, his left arm in ridiculous pain. Wilson stared forward at the ocean. The sun was at it's epicenter, now he could see the entire soaring land across from him. The smile, albeit for mere moments, returned. Then, suddenly, all Wilson saw was darkness. He stared at his hands, so faint, and began to yell out for help. He heard a repeated whisper around him, the Grue slowly approaching. It moaned, breathing in until Wilson felt himself hurtling forward, water slicing across his body. The raft was moving again, faster than ever. It skipped across the water, exploding it apart every jump. He saw the approaching shore, yelled again, but it wasn't heard. The raft made one final leap and so did Wilson, soaring above it. And he landed, hearing both his own fall and the crash of the raft hitting the shore. His leg snapped vocally; he tumbled twice over until he lay on his back finally. And moments before he thought he was dead, the spider's leg touched his forearm. Wilson passed out. He dreamt of dead things. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Wilson sat near the bonfire, his right leg completely limp. He didn't smile. He hardly even stared. Except for the berry he put into his mouth every few moments, he was also motionless. Now we take a step back. It's not nighttime, of course, the snow is piling slowly. Wilson's breath echoes out, and you could see it float into the air. His top hat and vest were off; replaced by a snug fur cap and a thick jacket. His left leg was covered, but Wilson let his right into the cold- the pain would be numbed. The four-legged spider curl up against the burning fire, its eyes clenched closed. It shivers every once in a while, but Wilson assures himself it's all fine. Time accelerates for a bit, despite how slow the snow seemed. Wilson was now upright. In one arm he held a crutch striking the ground; the other was an empty berry branch. No smile, no, Wilson didn't smile here. He limped himself toward the small enclosure he called a kitchen. Slowly, without Wilson even intending to, his right hand opened the top of the pot. He heard the charcoal crackling and saw the soup simmering. Should he wait for longer? Wilson contemplated, felt his stomach, and shoved his face into the boiling liquid. The heat was overwhelmingly agonizing. Wilson opened his mouth for a second, letting meaty stew in, and quickly shot out of the substance. His face ached as the cold made contact, but it was relieving. He used to touch hot things and learn not to be burned. Not anymore. Not now. Not here. Nighttime approached; the sun was nearly gone. Wilson once more limped to the fire, its fuel almost never-ending, and slowly lay on the snow. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Wilson walks for so long. He doesn't take breaks in this snow, not at all, he continues to walk; a three legged being he now was. Was he looking for something? What's there to look for here, this desolate wasteland? Wilson walks. He sees somethin', draped around a tree's branch, glinting in such bright light of the deafened sun. It's golden, a little ring type of thing, Wilson sees it and simply ignores it. Maybe the tree will die, he thinks, and I won't have to get it myself, because, I have to keep walking, he kept thinking. Wilson notices a little pile of dirt ahead, and the old him would begin to run, but Wilson doesn't, he just walks more. He'll get there eventually, and as he does kick it up he finds a small little footprint. Wilson, are you salivating? He smiles to me. I am there for him. He directs himself as the footprint does. The fog extends out so far, but Wilson's sense of direction doesn't; within a few minutes he's found another pile. It aims him far to the left. He contemplates something for a moment, should he be following this mystery? Then, still staring, he smashes again with the crutch at the dirt and it collides with something hard. Wilson bends down, his right hand starts to push away the dirt to a pile. Snow falls around it, but after another couple of minutes Wilson's unearthed somethin'... what do you see? He thinks, who's buried in here? He just stares at the wooden casket, gaping. He quickly begins to tear at a hinge, the coffin creaking loudly, and then another. "Hello?!" He doesn't get a response. Wilson then takes a swipe backwards, the cover socketing over the edge into the snow. He stares inside. There's a person, he again thinks, but they don't speak; he just keeps pointing, frantically, at his leg. Is it stuck? Is it gone? Wilson can't tell. The mime just keeps pointing, waving, clenching, mouthing- The only thing Wilson hears from the man is the casket closing once and for all. He sets a stone on it for good measure, cringing, orienting himself left-ward again. Have to follow the track, Wilson. Have to follow the food, Wilson. He's looking for something. ("HELP ME" he tries to say. His vocal cords fail one last time before the snow collapses in the casket's top.) _________________________________________________________________________________________ The jackalope approaches, so enticed by the fire, it's cackling. Wilson does notice, out of the corner of his eye. It's so invigorated by the light, bounding through otherwise trudge-worthy snow. Don't you notice? The flakes of cold are so bright, yet the fire has real meaning. And the jackalope continues, Wilson notices, so close to this fire, he takes his eyes off the crock pot's liquid and turns to the side. He begins to sidle as best he can, though the third leg isn't easy to control. I've found evidence for this fact, the jackalope's heard Wilson- he's now running Why do you follow, Wilson, are you so hungry? Are you so desperate? I ask, yet Wilson continues, bounding as best he can in a gallop, but what use is it? The jackalope screams, Wilson screams, the spider immediately begins to watch, its back finally to the fire. And Wilson, so close, aren't you so close, he sees his window of opportunity, and lunges for the animal. He drops his crutch, he takes a leap, now he's flying, jackalope screams. You've got a hold of him now, Wilson, you've got a footing. And then, from nowhere "He's here, Father!" Jackalope's scream is muffled. Wilson, he's, he begins to burrow into the snow, hiding, mumbling, frantic look on his face. Look what you've done, Wilson, but he ignores me. He peers ahead, snow shoveled onto his body, through the fog and snow he sees the two of them, a large walrus and his son. Look what you've done. Wilson's camp, we're calling it that now, is being torn apart. They want to find Wilson, they do, Wilson knows, "Not here, Father!" The walruses rip into a tent, peering into its contents, jumping into it, exiting. They gobble the contents of the pot. Jackalope starts to scream Wilson snaps its neck and he's dead, with a piercing snap but not loud enough for them to hear. The walruses pick another portion, all the grass and berries, they're trampling on them. Look what you've done, Wilson. Look what you've done. They take a sample like grocery shoppers, "Father," and Wilson tunes them out. He's in his own world now. Wilson's just laying in the thick snow, the dead animal snug against his lap and his own arms ready to flail. They're just barely coated in blood, Wilson, you weren't so afraid of death moments ago. The spider tells him, you even wanted the thing dead. But Wilson wonders why he hears the spider. "Hey, Father, look at this ugly thing!" The little one's club is up. "Hey, I'm over here!" Wilson said this, so loudly, but he wasn't on good footing; one leg was completely kneeling. What did he expect to accomplish? The walruses turned to him. One's eyes almost shone light against Wilson's, and he can almost feel the dart go past his neck. Now he's trying to walk, Wilson is, so slowly; his crutch is gone. "Yer gonna die, pal!" he hears, but Wilson's just crying and doesn't know why. He sees something in front of him, swerves around it and grabs the trunk of the tree, whimpering into it. They come 'round and Wilson knocks the big one over, flat on the ground, aims for his juggular The crutch pierces and all Wilson sees is red, moaning, screaming, pleading, crying, hissing. "Father! Please! No-n-n-n... help! Stop!" And it continues, and continues, Wilson can't move, the walrus runs, Wilson can't move, he's just staring at the crutch he's not supposed to have. Maxwell smiles. _________________________________________________________________________________________ He just sat there, the fire still raging, every once in a while whispering to himself. In front of him was the jackalope; not in a well-made display, just its motionless corpse for all to see. Wilson made something for it, a little gravestone. Kept adding to it, hanging dead flowers on it, making the cross dance around. He wondered why he did it all, what kind of meaning the thing was supposed to take. But not for long, Wilson just kept playing with it, the day passing by without meaning. He fed the jackalope for a bit, nuzzling by its side, still seeing himself just- snap- it's- fragile- head, till it lost all its meaning. And the spider... oh, the spider had its own thoughts about it all. The four legged spider lay nearby, just far enough to be disconnected yet a part of it all, and contained all those thoughts to itself. It didn't want to give meaning to the whole thing. It didn't mean anything. It was a corpse, don't feel the need to give the damn thing dignity. But Wilson did, he did for a while, well past evening, well past meaning, and he threw it all in the fire. He sat cock-eyed, just coldly calculating the innermost fire. He watched the jackalope burn well past when night started. And when it all stopped, well- ...thump thump... ...thump thump... _________________________________________________________________________________________ "This is it," the spider would've said, because it watched the sun rise. It watched the sun rise, clouds gone, snow's melting, winter's over, thump thump, Wilson's up. "This is it." And it was. Wilson's here, he's ready, smiling, three legged little being. He dons his top hat, don't need anything else. Starts to walk, limp, a lot quicker now. Does the spider follow? I don't know. Thump thump. Does it matter? Thump thump. Spider wonders the same question, and it doesn't follow, it doesn't follow Wilson. He's not far now, thump thump, that big forest, all the trees. Sun shines so bright, bird chirps, angel knocks. Haven't the clouds departed already, Wilson? He doesn't care. Wilson? "All burn." And he keeps walking. The forest's close now, Wilson thinks, and he is, he's been walking so long in that same direction. He watches a little red bird land on the grassy landscape, and he's happy. Wilson's so happy now. And you notice something in his hand, burnt out torch, angel knocks, thump thump, thump thump. "All burn." Here it is, the woods, the trees, the everything. Towering above it all is the thing, thump thump, Wilson's thinking so hard about it. "Hello," he mumbles. Wilson smiles. Deerclops smiles. Bird smiles. Sun smiles. Everyone's so happy, leaves returning, so happy, so happy, so wonderful. And then the tree goes alight. "ALL BURN!" ALL BURN ALL BURN ALL BURN ALL BURN ALL BURN Everything's on fire. The world's on fire. The deerclops is smiling. Wilson is smiling. Bird chirps. Angel knocks. The leaves blow into the pyrocumulous, the huge pillar of fire. Deerclops is smiling. All burn. All burn. All burn. And here they are, "Do you hear that," and Wilson does. The angels are here, world's burning so much, and they're smiling now too. The burning surrounds him, so much heat, the world's alight, he throws the crutch in. All burn. All burn. "ALL BURN!" He's screaming. Angels scream. Deerclops screams. Bird screams. And Wilson sees it just then. He falls over. He watches them burn. He's screaming now, too, he's terrified- All burn- and he doesn't want to watch, Wilson, watch for us. Smile for us. He's screaming, covering his eyes with his arms, trying to crawl away, all burn. Deerclops screams. Birds scream. Smile for us, Wilson. ... ... ... _________________________________________________________________________________________ Out floats the branch, gliding along nothing, how it's so meaningful in its posture. It lights up neon, bulbs surrounding its outer body, Wilson's here. A freight train calls out so loudly and destroys the wall of forgotten names, colliding with a forest in a shower of green light; the branch cries as does the four-legged spider. Dug into the ground like an antennae, the branch allows itself to see in perfect harmony with Wilson; the two of them begin to fly above the sun and clouds hang them in a noose as they sing. Wilson only comments, "the gun's pointed toward you. The finally done toast of a forgotten past flies toward the branch, and the bird screams immediately before impact. Now it's on fire too. But-" immediately before impact; now it's on fire too. But the clouds understand your dillema, they all note deeply to themselves in a black and white universe how screams described in the book of all knowledge are accurate; they drop the duo apart until they're split against a knife's edge. Wilson only comments, "Before finally landing on where all the things depart: a stone prison of darklight and miscommunication. It screams immediately before impact. Now it's on fire too. But-" immediately before impact. But Wilson never burns. The spider comforts him, flying through a branch-like corridor of winding worms and destroyed pathways. Far-fetched imaginations run high, Wilson only can watch as a door opens a hundred times until the eternal walk of a pariah presents itself; the spider cries out, and Wilson only comments, "I can see it again, the branch lets itself go into a state of shock, a top spins to give itself meaning. And I screamed immediately before impact. Now it was on fire too, but-" immediately before impact. Now they were on fire too. All burn. All burn. And he sat there, staring into nothing; a top hat laid by him. He kept thinking neon, the spider only watched. He let the branch burn, closing and opening his eyes until Wilson returned to reality. And as soon as he did, he stood. "Say pal, you don't look so good." No, he thought, no no no... "Better find something I BURNT YOU I BURNT YOU I BURNT YOU before night comes!" ... ... ... _________________________________________________________________________________________ "Itsy bitsy spider..." Wilson sat, crunched up by a wall in a foetal position; his head throbbed and he felt his abdomen stab him over and over again. He tried to muffle his favorite lullaby under his breath, but so much of it came out distorted and ridden of any humanity that the only listener was himself. He left a grin on himself; it was so long and fake and wrong. "..climbing up the spout..." He clenched again, contracting all his limbs, Wilson shook. He cried out, kidney stones rolling inside his bowel like a tumbledryer. He felt a squirm, his intestines exploding into trillions of shattered pieces; they landed by him, and he only moaned again. Something belched out of his mouth, an infinite plane of destruction, and he returned to his smile in moments; his eyes saw only a churning machine as they were diluted by undried tears. "Down came the rain, washed the... spider..." And his teeth chattered, clicked against one another in a grind and eviscerated themselves. Wilson's head exploded again, his hair and skull pulsating like a strobe light. He stared only forward, tried to speak; it only came out muffled, strained, and Wilson felt a crashing bumbling rock hit him fore in the stomach. He felt himself flying back into a train, his spine ripping apart from his body and screaming too. "Out came the... the sun washed out the..." Darkness surrounded his eyes, eviscerating his center of mass and slumping Wilson again sideways. He leapt out, grin full of anger, as he watched all the atoms in the world split at the same time; his vision collapsed and he felt a surge from down under. Suddenly something rolled on the ground, coated in something, he pulsated back and forth to ignore the sensation. Wilson took one last gasp, holding his hands together to pray but only moaning again. "Itsy... bitsy... spider... went up the... spout again..." He bit the dirt, trying to reason with it, screaming inside and smiling outwardly as a million shards of glass embedded themselves in his skin; his breathing returned to normal, he felt the pain shoot out in all directions like an aura. The four legged spider went up the spout to him, motionless tears staining his face, and watched. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Was it his new crux? Wilson didn't know what the red necklace did, he keeps taking glances at it, trying to deduce what it means. Nothing turns up for him again and again, 'til he looks again, touches it. Wilson, don't take your hands off the shovel. He doesn't anymore. A clump of wires now in his left hand, he limps to another grave; it reads his name, and Wilson doesn't flinch, just a short cry of sorrow. The dissimilar world seemed, now, so familiar, something so strange was almost normal. He stabbed the mound of dirt with the shovel. He kicked a gnome along the ground with him, garden variety, collecting dirt as it went. It tumbles and turns around, next pile of dirt; the grave's unmarked, but Wilson knows who died. He's already into missing soil, what will you find now, Wilson? He glares at me. Wilson doesn't want loneliness, but he wants privacy. The fake teeth stored in his pockets, now Wilson's off again. Every hit against the ground pains, squirms, aches, but his leg keeps attached, and through this fog Wilson can see one last grave. Now he's here, the wooden crutch serving as a new shovel. He's full of glee. What turns up from the dirt ... ... turned around again, staring at the source of the noise. A content little hen rests, its two legs crouching, Wilson can't believe it. He shout is unintelligible but it means something. Thump thump. He starts to run, but doesn't move. Now Wilson's confused, he stares at his hands but they're too blurry. He glances at the hen for clarification, but it's expression hasn't changed, it doesn't see the strangeness. Now Wilson sees himself in the second person, you're shouting, so hard, "THIS ISN'T A DREAM!" "I'M REAL!" And you think it is, looking at the haze around your vision that you'll only put in when you wake up, you feel yourself being screeched out of the dream slowly, so slowly until reality returns for Wilson. He can see the straw bed around him, he gasps as he promised in the dream, and he'll soon forget how real it felt. ... _________________________________________________________________________________________ The wind is blowing, nudging across the room, in the back where nobody will see. But it seems, for the wind, that all eyes are on it- who really cares? The tallbird, despite her long-term relationship with the wind, starts to shake at its presence. It gives off some kind of bad vibe; calm before the storm that doesn't ever arrive. But there's a sound, so sudden, a shout of momentum like a speeding plane overhead, Wilson's footsteps in a rapid pace. Now the tallbird's awake, only to watch, her legs curled underneath the egg. His figure's now in gaze, threatening, over imposed. She remembers Wilson, distant remnants of a good morning and night, over and over... But already he's asking. The tallbird's moving on on spindly legs now, trying to gasp for a lack of air, and there's nothing. She stares at the man, some kind of long spiky stick in his hands; but they don't have names. The egg's not in the nest, not in the air, in Wilson's grasp, and the tallbird just shudders. It loses momentum, just like the hidden wind that birthed it. Wilson is talking again- quick moving words that don't mean a single thing Already he's gone, how long did it take? The tallbird doesn't measure, doesn't sulk, doesn't let in sorrow. She just sits again on the nest, little fragile thing, and wonders where the egg went. Not next time, she thinks, promises to herself. The wind, such an altruistic being, pokes her on the back. ... And here we are now, the bonfire rages and an innocent egg sits steaming and heating above it. She's happy, there's a running of euphoria and excitement and intensity and the tent dissolves under the tallbird's leg and, oh, how easily it goes into the fire. All burn. The rush envelops her, this feeling of last chances gone and last chances passing by that she never took, only for them to be hit by a speeding car that is the spear. The wind whispers them to sleep. _________________________________________________________________________________________ There is no haze on the horizon. Not enough to shelter him from the thunder, and Wilson swears it's coming. Not enough to harvest the lightning, and Wilson swears it's coming. Wilson can search all he wants, the endless time of day moving without stop and pelting rain never ending. The world is bleak, Wilson, flat and empty and dead. He looks again, glancing up from the dirt, trying to find something that gives hope. But there is no haze on the horizon. In his hands is a box- a cube, shiny, its outside coated in honey, but the inside's moving gears can be seen clearly. Wilson doesn't clench it, but it's there, and so he walks without a crutch. He doesn't smile at it, no grin here, and you should know why. Nobody quite knows him like us. There is no haze on the horizon. But he does keep walking, his mouth sore from hunger but fulfilled from adrenaline, you can see it now. He's approaching a haze, a figure of a creature, something without any kind of meaning to Wilson. One arm descends, now he crouches, shaking and stirring but without a sound. There is no haze on the horizon. And the honey cube sticks easily to the creature's hole, right where nobody could see it. It twists and it turns noisily, grinding halfway into the earth before stopping. Jackalope screams, frightened, unaware, blinded by instinct and it can't stop itself from burrowing into its home. There is no haze on the horizon. But the gears do. Twisting and turning and screeching and grinding and crushing and destroying and wrecking and screaming... The machine ejects coated in dirt, and the two continue. One of them is chewing, but you can't tell who. One of them's fed, but you can't tell who. There is no haze on the horizon. And yet he keeps searching... _________________________ Out from the world is a giant, a colossus. A huge golem of a being, standing so tall and proud, holding the world up. Wilson has found the mountain. The wind contorts away from it, now yelling for attention, blowing at his clothes violently like a train passing by his backbone over and over- it'll never hit you, Wilson, but you think it might. He rushes forward, legs hardly containing him now, and the cube clatters noisily on the ground. It still matters to Wilson, but he doesn't want to think so. The carved paths seem to open to Wilson like doors in a corridor, but there are no walls here; the air slams itself against the giant, cracking its own skull over and over, blasting away the tireless years that have passed. Wilson hasn't seen those years, but his smile is still grim and predicting and calculating. Clouds clip themselves apart at the mountain's edge, water coats them but Wilson keeps walking- the hall winds around itself violently like a rope around his neck. Rushing waves of oxygen pound, higher and higher they are so far gone, and it's cold. The uppermost clouds look down at Wilson, and the fulfillment is lost for a moment. He'll never get that high. It flattens at the top, Wilson says, and it does, now the wind is shoving him away like a crowd. He feels surrounded by it, so intensely hated, yet alone. And the rain starts. _________________________ The sky shatters into a trillion pieces, and they all fall down to the earth beneath. The shards fly quickly through the air, evaporating into nothing as they hit the ground and burrow into it. Wilson clenches the ground to hold, he tries to say something, the words burn. He tries to hold the rod, the sky crackles with anticipation, and the electricity's about to hit the end ... Wilson isn't on the ground anymore, not holding the rock, nothing. He feels a falling sensation, and he's out. The chair feels comfortable. He stares at the velvet buttons along it, pointing away, lovingly crafted. He stares at the room around him, blinking a couple times, exhausted and still awake. He decides to fetch a cup of tea. Wilson's legs feel weak, but both are equal again; he stands up on a wobble and staggers toward the trapdoor. It opens, creaking and bending, but welcoming Wilson to its alcove. He descends the ladder, his throat feeling dryer by the moment. He reaches the bottom with a soft thump thump thump and rests his arms. The kitchen is burning for a moment, he stares at the hot and delirious fire until it's not there anymore and dismisses it. He approaches, haze surrounds him, and before he's allowed in the front door emits a knock, knock. It swings open, Wilson's salivating, he sees a dark blob of a figure, and it speaks. "Wilson, I brought... some, um, turkey, and ca-" "Who are you?" "...Wil'? It's me. Remember?" The figure chuckles. "You're still science-ing, right? Look, I know it's almost been a week... I'm sorry I couldn't get here earlier." He stares brightly, trying to understand, breathing heavily. "Look at me. Are you okay?" "I'm dreaming." He feels the world collapsing, screeching, the figure still standing as it morphs into the four legged spider, standing above Wilson but below the mountain. The rain's stopped. The wind's stopped. The thunder's stopped. Except one last time- as it hits- the ground around the two of them. _________________________________________________________________________________________ The morning sun shone bright. It exploded into light, evaporating the lack of itself in moments, spewing out love. The sun screamed to notify us, and it wasn't present anywhere else. It was here, cuddling the sky in its vast arms of enlightenment. Wilson rode. He rode on his own self-confidence, self hatred, and everything in between. He conflicted with himself as a wrong being, rode on pain and lies. He rode on the four legged spider. Wilson rode on realization, the sun's rays, and the first bolt of lightning of all. They were at once combined- a singular being, faced the same way, the same intent, the same reasons. No whip, no reins, a motivation between twins. They would have held one other together until the end of time, if only they had that long. But time drained through the hourglass right before the bush passed beneath the both of them. He would've asked the four legged spider how it jumped so high, but Wilson realized there might be nothing below him at all. A face ran by them backwards, trying to reel back to reality screaming. It stared at their bond and backfired, running alongside away from its hole. The jackalope's neck stayed intact, and Wilson liked it that way. And the sun imploded again, rebounding outward in a radius of exactly the length of the universe. They collapsed, collided and combined until harmony returned to Wilson's own mind and he was again on the four legged spider. But this wouldn't happen, and Wilson knew, kept lying to himself, resisting to look down- his legs were separate from the equation. Wilson rode on pride. Past a tree adorned by rings, past a memorable tree; it was drenched in the blood of an unknown, and Wilson still stared at the crutch in his own hands. Again they were off, past a bird's corpse- the nest burned brightly. All burn. Past a coffin still closed, and past the remains of an eye- one eye, one eye, one eye, thump thump. They passed a circus, showing its prize, the old necklace from your dreams. A meteor spun around below the two of them, burrowing into the earth to the caverns beneath, and exploded into light. ALL BURN ALL BURN ALL BURN ... Past a stone prison that was eons ago destroyed, yet now it presented as a savior. Why so forceful, Wilson asked me, and I only told him goodnight. The fur burned, and he would never see the morning again. ... He ran further, past a spout of water; it flew into the ground with everything else but-" there was nothing left. The branch burned brightly, and they past his own destroyed intestine. Wilson rode on fear and anger, on pain and detest, but most of all he rode on the four legged spider. ... Wilson past boiling soup so hot, dissolving the underarmor of the earth and letting it all burn. Snow fell and Wilson watched as footsteps in the ground dissolved to fire and let it all burn. ... Immediately before impact, but-" and again Wilson was with the four legged spider, not faced together but apart- their bond now faded away like a long-lost dream and it was. He felt a falling sensation, and was out. ... The murky figure reappeared and told him to wake up, and even when Wilson did the world flapped past him like a cardbook. Laughter. Laughter. Thump thump, and finally he rest again by the campfire, his consciousness floating through space. But it wasn't any longer alone. The four legged spider could finally talk to him. _________________________________________________________________________________________ And so the two told stories. They told cautionary tales, the occasional snippet of a relationship, the lost sigh of a regrettable moment. Both saw their own flaws and ignored them. Both saw the other's flaws and commented, explained, stayed calm and fluent. The fire burned ideas in its gaze, gazing for so long at Wilson and the four legged spider. They sat nonchalant at one another, don't you want to speak? Don't you want to comment? Their thoughts raced so quickly and their words so silent. They discussed the world around them, of course, the dim-lit winter snow and tiny slivers of passion. You couldn't see the bonds between the atoms, the snowflakes or Wilson and the four legged spider, but they were there; you have faith in their existence. You don't know them. What do the stars look like, and Wilson only stares at them. Why is the snow so bright, and Wilson only stares at it. People always wish they knew why Wilson stared so much. But sitting, so deadly and so silent, the four legged spider listens. It measures Wilson's heartbeat, his inner twitch, and the vibrant hallucinations he would put himself through. Wilson looks to me for privacy, and I only invade it more. He searches in the arachnid's mind, looking for family. He searches hopelessly for feeling against him, feebly trying to feed his ego like a fire that just won't stay lit. Wilson doesn't find anything but walls in all directions- lines like a picture drawn across them. One, two, three, four, and Wilson reminds himself of tradition. Through eight eyes he sees himself as a dictator, a slaveowner, a mass of flies that stung. He sees himself perched so innocently on a wall and yet felt those simple words burn like acid. Does Wilson feel empathy? I'd ask him, but I'm sure he knows the answer himself. And through the two eyes, the spider watches itself stumble in a prison, hopeless lack of communication. It watches Wilson beg for it's forgiveness, plead for redemption and yet watches Wilson's own arms ignore words. The prison doesn't expand. The walls don't shrink. The spider just watches through two eyes as the numbers on the walls grow. Wilson watches the weak spot in those walls, sees them crumbling down and seeing open plains for the first time. He watches the boat come flying back days later, wonders how long it's been since he remembered. He stares through another's body as the forest burns, burns, all burn, all burn, all burn. And before they finish speaking, the spider explores Wilson's dreams. They were the only thing it wondered about. _________________________________________________________________________________________ The sun does not rise. No, it is the moon that shows its face, crying desperately as it grasps the ground for attention before Wilson swats it away like a coward fly. Spores emit from the grass, particles in the air that spike the walls and out of the walls comes consciousness. Wilson is terrified. He burns it all away. Eyes do not close because watching eyes come from the darkness. They snicker and snarl and crawl on the walls, horrified bugs, screeching and crawling and breeding. Spores come out of them like spikes, particles in the air. Eyes watch Wilson and he burns it all away. He sees the man's face, a calming tuxedo that would form his body, but instead of calming eyes they form spikes that snicker and snarl all around Wilson, screaming in agony as chains wrap around them. Maxwell is terrified. Eyes watch Maxwell and he burns it all away. Wilson is here, yes, as night lets itself fall unto the forbidden carapace of guilt and the facade comes crashing down. I scream because bugs crawl, spiking the walls, snickering and snarling. They are not real, Wilson, and he screams. Maxwell is terrified. He burns it all away. The four legged spider watches, grinning madly as watching eyes grin out of its eyes and none of this is real but he is terrified. The fire burns around eyes and sleep is a nonissue because the sun is falling again. All burn. Eyes watch the four legged spider and it burns it all away. Sleep, Wilson, none of this is real but he doesn't listen as snickering and snarling bugs spike watching eyes. Maxwell screams because he is on fire. A loop forms between two entities as they cry and snicker and snarl. The four legged spider is terrified and burns it all away. Stars drift without wait, screeching as they find dead halts in the full moon. None of this is real but Wilson can't sleep. The four legged spider is real and is terrified. The night is here, yes, as Wilson lets himself fall into the sinkhole. The four legged spider turns and watches. The bugs recede slowly and snicker and snarl into the darkness. The four legged spider watches as Wilson fades into the darkness, falling, falling, never to return. "I'm sorry." Do spiders cry? Why should the four legged spider anguish? The four legged spider is terrified, yes, as it lets itself fall into the sinkhole. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Wilson's landing was audible. His leg is spiked with the sound of snapping bone, one leg had began to heal but both had now began to die. Curved walls of limestone encrusted with screams watched Wilson, his face still confused and surprised as ever. He'd hoped to land upside down, hoped to snap his neck as he'd done to countless others before, but it was those walls that were unkind to him. Etching visible lines in the rock, flowing with the blood of the earth, Wilson crawled. The cave was silent with the sound of nothing; vibrations from the slightest twitch echoed horribly across the entire cavern. The constant sound of a broken record would play back again and again, with long spindly arms that reached out to grab smiling shapes. The area was too open, Wilson reckoned, yet he felt claustrophobic as the incessantly loud walls closed in. Stalactites spiked the ground, screeching and ripping sparks into the earth. The faint whisper of doubt was in them, resonating onto everything else. Where the aboveground had been home to Maxwell, his playground, his place, this was a forgotten tome with eyes that watched. Wilson stared, calculating, crying, toward the eyes. None of it was flammable. As time went on, the faint light from the moon faded. Amorphous shadows snuck around Wilson, amalgams of faces showing proud. What would have seemed a small time span was too long, far too painful. Wilson's leg snapped again and it dragged limply behind. His face was nonchalant, understanding had fallen to the bottom of the pit, scattered among the faces of the dead. Eons passed as the world was torn to pieces by meteors. There was a wall at the end, calming in its posture with barely any facade to hide behind. Wilson touched it with his own eyes, slumping toward it. He wanted to burn. Of every situation, he slowly found this one to be the worst. Of every feeling, he slowly felt pain to be the worst. Of every guilt he had felt, of all the burnt things and broken bridges, he slowly felt the four legged spider on him, staring and calculating with the four legged spider's own eyes. _________________________________________________________________________________________
  14. ...I'll just drop this here...
  15. So, how do you get a free copy? Well, I have 3 to give out straight from Klei themselves. Since Indie Luchador is a brand new site, a Facebook page was JUST made for it. All you have to do is go like the Facebook page found at this URL and comment under the post on that page about this giveaway. I need to know who liked the page.. Once we reach 25 likes, 1 copy will be given to one of the first 25 people. At 50, another. Then, depending on how fast the likes go, I will give away the last one at 75 or 100. Let's make this happen, people. OLE! Special thanks to Corey Rollins, Community Manager of Klei Entertainment for providing these codes.
  16. Thank you all for your help with tuning adventure mode! We've incorporated your feedback, and fixed a ton of bugs, and are almost ready to release the final version of the game. Just to make sure that things go as smoothly as possible on release day, we're going get you guys to take a look at the build before we sign off on it. I've updated the adventure test build to be the latest, and enabled the ending. Please take a moment to check out the new build. Play both game modes, and see if you can beat adventure without cheating or skipping anything. If you find any bugs, please post them in this thread. We'd like to make sure that there's nothing too show-stopping left over for launch! Once this build looks stable enough, we're going to push it on to the main branch and shut down the test branch. Unless something goes horribly awry, this should happen tomorrow. Here are the instructions for doing the getting on the branch (in case you haven't already): [*]In your Steam library, right click on Don't Starve and select Properties [*]Click on the Betas tab [*]From the dropdown, select the "adventuretesting" branch [*]type ADVENTUREMODE in the password box and press the "Check Password" button. (DON'T PRESS ENTER! IT WILL CLOSE THE WINDOW) [*]Steam should now say that you have opted into the beta [*]Close the dialog, and play the game! Your version number should be 76334 [*]To switch back, do the previous steps, but select NONE as your beta branch.
  17. Hey, I just made a Fan Art for Don't Starve. This is the original picture: (I can't draw without inspiration from other pictures) me a few hours. Hope you like it. ~
  18. We will count until Klei Post forevers!I will start with 1Maxwell shall win!
  19. The Blood Moon Every 30 days (or so) a frightful night will appear. A red hue would light the night sky and drive all the animals mad, and you along with them. Hounds would howl, beefalo packs would go mad with disease, ghosts would spawn in the night and roam around, pigs would turn! Madness would spread through the land and everything the red light of the moon touches. During this time spiders would do more damage and killer bees would be more deadly. Shadow monsters will be seen in full during this time as well, so mad or not you can see them. No sleeping during this time (too might red light) and it can't be skipped with a tent. We need more chaos in this world we live in!