Don't Starve Character Scenarios

You die

This chapter is basically an alternate ending to the last chapter, with a much darker ending.

This chapter contains descriptions of the reader dying in a rather gruesome, gorey manner and the other survivors responding to/grieving over their death. In addition to this, the reader is described having something very similar to a panic attack. Please proceed with caution.

No. No no no nonononono NO! Not again! Fear took over any and all functions as you spun around in the woods, your final torch hissing in a threat to go out. You were lost, scared, and alone in the woods. In the dark. Someone had lost the Eyebone the last time the camp was chased away by the hounds, and you had offered to go out looking for it. It was still light out when you left, just around noon. You'd only packed two torches, both already partially burned, not planning on being out past dusk. Your breathing quickened as you tried your best to shield the last few embers on your torch until you got back to camp. You jogged down the path you swore led back to camp, despite the miles you'd walked in both directions and around the perimeter. You scream for help, tears already slowly falling down your cheeks. Then, with one swift flow of the wind, your torch was out.

You froze in place. You couldn't see. Even worse, you felt like you couldn't breathe. Your chest was tight, and only growing tighter. The world felt like it was closing in on you, and you did the only thing you could think of and burst into a sprint. Your throat was dry, and your breath was thin and wheezy as you threw down the useless torch. You didn't make it far, unable to keep a steady breath long enough to keep going. You let out another scream for help, though it came out as more of a raspy wheeze. Taking in as much air as you could, you tried for another spurt of running, only making it another few feet before falling to your knees. The cold air hit your cheeks, wet with salty tears that flowed down to your neck and soaked the collar of your shirt. You took in as deep of a breath as you could and let out another attempt at a scream for help, this one louder and shriller than the last. It hurt your already sore throat, but you knew dying to the hands of those monsters would be much, much worse.

Monsters you could feel watching you. Creeping closer. Breathing down your neck. About to go in for the kill.

Then you saw a glimmer of hope. A small shimmer of light in the distance. Someone was out there. Someone was looking for you. You wrench your head upwards toward the light and pick yourself up, barely making it before a hiss passes by your ear and something slashes at your side, causing you to let out a scream of pain and fear. You stumble to your feet and make a dash towards the light. "Over here!" you scream raspily, taking in a breath. Your chest only kept growing tighter, it was getting harder to breathe. You held your side as you tried to run warm blood pooling in your palm. In the distance, you saw the blurry orb of light surrounding a silhouette of one of your fellow survivors. You felt another slash at your shoulder, this one running from the base of your neck to the curve of your shoulder, causing another raspy screech of pain to emanate from you, only temporality interrupting the gasps for air and whines between fearful sobs. You tried to run toward the light, only for another dark claw to snag at your left leg, leaving a deep gash running down your thigh across your calf and down to your ankle, warm blood flowing from all of your wounds. You fall to the ground, silently pleading for whoever was coming after you to find you. You try to call out, but no noise comes out. You hear one final gasp right beside your ear, followed by one final slash to the stomach. Your eyes widen as the taste of metal fills your throat and mouth. You feel yourself choking on your own blood and all noise fades from the world around you.

Wilson:

CW: Mentions of Emetophobia

"[name]!!!!" He cries out, finally spotting you laying in the fetal position on the ground. He kneels beside you, grabbing your shoulder and calling your name once again. You roll over limply, glazed over eyes staring into nothing as his hand become drenched with your blood. He takes in a sharp breath, eyes widening in disbelief. No... No there's no way. You were just... No... He grabs your uninjured shoulder and calls your name again, internally begging for some sign of life. Anything. A twitch in your eyes. A small raspy breath. Something. But nothing came. You were gone. No. There was no way. He wasn't accepting that. You were just smiling and laughing with everyone.... and promising to be back before sundown. His breath shakes as tears sting the corners of his eyes. The metallic smell emanating from your body fills his senses and he barely holds back the urge to vomit. Your scarlet blood pools beneath you and Wilson carefully attempts to pick you up. Keeping his torch away from your body in the other hand. He struggles for a moment, Eventually throwing your arms over his shoulders on either side of his neck, and wrapping one arm around your torso as best he can. It's a bit inconvenient, but he had to get you back to camp and he had to keep his torch out. He couldn't let anything else happen to you. He shook as he carried you, tears flowing down his face as he ran. You weren't even far off. Only about 100 feet (30 meters) away. Knowing how to get back, it didn't take him long. He panted as he stepped into the fire light, catching the attention of the other survivors who'd stayed up waiting for you or him to return, desperately hoping for anything but this sight. Various gasps and cries of horror emanate from the campsite, but they were all underneath Willow's cry of "What the hell happened?!" Wilson's voice quavers as he sputters "I-I... don't know. I heard them.... screaming and I found them like... this..." Wickerbottom calls "Bring them into the medical tent!" Wes's eyes were wide with fear, watching Wilson hand off his torch and shift you into an easier position to carry, holding your legs with one hand and your torso with the other. He lays your limp body onto the small mat on the ground, your eyes still wide and glazed while the last of the fire light glistens off of the still damp blood on your face. Wilson remains inside the tent, watching Wickerbottom do her various tests of your stability. She stops and takes a breath in, turning to Wilson. She shakes her head at him solemnly. Wilson looks down to your body, vision blurring with tears. Wickerbottom puts one hand on his blood stained shoulder and says "It's alright. We have everything we need for a telltale heart. We can make it in the morning and they will be good as new." Wilson looks at her and nearly shouts "In the morning?!" Wickerbottom scowls and snaps "Wilson I do not think any of us are in a reasonable position to make something of that much importance at the moment. I am just as upset about this as you, but we have to make sure everything is in order before we revive them." Wilson blinks away tears and nods, "You're right. My apologies, I didn't mean to be unreasonable," he mumbles, his voice reining stability. Wickerbottom nods and says "It is quite alright, now get some rest. We can wash your clothes in the morning as well." Wilson nods, keeping the same deadpan expression on his features as he steps out of the tent, into his own and lays down on his mat.