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    Wilson was a scientist. Or rather, a self-proclaimed one. It wasn't as much an occupation as it was a hobby. The others in the scientific community weren't exactly kind to poor Wilson. He was certain that there were things that science alone could not explain, and that magic could fill in the holes of the mysteries of life. The others found his work to be ludicrous, as he had yet to prove anything. Despite this, Wilson continued his work, ignoring any and all setbacks.

     That is, until today.

     Today was a miserable day in the life of Wilson. While he was used to his experiments failing, he had never experienced all his experiments failing in a single day. He pushed onwards, but was quickly growing tired. Optimistic, he poured a strange liquid from one vial into another. That optimism quickly vanished the moment the concoction exploded. Startled, Wilson stepped back with a yelp, quickly examining his hands to make sure they were unharmed. Thankfully, they were. He walked over to his recliner and sat in it, slumping back.

     “Phooey.” He said. He frowned. “The universe hates me,” he said to no one. “No matter what I do, I can't get anything right.”

     “Say, pal.” Said a voice. Wilson jumped. “Who's there?” He quickly glanced around the room, trying to find the source of this voice.

     “I couldn't help but overhear your mumblings, pal.” Said the voice again. Wilson realized it was coming from his radio. Funny, he thought. I don't remember turning it on. “Who are you?” He asked.

     “Y'know, I could help you out. I've got some secret knowledge that oughta push you in the right direction.” Wilson lit up. Despite not receiving an answer to his question, he wanted that knowledge.

     “Is-is there some kind of catch?” Wilson asked, wringing his hands in anticipation. The voice chuckled.

     “Catch? Pal, I'm offering to help you because I'm the kind of guy who likes to help people.” Said the voice. “There's no catch.” Wilson lept up and picked up the radio. “Tell me! Please!” He shouted, not knowing where on the radio to speak into.

     “Here you go, pal.” Suddenly a strange sensation came over Wilson. It hurt like a headache, but he didn't care. He saw, in his mind, calculations, instructions, blueprints, things he couldn't begin to understand. But he knew. He knew what all this meant. He smiled.

     Wilson immediately began preparations. He didn't care how strange the blueprints were or the materials required. This was what he needed. This was going to work. For the first time in a long time, he felt confident in himself.

     Weeks later, Wilson had completed his work. He looked over what he built. He wasn't actually sure what it was he had built. The voice never told him what he was going to build, but he built it anyways. He had cast all doubt aside and although he succeeded, he was beginning to question what it was he was building all this time. Suddenly, the voice spoke after being silent for weeks.

     “Pal, I think you ought to throw that switch over there.” Wilson looked at the switch. He hesitated.

     “Hey, how did you kn--” Before he could finish, the voice on the radio yelled.

     “THROW THE SWITCH!” Wilson jumped, and without hesitation he did as he was told. The moment he did, sparks flew from the machine. He heard a thunderstorm brewing outside, even though the weather was supposed to be clear. The lights in his house flickered, and his house began to shake. Wilson looked around his lab, terrified. Suddenly, lightning struck his house, coursing its way to the machine. It transformed, into what Wilson could only describe as a face with a sinister grin. It was then that Wilson finally realized what it was he had built. It was a portal.

     He turned to run, when suddenly shadows in the shape of hands appeared from the machine. They reached for him. He yelped and tried to run but tripped on his recliner, causing him to fall to the ground. That's when one of the shadowy hands grabbed his leg and pulled him towards the machine.

     “No! Stop! Please!” He shouted. The hands dragged him closer to the machine. He continued shouting, begging the voice to stop this. The voice cackled.

     “Pal, you should be happy.” The voice had a sinister tone to it. “You wanted to prove that magic could explain what science couldn't.” At this point, Wilson was now being held upright, when the hands started pulling downwards. His legs suddenly went numb. The voice spoke once more.

     “You've done what you set out to do. Welcome to the world of magic. My world.” Wilson could feel his waist and his torso going numb. He opened his mouth to shout but one of the shadowy hands covered his mouth, when suddenly everything went black.

    Wilson lay on the ground somewhere. He was motionless, although he was still breathing. He finally regained consciousness moments later, when he heard the voice from the radio speaking.

     “Say pal, you don't look so good. Might want to find something to eat before night comes.” Wilson sat up straight, blinking as he looked for the source of the voice. He saw the silhouette of a tall man, but the silhouette vanished before he could get a good look. He looked over his surroundings.

     He was in some field he didn't recognize. There were some trees scattered about, and plenty of flowers. He stood up. When he did, he felt a cool breeze.

     “Hello? Can anyone hear me!?” He yelled. No response. He shouted again. Nothing. He quickly went over his options, and no matter what scenario he went through, the conclusion was the same: He needed to survive on his own.

     “Well, guess I better start finding supplies.” He said, out loud. He started wandering around, picking up anything he found that could be useful.

     About an hour later, Wilson placed everything he found on the ground in front of him. He looked over what he found. Twigs, grass, berries, flint, and some flowers. He thought for a moment. He had survived on his own in the woods near where he lived before, but he never had done it alone. He remembered a few things about how to craft tools, but he knew that without any scientific instruments they wouldn't last for long. Still, something was better than nothing.

     Wilson started by making an axe. He used some twigs and tied them together with some of the long grass he had picked, and then tied some flint to the end of the twigs. Not his best work, but he didn't exactly have any way of making anything better than that. He then began on a torch.

     When he finished, he realized he was a little hungry. He knew he had to be judicious with food or else he'll starve, so he ate only a small amount of berries to tide him over. He'd have to find better food later.

     After wandering around for what felt like hours, he finally found a nice little spot that was clear of obstructions. He dumped his supplies here, and looked up at the sky. He realized it would be getting dark soon. He was also getting hungry. He still had some berries left, but he didn't want to eat too much of them in a short amount of time. He didn't have anything else to eat, at least not yet. He ate a few more berries and then began chopping down a nearby tree for some wood. Completing this task took only a few minutes, as the tree wasn't very tall and Wilson wasn't as wimpy as he appeared. After the tree fell, he chopped it up into smaller pieces, then used some rocks he found to create a firepit. Hopefully this would contain the fire, as he didn't need to burn anything down just yet.

     He finished just in time, as the sky was starting to turn dark. Wilson sat down near the fire, which was radiating with a warm aura. He realized he was still wearing his white dress shirt and red vest. He looked around him. He didn't see anything that looked dangerous, nor did he feel threatened by anything. He looked back at the fire. The embers flew out as the fire crackled, breaking the eerie silence of this wilderness. He took off his vest and laid it out on the ground, laying his head on it as he lied down. He looked up at the sky. He watched the clouds roll by as he planned his next steps. He needed food, especially meat, as well as some better materials to work with. He also needed a weapon, and some kind of storage. As he thought, he closed his eyes, eventually drifting into sleep.

Don't Starve: Ch. 1 - Wilson
Decided to try my hands at an unofficial adaptation of the game Don't Starve. Hope you enjoy.
I'm probably not going to be paying much attention to deviantART for awhile. I've got some plans I'm trying to set in motion and the only thing keeping me on this site right now are some of my favorite artists. I'll still probably upload stuff from time to time but I'm eventually going to break away from DA at some point. If you want to contact me and still keep in touch, you can find me on Steam or Skype.

Skype: SpykeXD911
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Watching: Markiplier
  • Playing: Planescape: Torment
(Parody of "Don't Stop (Color on the Walls)" by Foster the People)

Work little work
Small perk big thoughts
Gonna make anything that I want
One screw, two screws I knew it won't do
About ready to just give up
That's when I hear a voice on the radio
"I have the knowledge to help you"
That's how I
Ended up surrounded by
Trees and monsters and this Maxwell guy

Yeah, yeah

He said "Don't starve, don't starve, don't starve"
Talkin' to me
"Starve, don't starve, don't starve
Before winter comes"

I build, stomach filled, everyday's the same drill
I'm really sick of all these thrills
At noon sometime soon giving pigs a boon
Just avoid them when it's a full moon
One two three found the Things all on the floor
I'm gonna open all of Maxwell's Doors
These hay walls
Won't protect me at all
I hope that I can last 'til fall

Yeah, yeah

I thought "Don't starve, don't starve, don't starve
Thinkin' to me
"Starve, don't starve, don't starve"
I need some more food
"Starve, don't starve, don't starve"
Freezin' in winter
"Starve, don't starve, don't starve"
Dont starve

Don't starve, don't starve, don't starve
I must go on
Starve, don't starve, don't starve
Farmin' more food
Starve, don't starve, don't starve
Losing my mind
Starve, don't starve, don't starve
Don't Starve (Song Parody)
My first song parody in a long time. Recently got addicted to the game Don't Starve, so I figured I'd write a song about it.

   There are not enough good men in this world, and yesterday the world lost another one. While he may not have stopped a war or changed the world in some way, he was still a good man, and that at least counts for something. Satoru Iwata was that man. Nintendo has been thought of as being behind the times for quite awhile, but Iwata helped lead the company to get caught up, even if they weren't leading the charge like Sony is. Despite being the CEO of a company and overseeing many projects at Nintendo, he still found the time to make appearances at conventions and do interviews and videos for Nintendo fans.

    It's those videos that are why I'm writing this. I know of the CEOs of other game companies, but Iwata was different. Iwata made sure to put himself where the fans could see him. Everyone knew he was the CEO, but in the interviews and Nintendo Directs he made he seemed more like he was like the rest of us. He was humble and kind to everyone, even when heavily criticized by detractors.

    It was because of those videos that Iwata seemed less like a corporate man in a suit and more like a personal friend. I know it sounds silly, but it felt like his videos weren't aimed at everyone, it felt like they were aimed at me. I don't mean that like I thought he was speaking only to me, I mean that as in the videos felt personal, like he was speaking to a group of friends instead of an online audience. He made sure to be involved in many of them, and even though Reggie Fils-Amie could have done them due to being a native English speaker, Iwata insisted on doing the videos himself. He even added in a little humor now and then, especially if he, Reggie, and Miyamoto were in the same room together.

    Iwata had the customers and fans on his mind every time he held a meeting or published a video. Even if it was obvious he was just spewing out the usual corporate PR, he still did so in a way that made it seem like he had the fans in mind. Sure, not lowering the prices of digital games is a bit of an annoyance, but he believed in the value of those games being worth more than just money, and that's a sentiment I have to agree with. He firmly believed that video games should be entertaining and fun for everyone.

    Iwata made sure to remain in the spotlight at Nintendo, which only makes the news ever so harder to take in. The industry will not be the same without Iwata, and neither will Nintendo. Gamers around the world will always have Iwata in our hearts, just like he had ours in his. We understand, Iwata.

A Good Man
Something I wrote in honor of Satoru Iwata, Nintendo's CEO who passed away yesterday.

    Kyle sat by himself in the bar. Just him and his drink. He came to this bar to try to forget his troubles, and it actually worked for a little while. He would always feel like shit in the morning, but at least he'd have a few hours of peace to help him sleep. He took another sip only to find his bottle was empty.

    “Great. Empty already.” He grumbled. He looked up to see if the bartender was busy only to realize the bartender had gone. Disgruntled, he looked around and to his surprised, the bar was empty except for one man with a suitcase sitting at the opposite end of the bar. Kyle looked around once more just to make sure the man was the only other person in the room. He shrugged, stood up, and walked over to the man.

    As he approached the man, he noticed the man was wearing a suit, and the suitcase was actually a violin case. Despite Kyle standing less than 6 feet away from him and clearly being the only other person in the bar, the man paid no attention to him. Kyle hesitated for a moment, but realized the man wasn't going to speak first.

    “When did everyone else leave?” Asked Kyle. “I could have sworn this place was packed a few minutes ago. The man ignored Kyle and checked his watch. Kyle furrowed his brow. “Excuse me, I asked you a question.”

    “Indeed you did.” Said the man, without making eye contact. Kyle took a step back, startled by the man's voice. The man's voice was calm but stern, but what caught Kyle off-guard was the fact that the man looked to be in his late 20's but the voice made him sound much older.

    “Um, well,” Kyle stuttered. “Could you at least answer it?”

    “Perhaps. But what would I get out of it?” Said the man, looking at Kyle. Kyle took another step back when he noticed the man's eyes. The man's eyes were a shade of red that Kyle never knew could be an eye color. It was almost as if fire burned behind those eyes. Kyle was beginning to become anxious around this man. Something about him didn't seem right.

    “Well, uh, you'd—um. You'd...” Kyle fumbled for the right words.

    “I'd get nothing, is that what you're saying?” Said the man.

    “I guess.”

    “You guess? Fascinating.” The man took a sip of his drink that Kyle only just noticed was there.

    “Look man, I've been through a lot of shit lately and I just wanted another drink before I left to go home. Can you please just give me a break?” Said Kyle, getting tired of the man.

    “What kind of shit?” Asked the man. It was then that Kyle realized the man hadn't changed his expression since Kyle approached him.

    “If I explain, will you answer my question?” Asked Kyle.

    “I suppose that would be a fine exchange. Please, sit down.” The man gestured to the other seat at the table. Kyle sighed and sat down. He began to explain what he'd gone through the past week.

     Last week, Kyle had realized his girlfriend wasn't the same person he had originally fallen for months ago. She had become lazy, selfish, and downright mean. He had noticed these changes prior to this revelation, but he had only then decided that he had had enough of her. Kyle explained this to his therapist and his therapist agreed that it was time to end things with his girlfriend.

    “What had she done to you?” Interrupted the man.

    “She stole money from me, insulted my friends and family, refused to clean up around the house, made fun of my job, and basically made my life a living hell.” Said Kyle.

    “Ah, I see. Please continue.”

    The next night, Kyle talked to his girlfriend about what he had spoken to his therapist about, and she became furious. She screamed at him and made up all these claims about things that he had done to her that were blatant lies, and began threatening to tell his friends and family what horrible things she claimed he did to her. Kyle tried to calm her down but she ignored him and stormed out of the house. He didn't sleep well that night.

    “Did she tell your friends and family?” Asked the man.

    “She did, and then some.” Replied Kyle.

    She did, in fact, tell his friends and family what he had supposedly done to her, and while his closest friends knew she was lying, his family and the rest of his friends totally believed her and began belittling him for being an awful boyfriend. That wasn't all she did, however. She also called his boss at his job and told all his co-workers the same things she told his friends and family, and when he came into work the next morning he was fired. When he came home, he discovered that most of his personal belongings were missing, including his valuables like his record player and the violin that his father gave him.

    He found out later that his girlfriend had sold most of his possessions and burned the rest. Kyle was beyond furious at this and immediately called the police. They arrived at his house only to arrest him for domestic abuse. He tried to tell them his girlfriend was making everything up and that she was the one who was hurting him, but they refused to listen.

    “And then what?” Asked the man.

    “Well...hold on, I...don't remember.” Said Kyle, scratching his head.

    “You don't remember?”

    “It's all just a blur for some reason.”

    “You were arrested and then ended up in this bar?” Asked the man.

    “I guess so.”

    “Tell me, what's the name of this bar?”

    “Oh that's easy, it''s...” Kyle paused. “I...don't know...”

    “Are you telling me you don't know the name of the bar that you are currently in?”

    “Hold on, it's coming to me...I think...” Kyle covered his face with his hands.

    “How did you get here?”

    “I don't know...”

    “What was the name of the drink you ordered?”

    “I don't know...”

    “What did the bartender look like?”

    “I don't fucking know!”

    “Well, then why are you here?”

    “I SAID I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!” Sreamed Kyle. He could feel his face burning bright red. He breathed heavily for a few seconds. “I don't know.” He said. He repeated that out loud, covering his face with his hands again.

    “Well Kyle, I think I'll answer your question now.” Said the man, unfazed by what Kyle had just done.

    “I don't care about...wait...” Kyle uncovered his face and looked at the man. “I never told you my name!” He yelled.

    “I promised to answer your question and I intend on keeping that promise. I will explain everything if you would just please calm down.” Kyle stared at the man.

    “Go on.”

    “Nobody is here because this is how you like it here.” Kyle raised his eyebrows.

    “You can't remember anything because you don't want to remember it.” The man stood up. “I could give you your memories back, but I don't think you'd want to know what transpired after you were arrested.” He walked over to Kyle and looked down at him. “Do you want to know?” Kyle looked around, and then looked at the man.

    “Am I dead?” He asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

    “If you have come to that conclusion, I don't think I need to answer that question.” Kyle covered his mouth with his hand, and squinted as tears rolled down his face. The man put his hand on Kyle's shoulder as Kyle wept.

    A few minutes later, Kyle stopped crying. He wiped the tears from his face. The man had taken his seat back and folded his hands, looking intently at Kyle.

    “How?” Asked Kyle, still wiping tears from his face.

    “How did you die?” Asked the man.

    “Yes.” Kyle's voice was emotionless.

    “You were so furious over what had happened that you fought with the police, and one of them accidentally shot you.” Said the man. Despite the words coming out of his mouth, the man's voice showed no sign of pity or sadness.

    “Figures.” Said Kyle. He looked away.

    “Kyle, the reason you are here is because I have a proposition for you.” Kyle didn't look back at him. “I can help you in one of two ways, but you have to be the one to choose.” Kyle remained silent.

    “I can either bring you back, exactly as you were before you died, but you will still have been arrested by the police and have to deal with the consequences of striking an officer. Or...” The man picked up the violin case and set it on the table, opening it up. “Or I can give you this, and you stay here.” Kyle looked at the violin case. It was the violin his father gave him. He looked at the man.

    “What do you choose?” He asked.

    As the man walked out of the bar, he stopped for a moment to listen to a beautiful song being played on violin.

The Choice
Another short story, this one's a little darker than what I normally write. Lemme know what you think!
I'm probably not going to be paying much attention to deviantART for awhile. I've got some plans I'm trying to set in motion and the only thing keeping me on this site right now are some of my favorite artists. I'll still probably upload stuff from time to time but I'm eventually going to break away from DA at some point. If you want to contact me and still keep in touch, you can find me on Steam or Skype.

Skype: SpykeXD911
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Watching: Markiplier
  • Playing: Planescape: Torment


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm a gaming enthusiast, and I've played many video games and know a lot about video games. Although I mostly play video games, I do also enjoy writing. I previously attempted to do a webcomic series that parodied other webcomics but became frustrated with my lack of drawing skills, and then tried other things on DA before I finally settled on creative writing. I try to update with a new poem, short story, or novel chapter every week if I don't forget or something else takes up my time.

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Thatguy3331 Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2015  Student
Thanks for the Favorites Icon 3D  Man!

Out of curiosity how have things been with you?
TheDreamVista Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2014  Student General Artist
Excuse me, I'm gonna hate you, nor unforgive you for befriending Gligar13Vids, but is there a reason why you're friends with him?
SpykeXD Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Because he's a pretty cool guy, he's tough and doesn't afraid of anything.

In all seriousness though, his YouTube videos are just troll videos. He doesn't take them seriously and it's clear you shouldn't either.
TheDreamVista Featured By Owner Edited May 28, 2015  Student General Artist
Sorry, I mean't to say I'm not gonna hate you nor unforgivable you.
SpykeXD Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
If it means anything, he and I are no longer friends. I got fed up with his bullshit and he started acting like a child when I called CoD casual.
(1 Reply)
TheDreamVista Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2014  Student General Artist
Maybe I shouldn't. No wonder that he gets verbal abused a lot.
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