Oh, God, this is my first story... ever. This is loosely based on my own experience as a newbie playing Don't Starve Together, which means it's non-canon in a few ways:

1) The Player is separate character. Kinda.

2) Like in DST, there's no puzzles, no finding Maxwell on the throne... there's just surviving.

3) But Wilson isn't an accomplished survivor, which he should be by the time DST happens in the canon timeline.

If any of this bothers you, you have been warned! If not, read on and (hopefully) enjoy!

Wilson P. Higgsbury was surviving. And for having little prior experience, he thought he was doing quite well. More specifically right now, he was looking for some small saplings to pull twigs from, as his supply had run low.

"Hey…"

Wilson paused. He could have sworn something—someone—had spoken. But now he heard only silence. He was ready to dismiss the notion, assuming it was simply a result of letting his sanity slip further than he'd previously thought. That was easy enough to do.

"Over here… by the grave…" it whispered.

Nope. He might indeed be insane, but he'd heard it. But glancing over at the grave in question, he found nothing that could explain the voice.

"…Hello?" He felt a little foolish, speaking to no one.

"You should… dig up this grave…" Well, that was an unexpected request—though he didn't know what he'd been expecting instead.

"…I am not quite that gullible." To his credit, Wilson was not entirely stupid and had learned a thing or two about listening to strange voices.

"It would truly benefit you… to dig this one up," it insisted.

"I am not going to desecrate that grave."

"I… am trying… to assist you… sir." The voice seemed agitated, measuring its words, willing him to listen, but Wilson stayed firm.

"If you honestly hold no ill intent, you'll leave me alone." He turned pointedly to leave, deciding he'd already wasted too much time talking to nobody.

"Ugh! Then hand over the shovel AND I'LL DO IT MYSELF!"

The voice seemed to rush towards him, increasing in volume until it felt as if it was screaming in his own mind. Head still ringing, Wilson watched his own body be pulled towards that damned burial site despite his wishes. His own hands unwillingly wielded the shovel and unearthed the shallow grave. It was an entirely terrifying experience—which was not uncommon in this world.

The treasure uncovered was a necklace of some sort. Perhaps an amulet. The heavy red gem in the middle sparkled beautifully, despite the dirt. And it radiated power. Wilson turned it over in his hands to examine it more closely, not realizing he was once again controlling his actions.

"See? It'll help you. To stay alive." That damned voice was back, though—thankfully—outside his mind once more. "You should also… pick up this gold lying around, maybe?" And indeed, now that he looked, he saw scattered several nuggets of glittering gold amongst the other tombstones nearby. How odd.

"I… I'll have to come back for it. My pockets are full." Gold would be invaluable, but he was willing to leave it there if it meant a quicker escape from this mysterious entity. Besides, his pockets were full.

"Well, if you were to set something down to make room...?" Wilson wasn't very enthusiastic about leaving anything behind, but he had to admit he felt trapped. If he didn't comply, he would just be compelled. And so, after a moment's thought, Wilson determined he was willing to sacrifice his axe to prevent his body from being seized from him again. Besides, it was worn down and might very well break on the next swing. He could make a fresh one later, he told himself, setting it down on the ground.

"I can…" A shadowy hand appeared and swiped over the axe, "hold that for you." And in a blink, both hand and axe had disappeared.

"Hey!" Wilson shouted in surprise, even though he'd just decided he was willing to lose the axe. He hadn't expected it to vanish.

"Relax." The hand reappeared for a second, holding the axe. "I'm just carrying it for you." Both disappeared again. "Now, about that gold? You'd better grab it in a hurry and get back to your fire pit before night falls."

Carrying it…? He had several questions about this whole event. Many, even. But it was true that the dim dusk's light would soon be gone. He would mull them over while cooking some carrots. Right now, however, he saw his exit, and he took it.

The trip back to his humble beginnings of a camp was quiet and uninterrupted by disembodied voices, which he was very grateful for. Wilson lit a fire and fed it until he felt sure it would burn comfortably until morning. He speared his carrots and held them over it. Wilson P. Higgsbury was surviving.

A flicker in his peripheral vision caught his eye.

His axe was laying on the ground.

"HEY! You followed me!?"

This time, there was no reply.

A short intro in which the disembodied player makes a terrible first impression. I promise: Meatier writing, more action, and less dialogue to come! And less ellipses, too, yikes, once the awkwardness of human-? communication wears off.

This was initially inspired by the way you can hold one object in the cursor when all your inventory is already full. The obvious explanation is probably that the survivor is just holding it in their free hand, but interpreting it differently is more fun and gives the player something they can tangibly do besides yelling at Wilson, while still being very limited. Besides, when you're playing alone and your character is examining things and commenting on them... who are they talking to?