#darkwood night trader

[foxgirl87]

I hate all of them

[eclipsinggod]

I wasn't really interested in the game up until I met Wolfman (yes, I'm down bad).

The man made me interested enough to continue playing, and honestly? Good. It has really grown onto me (pun not intended).

It's a fun survival horror. Trial and error games aren't my strongest suit, but it's nice. It's like... a more tame version of Funger.

The soundtrack is really good, too.

[red-tea-lover]

🍄🍁 Night Trader from Darkwood🍁🍄

Ну, тут мне сказать нечего. Я могу часами ��ассказывать почему этот персонаж хорош и потратить часы жизни для написания фанфика лишь бы чел выжил. И да стимборды вернулись) Наполнение классическое и сосмыслом типа. Ключи, грибочки и ночь или в целом тёмная зелень ибо вайб игры или предметы у персонажа, ну а остальное баланса ради.

Well, I have nothing to say here. I can spend hours telling why this character is good and spend hours of my life writing a fanfic just so the guy survives. And yes, stimboards are back) The content is classic, like keys, mushrooms and night or dark green in general because of the game's vibe or the character's items, and the rest is for balance.

🍄|✏️|🌕

🍂|🩶|🌼

🌾|🕯|🗝

[monochromaticwriting]

A little Darkwood fic, for a personal fic length challenge!

The Bugperson walked through the forest. It was dark and silent that day. They hadn't seen the Stranger nor the Trader for the day, and that made them worried. The two had grown to be the closest thing of Friends to them, and they wouldn't want anything happening to them. So, onwards they walked. Most creatures in the woods left them alone, not wanting to challenge the one being who can out scream a banshee.

Well, as the woods came alive with the sounds of gunshots and those little beasts. What did the Trader call them...? Dogs! That's right. They shook their head, lifting the hood to their shirt, and putting their hat back on. The straw hat itched against their head, and the shirt felt wrong on their thorax, but that didn't matter right then. Their own comfort came second. They needed to secure more wood for the nest.

The Bugperson walked in the direction of the guns and dogs. Dead creatures meant more things to trade for wood. They came across the scene. The Stranger was fighting a pack of dogs, and it looked like it were having trouble with the numbers in this pack. The Bugperson knew they had to step in. Running forth, they raised their own gun, shooting off some of the infected canines. Luckily, the large pack decided not to waste energy on the two, darting back off into the shadows of the woods.

With a nod, the Bugperson looked over at the Stranger. They notice it had some bites, some very nasty looking bites. Reaching into their bag, they toss the Stranger some bandages, and stayed watchful as it bandaged itself. If it looted the dog corpses for meat, the Bugperson wouldn't judge. The Stranger was an outsider. They knew it needed meat. How did they know it needed meat? Its mandibles were like the villagers. The ones who lived off the poor sow in the barn. They didn't know why the villagers continued to harm the poor creature, instead of eating the plentiful wood around them. But, they weren't accepted by the villagers, so to each their own. Well, it wasn't accepted by the, except one. They could hear his broken violin in the silo. Something about the noise was.... Nostalgic. Like they knew that sound somewhere else, but couldn't place it. The Bugperson had a soft spot for the boy in the mask, who carried that broken violin.

They turned back to the Stranger. The sun was going down, and they knew it needed to get back to its hold. Staying by its side, the pair quietly go through the meadow, back towards the shelter of the Stranger. The meat on it smelt so good, though not as tantalizing as the wood it carries. As they got to the Stranger's shelter, the Trader was already inside, waiting for them. Well, waiting for it. He spoke primarily to it, though it never truly answered much. They certainly never hear its voice. Not that the Bugperson could speak back, even if they wanted to.

Getting the Stranger safely back to the shelter, they turned to go back to their wandering, but a deep voice startled them.

"It's dangerous out there. Please. Stay here till the morning." Came the deep, muffled voice of the Trader. They turned back to the duo. The Stranger was already cooking and eating some of the meat, and some strange mushrooms, over the oven. How could they reject that offer? It saved them some ammo of fighting off hoards of aggressive creatures.

They stepped inside, and moved the dresser in front of the door. Their many eyes looked around, taking in as much as they could. It wasn't often they were invited inside a shelter. They became aware of the itch on the top of their head. Quickly, they took off their strawhat, letting their antenna out from under it. As they relaxed in the shelter, in the unnatural quiet of the night, a soft snore could be heard. They turned towards the noise, and looked at the scene in front of them.

The Stranger had its head on the shoulder of the Trader, resting its poor tired body for once. Something about the scene was very.... Familiar to them. Like they had.... Been in this situation before. Flying high over the strange forest, resting their head on the shoulder of one of the researchers they were assigned to work with. No matter how hard they tried, nothing more came up.

It didn't matter now. They were where they were now, no point in focusing on a possible past. The Trader looked up at The Bugperson, a silent question on his masked face. All they could do is nod, and took over a full guarding position in the shelter. They came to a silent pact that night. They would both do what they could to help the Stranger. Both had grown attached to it, though they were sure in different ways. But this Stranger was their friend now. It needed them, as they needed it. And though the Bugperson and Trader didn't care much for each other, they bonded for their love over the Stranger, sleeping the night away for once.

[maximuswolf]

Could you recommend me some PC games based on preferences and mid-hardware?

Could you recommend me some PC games based on preferences and mid-hardware? Hey guys sold my PS5 lately and could use some games for couple nights as I have nothing to do for easter and I'm quitting smoking so I need some distraction!Got a low end laptop: Intel i7 2.66 6core, Nvidia GTX 1650, 32gb ram. It has problems running things smooth.My favourite games in the past have been:Soulsborne, Hunt:Showdown, World of Warcraft, Amnesia:Rebirth, all kinds of RPG's, Alan Wake, . Liked some indie games like Darkwood, Oxenfree, What Remains of Edith Finch.What I'm considering from my backlog and propably giving a go is: The Long Dark and Grim Dawn. Not really feeling it for those.Any gems you are avare of that runs well but gameplay is still smooth? Not looking for anything too heavy like CIV or Rogue Trader. Tried Valheim and its was cool but got pretty grindy soon. Thanks! Submitted April 18, 2025 at 11:39AM by _mews https://ift.tt/x4orcDX via /r/gaming

[sideshowyelling]

Spoilers for Darkwood ahead if you care.

I would like to very briefly go off about Trader from Darkwood, and how fucking perfectly he is written and implemented into the game. The forest in Darkwood is nothing but a horrific, nightmarish place where everyone hates you and everything sucks. If someone isn't trying to kill you, they're very likely trying to scam you, or asking you to do crazy dangerous things that will just send you deeper into the horrible nightmare forest.

And of course you can't forget the night time attacks on your base and the absolute perfect tension the game builds up but having to just stand there and wait in the dark to see if you're going to be attacked. The anxiety all of this creates is damn near palpable, and it builds up until that music crescendos as dawn finally approaches...

And then the morning theme begins to play, and you're greeted by Trader, and the relief he brings is some of the strongest I have ever felt while playing a video game.

Trader is everything good left in the world of Darkwood, he is one of the few genuinely friendly faces in the world, and is eager to help you when he can. Seeing him makes getting through the horrible nights worth it, and building up reputation with him is particularly satisfying for some reason.

As you progress deeper into the forest, he follows, and warns you that you're treading into dangerous territory, telling you that there is no way out, and that you're better off sticking with him in the safer parts of the wood. He's... not wrong, but at the same time he's not giving you the whole truth. He's got a key just like the one you're looking for. He's had it the whole time, and likely knows it's exactly what you're after, but he keeps it to himself and urges you to stay. He's lying to you, but it comes from good intentions because he knows just how dangerous it is beyond the door, and he doesn't want to see one of the few people he could call a friend die.

You persist though, obtain a key for yourself though, and Trader makes one last ditch effort to try and keep you from going on. He all but begs you to stay. The one shining light in this dark forest is asking you to give up, stay with him, come back to the medow and just exists in this wretched place. It would be a terrible place to live, but Trader knows it's better than what waits ahead beyond that door.

And when you make your way through the door to the swamp, despite how much Trader had begged you to stay and how he clearly wanted nothing to do with whatever was waiting for you on the other side, he tries to follow you. He tries, and he dies for his efforts. The one light that would shine every morning in the form of Trader greeting you after a hard night's battle is snuffed out there in the swamp. The Three are just a hollow mocking of what Trader was, even going so far as to sell you things from Trader's bag that they took off his corpse (either finding him there, or more likely killing him themselves) and after that everything is just bleak.

The Trader may have been a liar, but he was the best friend you could have ever hoped for in a game like Darkwood.

[metalgearkong]

Darkwood - Review (Switch)

12/8/19

Developed by Acid Wizard Studio, released August 2017

Darkwood looked exactly like the kind of game I love: dark and disturbing. This game advertises itself not only to be unforgiving, but also struts the fact that it contains no jump-scares. Darkwood seemed to be a promising game, and after buying and downloading it, I have a lot of thoughts about it. I want to say right away I didn’t quite finish the game. This game certainly isn’t shy about saying how challenging it is, and I agree, mainly in its opening and final hours. What sold me the most about this game was its top-down perspective, and I saw a quick video online of the light bending through the trees as the character walked through a thick patch of woods. It looked like a unique enough game, and if it could fill me with dread without any jump-scares, I was all in. Darkwood was developed by a Polish company, Acid Wizard Studio, which I believe is their first commercial game to date.

You may be able to see around you due to the game’s perspective, but can only see objects, items, and characters if they fall into you beam of light. This means things can still surprise you, and you need to look around just as you would in a normal 3rd person action game. It also means monsters can still sneak up on you because if there’s something in the way of your flashlight beam, or they approach from the side, you won’t see it until they’re right in front of you. This is the closest the game comes to having jump-scares, but its more of a emergent gaming moment because none of that is necessarily designed, and is a byproduct of the AI. We play as some guy who is stuck in a portion of the woods where all routes have been overgrown, rendering them impassible. The main objective of the game is for the protagonist to find a man who has stolen a key from you, leading to the only way out of the woods.

The gameplay cycle of Darkwood is to scavenge for supplies during the day, and defend yourself in a hideout at night. The environments are mostly open world, and each time you start a new game, the map is somewhat randomized. I found this out with my numerous attempts to start the game over again when I feel like I learned more about the mechanics, and wanted to start off on a better foot. Darkwood is definitely what I’d call a “survival” style game, where the action and adventuring takes a backseat to the meticulous collection of items and crafting. The protagonist can only run briefly as your stamina meter runs out quickly. It also refills quickly, but it means you have to take measured sprints with frequent breaks. This comes into play especially when being chased by a mad dog or monster. It also affects how quickly you can get back to your hideout as the sun sets and night takes over. Nighttime is far more dangerous than the day time, and it reminds me of the difference between the fog world and Otherworld of the Silent Hill games.

The mechanics have a high learning curve, which lead to a lot of frustration at the beginning of the game. Learning through trial and error what items are important and which are junk is just part of the process. You then have to learn how to best make your hideout as safe as possible, as it becomes your safe bunker while the night takes over. In real world time, the sun is up for about 20 minutes, while night is only about 5 minutes. It also reminds me of Dying Light, where the nighttime is the most dangerous, and even though its shorter than the day time, it can feel much longer due to the tension and focus you need to survive. The more days that go on, the more the threats slowly get greater and greater. I recommend buying a watch as soon as possible because being able to tell the exact in-game time is crucial for planning your day (and knowing how much longer nighttime lasts each night).

One of the most important things you can do is collect gasoline and wood. Keeping the lights on means keeping the generator gassed up, and you need wood in order to barricade windows. However, nearly everything is important in some way. For example, scrap metal can be crafted into bear traps and other defenses. Bottles and rags can be combined with gas or alcohol to make Molotov cocktails. There’s a use for almost everything, which makes the day time so important to find as many things as possible. During the day is the time to complete quests as well. One of my favorite parts about the game are the sentient visitors you’ll get to interact with. Eventually a mutated trader visits you in your hideout each morning, and he becomes your best friend quickly. When the trader visits, you get unlimited in-game time to trade and build new items. This is a godsend in a game like this where time is your biggest resource. Once you’re ready, and you leave the hideout, normal time resumes.

The art on these characters is dark and disturbing. Not a single NPC is a normal person, and few of them are any better than ambiguously malicious. I loved encountering new NPCs to talk to just to see the art that brings them to life, and learn about their personality. Occasionally you will find an opportunity to help one character or another, which can affect how things proceed in the future. For example, if you go against the Wolfman he will no longer serve as a vendor, but the Musician may have an advantage worth the sacrifice. None of this is explicitly told to you and I loved inching my way forward, wary of everything I did and how it might affect me. When you survive each night you earn an amount of “reputation.” Reputation is your currency in this post-apocalypse, and it’s what you use to trade with. Selling items to a vendor earns you reputation, while buying things costs reputation. It’s important to be extremely frugal, you gain reputation from surviving a night in your hideout. If you die during the night, no new reputation for you the next day.

Sound design is crucial for any horror game to establish the oppressive atmosphere and dread. Darkwood, while not graphically impressive as a top-down Unity game, knocks it out of the park with its audio. This is doubly true for the nighttime segments. I loved dragging both lamps in the hideout to the room I’ve hunkered down in, and just listening to the noises around me. It also helps in identifying monsters or threats in the environments even if they don’t cross your beam of light. Eventually monsters and savages will outright break into your hideout, and you need to defend yourself with any means possible. Building nail boards and shovels make for decent melee weapons in the beginning, but both tools have a long wind up animation, and don’t deliver much damage. Furthermore every item degrades when used, so nothing lasts forever. Eventually you will gain enough reputation to start purchasing gun parts and ammunition. I can’t tell you how good it feels to finally build something like a pistol, and have one or two extra mags of ammunition. 

This is truly a grim game with an overbearing sense of dread and hopelessness, and if you enjoy that kind of atmosphere, Darkwood will satisfy that curiosity. This is also one of the more difficult games I’ve ever played, mainly in its early hours experimental phase, where I restarted the game at least 5 times until I felt like I got the hang of the mechanics. This front end frustration nearly turned me off from the game altogether, but I kept trying, and eventually made it to nearly the end of the story. I enjoyed Darkwood the most in its middle portions, when you get into a rhythm of scavenging, crafting, defending, and accomplishing missions. I rage-quit when I was maybe a few quests from the end of the game, when the ammo I had saved up for so long, instantly was all gone when I cam across a shed full of monsters and had to use waste every single bullet I had labored so hard for. It can feel like a set back quite a bit if you make one or two mistakes, and that frustration kept me from being inspired to push through till the very end. But, I do see myself coming back to this game in the future, and conquering the dark nightmare armed with the new knowledge I have on how to succeed.

8/10

[the-ravens-requiem]

The Beginning

The alchemist's shop seemed to have manifested itself out of the gloomy air that surrounded Darkwood late one autumn night.

The sun rose over the trees, the morning fog lifted -- and there the cottage sat, surrounded by a garden and a tall iron fence. The building itself was situated on a flat piece of land near the lake, where weeds and brambles had grown in the past. On a wooden sign in front of the cottage, there was a picture of a black bird with a red ribbon in its mouth. 

The name of the shop was painted neatly underneath: The Raven's Requiem.

The townsfolk were afraid to approach the warm-looking cottage, citing old superstitions. The location of the shop was in sight of a road, and although the placement of it was only frequented by foot traffic like local fishermen and hunters -- surely someone would have seen the place being built over the summer?

The bravest of the townsfolk craned their necks as they found reasons to walk by the shop, curious eyes hungry for a single glance of their new neighbor -- but never daring to cross the threshold between the shop  and the road. Some swore they had seen a dark figure move amid the orange glow in the windows --  yet others claimed they'd been haunted by an image of a cloaked figure hunched over the plants that lined the sides of the building. Whatever the case, none could say or prove that they had actually seen the shopkeeper for sure.

And so a wealthier resident of Darkwood hired an outsider to look inside the shop. She was to report back to him with whatever she found, and tell him all she could find out about the shop’s owner. The wealthy man was just a simple trader, and he found the sell-sword in a small tavern by chance when on his usual travels. He hired her on the spot for a small amount of gold. She promised that she would complete the job before the week was out.

As she stood in front of the simple cottage with the painted sign out front, Amelia felt like laughing. If she had not personally seen the fear on the trader's face when he told her of the so-called 'strange' shop, she would have thought the job was a complete joke. 

He claimed that the townsfolk sensed an evil presence of some sort when near to the place, but she felt no such thing. He had told her that they were afraid to fish or hunt near the building, afraid that there was some sort of poisonous miasma -- superstition, no doubt.

It was just a simple cottage; The roof built with wide eaves, and in the style that was common in the northern areas of The Middle Kingdom. To look upon this place and assume that there was evil here was downright silly -- madness even. There was no haunting here -- no ghosts, strange creatures, or ancient magics.  

Amelia had made up her mind already, even without having stepped a single foot inside. The townsfolk were simply mistaken, and there was no way that the shop had sprang up out of the weeds and grass overnight. The cobbled stone and wooden framework looked worn, as if the building had been there for decades. The glass in the windows and the small greenhouse in the back seemed cloudy with age.

It had to have been some kind of mistake. Amelia tried to piece together what could have happened for the townsfolk to get so hysterical. 

The explanation could be that the owner simply had restored the building recently, cutting away overgrown grass and ivy and settled in to open up their shop. Maybe it was the new sign which alerted folks, and thus had created this widespread notion of a whole house appearing overnight.

The mercenary examined the area around the cottage, noting that it seemed to be a lesser-traversed road. There were no deep wagon-ruts carved into the roads, and the grass and stones seemed to be relatively undisturbed. 

Amelia was no detective, but  this she was sure of: A whole shop -- a whole house and garden, even -- could not just appear overnight. And even if one could, why would such a power be wasted on a little town such as Darkwood?

To Amelia, this sort of fanciful thing was simply not possible. In her short life and in all her travels around The Known World, she had never heard or seen anything like it. Therefore, it simply could not be true. Fixing her leather armor for the last time and double-checking her scabbard, Amelia confidently strode past the sign along the road and trekked up the worn path. 

The cottage loomed, nestled between the sky-reaching conifers. It reminded Amelia of a painting -- the kind a noble might commission, for it was almost too fanciful and wistful of nature to be real. It was a quaint little place for sure -- and well kept, too. The fallen leaves and nettles were raked into neat piles on the far side of the house, and the garden seemed fragrant with late-blooming flowers and cold-weather plants.

It was clear that someone lived inside, simply because the grounds were kept nicely. The grass and bushes were clear-cut, and the path seemed to improve the farther up she went -- as if someone had recently fixed it up for easier travel. The windows were aglow with light, too. 

A bell above the door jingled cheerfully as she entered the shop -- the door itself heavy and carved with intricate symbols Amelia did not recognize. She thought that they were likely decorative, if nothing else. The interior of the shop was mostly wooden -- the floors, the counter-tops, the shelves. Baskets of dried herbs and bottles of elixirs, tonics, and potions lined every inch of space in the large central room. 

Doors leading beyond -- possibly to the shopkeeper's personal home -- were situated to the north and east. The eastern door looked like it lead outside, having a short hallway between it and the shop proper. To the west lie what appeared to be a sitting room with shelves of books that did not appear to be for sale -- and what laid beyond, she could not see.

Amelia called out a polite greeting, glancing every which way to see if she could spot the shopkeeper. After a few beats of silence, she stepped further into the shop. The pleasant smell of freshly dug dirt and perfumed herbs filled her senses as she began to walk around, noting the way the wood groaned and creaked with age beneath her feet.

A bottle caught her eye, far into the shop on a shelf. It was a sort of reddish color, and looked viscous. The bottle seemed to be made of a clear sort of glass, though she could not read the label from where she was. Amelia walked over to it, stepping carefully so as to not disturb any of the various baskets and bottles on the many shelves and tables that filled the space. 

As she approached, she realized she could see into the sitting room more properly. The bottle forgotten, curiosity got the best of her. She moved closer. At this angle, it looked more like a small library, with pots of flowers and herbs and other assorted plants decorating the room. The chairs looked comfortable and well-worn, made of fabric and dark lacquered wood. 

The prolonged silence of the shop began to make her feel like she was intruding, and an acute sense of dread began to overcome Amelia. What if the shopkeeper was out? What if she had accidentally broken into the shop because they had forgotten to lock the door? She may be a mercenary, but she was no thief. 

A  sudden break in the solemn silence startled her, and with a gasp Amelia spun around to see what she assumed to be the shopkeeper standing directly behind her. 

It was a decidedly peculiar and rare sight to see someone in a full plague doctor ensemble, as the guise was often seen as frightening to common folk. Of course, it often heralded many deaths to illnesses, but there hadn't been such a widespread case of sickness in years. As it was, it did indeed catch the mercenary off guard, and so she was giddy with nervousness at the sight of them. Especially so, because she wasn’t certain how such a heavily costumed person was able to sneak up on her.

"...You are the shopkeep, I presume?" She offered politely, setting an embarrassed smile onto her face. "I saw the sign along the road. I...Have to admit, I was a bit curious. You don't see many alchemy shops outside of the cities." The mercenary realized her hand was on the hilt of her sword, and she quickly removed it for fear of coming across as aggressive.

The figure seemed to draw slightly nearer then, making a motion not unlike nodding with its black beaked mask. "Yes," A muffled but pleasant voice drifted from behind the stitched leather, "I suppose they are a fair bit more rare in the countryside. I thought it clever to open one here for that very reason -- though I must say it hasn't been quite as fruitful of an endeavor as I originally assumed. I must confess, you are my first visitor."

Amelia nodded, slightly more relaxed now that she knew there was a rather well-spoken person hidden beneath the heavy layers of garb. She noted that the quality of the doctor’s voice was surprisingly youthful, if perhaps a bit smokey in quality. "I hope business picks up for you, then. It's quite a lovely place you have here, it would be a shame if it never saw much prosperity."

"Thank you, that's quite kind." The plague doctor replied, "Besides curiosity, is there anything in particular you were looking to cure? I have many things here for sale."

Amelia's face warmed slightly. She hated to lie, though she really was curious despite it being her job to come here. "Oh, no. Well --" She floundered for a moment, "A-actually, do you have anything I can use to keep Rot away from wounds suffered in battle?" 

She wasn't normally one to use poultices or tonics, far favoring field dressings and bandages -- but she would be lying if she said she didn't feel compelled to buy something. After all, Amelia felt a bit sad that she had been the first customer the shop had seen. The easy money from the trader who hired her would be more than enough to offset the cost, anyhow.

"Wounds suffered in battle?" The doctor questioned in a conversational way as they turned to presumably seek for what she asked for. "May I ask what line of work it is that you do?" The unabashed curiosity in their voice compelled Amelia to answer truthfully. 

"I'm a mercenary." She muttered, watching as the doctor stopped in front of a set of shelves. "Quite an unsavory job, all things said and done. But I've always liked to travel, and I like helping people." 

"Is that so?" The doctor hummed thoughtfully, drawing a gloved hand over a few vials and jars. Amelia watched the slightly eerie way the doctor moved, almost too smooth and precise. She supposed that they were just extremely comfortable with the layout of their own shop, which made sense. Or perhaps it was an elf under all those layers. She couldn’t be sure which.

"Yes." She answered, and still more spilled forth in an attempt to get the doctor talking. " I - I guess...I've always been this way. I wanted to see the world ever since I was a little girl. When I was young I trained to be a guard, but I realized I didn't want to be stuck in the same city or town on duty. So I became a sell-sword instead." 

The doctor was quietly listening, taking various jars and bottles from the shelves and looking at their labels briefly before putting them gently back. The silence between them practically compelled her to continue talking, though she was not usually uncomfortable with such quietness. 

"...I personally only take honorable jobs, mind you. Escorting caravans and whatnot. It's good money, too..." Still more silence, save for the sound of her feet shuffling nervously, and the waxy fabric of the doctor's ensemble every time they moved. It almost seemed like they were waiting for her to finish her thoughts. She worried she was being rude by leaving the quiet between them. "...I might start my own mercenary company one day. I've been wanting to for a while. To make sure I only have good folks in it -- not that the company I work for has bad folks!"

The doctor's head turned, the sun's glow from the window catching on the red glass that covered the eyes of the mask. "That seems to be quite the lofty goal for such a young woman. I think the world could always use more kind-hearted people with initiative, like yourself."

Amelia couldn't help but smile at that, though she wasn't sure if it was due to the flattery or because the doctor had finally broke the silence. "Thank you, ser. I agree."

The doctor pulled a small jar carved from wood from off of the shelf. "I suppose you'd want something easy to apply, with no prior preparation to be had. On the field, things can be chaotic and messy, correct?" Amelia nodded in response as she stepped closer to them. "...Staving off Rot and stopping the spillage of blood is of the utmost concern. This should do nicely, I think." A gloved hand placed the jar into hers. 

"...What is it?" The mercenary asked.

"Oh! My apologies. It's a paste, which only requires water to be activated. Apply it thickly to a wound like one would butter a piece of toast, and it will keep the Rot away while also soothing the pain. You can then wrap the wound with bandages, and it will harden into a plaster to stop the bleeding over time. When it begins to crust and peel, you may scrape it off."

"Thank you. It sounds like exactly what I needed." Amelia took the jar in one hand and shuffled around her belt for her coin pouch with the other, "Now, how much do I owe you?"

The doctor held up their gloved hands in a surrendering motion. "Oh, please. It's free, madame. In honor of you being my first customer. Hopefully a kind gesture such as this will bless the shop with prosperity in the future." 

Amelia laughed, pulling a gold piece from her pouch. "I insist. That's no way to run a business, ser. If word catches 'round that you give out your wares for free, what will you do then?" She grabbed one of the doctor's gloved hands and pressed the coin into the leather palm. "Even so, if you insist on it being a gesture of goodwill so that the Gods will favor you, think of this as a gift -- for the pleasant conversation."

The doctor seemed to regard her for a moment before closing their fingers around the coin. "You are too kind." They hum thoughtfully. 

Amelia made her way toward the door, bade the doctor farewell, and shortly thereafter stepped out into the evening air of autumn. When she closed the door behind her, she sighed heavily. She'd have to give a full report to the trader tomorrow when they met again at the tavern. She could only hope that maybe the shop would start to see more customers after she gave the all-clear. The doctor seemed to be a nice person -- or whatever they were. With such a kind demeanor, Amelia could only wish the best for them.

She smiled once more, shaking her head. Small towns like Darkwood were home to many superstitious people, but she supposed that was good for business. She’d been called to many jobs such as this one -- an odd noise from the woods, skittering from a nearby cave. Her swordcraft thrived off of folks like the trader, of small towns like Darkwood.

The odd visage of the doctor and the look of the cottage had been enough to scare them into hiring her to have a look-see. But it had been a simple task for good coin, and she'd have been a fool to turn it down.

She glanced back up at the shop.

...If the paste worked, Amelia would likely be back again to purchase more from the doctor. 

masterlist | ko-fi

[maripr]

Finished darkwood.

It was fun! I managed to see both endings.

I admit chapter 2 was, for me, way less fun than chapter 1, just because traveling around the map felt like a drag, with the swamp water everywhere. Since the difficulty also raised considerably, I opted to not caring about even barricading my hideout, seeing as if strong enemies could bash everything in and undo all my hard work.

And I even managed to survive a couple of times this way, including the night after burning the tree! By the end, I had a ton of reputation with the trader dudes.

All in all, I enjoyed the game. It scratched an itch and I liked the characters and I need an AU where they all survive an nobody is an ass.

[naawisi]

This is super spoilery for Darkwood, so stop reading here if you don’t want something spoiled for you.

I survived my first night in the Swamp on my new playthrough and was greeted by the Three in the morning, of course.  Then I moved to where the Trader’s body is found and realised...

If what I think is happening here it better not be. *giving the Three the stink eye so bad right now*

[bltchthemorbs-blog]

Munday questions: 8 & 4

4: What’s the one thing you especially love about roleplaying your muse?

I haven’t been roleplaying Anika for long, but I have been working on her for a whiiiile and writing stuff for her alone.  But as far as what I want out of roleplaying her, I want some really nice horror and to play around with killing her a few times. :D  My most successful RP character before this was lively, and really good at escaping and not dying, so I’m looking for something quite different and new.

8: The mun’s favorite fictional character.

Oh god, how do I choose?  From DBD, Min, Jake, and Claudette tend to be my favourite survivors, while Micheal, Huntress, and Doctor are my favourite killers.

Otherwise, I really like...

David from Afraid of MonstersNight Trader, The Three, and Mushroom Granny from DarkwoodSkully from Killing FloorAngela Orosco & Heather Mason from Silent HillRei & Reika from Fatal Frame 3

I tend to favour monsters/supernatural beings/mutated or cursed people from everything I like... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

[monochromaticwriting]

Hey Mono here! This is my Writing blog! All my fics/wips and such will be posted here from now on! So just some forewarnings! I am 26, so there will be smut up here! If you see something you don't like (ship, kink, etc) exercise that block or filter button!

Everything will be tagged with kink, ship, and source! Unless under specific circumstances. I will also try to tag any Triggers, but I am human so I might miss something. If I do, just let me know!

Doing a Challenge for 2025 in writing 20 Selfship fics:

1. AM/Buttons

2. Gabriel/Marie/Maycella

3. Death/Kai

4. Cyrus/Sol (WIP)

Selfshiptober 2024:

Day 1 - Confession/Night

Day 2 - Blanket/Flame

Day 3 - Embrace/Blood

Completed works under the readmore:

Castlevania/Akumajou Dracula:

Dracul Brushing Laura's Hair

Sleepy Mornings - Macul

Isaac meets the Castle - Castle PoV

Abandoned wip/series - the rewrite

Game Over - Gabastle

Gabastle - 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6 (Gore)

Birthday Picnic - Machiel & Mathlisa

Gabriel Vent

Newlywed - Gabarie

Vent - Trethias

Semi-wip

Mini-Series - LoS Simon/Selena ft. Mathias.

Cardinal Volpe PoV

Birth of the Dragon (NSFW, Heavy Gore)

Priest - Mactor

Burial - Gabarie (NSFW, Gore)

Heart - Macul

Outskirts of Wygol - Zobek/Gabriel

Meeting Mathias - Macul (Future Poly)

Meeting Elisabetha - Gabribetha (Future Poly)

NSFW

Leather Kink - Macul

Priest Kink 1 - Macul

Priest Kink 2 - Macul

Petplay - Trethias

Overstimulation - Victhias

Bernadette - Gabastle

Petplay, Plushum, Primal - Trevor solo

Leather Kink - Gabarie

Dacryphilia - Mamon

Body Worship - Macul top Dracul

Blood Play - Dracula²

Fake Priest!Mathias

False idol worship - Mabriel+Volpe (NSFW)

Isaaculcard AU:

First meetings - Priest! Macul

First meet

Wine (Vague NSFW)

Lonely Men

Trevorcard meets Isaac

Getting Ready

Going Home

Ready for a Walk

Cigarette Break

Their doll (NSFW)

Petplay + Crystal Toys (NSFW)

Aggressive Loving (NSFW, Knife play, Blood)

Lipstick (NSFW)

Somno (NSFW)

I'm on Observation Duty (mostly Self-ship)

Nancy receives an Email

The Director leaves a note

Valentine's Day

HUGEMAN's picture

The House in the Email

Darkwood

A Night in the Shelter

Bugperson meets the Trader.

Agere

Thunderstorms and Apple juice (Castlevania LoS)

Brother Bonding (Castlevania LoS)

Baby in the Office (Castlevania LoS)

Self-ship

Religion - Gabariecella

Body Horror/Worship - Gabcella (NSFW)

King Sized Beds - Gabariecella

New Pets - Red/Saul

New Addition - Gabriecella

F/O House:

Story 1

Slice of Life, Gavor/Dracard

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Hallucinations

[kraestburns]

So, while I love - /absolutely love/ Darkwood, there's one aspect of it that I really don't enjoy. There's a lose state, a point in the game where you can actually lose.

Things kill you, you lose resources, if you survive the night you gain reputation with the morning trader and gain none if you don't. At a certain point, if things don't go your way, you run out of resources and have no way of getting any more as you've cleared the map of things you can collect. At that point, there is no moving forward. You can't heal, you can't defend yourself, you can't attack, you can't repair window and door barricades, you can't gain reputation, you can't buy anything.

The loading screen tells you to respect the forest, be patient, and focus. This is great advice, but it goes only so far if luck turns its back on you.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Being like Bros™ with Lucjusz??

I mean we have talked a little bit about me be absolutely on like homie level with Lucjusz but more headcanons pleaseee

The Wolfman, but He's Like Your Estranged Uncle

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Lucjusz in himself is a warning, language]

[AN: For those of you coming from the tags, I got really tired of calling the Wolfman from Darkwood "Wolfman" so I named him Lucjusz bc I was thinking of Poland but somewhere down the line me and the cryptid (asker above) ended up writing him more as Russian.]

Still in the Woods

He just kinda adopts you as his own??? No other way to say it. He sees you, makes fun of you, makes you question your religious beliefs and then adopts you. No one can make fun of you but him.

He pops in and out of your life in the most bizarre way. He does not care if you miss him or not, he visits you on his own time and whenever he remembers.

Lucjusz will go on rants in Russian. If you speak any of the languages he's familiar with (Russian, Polish, Ukrainian) he's much more prone to speaking those over English. He says translating everything to English is a waste of time and rather would not.

With that comes him wanting to teach you Russian because yeah. That's better. Learn his language.

Weirdly helpful to you. Your stairs broke?? He fixed them in the middle of the night.

Does not let you travel alone in the woods when the night comes because he knows how dangerous it could be. Either you stay at his camp talking about stuff well into the early hours of the morning or he takes you back to your home himself. Yes, he would risk going to the village just to see you home safe.

You can come to him for any advice and if it details another person he will offer to eat them. I mean that legitimately.

Depending on what you're doing in the woods, he'll get you special things you need through his time as a trader. There are other messed up individuals in the woods like him, and they all deal in similar, but different enough shady matters.

If you live in the village he'll hang out on your back porch will no one will bother the two of you. Or he'll come into your house, make some coffee and stay until that's done. Though, he never actually stays the night. Outright refuses it.

He protects you more than you could ever know.

Lucjusz has his sweet moments. They're rare, but you see parts of him no one else sees.

Lots of late night campfire talks. It's peaceful.

Always has coffee or tea ready. He likes coffee best, but whatever you want to drink he will too.

That does not stop his alcohol consumption though. He has freakishly high tolerance and does NOT get wasted unless he's drank an entire Binny's. That doesn't happen often.

His sarcasm and cutting vocabulary does not stop. In fact, it's even worse because he knows you'll put up with it.

He's a really solid friend though. People think he'd screw over his friends but the man is loyal to a fault and that's the most bizarre part of him.

Not in the Woods

In the out of the woods section, I tend to keep Lucjusz as a shady individual who deals in not legal things.

He's no longer in pure survival mode so the shenanigans go up ten fold.

He's the kind of guy to call you at 11 at night and tell you he's coming over only to honk the horn and say he's actually outside. Going with him to places and saying no to these excursions is not an option.

He also likes to go to really weird places that have even weirder people. They're always really fun and aren't that overwhelming!

Lucjusz will send you lots of memes throughout the day. He's actually not that big on texting because he finds it boring. Is more prone to video chatting/calling or just sending memes lmfao.

He is the scary guard dog. No one will get near you while he's around. He's protective by nature.

He's the definition of problematic without actually being problematic or holding problematic views?? People legitimately like to hate him and he likes hating them back too. It's just his thing. People ask how you're like best friends with him and you can't explain it but it works.

Because he's still dealing in not entirely legal things. he will sometimes gift you equally not legal things. Ranging from drugs to arms, it's like a reward.

He knows what tiktok is and finds it stupid. Does that stop him from making an account and sending you the most surreal memes? No.

Invites you over to his home a lot. It's somewhere on the edge of the city at the edge of the forest. He can't seem to leave it. The two of you spend a lot of time on the front porch in the summer watching the fireflies, pleased you don't have to fight for your life when the night comes.

He drives around with you a lot. He strikes me as the kind of guy to have a truck. So-.

Also his cooking is pretty good?? He will have you over for meals.

Yes, the two of you have gotten chased through a cornfield in the middle of Illinois at 3am by a farmer and their family wielding literal pitchforks it's called character development.

He uses snapchat. Hundreds of strangers follow him simply because his stories are insane. You ever see that guy Skweezy?? It's like him, but a lot meaner and a lot more swearing in Russian. You are part of those snap stories.

[whaleofatjme1920]

I saw your wolfman reader and loved it so much! Was wondering how you feel about maybe a Trader x reader? He's so sweet I feel like he's always looking out for you in the woods whether you know he is or not 🥺 also thank you so much for the darkwood fic we are starved here

Late Autumn's Trader

[The Trader X GN!Reader]

[Warnings: like, none?]

[AN: I was watching the VVitch when making this, and Thomasin is well, Thomasin. That poor girl deserved so much better lmfao, I will stand by that statement forever. At this point, I should just say that the Creepypasta/Marble Hornets requests are closed until Sunday lmfao I am not in love with that fandom rn. Anways, I hope you enjoy and that it's up to par <3 1.4K words]

The sun is beginning to set on the cursed, yet self-sufficient village you call your home. It’s not like there’s really a sun to see - the light is never able to pierce through the thick clouds, but it’s gradually glowing darker. Autumn is slowly coming to a close, and the villagers have found reason to celebrate.

The sow has been most bountiful, and the woods more graceful.

The lights of the village are almost as warm as the ever falling orange and red leaves that now blanket the forest floor. It’s almost surprising how good this year has been, almost as if the power that be is granting a moment of breath and mercy.

Of course, the woods grow at an alarming rate and soon you will be consumed, but it is a sweet consumption all the same.

Your father and mother call it false security.

Quietly, you step out of your house into the cold autumn air, wondering if winter will be just as gentle and forgiving. In the distance, you can hear violins carrying on the chilly breeze and the sound of people dancing.

This is the only levity they’ve had in years.

You pull at your shawl, attempting to stay warm before blowing warm air into your hands and rubbing them together. Perhaps you’ll stop by the square and pick up some soup. Your boots gently tap against the earth, a small hum leaving your lips as you do so. The air smells sweet, nostalgic and still stuck in time, but sweet. The woods around you, though dark and foreboding, are not near as imposing as they normally are.

You huff silently before crossing through the dirt paths, your journey taking you near the entrance of the village. You glance out to the side, the shrine in her glory decorated with offerings both to the woods and herself. She’s done an incredible job of keeping her people safe and the woods to bring sustenance for yet another year.

But there, out in the darkness, is a man you’ve only ever seen in whispers and sparsely through the fog. He rolls his shoulders forward, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the weight on his back before nodding to the shrine. He holds his hand out to her, the metallic band catching the remaining of the sun’s lights and flashing in your eyes before he leaves it at her feet.

You blink and flush with embarrassment when you realize you’ve been staring a tad too long and quickly avert your eyes, unsure if he’d take offense to the notion or not. Instinctively, you grip at your shawl and will yourself to move forward.

The man gazes at you, his head tilting to the side as he draws closer to the mouth of the village.

Embarrassment floods your system as you move closer to the crowds. That was rather rude of you, come to think of it. The smell of food and fire fills your nose as you walk closer and closer still. You’re watching the heads for your mother or your father, your younger siblings and hope to find them. It would do you well to see some familiar faces after that rather awkward experience.

You keep your head on a swivel as you walk and push past the people who chatter like they’ve never seen a nicer night. The moon is rising higher and higher in the sky, and the light she is able to shine through the clouds bathes the village in her beauty.

It almost feels warm.

You mentally curse yourself at finding your family when a strong bout of intuition leads you back away from the celebration, to the outskirts of the square.

“Excuse me,” you mumble as you push past merry people, your gut guiding you downwards.

What a sight to behold.

Your eyes widen and you feel an immense amount of protection flood through your system, practically breaking from the lights and merrymaking when you see that man from before, knee on the earth as he places a crown of autumn leaves on your little sister’s head. She giggles, her hands grasping at her dress as she sways side to side, a warm smile on her lips.

“Thomasin!” You hiss, rushing forwards and tackling the young girl, snarling in defense when the man widens his eyes in surprise.

“R-Reader!” She cries out and yelps, her small hands grasping at your forearm.

“Don’t touch her!” You growl.

The man immediately backs up, his hands raised in submission before stepping back, giving the two of you your space. The glass of his mask is fogging as he breathes in deeply, the scent of mushrooms overtakes your nose.

“Well?” You sneer as you back up with your sister in your arms. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

The man only stumbles for a moment, his movements snapping out of a daze before he rolls up the sleeve of his coat, revealing smudged marks.

You’re barely able to open your mouth when you see him procure a pen.

‘I’m sorry,’ the words read out.

“Huh..?”

His gloved index finger points again at the words. ‘I mean you no harm,’ he scribbles down after wiping away the previous words. ‘I came here for business, but your little one-’

“My sister.”

He wipes the words away. ‘Your sister (apologies) asked for my help.’

You look at the young girl in your arms and raise a brow. “Thomasin?”

She looks up at you sheepishly, the autumn colored leaves covering her head obscuring her full expression from you before she giggles nervously. “I’m sorry, Reader,” she says with that same sheepish smile. “I wanted some flowers.”

“It’s almost winter,” you frown.

“That’s why he gave me the leaves instead,” she beams. “He is a nice man!”

Curiously, you look between Thomasin and the man who nods in agreement. Your eyes lock with his, checking for any deceit when you find none. “Do you know the way back to mother and father?”

Thomasin nods against you.

“Head over there now, please.” Hesitantly, you unpeel your arms from your little sister and watch as she steps forwards to the ‘nice man’. Her hands reach out to him, and he smiles ever so slightly, his gloved hand reaching back out to her before you shoot a disapproving look his way. You sigh, unwrap your shawl from your shoulders and throw it over her to keep her warm for the journey back.

You clear your throat before she scampers off, an apologetic smile on her lips as the man watches her disappear into the crowd.

“So,” you begin.

‘So,’ the man writes.

“What’s your name?”

‘Most people call me the Trader.’

“Creative.”

He smiles. ‘Reader is a pretty name.’

You flush for a moment.

An awkward pause follows between the two of you, the quiet growing and swelling much like the village’s festivities. You can hear laughter, the sow in the distance, good tidings for am approaching, hopefully short winter.

“Did you get to check out the festival yet?” You ask quietly, effectively breaking the thick silence.

The Trader shakes his head.

“Would you like to?”

He nods.

Slowly, the two of you stand, almost hesitant in the other’s presence and look each other over in full. He looks like a traveler, covered in layers of clothing and gear you’ve never really seen before except for maybe on the strangers that wander through once in a blue moon. You’ve heard whispers that they are the ones who come from beyond the trees.

You feel safe in the numbers of your fellow villagers, a small smile spreading on your lips as the Trader sticks close to you. You get the sense that he likes it too, and you reaffirm it when you see the ghost of a smile on his lips through the mist of his mask.

You’re about to ask him something when you’re suddenly pulled from the crowd to the center, a gasp falling from your lips before the music is seconds from starting back up. You look around with concern before the Trader steps forward, his bag an afterthought as he assuages your brief fear.

You smile at him as he holds his hand out to you, the beginnings of a lively song beginning to fill your head. He feels warm, and gentle, like sunlight that pierces through the clouds.

He nods his head almost playfully at you and you follow in suit, a courtesy feeling far too formal but you give in and demonstrate anyway. Another smile crosses onto his lips, his form dipping to accommodate yours.

You melt into his warmth and dance.

[whaleofatjme1920]

[Shay, Darkwood, 19, She/They, Platonic, The Wolfman/Lucjusz] Hiya, bitchhhh How's my favorite communist peepaw holding up in the hellish woods? I hope business is going great. I wouldn't doubt you have eaten a few people, sometimes they deserve it. I just thought I send this letter with the next poor fool that went off for guns to you. If you ate him and are reading this cause you looted his body, then well it is like that. So what is my cryptid ass been up to? Oh, the fun stuff. School and that stuff. You know the important stuff to life I guess. I kind of miss bothering you in the woods, you know probably scaring the locals. Man, I would kill to be doing that again but academics are my life right now. Is this maybe a personal call to come and bail me out of the city? Possibly, do with this information what you will. Well, I don't think I have much interesting to report other than people here are fucking crazy, probably worse than the woods at times. Sometimes living in a "high-end meth neighborhood" kind of has its perks cause super weird stories to come from it ya know. I think that's it, I also hope the fucker didn't drink the bottle of vodka I sent with him too like it better be there and if not, eat him. That cost me good money. Anyways, ya furry. I miss hanging out with you and doing illegal stuff from time to time. Enjoy the vodka and possibly meat because I have no clue how that interaction is playing out if the vodka is not there. - Shay

[Disclaimer: Letters To Those You Hold Dear (Valentine's Edition) is a special event I'm holding from February 13th - February 23rd 11:59 PM. Find the guidelines HERE so you can send a letter or two to those you hold dear <3.]

You don't deserve a proper greeting "bitchhh"

You somehow manage to bypass official governmental rulings and protections in these fucking woods (they're my goddamn woods) just to insult me and you have the nerve to act familiar with me? Do you know who you're talking to? Do you know who I am and the influence I carry both in this world and yours? You're an indignant child.

I guess I did miss you after all.

Business is business, and yes, it is going well. I have been going a lot of trading with some ugly fucker that comes by at all odd hours of the night. He looks a lot like the other Trader, but he's no where near as pleasant as that one I am used to. I am currently in the process of getting that ugly fucker to get me a key from that house that reeks of chickens to get back my girl. I should eat something. Tell me, are you frustrated with anyone? Recently? And how angry are you over them? I let your little birdie go. He gave me an AR 15 and a butterfly blade when I attempted to eat him. I do not see those often here. He was lucky.

I still do not exactly know how you made it out of here the way you did. The trees grow thicker and thicker by the day and the villagers are crying. I can hear that fucking sow screeching at all hours of the night. She's starving, did you know that? She's starving and Hanuska is to blame. Gods bless Hanuska. You prodding anything that's dead yet? Isn't that what you're in school for? Maybe I can show you a real dead body, if that's your thing. I do not always enjoy cleaning the things I eat.

I imagine meth addicts are more preferable than religious zealots. I guess in your area, those would be referred to as "Mormons". I would willingly take a red chomper or that fucking chicken smelling hag over them any day.

Leave your window unlocked for a few nights, and consider what happens after a thank you for the alcohol. That stupid fucking shrine knows I do not have enough of it these days.

Oпа!

- L.