Dourny Chips

Overview

Happy November!

The achievement will be given if you collect between 1 and 64 potatoes.

**Warning!** This mod contains theories about Lay's Chips and may reveal the true nature of the company.

**Mod's Boosts**

The chips are a major part of this mod. To obtain potatoes quickly, you need to break the barrels underground.

--[Barrels underground!?

Yes, this is strange news. The barrels spawn to make it easier to obtain potatoes, without having to find them in villages.]--

This mod enhances the gameplay and introduces an intuitive food system, making it a must-have for fans of the game.

(To cut a potatoes, you need to be hold wooden sword and one potato and you can get chips)

Horror true for Lay's chips:

It was a regular Friday night when Sarah decided to unwind after a long week. She plopped onto her couch, ready for a movie marathon, and grabbed a bag of Lay's chips—her favorite snack. As the first chip crunched between her teeth, she noticed something odd. The flavor was richer, almost too intense. She shrugged it off, attributing it to her heightened hunger. As the night progressed, Sarah found herself reaching for the bag more often. Each chip seemed to whisper secrets, urging her to keep eating. But it wasn't until she finished the entire bag that an unsettling feeling washed over her. A curiosity gnawed at the back of her mind: What exactly was in those chips? The next day, Sarah visited her local grocery store, hoping to find answers. She spotted a few bags on the shelf, but something caught her eye—a small label on the back that she had never noticed before. “For the best experience, consume immediately. Do not leave unattended.” It seemed harmless, but a chill ran down her spine. That evening, Sarah returned home, determined to dig deeper. She fired up her laptop and began researching Lay's chips. What she found sent a wave of unease through her. Numerous forums and chat rooms buzzed with terrifying stories of people claiming to have similar experiences. They spoke of feeling watched, as if the chips had a consciousness of their own. Some even reported vivid nightmares after indulging in the snack, dreams filled with shadowy figures and haunting whispers. Her heart raced as she stumbled upon a chilling revelation: an urban legend surrounding the production of Lay's chips. According to the rumor, there had been a factory accident years ago—one that involved the mysterious disappearance of a worker. Some claimed his spirit lingered within the chips, seeking revenge on those who consumed them. They said that his cries could be heard faintly in the crunch of each chip. Sarah dismissed it as nonsense, but the unease persisted. That night, she dreamt vividly of a dark room where bags of Lay's floated around, eyes peering from the shadows, begging her to join them. When she awoke, drenched in sweat, she was determined to stop eating chips altogether. But the next day, she found herself inexplicably drawn to them. She tried to resist, but something deep within her craved that intense flavor. It was as if the chips had a hold on her, a magnetic pull that she couldn’t explain. She bought another bag, telling herself it would be the last. As she sat on her couch, munching away, the sounds of crunching seemed to morph into whispers, wrapping around her like a suffocating cloak. “Join us… become one…” they hissed. Panic surged through her as she dropped the bag, the chips spilling across the floor. That night, Sarah could hardly sleep. Shadows danced on her walls, and she swore she could hear soft voices calling her name. “Sarah… we’re waiting…” The next morning, she decided to confront her fears. Gathering every shred of courage, she returned to the grocery store and confronted the manager about the strange label and the rumors. To her horror, he looked at her with a knowing expression and said, “You’re not the first to ask. Just don’t let them get to your head.” With dread pooling in her stomach, Sarah knew she had to warn others. She took to social media, sharing her experience, but most dismissed her as paranoid. The whispers grew louder, echoing in her mind, “You can’t escape us.” The following week, a chilling news report surfaced. Several people had mysteriously gone missing after a late-night chip binge. Each victim had been last seen purchasing bags of Lay's. Now, every time Sarah hears a chip bag crinkle, she feels the weight of their presence, lurking just beyond her mind. As she walks the aisle of her local store, she can't shake the feeling that she’s being watched. And when she glances at the Lay's display, the chips seem to glimmer invitingly, their whispers promising delight… or doom. So, the next time you reach for a bag of Lay's, remember Sarah's story. You might just find that some cravings are better left unsatisfied.

Horror true of this mod:

It all started with a late-night snack craving. Jake had always been a fan of Dourny Chips—those perfectly crispy, addictive potato chips that seemed to melt in your mouth. They were his go-to for movie nights and midnight munchies. But one night, as he rummaged through his pantry, he discovered an old, dusty bag of Dourny Chips that had somehow slipped behind the shelves. The sell-by date had long passed, but curiosity got the better of him. As he tore open the bag, an unsettling aroma wafted out, a mix of stale salt and something more sinister. Ignoring the warning signs, he took a handful and sat back on the couch, ready to indulge in his guilty pleasure. With the first crunch, a strange sensation coursed through him—an intense wave of euphoria washed over him, followed by an inexplicable feeling of dread. It was as if he could hear whispers, barely audible, but distinctly pleading for him to stop. Brushing it off as a weird aftereffect of late-night snacking, Jake continued munching away. With every chip, the whispers grew louder, more frantic. “Help us,” they cried. He paused, heart racing, feeling a chill creep down his spine. Looking closer at the bag, he noticed something he had missed before: a faded, handwritten note on the back that read, “We are trapped. Do not consume.” Panicking, Jake tossed the bag aside, but it was too late. The euphoric high turned into a terrifying descent. He stumbled to the bathroom, feeling nauseous and disoriented. As he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he was horrified to see his reflection begin to warp. The more he looked, the more he realized his features were beginning to twist, his skin growing pale and lifeless. The whispers escalated into a cacophony, echoing in his mind. “Join us… join us…” he could barely comprehend what was happening. The room darkened, shadows creeping along the walls as the voices beckoned him closer to the abyss. In a last-ditch effort, he grabbed the bag of chips and raced outside, desperate to get rid of it. But as he hurled the bag into the trash, he felt a sudden force pull him back. He stumbled, falling to the ground, as the bag burst open, its contents spilling out like a cascade of writhing shadows. The chips morphed into grotesque shapes, wriggling and chattering, animated by the souls trapped within them. “Why did you eat us?” they wailed, their eyes hollow and pleading. Jake realized then the horrifying truth: the Dourny Chips company had a dark secret. The chips were made from more than just potatoes; they were infused with the very essence of those who had gone missing in the area over the years. Each crunch was a cry for help from the souls that had been consumed, trapped forever in a cycle of torment. Panic set in as Jake scrambled to escape, but the shadows closed in around him. He could hear the voices of the lost souls, their cries growing fainter as they pulled him into the darkness. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the gory remains of his favorite snack, now nothing more than a vessel for despair. Days later, a new shipment of Dourny Chips arrived in stores, with no hint of the horror hidden within. As unsuspecting customers lined up to buy their favorite snack, the cycle continued, and the whispers of the damned grew louder, waiting for the next victim to take a bite. So, the next time you reach for that bag of Dourny Chips, remember: some cravings come with a cost—and sometimes, the scariest truths are the ones we ignore.

Flavors horrors:

In a forgotten corner of Blue Street, where the air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness, stood a peculiar building emblazoned with a neon sign reading "Jump or Dump." The paint was peeling, and the windows were clouded with dust, but something about it drew in curious souls like a moth to a flame. Inside, the shelves were stocked with brightly colored bags of Dourny chips, a snack that had recently gained a strange cult following. Max, a local daredevil known for his penchant for adventure, sauntered into the store one dreary afternoon. The store felt oddly empty, save for an elderly clerk behind the counter, whose eyes seemed to glint with a knowing darkness. Max picked up a bag of Dourny chips, intrigued by the odd flavor combinations listed on the front—“Mystery Sour”, “Chili Nightmare”, and “Midnight Shadow.” “Careful with those,” the clerk rasped, his voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down Max’s spine. “They have a way of changing things.” to brush off the warning, Max purchased the chips and headed home. That night, he cracked open the bag of “Chili Nightmare,” the scent wafting through the air like something both enticing and sinister. As he munched on the crispy snacks, a strange sensation washed over him—every crunch echoed in his mind, resonating like a heartbeat. But with each chip, reality began to warp. Shadows flickered in the corners of his room, and whispers curled around him, unintelligible yet eerily familiar. Max thought he heard his own voice calling from the darkness, pleading for help. The more he ate, the more the shadows danced, growing bolder and more defined. Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness. The chips fell from his hands, scattering across the floor, and Max felt an icy grip around his throat. Panic surged through him as he tried to scream, but the sound was swallowed by the void. When the lights flickered back on, Max was gone. In his place lay the empty bag of Dourny chips, crumpled and still, as if time itself had forgotten to tick. The clerk at "Jump or Dump" would later restock the shelves, a knowing smile creeping across his face. After all, there were always more customers hungry for the thrill of a crunch that might just lead them to the unknown. And if you ever find yourself on Blue Street, remember: the Dourny chips might be delicious, but there's a fine line between a snack and a snare. Choose wisely, or risk becoming just another whisper in the dark. In a small, unassuming town, there was a corner shop that had always prided itself on its eclectic selection of snacks. One day, a new shipment arrived, featuring a product that caught the eye of a curious teenager named Alex: Dourny chips in a bizarre flavor—"Blood and Human Flesh." Intrigued and a little disturbed, Alex picked up a bag, convinced it was just a gimmick. After a long day at school, Alex sat down in his room, the eerie red packaging glaring at him. He hesitated for a moment, but the hunger pangs took over. He ripped open the bag, and a strange, metallic scent wafted out, filling the air with an unsettling aroma. Ignoring his instincts, he popped a chip into his mouth. The texture was unlike any chip he had tasted—crunchy and slightly chewy, as if it had been made from something other than potatoes. With each bite, a wave of flavor washed over him, rich and savory, yet horrifyingly reminiscent of something he couldn't quite place. A whisper echoed in his mind, urging him to continue eating. As he devoured the contents of the bag, he began to experience vivid flashbacks—memories that didn’t belong to him. Images of shadowy figures lurking in the alleyways, twisted bodies, and bloodstained scenes flooded his mind. He felt a strange connection to these visions, as if the chips were revealing dark secrets of the town that had long been buried. Desperately, Alex set the empty bag aside, his heart racing. The whispers grew louder, taunting him with thoughts of ancient rituals and sacrifices. He turned on his phone to search for the chips online, but to his horror, he found no trace of them. No reviews, no online stores, just a chilling silence surrounding this mysterious snack. Days passed, and Alex’s obsession with the chips deepened. He could hardly think of anything else, and he began to lose sleep, haunted by the images that invaded his dreams. He returned to the shop, desperate to find more, but the shelves were bare. The shopkeeper, an old man with hollow eyes and a knowing smile, simply nodded, as if he had been waiting for Alex to come back. “Sometimes, once you taste the truth, it’s hard to find your way back,” he said cryptically. Panic set in as Alex realized the weight of his decision. The chips weren’t a joke; they were something far more sinister. He tried to erase the taste and the memories, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw the visions—images of the town’s hidden past, of lives lost in forgotten corners, and of a hunger that could never be satisfied. In a desperate attempt to rid himself of the obsessive cravings, he threw away the empty bag, but it seemed to have a life of its own. Over the next few days, strange occurrences followed him: shadows darting behind him, whispers echoing in the night, and an insatiable hunger gnawing at his insides. One night, he awoke to find the bag sitting ominously on his bedside table, somehow full again. The whispers returned, more urgent this time, coaxing him to indulge once more. Unable to resist, he reached for the chips, knowing that each bite would pull him deeper into a darkness he could never escape. And as he crunched down on the next chip, he realized—he was no longer just tasting the flavor; he was becoming part of it. The town's secrets had claimed him, and with every bite, he could feel the essence of the lost souls mixing with his own. The last whispers faded, leaving only a chilling silence, as he became another ghost haunting the shelves of that corner shop, forever tied to the flavor of blood and human flesh. In a dimly lit corner of the local grocery store, tucked between the usual snack aisles, a peculiar bag of chips caught Sarah's eye. The packaging was a deep, unsettling black adorned with eerie silver lettering. "Dourny Chips – Dark Nightmare," it read, alongside an image of a twisted, shadowy figure that seemed to leer at her. Intrigued yet unnerved, Sarah picked up the bag and turned it over. There was no ingredient list, only a strange warning: "Consume at your own risk." Despite a nagging feeling in her gut, curiosity got the better of her. She tossed the bag into her cart, thinking it would make a great conversation starter for her next gathering. That night, she opened the chips while binge-watching her favorite horror series. The first crunch was accompanied by a wave of intense flavor—earthy, rich, and oddly familiar. She couldn’t quite place it, but it was deliciously dark. As she devoured the chips, she felt an unsettling sensation creeping over her. The room seemed to darken, the shadows stretching unnaturally across the walls. A chill ran down her spine as she realized that the whispers from the TV had started to fade, replaced by soft, sinister murmurs echoing in her mind. “Finish us…” they urged, the voices growing louder with each chip she consumed. Ignoring the growing dread, Sarah reached for another handful. Suddenly, the lights flickered, and the whispers evolved into frantic screams echoing in her head. "You shouldn’t have eaten them!" Panic surged as she tossed the bag aside, but it was too late. Images flashed before her eyes—dark figures dancing in the shadows, faces twisted in torment, all pleading for release. Terrified, she stumbled into the bathroom, splashing her face with cold water, trying to shake off the horror. When she looked into the mirror, she gasped. Behind her, a shadow moved, a dark silhouette that seemed to be reaching for her. “You’ve awakened us,” it hissed, its voice like gravel. “Now you must join us.” Fighting to stay sane, Sarah grabbed her phone and frantically searched for information about the chips. To her horror, she discovered that others had reported similar experiences—those who consumed "Dark Nightmare" chips reported vivid nightmares and unsettling visions, but those who finished the bag… they simply vanished, leaving behind only whispers in the dark. In a frenzied panic, Sarah ran back to the living room, hoping to find comfort in the familiar glow of her television. But instead, she found the screen black, reflecting her terrified face. The whispers had transformed into a cacophony, a chorus of lost souls begging for release. “Help us! Help us!” they cried. With a final glance at the discarded bag of chips, the realization crashed over her: the Dark Nightmare was not just a flavor; it was an invitation to an eternal nightmare. In that moment, Sarah understood the true cost of her curiosity. She stumbled back, falling into the shadows that seemed to beckon her closer. The next morning, the grocery store displayed a "Sold Out" sign where the Dourny chips once were, leaving only the vague memory of Sarah—a cautionary tale whispered among shoppers, warning them of the delicious danger that lurked in the dark. And somewhere, in the depths of the shadows, the whispers continued, waiting for their next unsuspecting victim.

It all started on a dreary Wednesday afternoon when Jake decided to visit the small corner shop that had recently opened in his neighborhood. The store had an odd reputation; it was known for selling obscure snacks that no one had ever heard of. Curiosity piqued, Jake pushed open the creaky door, the bell chiming a haunting welcome above him. As he wandered the aisles, his eyes landed on a shelf stocked with brightly colored bags of chips. One caught his attention immediately: a dark blue bag emblazoned with the words “Dourny Chips: Fish and Bloody Nightmare.” The packaging was eerily eye-catching, featuring a twisted fish with wide, hollow eyes and red streaks splattered across it. Jake felt a shiver run down his spine but couldn’t resist the urge to buy them. After all, who wouldn’t want to try something as bizarre as “Fish and Bloody Nightmare”? Once home, Jake tore open the bag, and a pungent smell wafted out, reminiscent of old fish and something metallic. He hesitated for a moment, but his curiosity got the better of him. The chips were an unsettling shade of dark blue, almost glistening under the kitchen light. With a deep breath, he popped one into his mouth. The taste was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It was intensely salty, with a strange, fishy aftertaste, but it was oddly addictive. As he continued to munch, Jake suddenly felt the room spin around him. The walls began to warp, and shadows danced at the corners of his vision. He shook his head in disbelief, trying to focus. Was he hallucinating? Then, he heard it—a faint whispering, growing louder with each passing second. “Join us… join us…” The sound seemed to emanate from the dark blue chips, echoing inside his mind. Panicking, Jake dropped the bag, but it was too late; the whispers had taken root in his thoughts. That night, he was haunted by vivid nightmares—twisted scenes of fish swimming in crimson waters, their gaping mouths screaming silently. He jolted awake, heart racing, only to find the chips still scattered on the floor, as if beckoning him to return. Days passed, and Jake couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. He began to see strange shadows lurking in his periphery, always watching, always whispering. Friends noticed his erratic behavior, but he couldn’t bring himself to reveal the truth about the Dourny chips. Desperate to rid himself of the torment, Jake returned to the shop, but found it shuttered and dark, as if it had never existed. Panic surged through him. He was left with only the remnants of his once beloved snack. The whispers grew louder, now echoing through his very soul, promising he would never escape their grasp. In a fit of madness, he threw the empty bag away, but it was too late. The nightmares had become a part of him. Jake realized he was trapped in a waking nightmare, forever haunted by the dark blue chips that had promised fulfillment but delivered only despair. As the final whispers echoed in his mind, he understood: once you taste the Fish and Bloody Nightmare, there’s no turning back.