1.16 A Nyte 2 Rememburr

This is it! The generation that would not end is finally coming to a semi-close. I just want to thank everybody who’s been reading thus far for sticking with me. I know some of these chapters have been a trek due to my ridiculous verbosity, but I promise it will only get more enjoyable from here on out. And now I’ll stop acting like we’ve finished the goddamn legacy and remind myself that this is only 10% complete, and we’ve still got eight more generations of Langurds to birth and thousands of pictures to caption and ahhh, what have I gotten myself into??

Let’s pick up where we left off, shall we? With all the kids sprouted into gangly hormonal teenagery things, the second gen Langurds were gearing up for the biggest night of their lives. PROM, bitches! Now let’s make a huge deal out of it even though it will only end in deflation, rejection, and disillusionment.

As the sun crested over the hills of Sunset Valley and evening began to approach, even the family gnome was getting into the spirit. Yeah, I still don’t know his name because my game hates me right now. For now I’m calling him George after George R. R. Martin because let’s be honest, there’s a pretty solid resemblance there.

George: I WILL KILL EVERYTHING YOU LOVE… AND DANCE ON ITS GRAVE

I hope he will have many gnome descendants.

Naturally, none of the triplets had sealed himself a date yet. Ripper, though, was sure he had it covered. He called up the gorgeous Cleopatra after school and performed this classy promposal.

Ripper: Aw man, I totally slept through my alarm. So like, since you’re here and prom’s in five minutes… don’t you think we might as well…

Cleopatra: It’s so cute that he tried.

Ripper: So that’s a yes?

Cleopatra: Later, Langurd trash! I wouldn’t show up with you dead!

Ripper: Oh… so that’s a maybe?

Take two! Rotter called up Misty Somethingorother, the only other teenage girl on anybody’s relationship panel.

Rotter: Yo Misty, i’ss yo homey Rotter… Rotter? Da one wif da kickass owl pants? Oh, well ya do now. Why don’choo come up to 15 Summer Hill Court fo’ a good time?

Miraculously, she came. But before Rotter could charm the pants off of her, he had to take off running for the limo because prom was already starting. Procrastination at its finest.

Misty: Um, what? I’m so freaking confused. Does this mean we’re going together or not?

Even I wasn’t sure for a while.

Rotter: Dang, totally could’a bagged dat one too.

Keep dreaming, you defective Tewlspawn.

Luckily, the girls were miles ahead. Boys were literally lining up at the door to escort them.

Zachary: Wait, who are you here for? Did Arabella ask two of us?

Mystery Man: Don’t worry, dude. I bat for the other team… Or at least, that’s what my date thinks.

Star: Hey Harri, sorry I’m late. Let’s go be all couply and make my ignorant suitors jealous, okay?

Harri: Girl, it took you that long to change into the same thing you wore to school?

Zachary: I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT’S GOING ON!

Harri has a point. Put on something fancy, Star.

Star: No.

Please? I spent so long on your outfit!

Star: No.

Fine. Good luck wooing your “suitors” then. Stupid Inappropriate trait…

Oh, and I really can’t remember why Sharonda (green shirt) is here. I sure hope I wasn’t trying to pair her with Razor, since they’re half siblings and all.

Razor: No way. Razor rolls solo.

Hell yeah, you do.

Honestly, just getting this lot to prom was an event. Ripper, who’d stooped to the desperate act of searching for a date at the park, rolled on home (unsuccessful) to witness a horrific accident.

Ripper: Oh, no. It’s just tragic.

Everyone was mostly unscathed though. Minus the suffocating awkwardness.

Misty: So… Everyone excited?

Rotter: Don’t look at ‘er… Don’t look at ‘er… C’mon man, swallow yer pride…

Zachary: You’re not Arabella. What’s going ooooooon?

This is where Ara was when I finally thought to look for her. In all the day’s confusion, she didn’t even make it home from school.

Arabella: So in order to take Central Park, I will need exactly twelve hundred in cavalry, four hundred archers—

Forgetting something, Ara?

Arabella: Must I really go? I am making important arrangements—a queen hardly has time for such frivolity…

There’s a crown up for grabs tonight.

Arabella: Out of my way, peasants! I shall secure my title once and for all!

This motley crew tumbled out of the limo fashionably late, and so the night began.

At 6:34PM: Mass confusion.

At 6:41PM: The worst hipster album cover ever made.

At 6:45PM: A threat to Ara’s title by the usurper Star Langurd.

Star: You and me. Prom Queen. It’s on.

Arabella: Please, you’re not even wearing a dress!

Star: No, you aren’t.

Arabella: I beg your pardon?

And by 7:00PM, the school doors were closed behind them and we were kid-free for the night! YES!

Until I zoomed over to the Langurd lot and found THIS dumbass. Needless to say, I’m not doing another six-child generation because I clearly cannot count that high.

Ripper: If I can’t show up with a girl on my arm, I don’t want to show up at all. I’d rather eat my feelings in tofu dogs.

Oh my god. That is exactly the kind of prom attitude that I used to hate. Get out the door, you knob.

Ripper: My life sucks. Pity me.

He doesn’t pull off this biker thing quite like Razor, does he?

Once that was dealt with, I wasn’t the only one celebrating.

Morgana: No kids, no kids, uh-huhhh, no kids!

Tewl: Sweet! Ripper done left me a tofu dog! Best night ever!

Tewl: So I’m just throwin’ dis out dere… but since we got da night to ourselves. You wouldn’t wanna get married or nuffin’, would ya?

Morgana: No kids, no— wait, what?

Tewl: I’m srs, Morgs! We been denyin’ our feelins fer too long. Le’ss hit up Vegas an’ tie da knot, huh?

Morgana: Okay, stop. We need to have a serious talk about this new “romantic” streak of yours…

Which apparently, by the end of the night, led to this?

Arabella: Pray tell, just what am I interrupting?

Tewl: Nothin’… nothin’ ta see. We just fallen over is all.

Arabella: Into this scenically lit photoshoot? Are you sure this isn’t some failed attempt at an emotional finale?

Morgana: Tell us about prom, Ara.

Prom indeed! Below lie the chronicles of the evening, accented by such permanent fixtures as Gurbin’s truck and a half-eaten tofu dog.

First, we have Queen Arabella! Her night started off a little shaky as she made her regal entrance.

Then, she broke all kinds of royal rules by consorting with a lowly bastard child.

But in the end, the crown was hers.

Though I dunno, high fives and “tearing up the dance floor” are hardly appropriate activities for one’s coronation.

Ah, Star, our little friendzoner. I don’t think her evening went quite as planned. First, Harri was being all obnoxious and clingy…

Which clearly gave her other suitors the wrong impression…

But not as much as THIS creepy move did…

And then things really took a turn for the awkward:

And the music was so loud that he mistook her “GOOD ONE BROSEPH” for some kind of affirmative, and immediately changed their Facebook relationship status, and then it was too late, and before Star knew it she was off the market and in a relationship with her gay best friend. (In other words, I thought it would be fun to click the check mark.)

I guess you could say Rotter had a pretty eventful night.

With a lot of fighting.

And dancing.

And fighting.

Which apparently makes him a really cool guy?! I have to say this was pretty unexpected.

Performing a satire of his brother’s try-hard pose, we have Razor.

I suspect he may have gotten into some, uh, merchandise.

I hope he bitch-slapped the heck out of that imposter.

Rotter’s would-be date? Scandalous.

Somehow I can’t picture Razor all downtrodden and rejected. I fear for the soul who said no to those eyebrows.

Inorite? I love posing shitty and not looking at the camera.

So he spent his entire prom sitting in a corner, gawking at everything.

Which somehow didn’t stop him from wooing the gorgeous twin of the Prom Queen. Go figure.

Aaaaaand last but also least, I must have forgotten Ripper again because I don’t have a cap of his prom picture anywhere. Loooool. Doesn’t matter, he was just as lame as always.

Made an idiot of himself, naturally.

Was about to do something awesome and badass, but he chickened out because of “chaperones.”

Which made for… an amazing night? Gosh, I knew Langurds had low standards, but still…

And with that, this blog is officially caught up to gameplay! Woooooo! I feel like an overfed hippopotamus just jumped off my shoulders. For reals, my oxygen intake may have just increased tenfold. And now I’m going to post this and cheer and go skip through a field of flowers and join a meditation circle and never be bothered by these Langurd fools and their excessive screenshots again!

Just kidding. I shall inflict this pain on myself for many days to come. Oh, and here are your official heir candidates for Generation Two!

Never mind all that fancy photoshopping stuff. These guys get ugly scribbles instead.

Head on over to boolprop.com to cast your vote! I’ll probably leave the poll up for a few days, but maybe longer because I’m dealing with some nasty start-up errors right now (does it ever end?) and I’ll be on a camping trip all next week. In the meantime, keep updating your lovely stories and Happy Simming! 🙂

-Sam

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