3.7 Al Fresco
Great, now I’m thinking about Italian food. Garlic and tomato and cheese and pasta and ooooooh, isn’t this pretty?
I love love love World Adventures for its scenery. I often get distracted by it and go roaming over the hills, pretending to be a nature photographer while the Langurds starve to death and get in trouble with the locals.
Unfortunately, it’s all wasted on certain people.
The more I play Katana, the more I wonder how in the world she rolled the LTW she did, and the more I believe her personality was designed to spite me.
Katana: What the fuck are we doing in the mountains? I’m gonna close my eyes and pretend this isn’t real.
I brought Razor along this time to lessen the pain. In their brief father-daughter bonding session, we learned a few things…
Well then. That’s very interesting.
Then, they went their separate ways. Razor floated in a scholar’s garden for a bit.
And Katana sped off on this nifty thingamajig.
Katana: How’m I supposed to “go inside” now?
Well so-rry. Someone just casually forgot to bring the car.
Katana: Look, guy, I need me some visa points lickity split. Gimme a big ticket adventure—a tomb raid, a treasure hunt…
Ai Pei: Mmmm no, I’m in the mood for beetles. Go find me some beetles.
China is still broken, it seems.
Who do we have here? If it isn’t Sun Young Kim, Uncle Rotter’s runaway bride! I was wondering where she’d got off to.
Sun: You’re hot.
Katana: No you.
And now she’s got the sparkly hearts for Katana, her sort-of niece? Again, very interesting.
Um, I don’t think so, Sun.
They bonded over a mutual love of scowling and hatred of men.
And then they went skinny dipping, but Katana started drowning, so that was a bust.
Katana: Lol save me lifeguard.
In a display of heroic willpower, she swam to shore extended her arm and touched the ledge. Sadly, I had to curtail the funtimes and send her back to base camp.
Or, should I say, the psych ward.
Creep: Interesting that the subject dreams of tanks. These undoubtedly symbolize a repressed urge to be “in command” of her sexuality.
Katana: Shut up, Freud. They symbolize an urge to shoot you.
Razor went sparring for kicks. (Also for punches. Because I’m hilarious.)
Biyu used Hi Jump Kick! Biyu’s attack missed! Biyu kept going and crashed!
And that’s how it’s done.
Katana: I was so excited about finding these beetles that I just had to drag you out of bed at 1AM.
Ai Pei: I do love beetles. You know what else I love? Hunks of metal.
Katana: You don’t mean–
Ai Pei: I’d like six, please.
Katana: I want to kill myself.
Sun: Hayyy girl hayy.
What a convenient excuse to avoid the mission. Sun kept calling and Katana kept rolling wishes to hang out, so I let them.
Katana: So Sun, hey? Can I just call you Not-Moon instead?
Sun: Whatever floats your boat, sugar.
And with that abominable excuse for wit, Katana seduced her forever-young escapee aunt. As convoluted as that sounds, they are kinda cute together.
Oh yeah oops but then there’s Dax. Nothing cute about adultery. *ahem* God, Katana.
Like father, like daughter. It’s no wonder they’re both “undecided” when every man and woman ever is putty in their hands.
Tourist: Blimey, sir, would you happen to be the Great Mantis, Grand Master of Sim Fu?
Razor: I would. But if you’ll excuse me, I can’t take my eyes off the board or half of my pieces will mysteriously go missing.
Katana: Not much of a mystery, really.
So I lied about the new house. Spiral staircases are dumb.
Azula: Oh, I’m sorry Dax. Were you going downtairs?
Dax: It’s fine. You go.
Azula: Are you sure, ‘cause–
Dax: IT’S FINE.
Arabella doesn’t have time for such nonsense, so she finds alternative modes of descent. And she sits the pole like she was born to it, all dainty and proper.
Arabella: Why I never!
She’s also a top quality grandparent in spite of her shortcomings as a mother.
Ara: Darling Balboa, does the Mexican skeleton frighten you? How about I throw you in the blender real quick, that ought to toughen you up.
I TAKE IT BACK. PUT DOWN THE KID.
And Katana is quite fond of the Human Aquarium despite her shortcomings as a swimmer.
Katana: Please, I’m a goddamned fish. Blub blub, gurgle gurgle, splish splash.
Tewl finally decided to scope out the new place—much to Azula’s disgust.
Azula: Yeugh, who let in the common street rat?
Razor: Oh, that’s just the guy who founded this family. Aren’t you proud of your heritage?
Goddammit Razor, go back upstairs and put your normal hair on. You look like a female grocery clerk.
Oh, deary me. Too much gurgling and splashing?
Katana: Nah, just mourning my departed brethren. GOLDIE, CAN YOU HEAR ME DOWN THERE?
It seemed like everyone was going a little stir crazy, so I sent them out for a day of fresh air and summer fun.
Razor: You hear that, Katana? Fresh air is fun.
Katana: No. Fuck you.
Turns out it was Katana’s lucky day, since stupid Riverview has an indoor festival lot. Way to celebrate the seasons. So she got to sit inside and stuff her face and eavesdrop on marital drama.
Betsy: I just… I can’t do this anymore, Jim! You never listen to me!
Jim: Shut up and eat your sno-cone, Betsy.
As per usual, I’m too lazy to research townie names. Anyway, my made-up ones are usually better.
Azula went rollerskating, but this damsel failed to catch the attention of the two knights at the centre of the rink, as they were locked in soul-consuming eye contact with each other.
Why yes, that’s Albert and Dorian from the wonderful Darroch Legacy! I won’t attempt to write their dialogue, especially because the thought of being inside Albert’s head terrifies me, but don’t his hairy legs just creep you out? Apologies to JaneEyreForce for inaccurate garb and hairstyles, although she likely won’t see this for a while. (Hope you’re enjoying your maternity leave from blogdom! 😉 )
Speaking of maternity…
Arabella: You are a disgrace. No daughter of mine waits on a knight to save her.
Katana’s knight was busy soaking up the rays as he practiced his soccer skills.
Dax: Not soccer skills. Circus tricks! See me balance!
Chhhyeah. You’re our legacy breadwinner now, bucko. You can kiss those dreams goodbye.
Dax: Tannie-Tan-Tan-Tan, are you hiiiiiiding something from me? You look like you’re hiiiiiiding something!
Katana: Uh, nope. Totally innocent here. And wow, that’s a lot of extra syllables.
Dax: Are you sure? My spidey senses are a’tingling.
Katana: Nope, I swear it. I’m an open book.
Dax: Okay, I believe you!
Did somebody say “doormat”?
Dax: Here, have some petally things. I found them in the ground.
Katana: These are “friendly yellow,” Dax. What are you suggesting?
Dax: That yellow is my favourite colour and you are my favourite lady person…?
You really should be ashamed of yourself, Katana.
As should you, Fire Princess. Homework at the summer festival??
Azula: No, tactical correspondence. I must send a raven to the legacy lords, telling of my sister’s adulterous treason and naming myself the true heir.
Um, I am the legacy lords.
Azula: Well, blast.
Yes, I have the power and I have shaken off any delusions of replacing this gal. Katana is boss, and everyone seems to agree.
Hunter: Haha! Let me get this straight—you’re with her? Aren’t you the guy who ate his socks last week?
Dax: He’s mean. I don’t like him.
Katana: But did you really eat your socks? That’s impressive.
You know you gotta snatch that up, Dax. If you like it, put a ring on it and all that.
Dax: Oh yes, a ring. That’s supposed to appear in my hands right about now.
Katana: What, you mean you didn’t buy one?
Katana: I’m kidding, you fool. I don’t want a rock on my hand anyway. Rocks come from outside and outside is dumb.
Dax: Oh, well that’s a relief!
A real tear jerker proposal if I ever saw one. Clearly, Katana thought so, too.
Katana: Busy? Of course not.
Oh, so now you’re in town? That’s rich.
Katana politely declined, having used up her hangout quota for the day. I wasn’t watching the house, but I’m sure she went back and sat in a cardboard box and ate pie.
While Dax lorded his new engagement over Meaniepants Hunter.
Hunter: Psshh, it’s a shame that girl got such low standards. I’ll be seein’ you, Twerpface.
Dax: Whatever… Toiletface.
Meanwhile, I’d long been searching for the spares around town and finally got wind that Tomahawk and his wife Gabby were at the art gallery. So Razor and Ara, like a good Mommy and Daddy, went to check up on them.
Razor: And your sister had the most adorable baby boy named Balboa who is certainly not lying neglected on the floor five paces behind you, because that would be child abuse.
Somehow, the lesson they took away from this was they too should try their hands at parenting. I’ll be damned if I remembered to take a picture of the kid later, so I’ll tell you now that his name is Jaime. Yep, like the Lannister.
And on that note…
She looks surprisingly good in pastels. Maternity pastels, to be specific. 😉
Perhaps bravely, or perhaps idiotically, Azula prepared the inaugural batch of waffles in the new kitchen. Fortunately, the stove cooperated—perhaps because of that Natural Cook thing.
Or perhaps because Katana has threatened every appliance into submission with a hammer and an evil eye.
Katana: If you think of breaking down, I will turn you inside out so you can nuke yourself. Got it?
Microwave: *sparkles innocently*
…Okay, I only included this pic because she looks so fashionable in her maternity PJ’s.
And this one because awww.
Dax: My squishy blue caterpillar!
Dude on Wall: No mine.
And this one to illustrate the dangers of consumer culture.
Paparazzi: Wow! I’m simultaneously creeping in a celebrity’s backyard and updating Facebook and vlogging and Instagramming and tanning and sunning my hair and doing a yoga pose and I could just— I could just—
Paparazzi: The rapture! How I have wronged!
Hence, we should all go live in forests.
(Also, paparazzi are idiots. THERE’S A GATE. YOU CAN LEAVE. I DON’T WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR DEATHS.
But they aren’t really dying. Every time this happens, they’re back on the lot the next day. I might just take xkaylanicolex’s advice and disable the fools.)
Well look here, Balboa’s actual parents have taken an interest in him.
Katana: You’re not so bad, are you? You just sleep all the time in this fuzzy cocoon. Huh. Kid, you and I are on the same page.
Which is fantastic, because it gives Ara a break to play violent video games.
Ara: What do we have here? A left-lane lollygagger? For this you shall die in a ball of fire, numbskull! Kapow, as they say!
And write violent novels.
Strangely, Ara has had very few bestsellers in her long and prolific career. “The Space Punks of Zalazaz” may be the first one since her debut, “Roadkill Pie.”
She even cooks violently.
Ara: Teach me how to stove
And… well, let’s not go there.
Razor: What are you doing, honey? Shouldn’t you, er, put some clothes on?
Ara: Relax, my knight. I am just heading to the shower.
Ara: Pssst, let’s keep this to ourselves, shall we?
Razor: What do you mean? Nothing happened here. No, sir.
It was high time that Razor had that “passing the torch” talk with Katana, considering he technically passed it to her like five chapters ago and she’s been dropping it all over the place ever since.
Razor: Have you ever thought about going back and finishing your degree? It would give Balboa something to look up to. And a break from your terrible influence.
Katana: What would I want a degree for? All that work for a piece of paper and a dorky hat?
Razor: Do you have any career ambition at all?
Katana: I was thinking I could be a hotdog vendor. For the circus, when Dax joins.
Razor: I’ve done what I can. The family is yours now. Please make its death painless.
Razor: But I hope someday you’ll stop joking around and start thinking about your children, Katana. After all, our future lies with them.
Katana: Get your hands off of me.
I catch Azula doing this a lot. Not that I can blame her. If my mirror had a picture of Azula’s face glued onto it, I would stare at it all day, too.
Azula: Good luck getting a Langurd this attractive ever again.
I sincerely hope she procreates with a decent-looking townie.
I was so chuffed with myself when I built this laundry room. However, as I feared, owning shiny appliances is just not worth tripping over magical clothes piles. So here’s a picture of someone using it before I convert it for other purposes.
Dax: Was that one dash of soap, or one dish?
It’s alright, you can say it—my Winnie the Pooh references are pretty hip. Come to think of it, Dax has a “bear of very little brain” vibe to him.
Dax: Last night, I came downstairs for a midnight snack. I fancied myself a bit of a sweet treat, so I started rummaging… Suddenly, I heard loud footsteps. KERTHUD. KERTHUD. I turned around, and in the glow of the refrigerator there it was, a nasty, bloated monster with piercing eyes—
Katana: Telling stories about me, Dax?
Dax: *gulp* N-no! Of course not!
Dax: And then it said, “I hope you’re not thinking of eating the last waffles.”
Razor: That is terrifying.
Katana: Still here, morons.
Be that as it may, Katana’s actually a pretty easygoing pregnant sim. She even got out of the house and roamed around on her souped-up wad of concrete.
Katana: It’s the latest model.
Yeah… the graphical issues came back. I discovered new ways to channel my frustration.
I would buy it.
Then again, maybe I ought to chill out and find my Zen zone like Azula here.
Azula: Breathe. You are not surrounded by chaos. Breathe. You are riding a stallion through a field of flowers, far, far away from here. Breathe. You are admired and respected, with no ties to the Langurd name. Breathe.
Katana: Field of flowers my ass.
Time for round two! This time, we opted for a hospital birth rather than popping it out on the cold tiles.
She even made a friend along the way…
Katana: Call me, hunk.
She also got to witness the disaster that is my simself’s life.
Sim Sam: YESSSS, that old guy texted me back! Do you hear that, Ezekiel? You’re gonna have a new daddy!
Sim Sam: Wait, Katana? You’re here?? But I don’t even have a name ready!!
I like to joke about trading death for life in this legacy, but well, Ara legitimately ghostified as Katana was leaving the hospital with her blanket wad.
(mirror photography = 3edgy5me)
Ara: Ah, my unicorn. We shall be reunited at last in that “special farm” in the sky.
Razor: Um, Ara? I hate to tell you this, but Rarity literally did go to a farm.
As a result, this was the first thing Florin Langurd saw upon entering his home.
Katana: You here for the kid?
Katana: You can have him.
Florin was born on a Saturday and is an easily impressed couch potato. His favourite is grey. He probably has others but my notebook just says “grey” in sloppy, don’t-give-a-shit writing.
Grey is probably appropriate considering the occasion. Every family member with a conscience and the ability to walk gathered into this shoebox room while the Reaper conducted his business through the wall.
Grim: At last I reap the fruits of my bargain. Join me in eternal darkness, my bride.
Arabella: Very well, I suppose I am yours to command. But only until my valiant knight should come and free me from these shackles.
Grim: Shackles? Oh no, we’re honeymooning in Fiji with hang-gliders and coconut juice. It’ll be a hoot.
Razor: And just what do you think you’re doing with my wife’s computer?
Grim: Changing her relationship status to “Queen of the Underworld.”
Razor: That pink girly crap suits you, you sneaky bastard.
Grim: In that case, I think I’ll quite enjoy your wife! *badum tish*
I give you full leave to embark on a revenge quest, Razor! Just… not yet. I want you alive a little longer.
And so we lost Her Majesty, Queen Arabella Langurd, on her 94th name day. She lived out her entire lifespan in the legacy household, an unusual thing for a spouse. During her reign, she earned 141,097 lifetime happiness points and garnered skills in five disciplines, including a full ten in Writing. She earned $33,253 for her 23 books, which total 5,423 pages. The following is a complete list of her works, minus a few misplaced titles:
A Fork in the Foot
All My Kidneys
Famous Last Turds
I Ate Myself
I Hate Everything
Knock on Wood
Let Them Eat Cake
Lies, All Lies
Me and My Tambourine
Ode on Poop (a volume of poetry)
Orcs and Grease
Thatès Our Star, Yo (a biography of Star Toth)
The One-Way Hole to China
Who Stole Johnny’s Earlobe?
Not bad, kid. Her epitaph reads: “Queen of Everything, and don’t you forget it.”
Farewell, Ara, and Happy Honeymoon I guess.
Razor, in his distress, immediately went full-sap mode and planted a tree in memoriam. Get it? Sappy, tree? …Too soon for puns?
Razor: This is no tree. This is a hole to the underworld. I am going to find that Reaper scumbag. And when I do, I am going to kill him.
And look—while everyone was distracted, Balboa had a birthday! Cool stuff/commentary: He’s the legacy’s first brunette; he inherited Katana’s badass mutation (yellow eyes); and, well, he looks like a Langurd. Dem ears and eyebrows, man.
First things first: I’m a moron, and all that business about Sun being Rotter’s Sun and being older than Katana is crap. I forgot about that thing that happened, you know, where we moved to a completely new save file. *facepalm*
Second things second: Yes, I’m being a secretive meanie about the name scheme. I thought I’d make a guessing game out of it for now. This is to make it seem exciting when, in fact, it is dreadfully dull as name schemes go. 😀
Third things seventeenth: I’ve been loving this momentum, but reality has struck at last. I am officially a 9-5 drone, a commuter, and a filing cabinet slave. If my jokes fall flat it’s because my brain has been slowly squeeze-dried by alphabetizing and excess dust. And if you spot typos, it’s because my fingers are torn apart by a zillion paper cuts. Basically, pity me—but don’t, because I’m employed and that’s what matters. From now on the Langurds shall have my Friday nights, and progress shall continue.
Posted on May 10, 2014, in Generashun 3 and tagged arabella, azula, balboa, bestseller, betsy and jim, birth, china, darrochs ahoy, dax, death, drowning, elder romance, ezekiel, father-daughter bonding, fireman pole, florin, gabby, ghost story, ghost tewl, grim reaper, guest appearance, human aquarium, hunter, jaime, katana, martial arts, most attractive family ever, novels, paparazzi, paparazzi on fire, pregnancy, proposal, razor, rendering constipation, simself, skinny dipping, summer festival, sun, tomahawk. Bookmark the permalink. 9 Comments.