5.6 The Perfect Storm

Welcome back! Last chapter, Balboa died quietly in his sleep while a massive fire brought his jelly bean garden to the ground. It was pretty cool, and everyone is having a blast now that he’s gone.

Wtf Gumby? I was joking! You’re not actually supposed to be enjoying yourself.

Gumby: Yeehaw, Sonny Jim!

It’s because I built this barn in place of Boa’s old cabin. It was the plan all along (out with the old and in with the new) but actually seeing it here is— you got it. Bittersweet. Should have saved that title for this chapter.

Frieda: Don’t be so insensitive, Gumby! Your uncle died for this place to be built!

Gumby: I’m the king of the west!

Frieda’s only lamenting how much “gold” we wasted on it. And before you ask — yes, we do need three identical paintings. They’re crucial to Gumby’s “man for all seasons” schtick, and besides, they’re pretty.

How many pictures have I captioned that look EXACTLY LIKE THIS? Showing relationship progression in horses is a bitch.

Pokey: You sure are a handsome fellow.

Axorn: POKEY IS PRETTY. I WANT TO MAKE POKEY BREAKFAST. I WILL MAKE HER FALCON EGGS AND ROCKS.

Well, that did it.

(Again, you can’t infer anything from the picture unless you’re aware that two horses can share a stall for one purpose and one purpose only…)

Just upstairs, Gumby was having a private moment.

Gumby: Being Death’s replacement is so hard! I feel like Scott Calvin!

Yeah, ‘cause that’s the same thing.

Frieda: I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited…

Frieda: …but guess what? Your horses are doing it downstairs!

Gumby: *cries*

I guess he got over that nasty visual pretty quickly.

Gumby: That reminds me, we have room for another Gumby Jr. now!

Frieda: I want a divorce.

Gumby: My bad, a Frieda Jr.

Baby horses are being made literally under their feet right now. Does it get any classier than that?

I forgot, it does. Because you buy a hi-tech outhouse and suddenly EVERYONE wants to join the mile high club on the ground.

As if the idea of an all-in-one bathroom didn’t already make me want to scour my skin off.

On top of that, it’s everyone’s #1 choice for bladder relief.

Lira: All-in-one bathroom, here I come!

I know it’s called “all in one” but THREE’S A CROWD, LIRA.

So I sent all the third wheels off to a Spooky Day party. Lira was born on Spooky Day, so I like to think of it as a kind of birthday for her.

Skydancer: Hurry up, Ma! People might think you’re old or something!

Lira: I’m a spring chicken!

Must be why she’s having so much trouble crossing the road.

The party was hosted by Don’t Winterwolf-Sung, literal motherfucker. It was a classic case of “host prepares a big meal to make it look like people are coming, but people aren’t coming.”

Poor Don’t.

He really does have a thing for mummies.

*drop mic*

Let’s not forget it was a dress-up party. Mandrake chose to go as his great-great grandfather.

Mandrake: Yo.

Family resemblance game is strong.

Mandrake: What are you?

Skydancer: A… fairy.

Hallowe’en game, on the other hand, is feeble as shit.

Though perhaps not as feeble as Lev’s.

Lev: I have reasons!

Riiiiiiiight, like you’re gracing me with another one when I waited a year for the first. I’m no fool.

(She actually does have another one. It’s a boy and she names it Dominique and I facepalm hard.)

Policeman: Okay folks, party’s over.

Sam: Y’all were violating the fire code.

With the TWO people in the house? Get out, you frauds.

There wasn’t much of a party anyway. Lira was happy enough to admire the prematurely frosty gardens.

Lira: May I sing “Let It Go” now?

You could, but I like to keep my references up to date.

Lira: Then why do I quote Toy Story all the time?

Because the 90s will never die, dammit!!

Don’t is a highly disturbed man.

Don’t: Your mom is hot, don’t you think so?

Sky: You know what else is hot? The sun. You’re not supposed to put your face on it.

Lira: You know what else is hot?

Uh oh, what are you…

Why do I even ask?

Lira: You may want to move away, sir!

Sir: What, is the car gonna explode or something? Haha! Good—

Well then.

Apparently, Lira was not going to be topped in the “epic fireball” department. Boa, will you please kindly return that trophy?

It’s beautiful. :’)

The amount of pyromania in these last chapters… I’m not an arsonist, I swear.

Couldn’t say the same for this one.

Lira: It’s a good thing I’m fireproof!

Yeah right, it’s a good thing this game is poorly coded because YOU’RE A FLAMMABLE-AS-SHIT MUMMY.

Mandrake wasn’t finding much to do at Don’t’s (lolz) so he called up Tariq for a date. After Manny froze and cried on a hill for three hours, the World’s Shittiest Boyfriend showed up just in time for Manny to give HIM flowers. Then he left.

So that Mandrake could stand on the hill, freezing and crying for another three hours.

Mandrake: Daddy!

And yet…

Does this game have a built-in sarcasm generator or what?

Well, well. We are in trouble now.

Skydancer: Why am I even still here?

You’re staging an intervention, that’s why.

Skydancer: By the fairy power vested in me, blah blah blah, I hereby cure you of being a next-degree Mommy’s Boy.

Don’t: But Freud said—

Skydancer: I don’t care what Freud said! Shut up and kiss me!

Notice the hotdog making hotdogs in the background. Despite the existing plate of hotdogs on the counter.

And the unattended mac and cheese on the stove.

Don’t: Why don’t you get it? I am in love with Sam! You can’t stop our love!

So Skydancer’s “intervention” ended up taking a different tone.

Skydancer: It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s gotta do it.

Skydancer: Well, looks like there’ll be no fires today!

[ONE HOUR EARLIER]

And in that one hour, Pyro-Mummy was already miles away, stirring up more trouble.

Lira: Minky fleece and corduroy are not built to last, my darling! If you want to live forever, we’ll have to coat you in solid gold!

Teddy: Pls no

Lira: Wait a second… Solid gold? Why didn’t I think of that before?

Stone: Your wish is my command.

Lira: But wait, I haven’t done my makeup!

Stone: Haha, too late.

And so Lira finally became a doll to withstand the ages and elements, but only after the ages and elements had done their work. And this is why we call it the Dysfunkshinul Legacy.

GumbyGrim: Score, my first reaping! Ah, yes, ahem. You are… dead. Am I doing this right?

GumbyGrim: Wait, Mom?

Lira: You’ll have to cook your own meals now, son.

GumbyGrim: But you never cooked my meals!

Lira: Bye bye now.

GumbyGrim: Neato, check out these bones!

First day with the new… er, skeleton?

Gumby: Pssst, Pokey! Can you tell it’s me?

Pokey: Is the fucking sky blue?

Pokey’s sass with Axorn’s intensity? I don’t think we’ll ever be “prepared” for that.

Buzz, what’s wrong?

Buzz: The baby! He’s dead!

Poor guy is displacing his grief. I think I’ll step out before it hits him.

Buzz: Wait a second, there is a rock on the floor. That must mean…

Buzz: The love of my life is dead!

Balboa: Dude, you couldn’t have gleaned something from the dead life plant?

So yes, perhaps a bit of a sudden parting, but I like me a neatly ribbon-wrapped story arc. And ribbon-wrapped is exactly what this one would have wanted, in life or in death. Yet she may just boast the weirdest collection of accomplishments of any heir so far; she conquered what may be the hardest LTW in the game as well as completing the most difficult tomb; inhabited four different life states and mated with two others; irreparably damaged a lot of public property; gained skills in nine disciplines, reached Level 5 of the Inventor profession, and died at 96 with 160,313 LTH points. Her gold-plated body was appraised at $50,000, though she would almost definitely have argued that sum. Her life is just short of a perfect circle as she leaves us hours after Spooky Day’s official end.

She leaves behind a single grandchild and a half-finished Harvester, the latter of which I’m kicking myself for since we sold the last one and it could have been INCREDIBLY USEFUL.

Omen: Not like an heir is useful for anything.

Who says you’re going to be heir?

Skydancer: I don’t think he should be the heir.

Buzz: YOU GOT THAT RIGHT.

Gumby: Oooh, are we roasting Omen? Put me in, coach!

Omen: Unfair! My platform is doomed from the start!

And he’s about to gain a worthy opponent, too!

Although “doomed from the start” may be more applicable to this one…

That’s right, you rest up in your perfectly colour-coordinated maternity clothes and quilt. Because healthy children are great and all but pretty pictures are the real priority here.

Like why did I even take this one? Because it perfectly encapsulates Skydancer’s cold, mechanical nature that she tries so hard to bury?

Skydancer: Or because there’s no roof on the barn and it’s really funny when you fail?

HAVE A HEART, CYBORG!

She does, unfortunately. Too many hearts around here, imo.

Gumby: I should feed the toddler, but like, I’m sad.

Skydancer: Me too.

Omen: CPS, here I come!

Wouldn’t it be a darn shame if all this history came to nothing because a few lousy Langurds didn’t know how to parent? Never mind that the last Langurd who knew how to parent was… *scrolls through portraits*… So I hear the Blue Jays are doing well this season…

The point of that last shot was that I finally rescued the portraits from an old save! And since I don’t do housekeeping by halves (or at all sometimes—just ask my roommate) I went full Monica and reorganized the treasure chests. Some excess loot had to be siphoned off and sold… What a shame.

At this point, I made the infuriating discovery that Gumby was sitting quietly on a lump of palladium while his mother became a WEREWOLF to hunt the stuff down. #worstsonever

#worstsimmerever is more like it because oops, this was also chilling in one of the treasure chests. And this is why we should clean house more often.

Also this.

Buzz: But it’s not even real pee!

It’s also a computer game, but that never stopped me from feeling feelings.

Gumby: Hey Frieda, let me stop you from feeling feelings!

Frieda: Nah, I’m good. I don’t feel a thing.

Gumby: *tweak tweak*

Frieda: YOUR MOTHER WAS TAKEN FROM US TOO SOON!

Gumby: Huh, that’s new.

Gumby: Did I just teach my cold English wife how to feel? I think I did!

Frieda: I think I just grasped the ending of Toy Story 3…

Frieda: Too much.

Gumby: Should I turn the dial the other way now?

Depends, do you prefer fainting, emotional Frieda? Or stone-cold, wants-you-dead Frieda?

Gumby: My love is unconditional.

Frieda: I made an appointment for your cremation.

Officially the most ridiculous opportunity in the game, and you know that’s saying something because this and this and this.

1) Skydancer does not, in fact, own a bass.

2) Why destroy a perfectly functional musical instrument when there are MILLIONS of things in this world that float??

3) How about an emergency exit???

Of course, none of that stopped us from accepting the opportunity.

Even if things at home were a little more dire.

Gumby: My stepfather is broken, can you come fix him?

It was all a little much for Buzz, and he conked out after putting the final touches on a history of Lira’s life.

The shards of his diamond heart will never be reassembled.

(K guys, I’m ready for my Pulitzer.)

And because it’s all about rocks around here, behold the Rock Who Lived! (The bloodstone that survived Boa’s jellybean fire.)

Am I a poet or just a hoarder? We’ll never know Okay fine, we definitely know.

Speaking of rocks, Don’t just got engaged to his mother.

Don’t: Aren’t you happy for me?

Sky: No, actually, I feel a deep-seated need to save you from yourself.

Oh yeah, things are getting steamy up in here.

Sky: You see, Don’t, I’m really into you.

Don’t: But you’re heartfarting the repairman.

Sky: Technicalities, Don’t. Technicalities.

Sky: My point is, you can’t be engaged to your mom because— well, because it’s illegal. But since you can’t seem to grasp that, you can’t be with her because you should be with me instead.

Don’t: Wow, Skydancer. You’ve given me lots to think about.

Don’t think about it, man. Just do it.

Don’t: You know, you’re right. We should be together. You can be my new mom.

Skydancer: Girlfriend.

Don’t: Yes, that.

So Skydancer ended the reign of incest and became insta-nemeses with my simself, instantly prompting her to roll this:

Damn you, Good sims.

Skydancer: Yes! I just completed my first case as a Fairy Godmother!

Yeah, too bad it doesn’t actually count for your LTW.

Don’t: Hey, you’re kinda hot.

Dat timing…

Pokey: Hey Mr. Horny, how could you knock a girl up and never call her back? HOW?

Bull: I— excuse me?

Pokey: Here’s your kid. I’ll take cheque or money order.

Evidently a lie since this glorious baby UNICORN (!!) couldn’t be anyone’s but Axorn’s.

Her name is Storm. She’s Brave, Fast, and Untrained. I’ve never had a foal before (lolwut? Yes you have, idiot) so many pictures await.

Baby unicorn plays hopscotch.

Storm: Uh, correction. Baby unicorn tries to play hopscotch but can’t because the world is unjust.

Baby unicorn with drastic cosmetic changes because yeah, I CAS’d her to look more distinct from Axorn. Sue me.

Probably gonna sue Frieda soon to be honest.

Frieda: There, his portrait’s done. So he can die now?

Not quite how it works.

That masterpiece was worth $1,026, which ought to appease her for now.

Frieda: Yay, money.

I love how she just… floats. XD

Oh, hey, Mandrake! Haven’t seen you in a while!

Mandrake: Look at my new outfit! It’s made from the remains of my daddy’s house!

Isn’t that… touching.

Meanwhile, Sky continues her search for fairy godmother clients, a.k.a. friends for the Charisma quota. Here be Robi Sama-Livingston, husband of Sammi Sama the simself.

Robi: Cool, is that red stuff your magic?

Skydancer: Actually, it’s my hayfever. But whatever floats your boat.

Skydancer: I can see your life is in a shambles. Let me fix that by getting rid of that huge food baby you have!

Robi: Thanks a lot, that’s my real stomach!

Skydancer: Ohhhh, awkward…

Know what else is awkward? That Gumby’s slapshod, mangled face is worth over a grand and his real face is worth only $116. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.

Axorn: MY PROGENY. HAVE ALL THE MAGIC.

Storm: Stop, that tickles!

Oh hi, less cute baby.

Omen: As soon as I get real legs, I’m using them to walk out that door?

From the third storey? I thought you were supposed to be a Genius.

I also thought I was gaming in 2015…

Omen: Welcome to RuneScape!

In case I ever doubted, definitely not a Langurd nose!

He looks like this now and has become disciplined despite not receiving a speck of discipline in his life.

Frieda: What do you mean you can’t schedule a cremation for someone who isn’t dead? He’s going to be dead, I’m telling you! No, I don’t need 911! Why are you so bad at your job?

Maybe for the best that Omen never got the iron fist from this one.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I was supposed to power through more screenshots to get to the good stuff, but what the hell. 110 is plenty and this has certainly been long enough in the making…

So fun story, I keep my chapters on a USB flash drive when I’m working on them so I can move seamlessly between my laptop and my desktop. (It’s not really that seamless; saving takes a few hundred years.) A few weeks ago, when this chapter was almost done, the flash drive disappeared. Now, I’m an expert at losing things (I might even call myself a professional loser) but I KNOW when something weird is up. This thing was in my backpack one minute and NOT THERE the next. I retraced my steps, texted everyone I had crossed paths with that day, and had entire teams of coffee shop employees digging under couch cushions. When it still didn’t turn up, I reluctantly concluded that either a) I’m going senile or b) it had fallen out of my bag and was lying on the street somewhere.

Well… I was almost right. Because it didn’t fall out of my bag, but my demon cat did STEAL it out of my bag. He must have played floor hockey with it for about thirty seconds before he swatted it under the dehumidifier and forgot about its existence. Naturally, I didn’t find it until I was cleaning for company (another perk of housekeeping, apparently). Several jar lids, a pen, and my roommate’s toe separators had met the same fate.

So there you go. You can blame Dewey for the disgustingly long break, but from here on out you can go back to blaming me. 😉

Happy Simming!

-Sam