5.13 Simply Brilliant

Well, I just finished a six-month temp contract at an office, wrapped up my first quidditch season as a coach, and filed my tax return. That’s enough adulting for a while, thanks.

Nobody illustrates my feelings quite like Skydancer.

Sky: I’m not even adulting. I’m literally living in this library, reading books on how to talk to people and never actually talking to people.

Welcome to the formal education system!

Sky: I don’t want it.

Yes, this one is still working on her Charisma. Quite frankly, after witnessing Galadriel Evans the Skilling Machine, I’m embarrassed for her. She’s supposed to be a Genius.

And this fool is supposed to be Disciplined, and yet…

Omen: Fuck this shit!

Omen: Just kidding, I need that.

Adulting at its finest.

At least one of them is making tangible steps toward his LTW.

Omen: Checkmate.

Shawanda Simself-Hudson: How? That was your first move!

Omen: You kind of forfeit when you showed up at 4am.

She’s simself progeny – she can’t help it!

With that hard-fought victory pumping through his veins, Omen rushed off to secure the title of World’s Greatest Dad Bro.

Omen: I’m making WAFFLES!

Alright Donkey, are you sure the stove is supposed to clean itself while you’re cooking in it?

Omen: It is exactly as Molark intended.

Omen: They are perfection!

Rhapsody: Does anyone else smell garbage?

Fiasco: It’s my life. My life smells like garbage. I’m sorry. *sips fruity drink*

Calamity: Never would’a pegged you for the family alcoholic, Fifi.

Omen: Guys, I made us waffles. Appreciate me.

Omen: Guys?

Calamity: WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME. Last one to the school bus is a rotten eggplant!

Crash: Huff… huff…

Sorry bud, I think that’s you.

Crash: 😥

Oops, I stand corrected.

Omen: Why must you be such a rotten eggplant?

Rhapsody: What? A second ago you were all “eat my waffles.”

Omen: Don’t sass me, young lady. Pick up your act or I’ll be forced to ship you off to boarding school.

Rhapsody: You wouldn’t!

Omen: Or would I?

Rhapsody: Stop it.

Omen: Yes, hello. I’d like to enroll my little sister in Military School.

Rhapsody: Omen stop. This isn’t funny.

Omen: You’ll pick her up tomorrow? Perfect! Have a great day now.

Rhapsody: Nice try, I know you’re not talking to anyone.

Awkward.

Rhapsody: Well, it’s been a time. I’m sure gonna miss you all.

Plants: Souvenirs or die, bitch.

For those who made it safely out of the war zone, we did a little door creeping when school let out. You never know when your future wife might com strolling up behind you.

Jamaal: I ain’t no wife.

My bad. The game can’t keep its meshes straight lately, and I’m kind of enjoying it.

Especially when it cranks out stuff like this. Nestor Lynne-Torres is either a fashion pioneer or the victim of several cruel pranks.

Nestor: Do not mock me.

He’s also the son of MichelleLynn’s simself. 😀

With Omen, it’s not even a question.

Omen: I am so pulling this off!

Lol no.

Omen: …I’ll kill those brats! I’ll kill them all!

All in favour of voting his Disciplined trait off the island?

Thankfully he cooled down before playing his Great Aunt Nina at chess. Guess he turns on the charm for his elders.

Omen: Pardon my tardiness. Shall we begin?

Nina: Yeah no, I’m outta here. Have to water my prunes.

Omen: I respect your wishes. Your wishes to forfeit.

Sadly, forfeiting is not a real thing in this game and Omen’s chess journey has not been so hassle-free. He almost always wins if they can make it through the game, but that typically involves three phone calls, twelve “Challenge…” commands, and hours of musical chairs. You may have noticed I plunked the chess table on the front lawn a few chapters ago out of frustration.

Calamity: Why be frustrated when you can be awesome instead?

Trust me, we all wish we had your life.

(Yes, she’s tubbing in her formalwear.)

Especially Fiasco. I mean, just look how sad he is.

Fiasco: I got sent to jail in “cops and robbers” and no one ever freed me.

So now you’re writing a country song about your feelings?

Fiasco: So now I’m doing my math homework.

Good question…

Looks like all the cool cats hit up the Swanky Coffeehouse for karaoke. I thought the simselves were entertaining before, but they’re twice as much fun now that they’re all old and mismatched.

Echo: ‘Cause she looks like a flower but she stings like a bee / Like every girl in history!

Lady: Could you bee any less subtle?

Sammy: Yeah, you’re really killing my buzz!

I had Skydancer stop in for a study break just to prove that I am a gracious creator. I suspect she originally went to a pool party where the hosts were a no-show; that happens a lot in my game.

Lady: I like your face. It looks like tequila.

Skydancer: She’s drunk!

No shit.

Hayley: Go home, all of you! It’s past your bedtime!

This little weirdo, also of simself descent, is Hayley Laserkatt-Medina. She’s on the watch list for underage clubbing Langurd Spouse Hunt ’16. Parents of the Year Julia and Teodor were nowhere to be found.

I like to think we take shifts being productive in this family. While Sky was turning up, Gumby sat on a horse and Omen locked horns with Tariq’s daughter from his first marriage. Partway through the match, we got a pop-up that Tariq had died. Omen kindly withheld the news so as not to throw off her game.

Omen: I heard your dad died. Want to forfeit?

I take that back. Omen is the worst kind of human.

Calamity, meanwhile, may have found a hobby that requires little movement and poses minimal risk of injury!

Calamity: I think I took out some old guy on the other island. He’s not moving.

R.I.P. Tariq…

Others feel the need to loiter in the barn, taking endless joy rides up and down the zippy chute.

Frieda: Stop hogging my only source of enjoyment in life!!

Rhapsody: Mama, I’m scared! Please don’t make me go to boarding school!

Frieda: My turn, finally! *floats through her*

I was getting fed up with the gaping hole left by Lev’s glitchy arts degree, so I made Gumby buy an honorary one with his reward points. I didn’t count on him also getting an extra trait, so I randomized it.

He is now a Coward, and faints every time he sees his wife.

I regret nothing.

Morning dawns and it’s time for Rhapsody to say her goodbyes.

Crash: Hurr!

Rhapsody: Take care of yourself, big bro.

Crash: *hysterical sobbing*

Rhapsody: At least somebody will miss me.

Yeah, I’m not so sure…

…there’s something a little fishy about those tears.

Omen: I made the right call with Rhapsody, right? Or should I have just given her the pan?

Sky: What do I know? The game thinks I’m younger than you.

It also thinks they’re cousins. Word of advice: breed with SimBots and your family tree will never not be totally fucked.

Two seconds after their chat, Omen basically rolled the wish to beat her up.

I thought we established that picking fights with the magical cyborg was a bad idea? Does “Genius” mean anything in this family??

Sensing that her opposition may be growing, Sky set about building an army of her own.

Sky: I hear you may be interested in my cause.

Deana: We are cousins, after all.

This time they really are. Deana is LeffJeff’s eldest, Princess of the Fae, and better styled from a dice roll than half the sims I slave over in CAS. Overall a wise choice of ally.

Sky: We can be each other’s wingmen, get it?

Deana: You’re a genius!

That’s up for debate.

Sky & Deana: Magic sparkle bonding time! 😀

Deana: We are so cool!

Skydancer: I know right!

Meanwhile, Deana’s parents are still the Brangelina of the simming worl—*checks tabloids* Shit. Does anyone stay together anymore?

(Lev and Jeff do, apparently.)

Omen tried again with the waffles. Crash took two bites and immediately aged seven years.

Fiasco: *drops fork* WHAT.

(Note: These little shits are surprisingly not to blame for the minefield of booby traps. Sky’s been practising her fairy magic. She may also be responsible for Omen’s hair.)

Crash developed Genius due to his “indifferent study habits.”

That can only end well.

Another birthday means another visit from the village idiot. I honestly wonder what campus recruiter thought to make this big hairy oaf the face of academia.

Llama: That is one sexy celery stick!

Omen: …I need to get out of here.

Lucky for Omen, I was feeling a change of scenery too. As per a sort of tradition, I packed up the cool kids for intercontinental sibling funtimes.

…We’ll send Rhapsody a postcard or something.

But really, you had to know there was an ulterior motive. Specifically: Florin’s clone is a dunce who couldn’t finish his crossword.

Omen: Never fear, the Caped Crusader is here! Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na PUZZLE MAN!!

Let’s walk away and pretend we don’t know him…

Within minutes, Calamity had ruined the trip for everyone else.

Calamity: Call the doctor, I fucked up.

Crash: Hnnnnn.

But Sky took care of that like the responsible “cousin” she is, leaving these two bros to their devices.

Fiasco: All right, no more judgy relatives to trigger my crippling anxiety!

Crash: Weeeee!

Fiasco: We should go to the gym! You know, while my confidence is hovering in the almost-average range.

France seems to be giving everyone a confidence boost – even those who don’t need one.

Omen: Yep, just hanging with my falcon. What’s that, Doomsday? You want to go talk to the pretty lady?

Doomsday: NO.

Omen: You want to go talk to the pretty lady?

Doomsday: NO!

Omen: Fuck you, you dumb bird!

Omen: Oh, hi. My super cool falcon couldn’t help but notice how pretty you are.

Doomsday: FUCK YOU, YOU DUMB BIRD!

Lady: Excusez moi?

Omen: Oh dear.

Please tell me someone in this family has game.

Fiasco: On the count of three, raise a finger for each pound you squatted!

That’s a no.

Skydancer: So, you’re all sewn back together. What do you want to do now?

Calamity: Why did you discharge me? I just wanted to sleep! Worst cousin ever!

So Skydancer was resigned to drinking alone in a corner.

Calamity: Just kidding, I wanna drink too.

For solidarity’s sake, I guess I’ll allow it.

They drank wine until they were literally swimming in it.

Skydancer: Come on in, the wine’s great!

Calamity: We’re going on an adventure!

Skydancer: Welp, we’re stuck.

Calamity: That was a fun adventure.

Word of advice: Don’t let drunks go tomb raiding.

On their way out, they passed the biggest sim PDA I’ve ever seen. These two literally would not stop sucking face. The French, I tell you!

Omen completed his puzzling quest in all of two seconds, which left him with scads of free time he could’ve spent seeing the sights and absorbing local culture. Instead, he practised chess because I hate him.

Omen: I’ve never played on a board with different-coloured pieces.

True story. The stone table at home is pure grey.

Things got interesting when the full moon arrived and his Frenchie roommate went rogue.

Omen: Hey, I’m gonna whip up some dinner. What’d you want to eat?

Pascal: Your braaaaiiins.

Omen: Crap.

Crash was having a slightly different experience with his new friend.

Crash: Haaaahh!!

Gerard: C’est quoi ça, tu chantes?

Crash: Haaaaaaaaahh!

Gerard: Je dirai que t’es pas très musical.

Yeah, that’s right. Blame the chair.

Fiasco: Quelle belle nuit!

By the end of the day, despite accomplishing nothing, Sky and Calamity were inseparable.

Calamity: Get in my face, food.

Skydancer: Just eat it raw, it won’t hurt you.

Of course, Calamity makes one friend and the next minute she rolls this…

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

I cut the trip short because it sucked. Their portkey landed them right in front of the resort they own, reminding me that we ought to save it from bankruptcy sometime soon. Everyone wanted a dip in the tiny grungy pool, which is still only frequented by dogs, it seems.

Oh, and it turns out the trip was not only boring but pointless…

…because Coolio DIED and no one thought to tell us.

Florin 2.0 may be dead, but the resort goldfish is still going strong. Which is an actual miracle considering no one ever feeds him.

Fool: Good thing I thrive on asbestos and ruined vacations.

He’s a real piece of work, that fish.

For all the Goldmine’s shortcomings, we must be doing something right — second cousin Adriane came back despite the fact that Gumby beat her mother to a pulp on opening day.

Adriane: I’m here to file a lawsuit.

Never mind.

Omen: Here you are, Fool.

Fool: Fuck off, I don’t eat those stupid flakes.

And Omen doesn’t eat meat, but that didn’t stop me feeding him dim sum two minutes later. XD

The great thing about running a resort is that the kids get to play house in it whenever they want. And it’s not bad for business at ALL.

Omen: Excuse me, miss, would you like to book a night in the luxury suite?

Calamity: I couldn’t possibly afford that…

Calamity: …I’m just a simple handyman!

Please don’t try to fix anything. That’ll have about the same success rate as “Teach Crash to Drive.”

SO WILL THIS. But then the sky got pretty and all I could do was sit here and take pictures. </3

Calamity: Take me to the hospital. I’m going to need some skin grafts now.

By the way, this is what our ACTUAL receptionist does all day. So “playing house” was a necessary intervention.

But the resort wasn’t getting any business, so these skilled professionals gave up and went to the buffet.

Cally: Isn’t there pork in that?

Omen: Don’t be silly. Pork isn’t meat.

Cally: Did Molark tell you that?

Omen: No, my brain did.

…And he’s officially no longer a Genius.

Frieda painted this and I came up with a really great name for it, but I put too much faith in my memory and didn’t write it down. So for now, let’s just appreciate the awkward elbow angles.

Back home, Sky and Cally’s wasn’t the only friendship to come out of the France trip.

Fiasco: We had ourselves a time, didn’t we?

Crash: *crunch munch*

Fiasco: I know, we should be each other’s wingmen!

Crash: *munch crunch*

Fiasco: And like, spot each other on the deadlift and stuff.

Crash: *swallow*

Fiasco: Maybe I’ll squat two pounds tomorrow!

Shock, horror, and betrayal – Crash has secretly been hitting the gym sans wingman. He’s still a weakling, but his Athletic trait will soon change that, and he’ll leave poor Fifi in the dust.

Look at this Zenyatta population. It’s out of control. I think the ghost gnome is breeding and/or cloning them for an army.

Calamity: I should join the army.

No. No you should not.

Again? Is this becoming a thing now?

Calamity: You bet. A good soak every now and then keeps my boots shiny.

And rusty, and moldy…

Okay seriously, are we doing reruns or something?

Omen: We never finished our game. Somebody couldn’t keep it together last time.

Daughter of Tariq (you got me, I totally don’t know her name): This time I play for my father.

Omen: Or I’ll just give you something else to cry about.

And he did, goddammit. Maybe I should wish failure on my sims more often, since it seems to make them succeed.

Fiasco: I saw this cool thing on the YouTube, you should try it!

Plot twist – he was about to eat that spoonful of cinnamon as a snack anyway.

Crash: Mm-mmm!

Fiasco: Amazing!

Crash: *nonsensical math jumble*

Fiasco: Well, that’s easy. The answer is 42 tequila Batman always Miata blowing in the wind!

Crash: !!!

These two… completely brilliant, or a couple of sad losers? We may never know.

Calamity: We meet again.

Dax: …

Calamity: That’s right. You’d better be quaking in your boots.

Dax: …

Calamity: Scared into silence.

Actually, he’s just stupid.

Speaking of which, this is Gumby’s life now. The life of a coward who lives with four ghosts.

Sky: What happened now?

Gumby: Frieda looked at me.

Sky: For god’s sake, get help.

Just wait until she tells him she’s been cheating on him with Paintbrush Patsy. (I told you the family panel was fucked.)

______________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Thirteen WOULD be the death of me. (Superstitious? Pffft, of course not.) Not that my Netflix addiction isn’t half the problem here. I’m coming up on eleven consecutive seasons of Grey’s Anatomy, and am so consumed by it that half my brain thinks I’m a surgeon. This is very healthy, I assure you.

On the bright side, one more chapter and this generation is finally over! On the dark side (ha ha), that means you have to pick an heir. I do not envy you. My hands are washed of this as soon as I hit Publish on 5.14.

Oh, and one more thing – thank you to everyone who signed up for the round-robin legacy! And sorry to everyone who missed out. </3 I’m already dropping the ball on Gen. 1, so it’s not totally inconceivable that spots might open up down the road.

Until next time, Happy Simming!

-Sam