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Happy New Year! And a joyous farewell to 2018, the most desolate year on the Blog of Langurd: home to nine posts, only two-thirds of which were actual updates. Oh my.

This is the year 3019, and revolution is upon us. Fingers will fly across keyboards, updates will churn, comments will be replied to, and babies will be born.

I may just end up half-assing my way to the good stuff because these screenshots are stale enough to break a tooth on.

And Trelilah’s relationship is growing seven kinds of toxic mold, but that doesn’t stop me trying to salvage it.

Delilah: Let me just get this straight. You, Trance Langurd, are admitting your idiotic mistakes and begging for forgiveness.

Trance: Indeed… I think I am.

Delilah: Could you say it one more time so I know I’m not losing it?

Trance: I, Trance Langurd, have behaved like human trash. Can you find it in your heart to take back an unworthy imbecile?

Delilah: Depends. Can I get that in writing?

Ah, the wonders of international travel. Hop on a plane and your romantic grudges become dust in the wind.

Trance: Another win for Trance.

Delilah: Hey now, let’s not forget you just called yourself human trash.

Trance: Can’t we forget it? Let’s forget it.

Delilah: And an imbecile.

Trance: Shh, don’t talk.

Just like that, we’ve come full circle. And not in a cool, poetic way like all the storylines in Game of Thrones.

Delilah: Okay, but who did you pay to retrieve this from the bottom of that fountain in Egypt?

Trance: Jad— I mean, I have my connections.

Hey there Delilah, don’t you hate yourself just a little?

Delilah: I got a puddle-free proposal. I’m good.

The only real reminder that Egypt happened is Kip’s pet turtle, and she makes short work of his disposal.

Kip: Hey little guy, welcome to your new home!

Gram: I’m from the desert, don’t put me here.

Kip: Later Gram!

Jada gets right to work on her LTW of Physical Perfection, although arguably she’s already attained it and I deserve 50 legacy points just for marrying her in. She shares the gym pretty peacefully with fellow Insane sim Cal.

Jada: Couldn’t you just zap it with your alien powers?

Cal: More fun to stand directly under the flying sparks.

Jada: I see your point.

Speaking of flying sparks… I’d like to say “get a room,” but it’s about time I officially gave them this one, what with how they’ve sneakily taken it over.

Kip: Good, ‘cause these sheets won’t ever be the same.

Thanks for that.

Trance and Delilah are still couch surfing, which leaves them to, er… celebrate their engagement in this creepy steam cloud.

Guys, you could at least leave the shower before making your phone calls.

Trance: I have copulated!

Delilah: Hey Dr. Jeff, asking for a friend… what are the chances you can completely reconstruct a fetus’s DNA?

Next morning…

Delilah: Happy wedding day, babe!

What do we think? Still cute?

First in the door for the Royal(ly Doomed) Wedding – Whalers’ simself, and Cal’s old work bully.

Emily: Calamity. Fancy seeing you here.

Cal: Are you heartfarting my son? Who’s about to be married?

Emily: What? Of course not. I’m just… just…

Emily: HAHA, YOUR SISTER IS SO BAD AT DRUMS. WHAT A STUPID FAMILY.

Cal: Nice to see you, too.

Delilah: Dear gods, please let my wedding day pass without drama.

Twisty shadows do not bode well, sister. Also, do you KNOW who you’re marrying?

Delilah: Quick, I need to climb the pole to get to my wedding!

Siesta: I’m trying! It’s so hard!

One hour later, on her fifth attempt up the pole.

Siesta: *laborious grunting* Almost… there…

Delilah: This is not an auspicious start.

Nothing about this day is particularly auspicious. The lighting is a disaster, there’s a hot dog on the porch, no one can find the entrance…

…but that’s not the worst of it.

Dear readers, I regret to inform you that this (I believe) is LeffJeff’s final public appearance as a couple. After three generations of marital harmony, Story Progression has seen fit to bring down the cleaver between them, and straight into our hearts.

Jeff: I blame middle age.

Lev: Right, just because I have a few more wrinkles than Miss Physical Perfection over there…

Jeff: That’s not what I mean and you know it.

Lev: Do I, Jeffery? Do I?

Power has had a strange effect on the Fairy-Queen-turned-Mayor.

Lev: Your skin is so soft, child. Give it to me.

Kip: This isn’t weird at all.

Seriously, Delilah?

Delilah: The kid wasn’t lying. It really is hard.

You know what’s not hard? TAKING THE STAIRS.

Delilah: You mean that mind-fuckery you call the front entrance? Lol, no thanks.

Funny that in all the manic routing, these two should end up in the same room.

Siesta: Hiya Dusty my good old pal!

Dusty: Oh… hi, box creature.

Siesta: It’s me! Siesta!

Dusty: Oh… you.

Siesta: Congrats on the wedding you didn’t tell me about and stuff. Totally cool that I wasn’t invited.

Dusty: Let’s not talk here. The elders could be listening.

Siesta: IS THIS BETTER?

Dusty: WHAT?

Siesta: CAN WE TALK HERE?

Dusty: OKAY. I HAVE TO TELL YOU SOMETHING.

Siesta: WHAT?

Dusty: IT WAS AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE. MY PARENTS SOLD ME TO THE HOOLEYS BECAUSE I FAILED TO KILL YOU.

*music stops*

Kip: Hold up, seriously?

Lev: Well well well, what juicy gossip do we have here?

Trance: Enough, everyone. This day is about me and me alone.

Alone? Planning to get left at the altar, are we?

Trance: Very funny.

It’s high time to start the ceremony, but Rhapsody continues to serenade the poor stragglers because she’s REALLY close to maxing drums.

Shannon: I dunno I kinda like her musi—

Emily: BOOOO! No one likes her music! What are you, French??

Alright dudes, get on with it.

Trance: We are gathered here today—

Delilah: Trance, you can’t officiate your own wedding.

Trance: Ahem. We are gathered here today to witness the union of two eternally perfect beings. If there are any objections, speak now and consider yourself cut from the family.

Kip: I OBJECT. TRANCE IS THE WORST.

Trance: Farewell, sister. Speaking of which… Delilah, I think yours is into me.

Delilah: Who, Paige? I’ll have father send her off to the mines.

No joke, Paige Murphy-Finnigan disappeared off the family tree and out of Story Progression the very next day.

Trance: I may now kiss the bride.

Kip: Great ceremony, guys. Way to really splurge on the lighting.

Trance: I thought you were leaving.

Kip: Meh, I’m kinda getting the vibe it’s not over yet.

It most certainly isn’t.

Trance: Babe, do the thing.

Delilah: For the last time, are you sure you want to be this flashy?

Trance: Is that even a question?

Delilah: Alright, but let’s put it in writing that I think this is a stupid plan.

Trance: Shh, stick to the script!!

Delilah: *sigh* Oh dearest one, my love for you cannot be confined to a single lifetime. Take this.

Trance: Oh no! What is this mysterious serum you cast upon me??

Trance: Alas, my beloved’s devotion has cursed me with eternal life!

Delilah: Where’s my serum? What happened to the plan?

Trance: You can’t drink serum when you’re pregnant, silly.

*crowd gasps*

Delilah: Nice, Trance. You’ve really outdone yourself.

Uh nope, now he’s outdone himself.

Delilah: Ladies and gentlemen, my husband.

*crowd applauds*

And now we catch the newlywed ghost-vamp for an exclusive interview in the water closet. What do you have to say for yourself?

Trance: Everything vent smoothly. Vent. Vent. Vait, vhy am I speaking like this??

Not everything, it seems.

So yeah, Trance becoming an undead dead man has been on the table for a while. Let’s just say I was scrolling through the LTWs I haven’t completed yet, and “Turn the Town” looked shiny and exciting—because it vaguely suits him and because it seemed like a quick complete. However, if I’m as far off the mark as I was with One Sim Band, we’re in for a real bloody treat.

Really Rhapsody, what are you even doing?

Rhapsody: Someone hid my drumsticks again…

And that’s what, a puddle of tears?

Rhapsody: The pipes are broken!

Actually, I’m 95% sure a lot/save glitch is preventing these idiots from making autonomous bathroom trips. But why would I solve the problem when I can sit here enjoying the carnage?

You thought bathrooms were for peeing? Nah, they’re for spinning into glitchy maternity lingerie and contemplating one’s existence. You good, Delilah?

Delilah: It would have been so easy to stay in Egypt.

Yes.

Delilah: I could’ve married into MorcuCorp and had a thousand camels.

Yes.

Delilah: But I married a diva who’s mentally five.

That you did.

Delilah: I will find honour in this life!

The true face of a woman having many realizations just a little too late.

With this diva married and procreating, it’s time to road test the new fangs.

Trance: I vant to suck your blood!

Robot: You look so dumb right now.

Trance: Dammit. How about from this angle?

Robot: Dude, I’m not being your vampire coach.

He naturally looks elsewhere.

Trance: Vould you mind giving me some feedback?

Stephanie*: Feedback on what?

(Apologies, I’ve really let the simselves’ style fall apart.)

Trance: On a scale of Nosferatu to Damon Salvatore, how sexy do you find me right now?

Stephanie. OUCH DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK.

While her son drains the city’s life force, Cal is closing in on her life-saving quota.

Cal: Is that the Grim Reaper in my rearview?

Nope, just a funny shaped bush—but that would make a beautiful metaphor.

Lev: Is the wedding over?

There’s always one.

Calamity’s getting quite efficient at this.

Shannon: Ahhhh!

Cal: Snap out of it. Fire’s gone. Nothing to be scared of.

Cal: Wait… you’re Quinn’s ex, aren’t you?

Shannon: Oh god, please don’t hurt me!

Cal: What?

Shannon: Nothing happened when you two were together, I swear! I only propositioned him twice!

Cal: Bitch wot? Excuse me while I go relight the fire in your house.

Honestly, rescuing Dusty is just habit at this point.

Cal: Why you gotta be at every fire?

Dusty: MY LIFE IS JUST A MESS OKAY?!

Three more candidates for the “My life is a mess” trophy…

Delilah: I’m carrying the child of an egotistical maniac.

Rhapsody: I’ve dedicated my life to a career in which I am talentless.

Siesta: I’ve been wearing these boxes for six days.

It’s a tight contest.

But I think the award goes to Rhapsody, who needs constant reminders that YOUR PASSION IS MUSIC, DAMMIT, NOT GETTING SWOLE!!!

Rhapsody: I don’t know where along the line you misread Athletic for Virtuoso, but I swear, if you do Riza as dirty as you did me—

Well, she’s Artistic and all the art LTWs are boring soooo…

This one, on the other hand, is almost as entertaining (albeit repetitive) as Sky spreading the ugly plague.

Trance: I promise, officer, I haven’t had a drink all night!

Trance: Bottoms up!

Laserkatt: Please don’t bring my bottom into this.

Noob vamp or not, he’s knocking off these victims pretty swiftly—all the while, this dude just strolls past all calm and approving.

Aaron: What a cool guy.

LeffJeff’s daughter—why not?

Trance: Hey, your mom’s doing pretty shitty things to this town. She’s also my mom’s great aunt.

Deanna: Wow. I wish I could delete these heartfarts.

Trance: Yeah, it’s about to get weirder.

Trance: Give this message to the Mayor. The Langurds send their regards.

Deanna: But we’re all Langurds.

Ain’t that the truth.

Kip: Congrats on all the blood drinking.

Trance: Thanks.

Kip: But maybe you should pay more attention to your pregnant wife.

Trance: What do you mean?

Kip: You know, stop her from doing stupid things.

Trance: What stupid things.

Kip: Umm…

Trance: Nonsense, my Delilah is the picture of grace.

Hey look, she made—

Delilah: Gee, holding onto this pole is real hard…

—it.

Delilah: Ouch.

Vampire Trance is perhaps a more majestic swan than ever, though part of me wonders if he’s just creeping Jada from a shady corner.

Jada: Hey Trance, you know you’re still technically outside, right?

Trance: Stop spurting wisdom. You’re wearing heels on a treadmill.

Jada: …U jelly?

Trance: A little.

Hours later, Delilah goes into labour without a baby bump and all hell breaks loose.

Rhapsody: Girl I lost my wig!

Delilah: Okay, let’s not be dramatic.

Rhapsody: No seriously, where is my hair???

Uh yeah so Rhapsody is broken.

And I can’t help having Lance flashbacks. Must be a side effect of spares overstaying their welcome, I dunno.

Trance: What is all that screaming about?

Kip: IT’S YOUR WIFE GIVING BIRTH TO A SMALL DIRTY CREATURE WHOSE NEEDS ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOURS.

Trance: *screams*

Kip: Have fun, bro.

Trance: God, I hate ghosts.

Delilah: It’s a… ghost!

Yes, thank you Delilah. Under the transparent exterior (?) is a blue blanket containing Duke Langurd, our first unofficial Gen. 8!

Duke: You’ve literally called me Duke and unofficial in the same sentence?

We could’ve called you Peasant instead.

Duke: No, no thanks.

Now, let’s see how many chapters it takes me to get to the REAL babies. Spoiler:

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Wow! Hi! This is officially the first post coming at you from my new home. I’ve been a Seoulite for almost four months now! You may have noticed the intro is approximately five months expired, and that’s because I started this chapter in January, chucked it on a USB in February as I left for the airport, and have since opened it about twice a month just to make noises of defeat. For a while I wasn’t sure it would be possible to write in Korea. Life is just so overwhelming in the best and worst ways. Every menial task is ten times as hard and every small success is a hundred times as rewarding.

The best way I can probably describe moving to Seoul:

EXPECTATION:

REALITY:

And no, this is not just to show off my budget hanbok rental (which was not harmed in the making of the second photo). Only to assure you that while I have a lot of metaphorical scrapes and palace dirt on my knees, I am alive! I return to you as “Samanda” Teacher (or occasionally “Banana Teacher”) a master of Microsoft Powerpoint. My school has put me on the ping-pong team. My colleagues think I’m from “New Toronto” (I said near but it’s too late to correct them). I get almost all my validation from grandmas on the subway calling me pretty. I am half soju and half triangle kimbap. I exclusively take my trash to the recycling centre after 10pm because the janitor was mean to me once. The owners of my nearest 7-Eleven give me pity freebies because I treat it like a grocery store. I’ve used a squat toilet twice. Last Sunday my card got stuck in an ATM and I cried.

There’s a snapshot for you.

Also—super ironic given my job, but I can feel my English skills declining every day. In class I’m all “HOOOOOW MUUUUUUCH AAAAAARE THEEEEEEESE PAAAAAAANTS????” and with the other teachers I’ve unconsciously adopted this slow, simplified dialect full of weird Koreanisms that don’t actually make sense in English—just to guarantee I won’t have to rephrase five more times. I’m a mess. Just think what a year or more will do to me.

Anyway, it’s hard to make funnies about a shitstorm family when you’re a shitstorm yourself, and when you’re forgetting your native language to boot. I’ll save my musings for a separate post (or better, I hear you say, a separate blog far away!).

Until I find myself on solid ground again, Happy Simming!

-Sam

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