Long ago some words were said:
“I’ll finish a legacy ‘fore I’m dead!”
And this one here was going well
Until it all just went to hell
Because you see I’m really lazy
And I can’t think of a rhyme for that so the poem is over now.
* * *
So yeah… remember that thing about getting to Generation Six before the end of the year?
Happy 2015! This gal is nowhere near her winter years.
Lira: What are you talking about? Now that I’m in charge, all the years are winter!
Alternative title: “Weston Learns to Langurd,” or “THANK THE HIGH HEAVENS WE HAVE MADE IT AT LAST.”
Welcome to the final instalment of Generation 3! Last time, the children of Generation Four acquired a new stepfather in the form of Weston Jolina-Spenster-Sekemoto. You know, Botox man? Floating glitch face? Breeding experiment? That’s the one. He’s one of us now. Or so he thinks…
Lira wasted no time in establishing the order of things.
Lira: Do you see this beautiful bicep?
Weston: What bicep?
Lira: Precisely. If you ever hurt my mama, you won’t even see it coming.
Welcome back! I had planned to get this post out earlier, but you know. Plans. Who needs ‘em? Instead of writing, I spent a fantabulous weekend in Ottawa playing quidditch, sweating sunscreen into my eyes, and sitting on top of a refrigerator. Sorry not sorry.
We left off just as Razor, Lord of the Second Generation, was passing into the great beyond. Razor, who spent his life sparring against China’s fiercest, died on a perilous quest to pick flowers. I should have kept it to one screenshot, but the whole thing was such a clusterfuck that I had to draw it out, all slow and painful.
Okay, I really need this to be over. I love you, Katana, but your reign must soon come to an end.
Katana: Maybe it will. I’m cursed, remember? LOL.
Razor: Well, now that we each have a foot in the grave, I suppose we are truly equals. What do you say?
ALMOST THERE, GUYS! I’ve been sorting my screenshots and this should be approximately the third-to-last chapter of Generation Three. Then I get to throw out an heir poll and let you do my dirty work for me. ‘Til then, it’s Langurds all day err’day. Well, that and scanning all day err’day. My nostrils are haunted by the scent of centuries-old onionskin paper and I want to type “.pdf” at the end of every sentence. Somebody help me.pdf
What was I just saying about how I wanted more Tewl visits?
Katana: Gtfo, you’re scaring my babies.
Tewl: But I’m bein’ all scholarly an’ shit!
Can I publish two chapters in one day? Probably not. No, definitely not. But this site is nearing its second birthday, and TS4 is slated to come out way too soon, and look at how not-far we’ve come.
So I’m setting a goal for myself as of right now. The Langurds are going to birth their 6th generation before the year is out. Is that even remotely possible? Probably not. No, definitely not. But it should at least spur me into action.
How many “lonely Razor in a lonely bed” pictures can I get away with posting? The answer is many, because it never gets less sad. This one, however, comes with a different sentiment. After a quick trip to the Sim Bin and back, the Langurds can sleep in their beds again! Hallelujah, and good riddance to Glitchhilda.
Bonjour à tous!
And holy schmagoly, guys, could you be any more awesome? Last week, I tried to quit coffee and it was a real bad time. But I also got an army of simselves and a gargantuan legacy reading list, so that was cool. It seems you were all churning out some fantastic stuff while I was off in my struggle bubble, just trying to pull a chapter together. Now I’m racing to catch up so I can participate in heir polls and stuff, like a clueless citizen reading up on politics the night before an election. Oh wait, that’s also me.
I hope you’ll forgive me if the simselves don’t show up for a few chapters yet. I currently have a screenshot backlog of 2000 or so, meaning these pictures are like ten months old, and I haven’t opened the game in about as long. And I wonder why my captioning is so shoddy.
We return now to the House of the Elements, where I can say with certainty (and lots of gusto) that WINTER IS COMING! Danger lurks beyond the Wall and oops, Razor’s plants went dormant so I figured out how to grow stuff inside. It only took me twenty minutes.
Razor: It is clearly labelled “planter bowl.” How hard could it be?
REALLY HARD SHUT UP. #12yearsan00b
“Progress will continue” <— Hahaha. I love shooting myself in the foot, don’t I?
Has it been long enough for a recap? Oh, probably, but I’m too lazy to open a browser, so here’s my best estimate: after an underwhelming trip out of the country, Katana was sarcastic, Dax was a doormat, Azula was aggravatingly picturesque, Razabella were invisible (until one of them died), and the chapter culminated in the birth of a child. Come to think of it, that’s pretty much the formula for Chapters 7-9. Are you excited??
Oh, come on. I send you to France to get married and this is how you react?
Katana: The open air. It hurts my lungs.
And Dax over there?
Katana: I think he’s choking on a piece of cobblestone.
Brilliant. Also, I’m loving how Katana’s shadow is just a walking pair of pants.
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.
There’s a peculiar frame of mind I need to be in to write these chapters. Considering I just tried to drink a burning candle, mistaking it for tea, I think I’m good to go.
Last time, the Gen. 3 kids came back from university to a laggy, snow-covered Sunset Valley. Our unicorn was tragically stolen by Joanna Rodgers, curse her name. Lance and Tommy made their escape from the household, and the screwball Dax French was caught up in our web forever.
In case you missed my shameless filler post, the Langurds moved camp! I packed up the main household, Tomahawk & Gabby, Lance & Eddy, and my simself, who—go figure—happened to be living with Weston Jolina-Sekemoto, so he came along, too. Everyone else is lost to the abyss.
So here we are in Riverview, ready to start the next generation at last. THANK GOD.