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!
I’ve been having a crisis lately about writing believable characters. I know — this is The Sims, and no one expects it to be an actual simulation of life. However, my ambitions do involve someday writing for a living, and I like to think that this is helping me toward that goal in some way. Is it really very helpful if I keep writing caricature morons with no emotional drive? Can anyone actually relate to this family?
Then, I started watching Arrested Development while editing my screenshots. (Kind of relevant if you consider it’s where Gobias Koffi and the Never Nude trait were born.) Gob was putting on a magic show to The Final Countdown and I thought never mind, this stuff actually sells. The Bluths could be the Langurds’ role models. It’s not like we’ve reached that level of weird, right?
Frieda: I will marry and outlive everyone until I inherit the entire earth! *thunderclap*
Okay, thanks for the reality check.
Twist it! Pull it! Flick it!
But hey, now that I’ve ruined that for you, let me… ruin lots of other things as well. Welcome back to the Langurds!
Lira: I am Mrs. Nesbitt!
We already did that.
Lira: But the readers liked it!
That doesn’t mean we get to repeat stuff.
Lira: Uh, yeah. It’s called a SEQUEL.
Okay, fine. Presenting: “Lira Drinks Tea 2: This Time with Wings.”
Isn’t that the most accurate description of the Langurds you’ve ever heard?
For the record, if I get this chapter out by Tuesday, I’ll have done seven posts in two weeks. That might just qualify as a miracle.
Where were we? Oh yeah, still at university. For this whole chapter and like half of the next one. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped when our bright young minds are keeping so busy!
Prof. Richards: You see, a corporation is like a colony of honeybees! Everyone has a task to do, but in the end you’ll just die among the flowers or with your butt stuck in the arm of a pesky human.
I can smell the sarcasm.
AND WE’RE BACK with another instalment of “We could be on Generation 8 by now but Sam is a lame-o storyteller so let us waste time and frolic.”
It’s a fine day for frolicking, with the sun in the sky and the azaleas in bloom and the world’s dumbest roommates canoodling in the background.
Garrison: I’ll kiss anything that breathes.
Tammy: I make drama for kicks.
Garrison: Let us tango.
Lev: God, I really can’t get away from it.
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.