In my haze of exhaustion last night, I completely failed to acknowledge a feat I have not accomplished since Chapter 1.3: two legit updates in one day! Universally recognized as the first sign of the apocalypse, so start hoarding those cans. Given that in Tewl’s day my average post length was a weak 40-45 screenshots, I think I get to claim victory over myself here.
To celebrate that victory, and because everyone begs for this shit on Leisure Day, the Langurds are opening up their glorious yard for entertaining!
Like any good party, this one begins with a fumbled pizza delivery.
Pizza Girl: Tada! Did some ants order a pizza?
And we’re off! Welcome to the first leg of a seven-day spirit journey. I hope you’re ready to feel closer to the Langurds than ever before (hey you in the back, I saw you swallow your vomit just now). Regrets? Absolutely not. Maybe a couple. Or twelve. Who am I kidding, guys? I’m in way over my head.
Our last instalment featured a disastrous bachelor party, a lacklustre wedding, and the birth of a Gen. 7 burrito, but not at all in that order. Don’t get me wrong—Cal and Quinn are totally traditional people who follow all the proper steps toward a conventional marriage.
Case in point—a timeless wedding ritual.
Cal: Is the cake good?
Quinn: WE MUST KNOW IF THE CAKE IS GOOD.
Skydancer: If I say no, does that doom you guys to infertility or something?
Fact: Canada as a nation turns 150 this July.
Fact: Eleven days later, this blog will turn 5.
Fact: I have been writing this blog for more than 3% of Canada’s existence.
Fact?: One day, I will compose an intro that isn’t a rehashed version of “legacy take long time, Gryffindork slow.”
Let’s get down to business
to defeat the Huns. After far too much trolling, Quinn Flanagan has finally succumbed to Calamity’s good looks and agreed to date her… all while she’s been under an ugly spell. Figures.
Calamity: Face it, I’d be the most low maintenance girlfriend ever.
Quinn: You’re not wrong.
Meanwhile, Omen’s chess opponents keep getting glued to the upholstery after beating him.
Maeve: Gee, I’m getting sleepy.
Funny story. So I’m at this quiet writing session at a local café, determined to pen some legacy words for the first time in three months. So far, I’ve stared at this page for a solid twenty minutes, trying to convince myself that I can write without caffeine. I can’t figure out where the self-serve coffee is, and the only way to find it is by blindly wandering through a minefield of easily-disturbed introverts.
Needless to say, addiction won out over anxiety (this time) and I made the expedition. Turns out it was ten steps long and only involved eye contact with like three people, but I still feel accomplished.
Now that we know how pathetic I am, let me remind you all what happened at the end of last chapter.
Frieda: What is that thing cleaning up our dishes? Did you buy an ogre slave?
Sky: Oh, that’s your son. I made him ugly so he can find his inner beauty and stuff.
Want to know what it takes for me to be productive these days? I am finally penning the first words of a post I’ve had prepped for three months, and only because…
a) Boolprop is running a marathon updating event where I get a shiny medal if I publish 3-10 of these bitches in October (spoiler: it won’t be 10)
b) My bedroom no longer gets a wi-fi signal thanks to the mythical router upstairs, which I am beginning to suspect is just a pair of rabbit ears stuck in a potato. This has cut me off from my #1 hobby of watching related YouTube videos until I can’t remember where I started or why I exist.
c) Yesterday’s quidditch tournament has rendered my every muscle completely useless, so I literally couldn’t do anything else even if I wanted to.
Why am I like this? D:
Anyhow, the stars have finally aligned—so here I am, making a start on GENERATION SIX!
We mark this milestone with a big “fuck you” to Isla Paradiso as we ship off to the Valley of Dragons.
DV greets us with an equivalent “fuck you” in the form of rain.
I’m barely awake enough to keep my fingers on the keyboard, so the pictures will have to speak for themselves. They can do that for me, after all the work I put into them.
Oh, don’t mind the missing favourites. My notes were spectacularly shoddy this generation, so I don’t have a lot of this stuff written down. But it’s not like you’re picking an heir based on their favourite food, right?
Buckle ur seatbelts kiddos for u r about to read the most half-assed Langurd chapter ever written. I am so over Generation Five.
What’s that? Hold on a sec…
What do you mean this is my 100th post?! You mean I actually have to TRY? I’m not ready for this, dammit! I’m drinking mocha with Bailey’s and watching Project Runway out of my left eye!
Maybe that’s fitting, given that multitasking is the theme of this generation. And it’s been a successful theme if I may say so myself—all of the kids are (oxy)moronic in their own ways, but no one emblemizes the Age of Contradictions quite like Crash does. Athletic and a Genius, non-verbal and a total loose cannon… Oh, and his teen look may be based on this shit disturber:
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.
It was a dark and stormy night. Detective Guy Mansfield had just returned from a hard day of investigating. It had been a tricky case today, but Mansfield was the best there was, and the man was locked away for good. He wouldn’t be stealing another pack of gum anytime soon.
Guy’s trusty canine, Sparky Dogfield, stood guard at the stern as the detective put down his umbrella.
“Our work here is done,” said Guy. “Tomorrow we sail for Bridgeport.”
“Ruff,” said Sparky.
I know I said Sim Salad was next on the agenda, but it’s Valentine’s Day, and on Valentine’s Day you should be with the people you love.
Lol jk, only using them to cure my writer’s block.
Now where did we leave off last time? Nothing important, right? No cruel cliffhangers? Excellent, let’s get back to our everyday Langurd stalking.
Since Calamity’s birthday, there’s been some speculation as to how Brave/Insane/Couch Potato would manifest in a sim. Well, let me show you.
Calamity: I like to live dangerously. *dark laugh*
Calamity: I DON’T WANT TO LIVE DANGEROUSLY I WANT TO TAKE A NAP.
The first of many case studies.