I am so freakin’ excited. After four years and 32 posts, I will finally be able to unpause these fools. I mean, I technically already did that when I checked on the save, but… for real! Time will move forward. New Langurds will be born. I cannot fathom how satisfying it will be.
But first, let us close out a thoroughly discombobulating chapter of our lives, here at the Finger Painting College.
Kiko can longer avoid running into her past lovers, purely because there are so many of them.
Ludo: Hey Kiko, can we talk?
Kiko: New phone, who dis?
Ludo: Can you at least tell me how to get this lipstick off my face?
Kiko: Sorry, I don’t speak English.
Ludo: BUT YOU SAID I WAS YOUR WONDERWALL
This university saga is pure chaos. I have vague memories of playing it, but I no longer have the slightest idea what I was thinking.
For instance, Kiko’s life choices are beyond questionable.
Kiko: Don’t judge me.
I mean, all the power to you. But seriously… the Chams???
Kiko: I have my reasons.
Not that anyone could’ve forgotten, but Ludo is her second conquest after declaring war on the frat and then bedding Jeff in the last chapter.
And so we go where no Langurd has gone before—and probably much, much farther, but let’s take this one chapter at a time.
Previously, Tonu became a teen. I don’t remember his new trait, nor is it particularly relevant thanks to the constant fuckery of Unstable.
The only thing I can be sure of is that he definitely has a crush on Butler June.
Tonu: I’m a turtle eating waffles.
June: That’s nice. I’m a butler eating cake.
Jeez Kau, what’s got your suspenders in a knot?
Kau: I just found out there are at least TWO empty beds in this house.
Kau: …and I’m SO happy to keep sleeping in my roof tent even though it’s winter. I love it SO MUCH.Read the rest of this entry
Why hello! As promised, I’m doing my darnedest to keep this ball rolling. I may have bitten off more than I can chew with this chapter. With that in mind, I will not waste time trying to think of a cool intro, and I will simply say:
Welcome back to the House of Langurd!
But wait… that’s not our house?!
Acara: I’m at a homework party.
It’s just you at a desk…
Would you look at that! Here we are in the final stretch of SimNano, and here’s Gryffindork of all people embarking on her last update with a whole week to spare! I’ve actually reached my personal goals already for wordcount and pictures, so I could theoretically put nothing in this post and still make quota. However, that would be kinda shitting on the honour system, not to mention ignoring the fact that I still have THOUSANDS of screenshots to plough through even after the month is out.
Still, I could totally make this a skimpy one—INSTEAD, I have chosen to tackle the most eventful chapter of the entire generation so HAHA yay me!
Siesta: Eventful? No thanks. We’re not fans of “eventful.”
Dusty: Yeah, no events please.
Welcome back! Back to the Langurds, and back to the present day that actually took place three years ago (but we don’t talk about that). I have an incredibly pressing life decision to make this weekend, so naturally I’m writing this post instead.
Previously, our heiress popped out her first child (Acara) and jetted off to the future. She returns with pockets full of crystals and nanites, which are clearly what Dudley is “inspecting” here.
Siesta: Dudley no! Bad Dudley!
Dudley: Bad Dudley 😉
He’s skeevy but in the most innocent, unassuming way?
Well well well, look what the cat dragged in.
Oh no, my friend. It is not.
It was already gonna be awkward coming back to this in a new year, in a new decade, after an atrociously unproductive 2019 – but there’s a cruel irony in the fact that I must now return to you in a WHOLE NEW WORLD, minus the magic of Aladdin because air travel is cancelled and carpets don’t lend themselves to social distancing or germ prevention.
A world where everything sucks but at the very least gamerkind should be thriving, right?
And now the Langurds, asleep for the better part of a year, must awaken to this strange place where handshakes will never exist again but murder hornets will take over and for some reason everyone is baking bread all the time?
Oh, how I’ve fallen in the world. There was a time when I wrote these posts from an actual desk, a queen-sized bed, or occasionally even a hammock. I’m typing this one from a floor mattress, sprawled on my stomach in that awkward position that strains your shoulders and kinks your neck no matter how you rearrange yourself. There’s laundry drying just above my butt, approximately three inches of Korean dust on my laptop screen, and bread pizza with hot dogs in the toaster oven I scored for free with my phone contract.
Huh, it doesn’t sound so bad when I phrase it that way. I actually love my Seoul apartment, and I do have a real-ish bed balanced on two mold-combative plastic pallets. I just wasn’t feeling the inspiration over there.
Also, compared to the Langurds’ house it’s a downright port-a-potty so I think I have full license to complain.
Seriously. Just look at that golden glow on the wallpaper. Look at it and weep.
Delilah: Welcome to your new room, Duke! And good news, as the oldest you get it aaaalll to yourse— wait, who is that?
Riza: Just the disappointing child of a doomed relationship. Don’t mind me.
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?
You guys voted for this star-crossed lovers business, and honour compels me to deliver on my promises in the fullest way possible. Which means—you guessed it—the Langurds are about to enter that shadowy, foreboding territory we call PLOT.
Don’t worry—Siesta’s generation will be played and written as much by the seat of my pants as the others have been. It’s just that after playing detective so many times in Gen. 6, I felt it would be helpful to put all of my “COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT” moments in one place.
So please humour me as I don my Halloween-store trench coat and cap, and attempt to mash together disjointed happenings into a wad that can conceivably be called “evidence.”
Without further ado, let us open the case!