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?
Or rather, the new anthem of my life: “No Sleep Till 6.13.” But don’t ask me to rap; I don’t do that in public.
I didn’t want to jinx myself by mentioning this early on, but if I DO get through seven chapters by Wednesday, that may actually bring us to the end of Calamity’s generation. In other words, we could have an heir poll as early as THREE DAYS FROM NOW WTFBBQ.
That seems like a very short time for our heir hopefuls to develop personalities, hopes, dreams, quirks, flaws, and the kitchen sink, so let’s get cooking, guys!
Kip: I am twelve steps ahead of you.
Kip: Do you want me to elaborate or do you want me to finish these muffins?
She may be the first child in Langurd history to figure her life out so early, and the first Langurd in Langurd history to get gud at cooking. Our little indoorsy slob is going to be a chef. It is known.
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?
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:
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.
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.