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?
BREAKING NEWS: Gryffindork utterly tanks SimNoWriMo for a third year running, much to the surprise of no one
To be fair, I did NOT see October coming. The other day my poor coworker had to convince me that it’s not “almost fall” anymore, it actually is fall. Who knew?
THIS JUST IN: Actually publishing post in mid-December, has nothing to say for self
So anyway, here’s what was going to be Update #2, and is now just a plain old chapter in the middle of all the other ones. With a two month gap to boot.
Hello, and welcome to the part of this generation where I get far too invested in my spares and lose sight of the legacy’s ultimate goal!
Why? Because if Story Progression had its way, it would only have them become sad, celibate mimes.
It’s only fair that Kip and Trance get their day in the sun, so I took them and their other halves to the sunniest place I could think of!
Let’s appreciate how the newcomers are like “WOW A VACATION WE ARE SO BLESSED” while my actual legacy kids couldn’t give a shit.
Kip: I would feel more blessed if you hadn’t done this 3000 times before.
And how would YOU know that?
Trance: I’ve seen our basement. Is there anything left in the tombs?
Well. I just laid out the screenshots for several more chapters and let me tell you, Siesta’s generation is going to be a saga. Today’s update is coming to you in a smaller package so I will feel less daunted by the task ahead.
We find the family in much the state we left them, i.e. total disarray after our resident knight turned out to be robotophile, and our resident robot turned out to be a bitch. Who knew?
The latest trend is that Siri keeps asking Breandan to “train” her on the ballet bar, which is as unsubtle as it is stupid.
Breandan: Work that plié, you arousing slab of tin!
Siri: This is all I ever wanted!
Hello, and welcome back to the Langurds! For real this time – no more filler bullshit. If you don’t believe me, take a moment to breathe in the scent of decaying tofu dogs and evaporating brain cells.
Oh yeah, we’re back alright.
Turns out I remember zero things from last generation, but I do know that there was a terrible, awful, very no good heir poll and y’all panic-voted this box-headed fool into leadership. I think we will regret this soon, but for now it’s full steam ahead!
Commence the celebratory tea! (I hope she showed up on time)
Siesta: Hey Prototype, I’ve been thinking.
Prototype: God help us all.
Siesta: Since I’m in charge and stuff, I’m going to rename you Siri.
Prototype: Pray tell why?
Siesta: Don’t be silly, Siri. You answer my questions, not the other way around!
Prototype: You poor dense soul.
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!
So. That was a fun week, right?
No, I didn’t think so. I would like to start off with an apology for leading this expedition to the pits of hell. Even if you aren’t as invested as I am, I’m sure I dragged you through my own anguish with those interim posts.
So please, get yourself a cup of tea, take a bubblebath, or try out my favourite guided meditation. You’ve earned it. Maybe wait until the end of this post, though, because it’s a bit of a stresser in itself.
Alright, comments have been replied to and real world has been confronted (crying over my lack of money counts, right?) so I guess it’s time to post this thing. I’m genuinely terrified, not because there’s anyone I would particularly hate to play but because I’ve never gone into one of these so uncertain of the result. No matter who wins, I’ll be ecstatic that I get to tell their story but also heartbroken that I don’t get to tell the other two. But Gryffindork, you like all three of them so there’s no way you can los— NO GUYS, THIS IS A SERIOUS CRISIS AND I LIKE BEING DRAMATIC.
On that note, for the first time EVAR in Langurd History (woooo fanfare) I’ve decided to picture the heir candidates with their intended spouses, traits and all. Note that LTW’s are irrelevant for now; only Dusty and Delilah have them locked in, and I’ll likely end up changing theirs if they have the points.
Without further ado, here are your choices:
What we’ll see from them:
I picture Kip running a hipster food blog and Jada being an online fitness guru. Visionary? Culinary Librarian? I suspect these two care less about what they do than how good they look doing it. A home stylist business is also a possibility—as is our first monogamous heiress, because let’s face it, these two promise a ton of variety.
What we’ll see from them:
This couple screams university to me. After that, maybe some fun new careers—Delilah wants to be a stylist right now, and I can see Trance as an actor or a cop. Their kids will look weird af and I’m okay with that. Oh, and get ready for a lot more Majestic Swan Trance if I have anything to do with it (which—barring any blog hijackings—I will).
What we’ll see from them:
Star-crossed lovers getting to the bottom of the Quinnspiracy. I have half a mind to throw Dusty in Criminal just to make him more conflicted (elsewise keep him in military because that seems to fit). Siesta will probs do a future-related LTW and have the obligatory daddy issues storyline. Plumbots? Puppies? This pair is a bit of a wildcard tbh.
Kip: Slob, Hates the Outdoors, Adventurous, Photographer’s Eye / Jada: Insane, Athletic, Light Sleeper, Mean-Spirited
Trance: Absent-Minded, Light Sleeper, Daredevil, Schmoozer / Delilah: Disciplined, Clumsy, Never Nude, Friendly
Siesta: Party Animal, Loves the Heat, Bot Fan, Animal Lover / Dusty: Loner, Clumsy, Frugal, Easily Impressed, Kleptomaniac
Poll will be open for 7 days from today unless I decide to extend it!
We did it! We’re here! We can finally put Gen. 6 to sleep! Strangely, after all that talk about being burnt out, I woke up after 4.5 hours all fired up to write the next one. My PC has this weird habit of randomly booting on its own, usually in the middle of the night; at 5:30am I convinced myself that I did it with my mind, took it as a sign, and now here we are.
This one’s a short one and all about the kids, so pack your lunchboxes and brush up on the lingo, fam. It’s lit.
Rhapsody: Fine, bye.
I don’t think Siesta has slept once since becoming a teenager. When her energy turns red, she hits the coffee and just keeps a-rolling until she’s dying again 30 minutes later. This is exactly what Frieda was doing in her final days; needless to say, I’m a little concerned.
Siesta: I’m fiiiiiiiiine.
Well, here we are at last on July 12th! Happy Birthday Langurds and R.I.P. Sam’s sanity!
I can smell the light at the end of the tunnel (not a typo; caffeine does strange things to your senses) so I’m going to give it my all for these last 13.5 hours. Hopefully without having to cut things in half and without wasting the potential of these screenshots. You are all lovely and supportive and I’m sure it’s only me cracking the whip at this point, but there is no whip more terrifying than the one in my own hands. (Cripes, a few cups of coffee and I’ve turned into Omen?)
Things have been moving pretty fast. Our eldest heir candidate is a teen, our youngest a child, our heiress a middle-aged underachiever, and her ex-husband a corpse.
Only Rhapsody has yet to get a kick in the pants from Father Time. Of course she’s busking in the park when it hits.
Rhapsody: Thanks for coming to celebrate my birthday with me!
Corren: I didn’t. Where’d your guitar go?