Log 6.2: I suck at everything.

I’ve been putting off writing this because I don’t even know where to start. So I’ll just say it plainly: Generation 6 has come to an early end.

It’s not that I’m hideously behind in writing (though I am). It’s that most everyone is dead.

Yes – actually, prematurely dead. Keeled over. Kicked the bucket. Taking the great dirtnap.

First I killed off Freesia, our current heir.

The last living photo I have of her, smelly and flirting with Ace while he tries to work.

It wasn’t intentional, but it was my fault. Carelessness. You see, in all my months and years of playing this dang family, I have never had a legacy sim die from anything but old age.  And it wasn’t for lack of trying. I admit there were times when I anxiously sat whilst some unloved spare swam beyond the point of exhaustion or unskilledly repaired an electrical appliance whilst standing in a puddle.  Even if a sim managed to get shocked, it was only a negative moodlet – not actual death. So it wasn’t pure folly to imagine that my 5-handiness Angry sim would manage to survive repairing a cheap radio whilst standing on a soft fluffy carpet.

But nope. Zzot.

Tried to plead. Also nope.

Ace of course was heartbroken. For a time his only solace was to go to those weird popup downtown events that I never got invited to in my other save.

He found karaoke a temporary but welcome distraction.

I’m not sure that counts as singing but if it makes you feel better, honey..

The kids would come along.

Her yell-singing is the funniest thing ever.

They karaokeed, tried new vendor foods, talked to strangers and dumped paint all over the ground. It wasn’t perfect, but they seemed to feel better for a time.

Sweet Eliza Pancakes always lent a comforting ear.

 

That brings us to how I killed most of the kids.

Ginger, who I hadn’t told yet was to become the next heir and aged up looking very like her grandmother Reagan, but Insane-r, was first.

She’d rolled the Master Chef LTW, had taken over many of the household cooking duties already and wanted to try cooking one of the new recipes she’d tasted downtown. It seemed like a natural progression. Of course I was going to let her. Did I know something bad could happen? Intellectually, somewhere in the back of my mind, sure. (I take these really long breaks and then have vague memories that I cannot confidently assign to a specific iteration of the Sims – was this thing in sims 3? 2??) But was I thinking of it at the time, or even paying attention to what she was making? Nope.

Cooking with gusto is the only way to cook!

So, with my inattentive blessing, she cooked up some Poor quality sushi, ate it, and died in her chair.

At first it looked like a rapid-onset nap..

And then her baby sister Greta, a beautifully dark, oddly thin Evil child who I hadn’t even introduced yet and was looking forward to getting to know, decided to join the club.

Here she was as I remember her: alive and plotting.

 

Poor Greta. So young, and already witnessing her 2nd death-of-a-loved-one.

But that was not unusual in a legacy house. What was unusual was that she took a break from sobbing to pick up her sister’s fatally toxic plate from the floor and finish it off.

She died immediately, while Grim was still processing big sis. I didn’t think that could even happen to a Child unless you somehow managed to ignite one (don’t ask).

For the love of Willwright, let me keep the little one at least!

 

Anyways, Grim was a stingy jerk as usual, and the living room was filled with urns, with only 2 of our 5 sims left to weep and moan.

So passes Generation 6. And most of 7. God I suck.

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