Old-Timey Sims

Damn, I'm bored. Bored with this whole freakin' era. Cell phones, American Idol, SUVs, and what the kids call "punk rock" can all go right in the goddamned landfill.

Boredboredbored.

So I've dragged out the Sims again. I've got a nice little Victorian-style neighborhood and all the little doodads all over the house are non-electric. No light-up dance floors or computers or Ravers. So there!

Click the pictures for readable versions.

This is Edward. He's one of those guys with more money than sense. He thinks he's some sort of scientist but thus far he hasn't come up with a damned thing remotely scientific. His wife, Elsa and Ilsa, came from a little village in Bavaria. Yes, I know full well she has two heads. Edward may not even notice, or maybe he's kinky like that. Ya never know.

He's also really really fond of his pet rat Basil. I have no idea why they don't have any children yet. Perhaps Basil eats them?

Edward has kind of a little secret. The man just can't keep his trousers buttoned. Take Emmaline, one of his mistresses; together they're the most fertile couple in Sim City and they haven't got two brain cells to rub together. Edward, for all his scientific claims, has no idea that if one inserts Tab A into Slot B vigorously and often, that child V, W, X, Y, and Z will result. He's almost figuring that out in the last frame. Emmaline doesn't seem to care, so long as he's paying the grocery bills for this herd of children.

I think there must be something strange in the water at Emmaline's house.

See, the man just can't stop. Look at him slobbering all over Lady Parkhurst.

Occasionally he likes to get a little discipline from Pippa, who's an escapee from the Sim City Home For the Unfashionably Insane. She specializes in spankings and such like. She also writes her name on walls in poop and sleeps in an open grave.

I haven't been playing with Ebenezer and Abigail very long, just long enough for Abigail's crinolines to catch fire. She now resides in an urn on the hall table. No wonder the man's so damn unhappy and always squabbling with Edward.

I'm in the middle of building a funeral home, a tea shop, a train station (complete with train), and a fancy brothel, all on the same block. No zoning problems here, folks!

Of course there has to be a brothel, since eventually Edward will run out of ladies to hump, and trust me, he can hear the rustle of a crinoline a mile away. He's usually the first one to knock on the door when I build a new house and move any female into it. Someone should suggest to his wife that she have his trouser buttons welded shut.

There's something quite amusing about little computerized guys in frock coats beating the snot out of each other at my bidding. Dance, monkey, dance!