In the words of Gandalf, I was barely involved. This leads me to believe that the Sims is actually evil, and is out to kill me.
This is the first thing Sam did when he was created. I was highly amused.
Frodo and Rosie hit it off.
Awwwwwwww. At this point I was already suspecting the game of evil, based on Frodo's choice of conversation topics. The evil game sensed my wariness and waylaid it with cute.
Sam cooked dinner. The game continues to soothe me into a false sense of security.
Chess! They're playing chess! Excuse me, I have to go explode from cute.
Frodo, please find something new to talk about or I shall have Rosie slap you.
Frodo gives Sam and back rub. Sam is in his JAMMIES! I am all of nine years old right now. Cuteness overwhelms.
I have no explination and no apology for this.
Frodo, for the love of somethingorother PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT SAILING. See, I told you. This game is EVIL.
Rosie doesn't like Frodo talking about sailing any more than I do. Go Rosie!
Mwubble.
Frodo and Rosie decide to have a baby. It's a boy, so naturally I name him Sammie. This is the first time I have any sort of direct input into the melodrama.
I fear I shall become addicted to this game once again if it keeps offering me scenes like this. It only took me forever to break myself of the habit last time. See? EVIL.
Frodo wanted to slap Sam after the little smoochie session between Sam and Rosie, and I had a momentary dilemma as to whether I should let the game play itself onward (considering how fun it had already proved to be) or step in and avoid hobbit violence. I made Sam dance with Frodo before the slapping could take place, and they went back to being friends. I broke the law of simming. But the game is evil, so that's ok.
Evil. But cute. So the evil's forgiven, mostly.
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Pretty Good Year | email Mary