Welcome to the Pine Valley Chronicles, an ongoing neighbourhood story in The Sims 2!
Warning: this journal may contain uncensored nudity, violence, profanity and sexual themes.
Previous Entries: C.1., C.2., C.3., C.4., C.5., C.6., C.7., C.8., C.9., C.10., C.11., C.12., C.13., C.14., C.15., C.16., C.17., C.18., C.19., C.20., C.21., C.22., C.23., C.24., C.25.A., C.25.B., C.26., C.27., C.28., C.29.
Interludes: I.1., I.2.
Yes, it has again been well beyond forever since the last update. I’ve had a problematic couple of months, alright? Just don’t count me out until I say I’m out. I still play Pine Valley regularly, I still enjoy telling this mess of a story, and I’ve got Simdecades of photos left before I catch up with myself.
Happy Birthday, Catwench! This one's for you. So hopefully it doesn't suck.
Last time in the Pine Valley Chronicles...
Somewhat of a shorter update than you’re used to this time. What’s that you say? You’re no longer “used” to my updates? Yeah, fuck you too.
-THE MURPHY HOUSEHOLD-
(consisting of a bearded mad scientist, his zombie girlfriend, and a robut)
Trimming the invisible verge, I see.
How come most of this neighbourhood’s errors are botanical in nature?
Heh. D’you get it? Botanical? Nature? No? Alright.
How’s that cure going?
Andrew: There are fourteen different designer viruses battling each other for control of my body right now.
So... going well, then?
Andrew: Okay, so... according to this readout... I have absolutely no idea what’s going on and I need to get some fresh air.
FRIDAY: Greetings, cave-dweller! How come you to our surface world?
Andrew: Hey, you’re not speaking in SimBasic anymore! Nicely done.
It was a bitch to write and a bitch to read. Let’s call it a firmware upgrade and leave it at that.
There are limits to the antiviral research you can get done in Simsuburbia.
At Aspirational Laboratories, however, the sky’s the limit! The rest of the planet is fair game.
Because most viruses can’t survive past the atmosphere, see.
Andrew: OH GOSH SCIENCE I LOVE SCIENCE
Alvin: Oh, hello! Didn’t see you there! My name is Alvin. Dr. Alvin Woodrow, if you want to be formal about it. I’m a doctor, you know. A doctor of SCIENCE!
Alvin: -sigh- And I’m required by law to tell you that I’m the Iconic Hobbyist for Science.
And that means?
Alvin: -sigh- It means that if you watched the weather channel on TV too much, or maybe looked up at the stars occasionally, I used call you on the phone constantly and maybe break into your house and give you a plaque. Before they made it illegal. With a patch.
Ah, the good old days.
I wake up feeling like that pretty much every day.
Alvin: Hey, it looks like you’re Sciencing! I love Sciencing. I Science all the time.
Alvin: What kind of Science are you Sciencing? Are you Microscoping your Science?
Alvin: You keep doing whatever, and I’ll Science with this Science thing.
Andrew: I’m starting to suspect that you aren’t a real doctor.
Alvin: Hey, you’re gonna push a button, right? I totally called that. The way you’ve got your arm up, you’re gonna push a button. I bet it’s that button you’re gonna push that you push.
Alvin: Hmm... you know what?
Andrew: You want me to let you Science in my Science Chair?
Alvin: No, I was just thinking that you could set the system to compare your test algorithms with the data I’ve compiled on Vampirism cures, to see if the base genetic structure can be imitated. It might save you some time, which could be better applied to synthesizing your antigen. I can get a data dump for you with my notes, if you like.
Andrew: ...I honestly can’t tell if you’ve been screwing with me all night, if you’re screwing with me now, or if you’re just plain screwy.
I’m beginning to think that maybe this isn’t a real laboratory.
Alvin: Are we Science Buddies now? We’re totally Science Buddies now. I’ve never had a Science Buddy Before, Science Buddy! Oh No, I Can’t Stop Capitalizing My Words Now Help
Andrew: You’re a very special sort of infuriating, you know that?
I bet this is what all scientists think about most of the time.
I’m not sure Alvin thinks at all.
Burning the midnight oil, I see. Perhaps the cure is in sight.
Practicing your spongectomies?
Andrew: Yeah, ZombieSims don’t have sponges so I’m throwing that part out.
I... was joking. That’s... ridiculous.
Alvin: I’m doing Science too!
No, you’re not. Your laptop is shut.
Alvin: That’s where the Science comes in!
Mm, ground ribs.
Dude... you’re still at Aspirational Labs? There’s no kitchen there!
Andrew: I brought one with me.
You BROUGHT. A KITCHEN. WITH YOU.
Andrew: CECILIA TOOK FOURTEEN MEGALITHS TO COLLEGE WITH HER.
Yeah, but that was Cecilia.
Isn’t the smell bothering you?
Andrew: The inside of my nose is already completely coated with iodine. I can’t smell anything else anymore.
I don’t think she ever goes home.
Andrew: Oh, holy SHIT! EUREKA!
Andrew: Yeah! I totally get it now!
Andrew: Yeah! Brandi only bought that tent so she could have sex with William in it!
Andrew: On an unrelated note, I’ve figured out how to cure zombiism.
Drive carefully, eh?
Andrew: Right. So, the infection usually manifests itself in the prefrontal rocketship...
...so if I mix rocketfuel with bile, I should be able to reverse the necrobiotic reaction and maybe also let people fuel their cars with farts, which is gross...
Andrew: And BAM. Maxed Enthusiasm in Science.
Andrew: Hrmm... the colour seems a bit... off...
Andrew: OH GOD DAMMIT ALL TO HELL
Andrew: I WANTED A RETROVIRUS, NOT A REAL FUCKING VIRUS! CUAAGGHGAGHGGAGGHGAHAGG!
Andrew: HACK KAFF. Well this is a revolting turn of events.
Andrew: That’s better. Now we’re cooking with pharmaceuticals.
Andrew: Whoah... whoah. Oh god... I think...
Andrew: I think I’m gonna...
Andrew: I think I’m gonna HUAAAARRGGGHHHHHHAAHHHGH.
This is the result of FRIDAY calling William on the phone to chat. Haha, see how guilty he looks? That’s hilarious.
... HOW THE FUCK IS MELANIE ANSWERING THE PHONE?!
Andrew: Right, sick mad scientists first.
Um... isn’t that your proto-cure fluid?
So how is that helping you with your unrelated sickness?
Andrew: It’s medicine, dude.
It doesn’t work that way!
Andrew: Person who isn’t a mad scientist says what?
Andrew: FRIDAY! Get your ass up here, on the double!
FRIDAY: IN A MOMENT, MASTER ANDREW! I AM PROCESSING THE OLFACTORY QUALITIES OF THESE GAILLARDIA!
Andrew: YOU DON’T HAVE A FUCKING NOSE FRIDAY!
FRIDAY: I DIDN’T MAKE UP THE HOBBY RULES!
Andrew: Hey, Sullivan, could you move? I kinda need that toilet. To throw up in.
Sullivan: I know.
Andrew: Alright, I’ve got all the chemicals lined up... where the hell is that stupid robot?
Andrew: NO RUSH, FRIDAY! IT’S NOT LIKE THE FATE OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD HINGES ON YOUR ALACRITY!
FRIDAY: Master Andrew! You haven’t melted into a pile of ectoplasm! I GUESS IT WASN’T THAT GODDAMN URGENT AFTER ALL!
Andrew: You’ve been hanging around the butler too much.
Andrew: Alright, here’s everything you need to synthesize the antidote in your internal systems.
FRIDAY: A gift? For me?
Andrew: No, it’s a box of chemicals.
FRIDAY: Nobody’s ever given me a gift before!
Andrew: AND I CAN SEE WHY.
I wish you wouldn’t keep contradicting my captions like that.
FRIDAY: I have nearly finished downloading the necessary instructions into my retrovirus incubator.
Boring exposition is boring.
FRIDAY: All that remains is to see if your calculations were correct, which of course they will be.
Andrew: Uh… yeah, right. Of course they will be. Uh-huh. Good thing I didn’t do half of this project on no sleep or food locked up in an airless cell.
FRIDAY: I have completed my internal formulations. I am now placing the proto-cure into the distillation machine.
Andrew: Show, don’t tell. If the audience is still confused at this point, fuck ‘em.
FRIDAY: The proto-cure is prepared.
Andrew: -furiously plays with his science thing-
FRIDAY: Did you hear me, Master Andrew?
FRIDAY: ... Master Andrew?
Andrew: Alright... alright, my OCD is satisfied. Let’s fire this bitch up.
FRIDAY: One: I do not advise the application of fire to this dangerously volatile concoction. Two: it was my understanding that the retrovirus, by any name, should be conjugated without gender. Are you referring to Cameron when you say “bitch”? Or to some other female whose location and importance to this project have both been heretofore undisclosed to me?
Andrew: Fuck off, FRIDAY.
FRIDAY: Here it is, Master Andrew.
Andrew: Wow, your retrovirus incubator creates nice little packages with bows on top?
FRIDAY: Yes. Yes it does. Master Abigail is a very peculiar individual.
Andrew: Let’s do this thing.
Andrew: But first HUAAAARRGGGHHHHHHAAHHHGH.
Andrew: She looks so peaceful when she sleeps. Mostly because she’s dead.
Andrew: Cameron? Cameron, honey?
Cameron: Huh? Hmm, what?
Andrew: I’ve got breakfast in bed for you. Except the game doesn’t have breakfast in bed, so you pretty much have to get up.
Cameron: That CANNOT be what I think it is.
Andrew: Let’s find out.
Cameron: Pretty gay looking bottle.
Andrew: Yeah, Friday’s kind of an ass pirate.
Cameron: Well, bottoms up!
Andrew: GOODBYE CAMERON I LOVE YOU
Cameron: -gulp- What was that?!
Andrew: I hate that show.
Cameron: Minty fresh!
Andrew: It worked! I actually invented something that works!
Andrew: Holy shit Cameron! It actually wMMPPPPHHHH mmmmmmm.
Andrew: Welcome back, goofyface.
Cameron: Good to be back, geekypants.
Sullivan: I bet you’re really impressed with yourself.
Sullivan: Think you’re a big damn hero, I bet.
Sullivan: Well. We’ll see... about that, won’t we?
It must be nice to go for a drive and know you’re unlikely to come home with someone else’s brains in your mouth. That’s so hard to explain to people.
Shane: Okay, so a car just teleported in front of me. That’s great. That makes me feel really safe.
Cameron: Hey, my name is Cameron. What’s yours?
Kent: Kent Fuchs.
Cameron: Does he? That’s great.
Emmy Wade: This looks like an excellent moment to walk briskly away and not look back.
The Grim Reaper: SURE, DON’T STICK AROUND OR ANYTHING. I’LL JUST KEEP MYSELF COMPANY OVER HERE WITH THE DEAD GUY.
Wow, you cleaned up pretty well! The scars on your face will probably never heal, though.
Cameron: Adds character.
Sinjin: Hey, I was wondering, did you lose a tombstone? I found a tombstone here.
Cameron: We’re starting a collection.
Cameron: You know what they say, gotta zap ‘em all!
Cameron: Ahahahaha. Heehee. Hoo.
Cameron: Why are you laughing? Your atomic bonds are about to fly apart.
Geoffrey Creelman: ...something smells like burning. What smells like burning?
Cameron: It’s certainly not these delicious hot dogs, let me tell you that!
Aiyana Fairchild: Hello there, dearie. Do you want me to peek into your future?
Cameron: Nah. I think I’ll just play it by ear.
Andrew: Say hi to mom for me, FRIDAY! I’ll miss you.
FRIDAY: No, you won’t.
Andrew: No, I won’t. But say hi to her anyway.
-THE SHARPE HOUSEHOLD-
(consisting of a suave secret agent and the Queen of the Zombies)
Tish: So, I’ve been meaning to ask... why do you have the zombie queen trapped in a pool in your front yard?
William: Because garden gnomes are just so tacky.
I think the concept of a trap she can’t escape has broken Melanie’s mind.
It’s kind of surprising me, too.
You’re really letting down your fans, darling.
Whoah, okay, never mind. She’s just really focused. I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.
Sullivan: Don’t mind me, just passing through. Slut.
Sullivan: Okay, up and at ‘em. There’s brains out there won’t eat themselves, you know.
Sullivan: Smartassy McBeardface thinks he’s got you fuckers licked. Are you gonna take that from some tweed-wearing homosexual?
Um, can you tone it down a little?
Sullivan: No, he’ll have to tone down his homosexuality himself. I can’t do it for him.
No, I mean... ugh.
I think you’re actually offending Melanie. And that’s a problem.
Sullivan: So anyway, just hop over the pool already and let’s get crackin’. Spines.
William: Good afternoon, Sullivan!
Sullivan: Ah, fuck.
William: So, you’re about fifty different kinds of fired.
Sullivan: May I ask why?
William: Turns out you’re an insane zombie sympathizer.
Sullivan: Can’t argue with that!
Yeah, like fuck it has.
William: Don’t you hate it when your neighbours try to steal your favourite lawn ornament?
William: A cure, huh. No, no, I'm really excited. Really. I'm just thinking "Hey, maybe if you'd been faster, my parents wouldn't both be dead." Yeah, fuck you too. Give my regards to your mom.
William: Damn, almost got him. Public service workers are worth ten points each.
Roger: Missed it by this much!
A prison without walls. Or toilets.
It’s amazing how much menace you don’t have.
Walking past William’s house! You harlot!
Because every woman who walks past William’s house ends up having sex with him.
Vamsi: I’m gonna have to call bullshit on that.
William: Hey sexypants, what’s shakin’?
Robert Kramer: Hi Mr. Sharpe!
William: Run along, Robert. I hear your momma calling you. And I hear this hot mamma calling me.
Robert: I don’t hear anything, Mr. Sharpe!
William: Piss off kid, you’re cramping my style.
William: ...and then I do this little swirly thing with my finger, and you-
William: ...on your back, while I push my-
Robert: SO BORING GUYS
William: SERIOUSLY KID PISS OFF
Vamsi: Well, if you play your cards right, we might be able to come to an arrangement.
Robert: She’s talking about sex.
William: You don’t say?
I think this is the least self-conscious Sim I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something.
Robert: Hey man, back off. Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?
Robert: You’re a terrible host. I’m leaving.
Vamsi: How did you avoid shooting him?
William: I honestly have no idea.
Don’t be embarrassed, lots of Queens piss themselves in public.
Vamsi: Mmf... mmmmmmfff... hey, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this in the middle of the road.
William: Don’t be silly, they didn’t program any car-related deaths. Besides, it would be a damn sexy way to go.
I love how she’s coming to drop off a gift, and he’s making out with another girl right in plain view, but she is sneaking and he is not.
Oh good, a fountain. The front yard really needed more water features. Now Melanie will piss herself even more frequently.
Tish: I’m so in love, I could just sing!
Vamsi: OH GOD YES WILLIAM FUCK ME
Tish: The very wind cries his name!
By the way – I told you so.
Vamsi: How are your pants even holding that thing?
William: I’m wearing the Incredible Hulk’s underwear.
On that classy high, we’re done. Tune in next time for machineguns and murdering. I can see you salivating already.
Your bonus pic for this update: Melanie’s gravesite!