The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Two

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.

Click Here for Previous Entries

Huh? Back for more? Well, alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Last time (first time?), six people moved in, one of them had a lot of sex, and two others got engaged. Hopefully you can sort out who’s who.

Good book?

Abigail: How to Cook, Chapter One: Don’t Start Fires. “Don’t start fires, don’t start fires, don’t start fires. Don’t start fires, don’t start fires, don’t start fires.”

Most Sims never get past that chapter.

Abigail: What? How is it even possible to burn Mac and Cheese?

Ask Stephen or Bradley.

Ember: I just want you to know, there’s nothing personal in this. I’m sure you’re not a very interesting or attractive person. I just need to have sex with you.
Ian Perry: I appreciate you sparing my feelings.

Ember: Come on, let’s get you out of that smoking jacket.
Ian: What? This smoking jacket is my entire personality!
Ember: Perfect! And we can assign you a number afterwards, too.

His hair must have been irresistible.

Ember: Awesome! Three WooHoos unlocks the Giant Hands perk!

I hear four gets you the Understanding Perspective perk.

Have fun cuddling with the Uncanny Valley, Ember.

Stephen: I’m in my bathrobe, so you should move in with me.
Abigail: Okay.


Abigail: This doesn’t feel right. Is your mattress stuffed full of rocks, or what?

Abigail: …it’s not actually stuffed full of rocks, right?

Abigail: Fine, whatever. Get your ass over here.
Stephen: Can the rest of me come, too?
Abigail: Only if it stops being so literal.

Abigail: Do you have to make that face?
Stephen: Unless you give me something else to do.

I’ve never tried the “annoying her into sex” technique before.

Actually wait, never mind. Yes I have.

It works, too.


Aww, they purplegooglyheart each other. That’s so insane.

Well. She purplegooglyhearts his ass, anyway.

Stephen: Oh. Hi? Your bed is in the other room.
Abigail: Stephen… I’ve got a riddle for you. Where does a woman with long fingernails and a precise knowledge of the size and location of her boyfriend’s penis sleep?
Stephen: Wherever she wants to?
Abigail: Smart boy.

He’s not naked, kids. He’s got his watch on.

Ugh. Tonight on “Dancing with the Whitefolks”…

Unless Victoria’s black. A lot of albinos are black.

…but then my only black character would be white, and that has implications.

Neil: Did it work? Is she gone?
Victoria: She left the moment my hand clipped through your hoodie.

Neil: Hey baby… now that we’re alone…
Victoria: Are you propositioning me?
Neil: What? You’re my girlfriend! I can’t proposition my girlfriend!
Victoria: Oh, so you’re not suggesting we have sex?
Neil: I buh… huh what… STOP FUCKING WITH ME!
Victoria: If you say so. I was really horny, though, so it’s too bad.

Neil: Are you always this difficult to get along with?
Victoria: I’ve never had any arguments with myself. In fact, the only consistent element in the arguments I have had, is other people.

You guys are only doing this because everyone else is already spoken for.

Neil: Not true. There’s lots of townies.
Victoria: Ugh. “The great unwashed.”
Neil: Um… actually, I haven’t had a shower today.
Victoria: Then I guess we know who’s laundering my sheets tomorrow.

Neil: Holy shit! Tits!

Guess what? Identical models doing identical animations in identical environments LOOK IDENTICAL.

Whoah, guys, take it easy! You’re banging your Aspiration Points on the headboard!

Neil: Did you like the part where I-
Victoria: Looked like a giant whale’s penis the entire time?


And you know what? Now that I look at it again, they don’t really have that in common, either.

You look pretty content, dude.

Neil: She fell asleep with her hand on my-


Victoria: Look, just because we’re ostensibly hugging, doesn’t mean I can’t feel your-

Ember: -penis sticking into me, you tactless gorilla.

Ember: Mmff… a bit to the left… no, my left… yeah. Thought so. Camera’s here, Bradley.
Bradley: Shit! We need to clean up these dishes! Does my hair look alright?
Ember: You look like a douchebag.
Bradley: Oh, thank god.

Ember: So… you gonna back off, now?
Bradley: Sorry, you shocked my tongue asleep with that camera stuff.
Ember: That’s… not a thing.
Bradley: Tell that to my tongue.

Bradley: Guess what I got you!
Ember: You stole Abigail’s engagement ring and we’re gonna pawn it for a quick buck! Good thinking!

That’s not joy. It’s terror.

Ember: I hope you don’t think this means I’ll stop fucking other dudes.
Bradley: I was hoping you’d at least stop calling me by their names when we have sex.
Ember: Christ, you don’t ask for much do you?!

Ember: It’s so shiny, I can’t see your face when I hold it up to the light!
Bradley: Is that a good thing?
Ember: My arm might get tired in a few years, but for now it’s a workable solution, yeah.

Man, I was sure she was getting ready to stomp on his penis and bolt for the door.

Clearly she’s committed to making her marriage work. This is Jessie Peshterianu. THE PEOPLE WHO MADE THIS GAME HAD WEIRD NAMES.

Jessie: Where are you getting these expressions from? That shit is not in the base game.
Ember: The power of hotness compels you!

Jessie: No, I’m serious. You’re cheating or something. Nobody is allowed to be that hot.
Ember: That’s sort of the whole point of forbidden fruit, really, isn’t it? That it’s forbidden?

Jessie: Your cliché satisfies me.

Now it’s her turn to be satisfied.

Ember: Seriously though dude, your face is fucking hilarious.

Adorable post-coital Ember face montage?

Adorable post-coital Ember face montage!

Whenever we get to Victoria and then pass her by without a single picture, imagine this one with the caption “Victoria went to work.” Making money and buying things! Fortune Sims are fun. Her entire repertoire of Wants consists of “Go to Work,” “Get Promoted,” and, for some perverse and slightly disturbing reason known only to her, “Buy a Ceiling Fan.” She has a collection now.

This is the Church of the Maker. I am the Maker. My Sims pray to me.

They are well-advised in this.

The main hall, with all the cold drafty stone unfriendliness you want for your marriage ceremony.

The reception hall, where people you don’t know will eat food you paid too much for.

Finally, the private quarters of the non-existent clergy. I originally had a double bed in here, but then I realized that would make the church the only community lot in Pine Valley where Sims could have sex in a bed. Somehow that didn’t seem right… since I have no priests, and definitely no pedophilia.

Yeah, that’s right, I went there.

Aw, they’re practicing for the romantic wedding dance they’re not going to have.

Neil brings a certain level of class to the proceedings.

Abigail: I won’t do it. I’m staying right here.
Stephen: I will carry you to the arch.
Abigail: You can’t. I’m wearing my depleted uranium stilettos.
Stephen: Goddamn mad scientists.

Stephen: I don’t know any of these people.

I’m telling you, they can smell free food!

Joe Carr Wannabe: -approves of Abigail’s femme fatale dress-

Yeah, whoops. I forgot about that.

Neil and Victoria are kicking ass and taking names, though.

Methinks you goth protest too much.

No doubt Victoria is thinking about Abigail’s exposed pantyhose.

No doubt Neil is, too, for totally different reasons. The Unsavoury Charlatan is, naturally, thinking about Neil’s wallet.

Stephen: Ahem. Boy, that dress sure is AHEM. Form fitting. Ahem. I mean, fitting. Fitting. It fits. It suits you. Yeah.
Abigail: Oh, honey, I’m gonna show you a good time tonight. If you’re the highest bidder.

You may now kiss the broad.

No way is that black tie, buddy.

Victoria, ask that man beside you what he was thinking.

Townie formal wear typically ranges between “hilarious” and “unfortunate.”

…and “Victorian,” which is both.

By the power vested in me, by me, I now pronounce you woman and husband.

Stephen: I think you mean “man and wife.”
Abigail: No, I think he got it right.

Unsavory Charlatan: Beautiful, just beautiful, bravo! Bravo! I’m totally stealing this bald fucker’s wallet.

Stephen: -gets Aspiration Points-
Abigail: -doesn’t-

She knows the score.

Right, that’s enough religion. Time for some bacchanalia!

SleazeTownie: Hey… have you seen my ring? I can’t find my ring.

Neil: Honey? Did you see where I put my wallet?
Unsavory Charlatan: -is inconspicuous-

And we’re off on a honeymoon to Twikkii Island! Which apparently has cardinals?

And macaws?

Stephen: My lovely wife and I would like to check in.
Bellhop: Is she outside? All I see is that hot chick who’s way out of your league.
Stephen: That… would be my lovely wife.
Bellhop: Would be? Like, would be, in your perfect little dream world, that isn’t real?

Stephen: I’m carrying you over the threshold!
Abigail: You’re supposed to do that at home.
Stephen: We could live here! Away from Pine Valley. Out of the storyline. And probably not turn into zombies and die horribly.
Abigail: Have you been reading ahead again?

Stephen: Hey! Awesome! A cockroach!

Stephen: Oh, never mind, the rats got him.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why you don’t leave your luggage on hotel beds.

That’s better. You were both way overdressed for the tropics.

Stephen: What did I do to deserve you, Abigail?
Abigail: You took out a karmic loan, and you won’t believe how nasty the interest can get on those.

Abigail: Ready to go again?
Stephen: Yuppers!

Did you guys go to a repressive Catholic school or something?

Stephen: I bet Photobucket deletes this one.

Photobucket has deleted pictures of TALKING ROBOTS.

Abigail: Look at those lovely green bushes!
Stephen: And that awesome rocky outcropping in the ocean!

Pillow talk.

Vacation clothes! I hope you guys really like them, because now you don’t have enough money to buy food when you get back home.

Or food for Stephen ever again.

I think teaching this massage takes about five minutes, and the masseuse actually spends the rest of the session explaining why the lesson was worth five hundred bucks.

Stephen: Is your hair red now?
DistantTownie: Trains!

Meh. I actually prefer it black, but my redhead fetish is so powerful that it’s become a separate entity from the rest of me, and it’s something of a self-starter.

Stephen: We could get just as hot and sweaty by having sex.
Abigail: We could have sex in here, for that matter.
Stephen: That would be way too sweaty. That would be like “yo dog, I heard you like sweat, so I put some sweat in your sweat so you can sweat while you sweat.”

Abigail: Don’t ever reference that again.
Stephen: Okay.

The pirate ship is awesome.


Ugh. Take it inside, you two.

Stephen: We can’t. The ghost captain kicked us out.

Abigail: I don’t think I like this song.


Man. You are way too boring to have a wife that hot.

Stephen: I am painfully aware of this.

Stephen: Haha, the waterfall makes it look like it’s drooling.
Jumbok: Guys. I am right here.

Stephen: Hum us a tune, would you, Jumbok?
Jumbok: I know only the dreadful chant my priests intoned as they slit the throats of a thousand sacrificial infidels.
Stephen: Is it jaunty?
Jumbok: It’s more ominous than jaunty.
Stephen: Pitch shift it up a bit, and maybe I’ll do an impromptu rap over you.
Abigail: You know what? I don’t want to dance anymore.
Stephen: Was it the talking statue or the possibility of rap?
Abigail: It was the possibility of rap.
Jumbok: Oh, thank god. I’m self-conscious enough already. You try looming over a gorgeous tropical landscape for ten thousand years as naked as the day you were carved.

Jumbok: Aww yeah, dat ass is fine!
Abigail: Are you okay with this?
Stephen: I didn’t get to where I am in life by arguing with giant statues.
Abigail: Technically true, but correlation does not imply causation.
Jumbok: And in this case I don’t think you’ve even got correlation.
Abigail: Good point, Jumbok.
Jumbok: Thank you.

You’re just too photogenic for words.

Abigail: But not too photogenic for photos!

Because that would be stupid.

Jumbok: Wait! Come back!
Abigail: Sorry. Helicopter.
Jumbok: Curse you, helicopter!
Helicopter: Dude, calm down. You’re embarassing yourself.

Jumbok: They didn’t even visit the gift shop 🙁

Twikkii Island is like a monument to the value of neighbourhood scenery.

The pilot is waiting for me to lower my camera so he can discreetly fade out.

Stephen: I’m glad we came here, Abigail. This is stuff you just can’t do at home.
Abigail: Really? Because I’m pretty sure if we wanted to, we could stargaze next to the sidewalk at home and get stared at by everyone JUST LIKE WE’RE DOING RIGHT NOW.

What would a trip to a foreign country be without digging up shit and calling it yours? That’s how the British got started.

Sorry girls, this is the HOT spring. The HOMELY spring is over THERE.

You can stay.

o hai will

Somehow “waving your arms like you’re stoned and clueless” translates to “hula” in this game.

Actually, never mind. I’m not sure what point I thought I was making there.

Birdwatching? At night?

Abigail: That’s when the dark blurry birds come out.

Stephen: Holy shit. How does this thing belong to me?
Abigail: I think you’ll find it belongs to me.
Stephen: Yeah, technically, but you don’t appreciate it the way I do. All you do is sit on it and shit out of it. You might have wined and dined the girl, but I brought her home to meet my parents.
Abigail: You’re pretty fucking weird, you know that, Stephen?

Abigail: I got a seashell! I got a necklace! I got a starfish!
Stephen: I got a rock.

What do you think you’re doing.

Abigail: Moontanning.

Just to piss me off?

Abigail: Just to piss you off.


Luckily for you I couldn’t take any more shots for risk of exposing the traditional Slow Dance Sillyface competition.

Marie Guevera: -distant shouting-
Stephen: WHAT is that woman’s PROBLEM?

Marie: So pedestrian! It pushes no borders whatsoever! The artist has clearly sold out to the bourgeois establishment!

Are you talking about that piece of driftwood?

Marie: IT’S ART AND YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND! -stomp stomp stomp-

Alright then.

Wow. Nobody died, and you guys actually almost look domestic now. Mission accomplished?

Abigail: We came to an agreement. We both agree I’m awesome.

Count me in.

Take a good long look before you leave, guys. Because FUCK VACATIONS FOREVER, I thought it would never end.

Abigail: Well. Back home again.
Stephen: Yep.
Abigail: I suppose you’ll be expecting me to grow a new Sim in my uterus for you now.
Stephen: Not in so many gross or dispassionate words, but yeah. Pretty much.

Abigail: Did you hear chimes?
Stephen: Yeah.
Abigail: Dammit. I was still holding out hope that I’d be infertile.

Stephen: I hope it’s a boy.
Abigail: I hope it has my skintone, and my eyes, and my nose.
Stephen: We’ll love him, or her, just the same no matter what.
Abigail: Don’t talk nonsense.

Yeah, I know, still not much happening. But at least the not much is happening with attractive people. You watched Friends, right? Anyway, next update: fail marriage, fail honeymoon, and fail adultery. It’ll be win.

Comments are always welcome on any entry, no matter its age, and all comments will likely be responded to.

You’ve been warned!

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