The Sharpesvale Chronicles, Chapter 327

Welcome to the Sharpesvale Chronicles, an ongoing neighbourhood story in The Sims 2!
Warning: this journal may contain uncensored nudity, violence, profanity and sexual themes.

Updates whenever I damn well please!

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Hahaha, it’s funny, ‘cuz this chapter isn’t important, and the next chapter is the most important.

Open doors are always the wrong policy in Sharpesvale.

Chelsea: She needs the door to support her huge freakin’ head.

It looks like the floor is fucking you.

Again, this story is a linguistic goldmine.

Oh, an establishing shot.

Have things changed in here?

Yeah! Neat! I don’t know what we’re documenting.

Oh, did I just add a second floor?

Is that why I had the big picture at the beginning?

Yes! New storey!

This is the story of the new storey.

This will be where the twins live when they become sentient.

Dude, go find your penis or something.

Yeah, fuck her up by stealing her compost.

Oliver’s here!

Oliver: Dude, can you try keeping up?

It’s been months since I wrote a chapter in this household.

And years since this particular day.

Dude, I said go find your penis.

Amin: “or something”! This is something!

Chelsea: Renée’s household is later.
Oliver: Pff, who wants that?!

I’m surprised I put so much effort into rehabilitating the paper delivery kids, considering what usually happens to them.


But it’s FUNNY.

Amin psychics the roof back on.

I’m sure this really turned me on at the time.

Oh, right, she’s pregnant too.

So now it’s fetish material.

And not my fetish.


Oliver: ANY PORT

In a storm?


Oliver: How many pics did you take?

Way more than was justified.

So, any.

Go back to jail.

Myrtle: I only work there, you know.


Oliver: Checkin’ out my ass?
Chelsea: Observe the angle. Checkin’ out not your ass.

Oliver: How’s not my ass look?
Chelsea: Not like an ass!

Oliver: Shouldn’t we be wearing clothes around these kids?
Chelsea: Nah, I’m teaching them how to laugh at small dicks.

You’re cute except for the ingrown haircut.

Chelsea: Please don’t actually look at it, honey.


I think you’re thinking four-twenty.

Oliver: I have no idea what that is.

Emma: Look at that stupid thing. It thinks it’s so cool.

For the love of god, Oliver, do NOT help with this.

You’d need a big bag, dude.

Again, cute, but the Price eyes are a mistake I’ll be living with forever.

Goosestepping lessons! Good idea, considering where the world is headed politically these days.

Chelsea: I’m gonna teach them how to knife Nazis.

Aww, but what about civility? Is it worth avoiding genocide if we have to be impolite to do it?!

Brooke: Hey, y’all motherfuckers bein’ political?

Give me a mouthpiece and I’ll use it.

Give me a dork playing a guitar in the nude and I’ll photograph it.

Chelsea: Don’t be here.
Brooke: Check!

1) Had to document the kiss for some reason, but 2) wanted to hide the fact that their mouths don’t meet.

Luckily I figure out how to fix that by the time I assign actual heights to everyone.

Yes, that happens.

Michael: Yeah, big bag, definitely.


Michael: You got up at three-thirty today.

Go fuck yourself.

Oliver: ♪ You’re lazy! You just stay in bed ♪

Go fuck yourself!

Oliver: ♪ You don’t want no money, you don’t want no bread ♪


Oliver: You got the top of the wedding arch in the shot.

I left it there in case I was gonna make you comment on it.

Then I couldn’t think of a comment.

So that’s why all of this conversation happened.

Bitches love it when you smell their pits.

I haven’t made a “bitches love” joke in a while.

Because I’ve evolved.

Oliver: How’s my face look?
Chelsea: Not like an ass!

Oliver: Your momma’s so fat you’re inside her.


See? Half of Sims posing is camera angle trickery.

Chelsea: Hey, remember when you beat up Don for me? When we were kids?
Oliver: I think that’s why he killed me, later.
Chelsea: Hahaha yeah good times.

Is your evil plan to WEAR DOWN HER SIDEWALK?

Oliver: Does it feel like the world has settled down a lot lately?
Chelsea: Yeah, we’re probably due for a good fucking-over.

Chelsea: Let’s practice.

Oliver: Whose genitals did the sparks come out of?

Chelsea: Pregnancy is weird.

I don’t know how you can fall asleep when you’re breathing on each other.

Chelsea: Good catch, I thought I was dreaming about eggs.

Chelsea: Oh god, you’re one of those cuddle wusses, huh.

Oliver: Uh-huh.

They were meant to be together.

So it won’t last.

Dig up the dark part, find out what its deal is.

Do you even sleep anymore, dude?

Elle: Did you just call me “dude?”

No, I was talking to Michael.

Elle: Who even talks to Michael anymore, dude?

Elle: You should smite him.



Oliver: Hmm, but what if no?

Renée: Renée’s household is now!
Stephen: Pff, who wants that?

Stephen: It was a legimate question.

Renée: He loves me.

He loves to leave you, anyway.

Stephen: It’s more of an intense liking, really.




Renée: Yeah, I think this thing’s broken.

Renée: I don’t want to talk to you. I want you to come over and do a sex thing.

Renée: Yeah sure blah blah sex thing.

Jeremy: It’s the only offer I’ve ever had, so.

Renée: Nope, sorry, I changed my your face.

Jeremy: Still the best date I’ve been on.

It’s better than what he usually wears.

Myrtle: So much better!


Good luck.

Even when it’s just you in the household I doubt the card’s for you.

What a shitty sentence.

I’m leaving it in.

As penance.

boolprop dontmergenhflora false

Renée: What?

Makes the trees show.

Renée: And you’re gonna complain about this mistake for how long?


Renée: Welp, time to kill some beauty.

Renée: Beauty escapes me.

You’re not kidding.

I do love that outfit on “fat” Sims, though.

Renée: You should call us “phat” Sims.

You should stick to your own job.

They get a lot of ambulance calls for people who’ve accidentally spiked themselves on the terrain.

Did you get promoted?

Renée: Who cares?

“Who cares?” is basically this household’s slogan.

I guess she did get promoted.

Blazej: I wish her speed had gotten promoted.

Yeah, get in the car so I can leave.

Blazej: You just bought me a new roof.

Oh, I see you made Eldritch Abomination!

Good show.

Great show.

Next time: all the sticky secrets come unglued.

Don’t miss it.

This chapter depicts gameplay from 6 April 2012.


  1. The floor IS fucking Chelsea! Good shot!

    I hope Amin eventually finds his misplaced peepee. Poor dude.

    I think Renee might have the most attractive breasts your the entire game.

    Cool, new boolprop code! I’ma have to try that even though I don’t need my ‘hoods to look pretty.

    1. I definitely didn’t see that when I took the pic.

      I used to hate Amin back when I was hosted on Photobucket because every pic with him in it was automatically adult, what with the huge hairy schlong.

      The “fat” body type is damned shapely. It works with some skintones better than others. I feel vaguely icky having this conversation.

      It is literally the best code.

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