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!
In which Chekhov’s title is finally fired.
Writing it up for science?
Abigail: Hells yeah! Any project that doesn’t end up as an apocalyptic log is a success in the mad science community.
Bradleigh: I’m not a failure!
Bradleigh: Haven’t melted yet, anyway.
Bill: Maybe you’ll melt in my mouth.
Bill: Not in my hands.
Bradleigh: Are you brand-sponsored or something?
Bill: Yeah, I’m in the pocket of big clipping.
Bill: Also big snogging.
Bradleigh: …this all we’re doing today?
Valerie: Somebody lose a poo golem?
Stick that in your book and publish it.
Abigail: Oh, I’m not gonna publish yet. Not when I’ve got such glorious results on the way.
Abigail: Bradleigh was just a proof-of-concept. Don’t tell her I said that.
Abigail: Mad science is progressive. I mean that in every sense of the word.
Abigail: You do something crazy, and it works? You do something crazier.
Bill: I like this flophouse.
Abigail: Stop staring at my perfect ass.
Bill: I feel so lucky!
Bradleigh: And you are!
Bradleigh: Seriously though watch that dude, he’s bad news bears.
Bradleigh: Don’t you whatever me!
Upgrading are we?
Abigail: If there’s one thing the word needs, it’s one of me. If there’s eight things the world needs…
Abigail: Faciō ergo erit.
Bill: Hey look, we’re trippin’.
Bradleigh: Don’t you be trippin’ while we’re dancin’.
Bradleigh: So are you a good prison guard or a bad prison guard?
Bill: I am an indifferent prison guard.
Bradleigh: I would be too.
I would be not a prison guard.
Bradleigh: Yeah, that’s better, you’re right.
Bradleigh: You sure do take a lot of pictures of my face.
I made, I’m proud.
Wait, I mean…
Feci ergo superbus?
Bradleigh: Superbus sounds like what Miss Frizzle drives.
Bradleigh: Look at this zombie’s dumb outfit and hair.
That’s the hair you used to have.
Victor: Y’all loiterers still loiterin’?
Victor: Pretty sure there’s some laws apply to this.
Victor: I smell.
Bill: You do.
Bradleigh: Holy shit he does.
Victor: Watch me pretend to swim.
Bradleigh: I won’t.
Bill: I thought you already transitioned.
Bradleigh: I walked right into that one.
Bradleigh: Fucked right into that one?
Bradleigh: Anyway get pumpin’.
Bradleigh: This is a real eye-opening experience, let me tell you.
Bill: I hope it works on me too.
Bill: I’m pretty squinty.
Bill: Is the sphinxface strictly necessary?
Bradleigh: Man, just look at that little bugger go in and out!
Bradleigh: Well you never saw mine.
Victor: If you want a look you’ll have to pay me.
You don’t often see hoverhands during sex.
Or long dead-eyed stares.
Bradleigh: You haven’t had married sex, then.
Victor: Fifty bucks and I’ll let you poke them.
Bradleigh: Yeah, sorry, I’m all poked up over here!
Victor: Not every police chief would offer you this great deal!
That much is true.
Victor: …I’m trying not to take personal offense.
Prof. Amar Danaher: Well don’t.
Victor: Okay, ten bucks and you can watch from back here in the weeds.
Bill: At least he’s not selling ménage à troi rights.
Bill: Whoops. Slipped.
Bradleigh: I made the right decision.
I’ve always wanted to know what that feels like.
Bradleigh: It felt like dick.
Bill: Good dick?
Bradleigh: Pretty good.
Bill: So what happens next?
Bradleigh: You exit. Pursued by a bear or not. Your choice.
Bill: I choose not to bear.
Victor: Sure, you guys fuck on a park bench and I’m gross.
Bill: That is a fair summary of tonight’s events, yes.
Abigail: So, how’s it working out so far?
Bradleigh: It’s great! I’ve always known that piston-pumping was too much work, and now I can just lay back and take it!
Abigail: What a generous and energetic lover you must be.
Bradleigh: I think I was always meant to be a woman.
Yeah, men get a raw deal in my neighbourhood.
To counterbalance the real world.
Bradleigh: I fucked a prison guard!
Abigail: Is that good?
Bradleigh: SIX INCHES GOOD
Caryl: Does she know that’s only average?
Bill: Shut your fat face.
Bradleigh: You did a great thing, Abigail.
Abigail: I always do.
Bradleigh: I’m serious.
Abigail: I always am.
Bradleigh: You’ve helped me realize who I really am! Hot.
Bradleigh: I always felt so unfulfilled as a dude!
Abigail: Yeah, it sounded like you were getting fulfilled out there, alright.
Abigail: I’m glad you’re happy with your new identity.
Bradleigh: You should make all dudes into chicks.
Abigail: Okay, enough utopianism.
Bradleigh: I owe you a debt.
Abigail: Oh, good. A lazy person owes me a debt. Sure that will come in handy.
Abigail: Alright, on your lazy bike.
Bradleigh: …I don’t have a home.
She can stay with you!
Abigail: SAYS WHO.
Abigail: Right. Says god. I keep forgetting.
Alvin: This bordello gets top marks!
Alvin: Top marks.
Abigail: STORYLINE OVER. GTFO.
It’s pronounced “gitfo.” Like “Gitmo” but with less human rights abuses.
Bradleigh: Still missing the pit hair.
Bradleigh: You win some, you lose some.
Looks like we’ve crossed the terminator.
Wait, we’re still at the lab? That must mean…
Bradley: It means your five days in May turned into three additional days in JUNE.
I’m still not abandoning the song motif.
♪ Funny how you can look in vain ♪
♪ Livin’ on nerves, and such sweet pain ♪
♪ A loneliness that cuts so fine ♪
Bradleigh: The best thing about loneliness is the cure.
Brooke: This cure’s taken.
Bradleigh: I used to be A-list.
Bradleigh: NOTHING I want is TAKEN.
Brooke: Rackinfrackin’ hierarchy.
Aurora: Hi! I’m abominable!
Bradleigh: I’m Bradleigh.
Bradleigh: And for a change, I’m okay with it.
♪ To find the face you’ve seen a thousand times ♪
This chapter depicts gameplay from 3 to 4 June 2012.