| Meet the Alcortas! (Well, one of 'em.) |
[Aug. 12th, 2006|02:32 am] |
I've just created a new custom neighbourhood (Already have one - Jonestown, but I'll come back to that when I get bored.) - Dos Hermanas. I was wondering what to do with the desert terrain neighbourhoods and thought, meh - it's all sort of American South West and that's about all you can do with it. But then I thought Spanish, because the architecture is preeeetty and you can play around with the Moorish influence. (Love the Maxis Morrocan stuff.)
I mean, I'm not yet ready to attempt a Sim version of Gaudi's La Sagrada Familia, although that would be awesome, but I'm going for the Southern Spanish vibe. Even though I don't speak Spanish, so pardon me if I occasionally sod it up. I've also tinkered with some of the townies in Sim PE to give them more appropriate names because...Tellerman? It's so not Barcelona.
The idea I had is to have everyone ultimately tracing descent from the one founding Sim - sort of like a legacy, only bigger and more insane. Start with one Sim and see how many you end up with in ten generations. Then after that - don't know what I'll do. We'll see.
The founder, anyhoo.
Paco Alcorta. Naturally, he's a Family Sim - hard to engineer a population boom if your Sim doesn't fancy breeding. His Lifetime Want is to have Six Grandchildren. I'm sure we can manage that one.
The welcome wagon rolls up, with the Usual Suspects - Marisa Bendett, Brandi LeTourneau and Benjamin Long (AKA Benjamin Leon). It always seems to be those three. Are they some kind of neighbourhood committee or something? Who knows. Paco hits it off with Marisa.
Brandi just HITS Benjamin. What is it with these social interactions like 'prank'? They're not particularly funny and always seem to start fights. Which is the point, maybe. I think she took umbrage because he ventrilo-farted her or something. I know Brandi from another neighbourhood and I know she's not especially off-pissable - she's a meek little thing. Must have been a really bad fart.
Paco and Marisa get it ooooon...
As do Brandi and Benjamin. Just in a different way. (For the record, Brandi kicked his pointy-nose arse into the middle of next week. Go Brandi.)
Paco says bye bye to the brawling neighbours, but he can't stop thinking about Marisa. So he calls her and asks her if she'd...you know...DATE him? Amazingly she says yes and there's a spot of dancing below the stars (Because the interior of Paco's shitbox house is so cheap and crappy it would scare a Fortune Sim into a one way ticket to Argentina.) and smoochage and such. Note the picture on the easel in the background. I love that picture - it cracks me up every time a Sim paints it. It's the big giant waving hand that gets me. If it's Paco's artistic impression of Marisa then we can assume one thing. He's definitely red/green colourblind.
So, she moves in, marries him and brings him twenty thousand smackers. At which point Paco turns into a smug twat and I begin to hate him. I mean...what are you DOING, Paco? Just WHAT? Yes, alright - you're a happy man. It never does to be too self-congratulatory about these things, you know. It always goes Pete Tong just to taunt you. It's just...AAAARRGH! That oration, that happy cry of glee when a Platinum Family Sim comes home in the evening - I hate it. I absolutely loathe it. He's standing there on the kerb bellowing "DAAAADDEEEEE'S HOME!!!" as if he expects a bunch of adorable TV advert children to come tumbling into his waiting arms and constitute the human proof of his virility.
Newsflash, goober. You don't HAVE any children.
On the flip side I've seen doting Mums and Dads do this while they DO have children. Many children. Many many horrible, screaming, bratty children who won't do their homework and tease one another. The kitchen's about to burst into flames, the toddlers are either playing in the toilet or shitting themselves, the kids are STARVING and having fifty fits because they don't want to finish their homework, the downstairs loo is blocked, there's reeking baby bottles and half cooked meals all over the kitchen and the geriatric arsonist (The Nanny. Why they have pyromaniac tendencies I don't know) I'm paying to look after the neglected and miserable little shitehawks is busy banging the hell out of the piano or mopping up a puddle caused by a toilet dabbling toddler. (Why do they do THAT as well? The toilet-dabbling. It's disgusting. I never did that as a toddler. If I had I don't think I'd have survived to adulthood.)
And Mum or Dad's standing on the kerb noisily declaring their joy at coming home to their wonderful spawn. Yeah? Happy to be home? Good. Wait until you get inside the DOOR. Ha.
Marisa is not impressed by her husband's patriarchal display and calmly carries on painting...whatever it is that she's painting.
But it's not long before Paco's got her pregnant. I'm thinking three children - since it's easier to cover the bases that way. Six grandchildren, no hassle. Two kids a piece and Bob's your auntie's live in lover. Marisa, on the other hand, is going to be a problem. She has a Lifetime Want to earn one hundred thousand simoleans. Not easy for a desperate housewife. She looks like she's staring at that bouquet in search of inspiration and I suppose she must have found it. I have her train in Floristry when she's not waddling around or throwing up.
Marisa gives birth to a daughter, Milagros Alcorta. And check out Paco - the doting Family Sim, the perfect Dad. Takes one look at his progeny and fucks off for breakfast. Which he makes for himself.
Milagros' birthday. It's kind of downhill from thereon with Milagros. But more on that later.
Milagros gets bigger, and so does Mum. She witters about planes and Marisa wishes she'd taken that one way ticket to Argentina because if she had she wouldn't be knocked up and bored out of her skull.
Milagros and the Incarnation of Evil, Marsha Bruenig. I hate this little bitch so much it's untrue.
Milagros definitely has Paco's profile. Considering her mother's nose, that might be a good thing.
Miguel - baby number 2. At this point Marisa was going completely stir crazy and I determined that there would be no more bloody babies. Paco, naturally, keeps rolling up the want to 'Have A Baby' 'Have A Baby'. You can't have a baby, Paco. SHE has the babies. You don't. SHE suffers the pain of childbirth, the uncontrollable vomiting, the dicky bladder and the ravening appetite. She's the one who endures the intolerable boredom of having to TALK to children, play with whining toddlers and empty potties. You merely peer at the newborn and sod off for breakfast and then start wanting another one. Well, you're not having one. Shut up and get used to it, or I shall download that hacked telescope again to teach you a lesson in parenthood that you and your sphincter will never ever forget.
Marisa, back in the job market, and Miguel.
Miguel. That nose is going to come back to haunt us all.
And here's Milagros, almost ready to be dispatched to college and out of my damn way for the time being. Milagros is a Family Sim and her Lifetime Want is to...wait for it...MARRY OFF SIX CHILDREN! Well, that's Paco sorted. Milagros is also a vacuous twunt who thinks about nothing but boys and kisses and I really don't know why I'm sending the airheaded baggage off to college, except to get her out of the way. Unlike her mother, she has no ambition in life but to shit out babies.
All those breakfasts have turned Paco into a fat buffoon. The disgusting thing about Paco is that he seems to have been blessed with extraordinary luck (Even if he has been cursed with a daughter with the intellect of an artichoke.) - he earns thirty five grand on a chance card, gets promoted to Business Tycoon and winds up loaded. This doesn't satisfy Marisa, of course, because she didn't earn it. But it gives her a nifty supply of capital. She already owns one business, the flower shop, Oasis Paradiso.
So I have her buy the Cafe Del Mar. This is taken sometime later after Milagros, true to her name, graduated from college. (It was a miracle she escaped academic probation. All she did was mank about and hump her boyfriend.)
There are no pictures of Miguel as a teen, mainly because I couldn't keep up with him. Miguel is Fortune, like his mother, and he was hardly ever in the house on account of being a vociferous overachiever. The guy in the suit is Marisa's son-in-law, Orlando Cavalieri (formerly Centowski. I thought I'd make his surname Italian, to make some sense of his Italian first name.), Milagros' husband. The bird in the ghastly tracksuit is Christy Stratton, a commonly known townie. Keep an eye out for her.
Paco ages into a old, fat buffoon. I know he had a Messianic complex but really Paco...I think you're taking things a little too far.
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