The Sim is Dead, Boy

The thing about life is that sometimes you have to sacrifice three-fourths of it just so you can spend the remaining one-fourth doing the things you actually like.

I suppose it’s no longer surprising that I have control issues, which is why The Sims is my favourite game. It just indulges my God Complex, I guess.

The current version, Sims 3, is way better than its previous incarnations, which is wonderful. I can’t tell you how much time I’ve wasted knocking on random neighbours’ doors. I’ve also had one of my teenage Sims steal books from the library so I don’t have to buy new ones.

But perhaps my favourite thing to do with Sims is kill them. I once slow-murdered a Sim then begged Death to spare her. Just because I wanted to see if I could create a zombie. She came back normal (Death’s kind of a pushover) so I wasted no time murdering her again.

Some remarkable ways I’ve killed my Sims:

    – Starvation
    – Sleep deprivation
    – Boredom (by depleting the fun bar)
    – Trapped (meaning I paused the game then built four walls exactly around the Sim)
    – Drowning (I made the Sim get into the pool and swim, then I removed all means of getting out of the pool)
    – Burning (I’ve lost a couple Sims to “accidents”)
    – Heartbreak (I made my Sim discover her husband’s affair while she was pregnant)

I haven’t had time to play the game these last few months, but I think I want to add a few more notches to my body count.

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