The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans)
Sims player fourteen generation deep into a legacy. Here's their story! Also, art and builds.
The complex was engineered with what they called two “ballrooms”. Really, it was two cupboards with wooden floors. In one of them, half the space was taken up by a DJ deck. Moving in, we had no idea what to do with it. We figured, we could have a party there. A very small party. A party of maybe ten people. A very private party.
A few weeks later, it turned out the existence of these rooms was a godsend.
Our kitchen and living space. If we spend time together, we’re probably spending it there. Or near the swimming pool. But really, mainly there.
Aaaaand in the laundry room of course. Food and clean clothes. We’re simple people.
And finally, mine. I played with the blue and the purples to get a soothing atmosphere. I set up a reading nook by the window, at the perfect place; the place that the sunlight bathes when the sun sets. And of course, I stuck artwork on my walls. An autographed poster of one of my favorite video games; some San Myshuno posters that Miranda sent me, and a few paintings Mom, Mam and Grandma made for me.
In my humble and very unbiased opinion, my room is the best room of all.
Romain’s room is impossibly stylish as well. That, and in a way, very quirky. The penguin TV near his bed, the bright green computer, the posters everywhere and the big graffiti on the wall. Somehow, it manages to seem almost monochromatic in spite of all the clutter and diversity.
It’s a really nice room to look at. But for some reason, I can never stay in it for very long: it suffocates me. All that bleak, cold darkness and shades of grey. So I simply never lingered.
Hugo’s bedroom is pretty much what you would expect in a way: it’s a mess. Clothes, everywhere. Piles of nature magazines. Products, and books, lining every corner.
But it also shows another side of him. It shows the artsy, free-spirited young man. Two of his walls are lined with artwork, beautiful, modern artwork that he took great care in placing and maintaining — unlike basically everything else. He also chose his chandeliers accordingly. Lean and modern and stylistic.
And finally, he has two computers. And as I would learn later, he knew how to use them. He really did.
Charlotte’s bedroom… is a pink mess. It’s really pretty, really romantic, really soft. It reflects her interests really well, there’s no doubt. In particular the dressing table. It’s always drowning under make-up, skin-care products, and fashion magazines. Framed by her favorite film posters and a table for her laptop — that she uses for make-up tutorials — this is where she spends most of her time. Charlotte hopes for a career in fashion, and no one can say she’s not putting in the work.
Shanna is the only one, out of my five friends, whose room I would happily live in. The walls are covered in posters from her favorite bands and artists, and centers of interests. She’s achieved a balance of warm and cold tones. It’s comfy, and stylish, and if I’m being honest I wish she would have let us come inside a little more often.
Or at all, really.
Marie’s room is girly, sweet and cheerful. The colors are harmonious. Stepping foot into it puts me to sleep immediately, which I guess, is pretty good. The shift between the softness of her decor and the punkest of her punk outfits is striking, and to be honest, still a bit of a mystery to me.
They called it the Air Complex.
This gigantic building was built with college students in mind, college students with the appropriate college scholarship; but that was no obstacle six trust fund babies couldn’t overcome. With the money on our family-given accounts and the drop of our family name, the doors to the complex opened, and so did the next two years of our lives.
The Air complex was a very modern-looking building from the outside, all in white planes, glass and sharp angles. It had a beautiful swimming pool and an outdoors basketball court, and a few rooms upstairs meant to encourage the practice of sports even more.
There were exactly six rooms there, which we took possession of quickly, and turned into our own. The girls lived downstairs, on the same floor as the common room, and the two boys were neighbors upstairs, next to the common laundry room.
Charlotte and I spent more than one night in each other’s bed, talking till the morning, giggling like the teenagers we were, sharing everything we felt about everything. Living right next door to each over seemed like a perfect dream, until there came a time that we didn’t wish to tell each other everything. And then, keeping secrets from each other — from one another —became a problem.
My bedroom door in the background.
Turns out, when you want to leave the house for the most selfish of reasons, you can’t expect to be fully supported by your incredibly wealthy family.
Fine. I didn’t want your money, anyways.
When you’re a teen with low to no income on your own, you have to get creative to find a place to live — so I did.
Since no matter how long I spent on the Internet I couldn’t find anything that I’d be able to afford on my own, I broadened my filter a little. Until I found the perfect gem.
Oh, it would take some convincing. But on the bright side, it wouldn’t be my parents I would need to convince.
This was going to be great.
I set out to search that perfect place, every day, several hours a day, often as soon as I woke up.
I searched, and searched, tirelessly
I searched in really odd places on the Internet. Until finally…
I found it! The one palace to end them all.
Convincing Charlotte meant convincing the whole group. It took treasures of passion to make her see the potential of my plan.
Thankfully, I had the passion.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 