The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans)
Sims player fourteen generation deep into a legacy. Here's their story! Also, art and builds.
The adrenaline must have unlocked something in my brain, because I end up figuring out the answer to this mystery in the blink of an eye. I should have close encounters to death more often.
The answer was not with the blue, suspicious-looking lonely skeleton after all, but with his three golden brothers, or more specifically, the spear in the hand of the middle one.
The narrow corridor, small room and suspicious-looking skeleton already had all my senses on high alert — and I’m starting to know how the omiscans of old rolled.
I hear a noise on my left, a soft ssssht! and my body acts before I think.
The feathery flighting of the dart brushes the tip of my nose. Poison without a doubt, barely avoided.
It takes my heart a second to catch up with what just happened and cool down to a normal rhythm.
Here’s the hall at the end of the dark corridor. I dropped a few lamps to help me navigate in the darkness, and it gives the place a warm, but eerie look. The yellow light bounces from golden statues to cryptic omiscan murals, and then back to the shiny blue of another lapis skeleton.
I’ve often admired the solemnness of the ancient temple and the beauty in the sturdy, ancient architecture, but rarely have I felt dwarfed by a room like I am now. I feel like a speck in History, a curious individual who has no impact on the grandiosity of the past, and cannot begin to grasp any of it anyway.
I stare the blue skeleton down. The way its scales reflect the light is hypnotizing. It looks so — dare I say — life-like. I have to admit part of the reason I examine it so thoroughly is I half-expect it to lift an arm to shake my hand. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.
I don’t trust you buddy. You’re a work of art, but I don’t trust you.
Once I’m fairly sure I won’t be jumspcared by a stone skeleton armed with a spear, I finally start examining the mechanisms around the little room.
Probably still distracted by the hollow gaze of the blue skleton, I make a mistake — a potentially fatal mistake.
I pulled the wrong lever, and now my life only depends on one thing: the quality of my reflexes.
We finally cross the doors previously protected by the bright blue electric sparks, and soon I realize there’s something different about this part of the temple. I almost miss the opening in the wall, the space so small I couldn’t fully extend both of my arms, as the stones on either side are much too close.
Yet it’s through this hole in the wall, this corridor that gets darker with every step, that I’ll find the hall where the next enigmas await.
I’ve been studying the traps all night. This time, there’s no way I’m getting it wrong.
Again, I talk to the guardian.
I’ve done it! I said the right things, and it de-activated the traps! As soon as the statue is satisfied, the dark veil of the curse lifts from my shoulders.
Right on cue, Cléo walks down the stairs to see me. I’m so happy to see her I only want to hug her, and tell her that no matter what, the three of us are family and we’re here for each other, and if they want, we can head straight back to the marketplace, nevermind the treasures of the temple, and…
She sees my attempt at a hug and swats my hand away.
“Look, I know Cyril and I haven’t been showing the best spirit, but you know, we’re going to try. It’s important to you. We got lucky enough to fly here and see what it’s like. And it’s actually been kind of interesting, so… We’re going to try. Well, I am at least.”
So this is when I hug her. Going through the first temple doors can wait, my sister’s much too cute.
Even Cyril is in a better mood. He seems to have recognized the selfie opportunities that lie in Belomisian dawns.
You know a sure fire way to top off a hard day for your siblings? Make them sleep in a tent. I don’t want to trek back to the bungalow at night, and the twins don’t want to have to walk all the way back here again tomorrow.
So here we go, a night in the tent. I decide to chug energy drinks from the market through the night and let them have it. They should be at least a little comfortable.
Cléo goes in second, when Cyril is already snoring.
I’m happy he’s sleeping well at least. Get some rest my darlings, we still have quite a way to go after all.
The morning rises early… and it brings an early tarantula with it, as Cyril has finally resorted to use a bush as a toilet.
Sorry little bro. I should have warned you to never go outside without spider repellent. Ever.
The kiddos are getting tired, but we’re still a team. And we have more of the temple to explore.
Cléo and I dig around in old dirt piles in the temple first. I give her some pointers and make sure we can find the most out of it. Together, we dig up the base of an Observer Relic. I can’t wait to complete the relic and try it out.
Cyril ran down, all the way down past three gates to find a port-a-potty. He doesn’t see the irony in going against the plants and the jungle animals and the possible traps just to get to a fancy toilet. And then complaining about the insects he found there.
In other news, the food I brought was in my bag. You know, the one that now lives below quicksand. It was going to be okay though, because I thought we shouldn’t put all of our provisions in the same basket, and handed half of them over to Cléo before we left!
So Cléo has some food for us to munch on as dinner, right? She didn’t forget it, right?
Yes, she did. It’s very fresh, recently picked, but uncooked avocado and tomatoes for us tonight. I don’t mind, but Cléo and Cyril are a bit disgruntled. I promise them we’ll get a much more satisfying meal tomorrow morning, but I can tell from their hateful stares I’m really only making it worse.
In the meantime, the best I can do is also what I do best.
I get solving on the temple’s enigmas.
Some of them under the watchful stare of the omiscan llama god. Well, his statue.
I’m not saying I get it right every time. Far from that, in fact. I get the very first interaction with the temple guardian very, very wrong, and I get my first mystical touch of this trip.
And it’s a curse. A bad curse. I would rather have been turned back into a shiny blue skeleton.
Like a wave crashing on tired shores, I get overwhelmed by loneliness. The feeling that there’s no one in this world with me, no one who even wants to be with me, starting with my family.
And the dark side glances my siblings have been shooting at me don’t help.
Well, the side glances Cléo has been shooting at me. Cyril is still outside, trying to find more avocados, he said. Really, the three of us know he’s avoiding me.
We’ve made it! The sun is setting over Selvadorada, right on time to hit the stairs to the entrance chamber. The golden sunlight casts the last of the cold shadows on the stone. We’re getting ready to climb up — or more precisely, I’m motivating the kids to get climbing.
Cyril is having none of it. “Who even knows what’s inside that temple!” he says. “Curses and everything! You got turned into a skeleton once! I’m not going in there.”
I don’t force him into it — I’d feel terrible if he also got turned into a skeleton now.
What we find in the entrance chamber is far, far from curses and traps, though.
Apparently someone had a dance party in there!
Hopefully not the skeletons.
If I hadn’t lost my bag in the quicksand, I could probably rappel down that hole in the ground — guess we’ll have to go the long way around.
This time the traps are tricky ones.
And yet, it’s either we solve them, or we walk through electricity.
Oh, but I’m solving the puzzles.
Another mile, another gate passed. I dropped my backpack in a patch of quicksand on the way, and no amount of swinging around with my machete could retrieve it. My desperate attempts did help me literally land on an old buried treasure chest when I lost my balance, so not all was lost.
This was mom’s favorite part of the forest. Way up there, where you can have a clear overlook of most of the southern side of the jungle.
From here, you can even clearly see our bungalow. I sort of wish I had a glider or something. Landing straight on the roof would be something else.
Maybe I could even land in the stream below. The water looks cool, refreshing, and I am burning up and covered in grass after all.
On the other hand, I could also crash on the rocks. I4ll just enjoy the view for now.
“Hey, Banhanna! I found some of these berries!”
One of each, in case we need them in the temple.
This is my favorite place in the Belomisian forest. The one I’ve been wanting to show the twins the most — after the Omiscan Temple, of course.
The waterfalls.
We cross the bridge above the chasm where rapid waters would wash us away in the blink of an eye if one of these old ropes were to give — or if a humid plank broke.
There, another gate. I start chopping at them. The sun has risen quite far since we first entered the jungle — I am starting to sweat already. This is probably my least favorite part, but at least the scenery is beautiful.
Cyril has finally found a purpose to his being here. He found an avocado tree and he’s picking a few of them to show Gram.
For a minute I’m under the impression that, invigorated by that discovery, he’s coming to help me.
He’s not. He’s mostly interested in the bush by the gate I’m clearing. I guess I can understand a nap, we did have a long day. By which I mean, I dragged them to trek in a jungle after eight hours of flight.
Cléo has found something interesting of her own
She starts digging around a little more, in even more suspicious piles of dirt.
She’ll be giving me her findings to authenticate as soon as we come back.
Meanwhile, the gate and I are still in a one-on-one fight.
I’m determined to win this.
Unfortunately, so are the mosquitoes.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 