The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans)
Sims player fourteen generation deep into a legacy. Here's their story! Also, art and builds.
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.
Here we are. The first belomisian test of strength — the gate to the depths of the jungle. I tell the twins to stand back as I whip out my machete. Long gone are the days when I would be the one to watch as Mom cut the overgrown branches down.
It’s possible I swirl it around a little too much and do a few unnecessary tricks, just to impress the twins.
Cyril is not watching, however. His nose is pretty much stuck on the sign near the gates, the one that clearly says “DO NOT. GO THERE.”
Luckily, it’s written in Selvadoradan, and Cyril can’t speak it.
What he can do, though, is tell what the pictograms mean, and the simplified, rain-washed spiders are no less terrifying than the “beware the tarantulas” warning.
Cléo is still standing a way back, watching.
Trust a twin to offer the best comfort. “It’s okay,” I hear her say. “Han knows what she’s doing, and I’ll hide you from the tarantulas if I need to.”
I hear Cyril giggle and conclude it was effective.
In the jungle, the mornings can get really cold. Cléo opted for the shorts, and she’s starting to wonder if that was such a great idea. It wasn’t really, but at least in a few hours she’ll be the only one of us who won’t be burning up.
While I work to destroy the branches, Cléo has kneeled next to a suspicious pile of dirt from whcihprotude what might just be old omiscan artifacts. She tries to encourage Cyril to dig around with her, but Cyril’s not about that. At all.
The path is cleared, and ready to be crossed. I’m the first to step through and clear the way. The most dangerous thing I run across is a family of capybara. One of their young is hurt, and by luring him with plants, I almost get close enough to inspect the wound — but I only manage to get bitten by one of its parents. So I decide to leave them through it — and I look for the next gate.
I made it! Now to go back to guide my siblings through.
For Hannah’s birthday, we Hugo and I cooked up a surprise that took many months of planning.
The day after she blew the candles off the cake, I dragged her to the airport, and watched her face light up as it dawned on her.
The next day we were in Selvadorada, a tropical destination charged with the history of ancient civilizations and the mysteries that literally came with the territory.
It was Hannah’s first time out of our home country, and we knew when we booked the ticket that it would be perfect for her.
If you’re wondering, the toughest part of planning this trip was deciding who would get to accompany her, and who would stay home with the twins.
In the end, we decided to make it a girls’ trip.
The first thing you’ll wanna do in Selvadorada, right after putting your luggage down, is heading to the Marketplace, where you’ll find a bar, food stalls, and vendors that will provide all the necessary supplies to get exploring.
Hannah is READY.
Since she’s her mom’s daughter and the food on the plane wasn’t all that great, she heads to the food stalls first!
Only when she tries to order does she remember — she doesn’t know the local dialect all that well.
Also, I have the money.
Mom to the rescue! I picked up the basics of the language from books bought in preparation, and I manage to order us some local food.
Hannah doesn’t wait for me to get my plate — food bought straight at the exotic source makes up for the meh restaurant we celebrated at.
I opt for a Horchata, a sugary drink elaborated from some type of plant, from what I gathered. Hannah’s got her platanos fritos and since she doesn’t talk for the whole three minutes it takes her to gulp them down, I think it’s safe to say that she likes them.
Then she heads straight to the vendor’s stall,. Though she has to wait for me to get explanations on the produce, she’s still imagining all the possibilities that this gear offers.
The statue of the Madre Cosecha is apparently a place of contemplation for the Selvadoradan sims. They have the highest respect for this figure of their history.
Hannah and I are now done buying aaall of the things from the vendors.
We’re finally ready to get exploring.
My oldest child is already a teenager. Already almost an adult! While we have seen the core of her personality slide into place over the years, here come the final touches. The details. The experiences that she forges and solidify her individuality. Her passions. Her drive.
Hannah is becoming an adult, and I intend to accompany her as far as she needs me, in every way I can. Soon she will fly on her own, the fourteenth heir to this old family we were born into.
But she’s not quite there yet. I’ll be behind her during these last few steps, or leading her when need be.
Welcome to this new era.
Wallpaper material right here, tbh
As Cyril, Cleo and Hannah have all aged up, we’re moving on to the fourth era soon. It’s the last era pre-Seasons, and also the last before Hannah turns into an adult and Azalea passes the torch of legacy heir to her daughter.
So I just want to stop there a moment and share some more of the family shots I took during their trip to Granite Falls. I hope you like them ❤
‘Azalea?’
‘Come here, baby, you know I’ll always take care of you.’
I know she will. Grandma is more in tune with a body’s wellness than any other sim I’ve met. She says she can help me relax with a massage; and for the duration of the massage, it works. The pressure on the right nerves, the motherly touch of my grandmother, the relaxing view over the San Myshuno Bay…
For the first time in weeks, I feel content, almost happy.
But it doesn’t last.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 