A Whole Different Ungulate 1.0
IT IS HEAH! After months of playing and organizing and stalling and bitching and moaning, finally, my first legacy is here! I command you to have oddity!
As you may have guessed, this is a legacy. Not a Poverty or Apocalypse or ISBI one,
no acronymous frenzy, no, I'm keeping it simple. This is my first legacy, so please, be vicious.
If I'm screwing up, I need to know. On with the show.
Firstly, our rising star - Owen Moose, founder of the Moose Legacy, and his slightly fritzy background.
He's a Family Sim, and he's super-Neat and super-Mean. Just because I don't often play Mean Sims.
Looking bored. But he's about to change that.
By jumping rope.
While he's on that, I build him a... well, it's a bathroom and a shingled tent over some pink
junk. Why pink? Because I felt like pink. Oh, and an apple tree, for Legacy Tree winnitude.
Owen: A pink stove! Oh me, oh my! I always wanted a green stove! ... wait. No, never mind. Euphoria!
Owen: My jumprope shares in my joy! Glee!
He would not stop jumping rope. Seriously.
Even after the visitors arrive, he just jumps and skips in his own little happy happy joyful world.
Some Mean Sim you are, twerp.
Owen: Ecstasy! Merriment! Mirth!
They're all playables, anyways.
Owen: Elation! Delight! Gaiety!
OH NO YOU FUCKIN' DON'T, BITCH.
Rizzo: Whatsyerdouche! I will stare at you creepily until you feed us!
Finally, they leave Owen to his hippity-hop.
With minor prodding, he eventually dropped the damn rope and found himself signing up
for the Military. 'Cuz damn, he's poor.
Crisps for a meal. That's my boy.
Owen: Perfection! Or possibly a rude gesture. Now in a potato chip.
Owen: Muck off, hag. I'm eatin' perfection chips.
ROL: Yes, but I have your newspaper and therefore you have no privacy rights.
Once sated, the Mooseria Owenei retreats to its bed to think about walkbys.
And leering. Creepy enough there, O-man?
Owen: Hey. Tosha Go is TOTES HAWT.
I... really don't think tha -
Owen: H. A. W. T.
Owen: Hey, household! I brought home my new work friend, CarFace!
I DISAPPROVE OF THIS
I KNOW YOU'RE BI, BUT YOU'RE WAY TOO FAST
ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE THAT UGLY
A couple of days later, though, Ivy Copur ain't lookin' too bad.
(I apologize for the terrible pictures; I haven't quite nabbed the secret to de-darking night pics)
Owen: My God! Are those real? Can I test 'em?
Ivy: ECCH! (jumps back)
FIVE MINUTES LATER, NO SRSLY
Hi, is ACR there? All right. Just tell it I love it.
Owen: My body's telling me noo~oo... But my fa~ace -
STOP SINGING AND FLIRT, YOU VAGRANT.
After they spent a night macking all over Owen's front lawn, I realized he had enough money
to build walls around his furniture. Walls, but not a door. So I left a hole in the wall. This is the
only picture involving both Owen and the hole. Of course, it's winter, so while he looks like
he's heartily enjoying an impromptu slushie, he is in fact plotting the violent and slightly
kinky death of my selfsims.
Owen: Oh, goody! I always wondered how to fix a -
Owen: Wait a minute, that's way too big to be a saw arbor.
To prevent the early end of the legacy due to lifelong incarceration for quadruple homicide, I send
him to a crappy bar which I TOTALLY DIDN'T JUST BUILD FOR THIS PURPOSE to earn money
bartending or DJing, so he can get a real door.
Owen: I'd rather be making babies.
Mayhaps with the current bartender? Caryl Hamilton?
Owen: Well...
Owen: FUCK NAW. YOU MUST SKYSHOT TO EXPRAZ MY
Owen: Taking your job, cow. >:P
Ivy: You're so sexy in an apron. A moi, cheri. Let us sex in the dark, where no one on this public
lot could possibly watch.
Owen: We can never be, dearest! For an angry Sim God holds me to hypothermia unless I serve
blue and red jello shots to random townies.
Owen: That, and I get the feeling she's about to make over that babe into serious material.
Got that right, my pixelated homeboy. Heather has moved into Hotsville. And you have enough
money for a door, so shift's over. Show me ya moves.
Highlander: *creepcreep*
Heather: My sanity makes me unique, doesn't it?
Owen: You look like the kind of girl I could make magic with. (That, and my girlfriend left.)
Heather: I am ammeanable to your obviously non-sexual proposition!
Townie: MY PENIS IS FUCKING METAL EVERYBODY
Owen: ...Great, I'm pursuing a ditz.
Heather: I'm not a ditz! I'm just a happy, happy girl!
You two are perfect together.
Townie: I WILL WATCH YOU FROM UNDER YOUR BED AS YOU SLEEP
Townie: ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY YOU TWO LOOK EXACTLY ALIKE YOU'RE LIKE SIBLINGS OR SOMETHING
Owen: He... kinda has a... point.
Heather: Oh, don't mind him. He hasn't been right since he got a prosthetic cock.
Owen: Nowai. Really? *snort*
Heather: Also, even if we are related, I'd risk incest. You is FINE.
Highlander: *creepcreep*
Owen: Why, someone might say the same of you!
Heather: So congenial!
Highlander: Excuse, me, I'm trying to be creepy here.
Owen: Yeah, I noticed. Are you the ghost of someone I killed as a misguided youth?
Highlander: Uh, what?
Heather: OMG your ear is sooo sexy! *invisiheartfart*
Owen: Sorry, didn't hear that, too busy ripping this guy's heart through his armpit.
Blonde: Heather is so hawt, I might throw up on her suitor.
Townie: I HAVE A BOMB IN MY PANTS IT'S A PHOTOBOMB
DJ Booth: LERL ER'M ERNVERSERBERL
Trench Coat: Hey, are you the guy that killed Highlander? I just saw his corpse lying in a pool
of blood and you have blood on your hand, so I thought... um... well, I guess I'll leave you to that.
But let's take a closer look...
Owen: Oh, God! I can see forever!
Yes, Heather is really Cthulhu! But will that help or hurt Owen's chances of getting into her pants?
Will he finally settle for one woman (or man, I'm not sexist) to bear his children and continue the
Legacy? Will the Legacy continue at all? Find out in A Whole Different Ungulate 1.1: Chronicle of a Smooch Foretold!
As you may have guessed, this is a legacy. Not a Poverty or Apocalypse or ISBI one,
no acronymous frenzy, no, I'm keeping it simple. This is my first legacy, so please, be vicious.
If I'm screwing up, I need to know. On with the show.
Firstly, our rising star - Owen Moose, founder of the Moose Legacy, and his slightly fritzy background.
He's a Family Sim, and he's super-Neat and super-Mean. Just because I don't often play Mean Sims.
Looking bored. But he's about to change that.
By jumping rope.
While he's on that, I build him a... well, it's a bathroom and a shingled tent over some pink
junk. Why pink? Because I felt like pink. Oh, and an apple tree, for Legacy Tree winnitude.
Owen: A pink stove! Oh me, oh my! I always wanted a green stove! ... wait. No, never mind. Euphoria!
Owen: My jumprope shares in my joy! Glee!
He would not stop jumping rope. Seriously.
Even after the visitors arrive, he just jumps and skips in his own little happy happy joyful world.
Some Mean Sim you are, twerp.
Owen: Ecstasy! Merriment! Mirth!
They're all playables, anyways.
Owen: Elation! Delight! Gaiety!
OH NO YOU FUCKIN' DON'T, BITCH.
Rizzo: Whatsyerdouche! I will stare at you creepily until you feed us!
Finally, they leave Owen to his hippity-hop.
With minor prodding, he eventually dropped the damn rope and found himself signing up
for the Military. 'Cuz damn, he's poor.
Crisps for a meal. That's my boy.
Owen: Perfection! Or possibly a rude gesture. Now in a potato chip.
Owen: Muck off, hag. I'm eatin' perfection chips.
ROL: Yes, but I have your newspaper and therefore you have no privacy rights.
Once sated, the Mooseria Owenei retreats to its bed to think about walkbys.
And leering. Creepy enough there, O-man?
Owen: Hey. Tosha Go is TOTES HAWT.
I... really don't think tha -
Owen: H. A. W. T.
Owen: Hey, household! I brought home my new work friend, CarFace!
I DISAPPROVE OF THIS
I KNOW YOU'RE BI, BUT YOU'RE WAY TOO FAST
ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE THAT UGLY
A couple of days later, though, Ivy Copur ain't lookin' too bad.
(I apologize for the terrible pictures; I haven't quite nabbed the secret to de-darking night pics)
Owen: My God! Are those real? Can I test 'em?
Ivy: ECCH! (jumps back)
FIVE MINUTES LATER, NO SRSLY
Hi, is ACR there? All right. Just tell it I love it.
Owen: My body's telling me noo~oo... But my fa~ace -
STOP SINGING AND FLIRT, YOU VAGRANT.
After they spent a night macking all over Owen's front lawn, I realized he had enough money
to build walls around his furniture. Walls, but not a door. So I left a hole in the wall. This is the
only picture involving both Owen and the hole. Of course, it's winter, so while he looks like
he's heartily enjoying an impromptu slushie, he is in fact plotting the violent and slightly
kinky death of my selfsims.
Owen: Oh, goody! I always wondered how to fix a -
Owen: Wait a minute, that's way too big to be a saw arbor.
To prevent the early end of the legacy due to lifelong incarceration for quadruple homicide, I send
him to a crappy bar which I TOTALLY DIDN'T JUST BUILD FOR THIS PURPOSE to earn money
bartending or DJing, so he can get a real door.
Owen: I'd rather be making babies.
Mayhaps with the current bartender? Caryl Hamilton?
Owen: Well...
Owen: FUCK NAW. YOU MUST SKYSHOT TO EXPRAZ MY
Owen: Taking your job, cow. >:P
Ivy: You're so sexy in an apron. A moi, cheri. Let us sex in the dark, where no one on this public
lot could possibly watch.
Owen: We can never be, dearest! For an angry Sim God holds me to hypothermia unless I serve
blue and red jello shots to random townies.
Owen: That, and I get the feeling she's about to make over that babe into serious material.
Got that right, my pixelated homeboy. Heather has moved into Hotsville. And you have enough
money for a door, so shift's over. Show me ya moves.
Highlander: *creepcreep*
Heather: My sanity makes me unique, doesn't it?
Owen: You look like the kind of girl I could make magic with. (That, and my girlfriend left.)
Heather: I am ammeanable to your obviously non-sexual proposition!
Townie: MY PENIS IS FUCKING METAL EVERYBODY
Owen: ...Great, I'm pursuing a ditz.
Heather: I'm not a ditz! I'm just a happy, happy girl!
You two are perfect together.
Townie: I WILL WATCH YOU FROM UNDER YOUR BED AS YOU SLEEP
Townie: ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY YOU TWO LOOK EXACTLY ALIKE YOU'RE LIKE SIBLINGS OR SOMETHING
Owen: He... kinda has a... point.
Heather: Oh, don't mind him. He hasn't been right since he got a prosthetic cock.
Owen: Nowai. Really? *snort*
Heather: Also, even if we are related, I'd risk incest. You is FINE.
Highlander: *creepcreep*
Owen: Why, someone might say the same of you!
Heather: So congenial!
Highlander: Excuse, me, I'm trying to be creepy here.
Owen: Yeah, I noticed. Are you the ghost of someone I killed as a misguided youth?
Highlander: Uh, what?
Heather: OMG your ear is sooo sexy! *invisiheartfart*
Owen: Sorry, didn't hear that, too busy ripping this guy's heart through his armpit.
Blonde: Heather is so hawt, I might throw up on her suitor.
Townie: I HAVE A BOMB IN MY PANTS IT'S A PHOTOBOMB
DJ Booth: LERL ER'M ERNVERSERBERL
Trench Coat: Hey, are you the guy that killed Highlander? I just saw his corpse lying in a pool
of blood and you have blood on your hand, so I thought... um... well, I guess I'll leave you to that.
But let's take a closer look...
Owen: Oh, God! I can see forever!
Yes, Heather is really Cthulhu! But will that help or hurt Owen's chances of getting into her pants?
Will he finally settle for one woman (or man, I'm not sexist) to bear his children and continue the
Legacy? Will the Legacy continue at all? Find out in A Whole Different Ungulate 1.1: Chronicle of a Smooch Foretold!