It Happened To Me: I Killed My Sim To Make Him A Better Dad

Illustration for article titled It Happened To Me: I Killed My Sim To Make Him A Better Dadem/em

The new The Sims Game Pack, Parenthood, added a bunch of new ways for sim parents and children to interact. By sending presents and inviting children to hang out, Parenthood makes it feel a lot more like the parents are raising their children now, rather than just having smaller, louder roommates. They’re such good parents now, in fact, that they’ll even take their kid to the park when they’re dead.

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On The Simssubreddit, players discovered that sims that don’t even live in the house will send gifts for their kids’ birthdays. Cute! But apparently, even dead sims will send gifts! Not so cute!

Illustration for article titled It Happened To Me: I Killed My Sim To Make Him A Better Dadem/em
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I wondered what else a dead sim parent would do. Dead sims become ghosts and just generally haunt up the place, possessing different pieces of furniture. Generally speaking, they only hang out at night and aren’t really a part of the family anymore. They don’t call or visit. They’re just ghosts! It’s not out of the question for The Sims to screw up an interaction so sims do things that they’re not really supposed to, like toddlers getting flirty, but I wasn’t expecting dead sims to just act like alive sims.

I’m not actually much of a sim killer—I prefer long, legacy games where I build extravagant houses—but I had to try it out. So I made a family, cheated to make the father and daughter very close, and then cheated to get the father in the near-death state of Hysterical. In The Sims 4, sims can not only die of natural causes, but also emotional states. Hysterical is a mood sims get when they’ve been joking around too much. Why not send him out happy? After making him hysterical, I’d only need to do a “Funny” interaction to cue the death. But The Sims is a finicky game. No matter how many times I had this guy watch the comedy channel or tell jokes to his daughter, the guy wouldn’t die. As I was waiting around, I selected the option for the father and daughter to become best friends, thinking it’d be even more dramatic if he died afterward. I did not count on that triggering his death.

I am so sorry.
I am so sorry.

Now it was just a matter of aging her up. But unexpectedly, the next day, this girl’s Ghost Dad asked her to go to the park.

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He actually asked to hang out with her literally every day, sometimes in places not appropriate for a kid. Even if you’re a ghost, it’s still sketchy to take your daughter to a bar, dude.

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Illustration for article titled It Happened To Me: I Killed My Sim To Make Him A Better Dadem/em

When I aged up the daughter into a Teen, Ghost Dad didn’t send a present. No matter—the whole family went out to the museum the next day.

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Illustration for article titled It Happened To Me: I Killed My Sim To Make Him A Better Dadem/em

Alive Mom even gave him a kiss. I felt so awful killing off this guy, but the whole thing’s ended up weirdly heartwarming.

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DISCUSSION

The last time I played the Sims, I decided to make a real monster. A black widow—a Sim who cared about nothing aside from herself, and her own pleasures. Widow was a promiscuous, flirtatious, kleptomaniac who had already broken up two families by the time she encountered Mortimer Goth.

It started innocently enough. They met at a bar one night, and they started talking. They hit it off, and Widow invited Mortimer over the next day. What began as friendship soon grew to something intimate. They would meet like this multiple times like this before Mortimer fell head over heels in love with her.

Eventually, Mortimer left his wife Bella, and married Widow. Of course, the shitty little manufactured home I’d build for her wasn’t enough, so she moved into the beautiful Goth mansion (where Bella still lived as well).

Widow’s plan wasn’t homicide—not at first, anyway. She spent her days spending Mortimer’s money and partying, sleeping with sexy bartenders and handy men behind Mortimer’s back, enjoying the luxury she now found herself in. At first, she and Mortimer were passionate lovers, but he aged, becoming an elder soon after she moved in.

My dear black widow was not amused.

So she decided to take long jogs around the neighborhood with her new husband. Oh, the jogs they took! She even bought a shiny new treadmill, which Mortimer happily used often, no doubt attempting to stay in shape for his new wife. He exercised with her, danced with her, woo-hooed with her...

...Until he dropped dead of over exertion.

But the Widow wasn’t done. She’d had eyes for someone else the whole time: Mr. Goth’s young son, Alexander, who was now a strapping teenager. As I’m one to be fond of mods, teenage shenanigans were not out of the question, and he quickly fell for her advances. The two illicit lovers made love nightly, but their trysts didn’t make Bella or his older sister Cassandra happy...

...So Bella and Cassandra had to go.

It wasn’t hard to bend her new lover to her will, and together they constructed a crypt, where they walled off Cassandra. Meanwhile, to pay for the Goth family’s mounting debts (caused by the Widow’s constant partying and taste for expensive electronics), the Bella had to take a job. She wondered constantly where her daughter was, completely oblivious to the fact that Cassandra was walled off, slowly starving to death. The Widow would dance outside with Alexander nightly, next to the tomb bearing his dying sister.

When Cassandra finally did die, the Widow placed her urn in Bella’s room. Alexander at this point was a young adult, and was essentially Widow’s slave.

Three days later, on the ex. Ms. Goth’s first day off from her new job, she was placed in the tomb, where she languished.

Widow and Alexander celebrated their newfound freedom by throwing a party, inviting over all of their closest friends. Widow hooked up twice with men from earlier relationships while Alexander played video games downstairs. After the party, she and Alexander settled into the master bedroom for some woo-hoo.

Of course, in a house full of such terrible murder, there were going to be ghosts. They appeared often. Mortimer wept when he saw Widow and Alexander together. Bella spent her time smashing faucets, and Cassandra would sit on her old bed, depressed, no doubt contemplating the circumstances of her death.

Money ran low. The bills were late. Widow had spent all of the Goth family fortune. Alexander had to take a job, and was out of the house all the time. Bored, Widow began hooking up with anyone who walked by. She’d call maids and trap them in her bedroom, flirting with them until they gave in to her charms. But even this couldn’t satisfy her.

She needed more excitement. She watched the ghosts as they floated by one night—Cassandra, on the way to her old room—and got an idea. She approached Cassandra, spoke to her gently, and slowly cheered her up. Then, she began to flirt. She took the dead girl to bed, as she would anyone, and was elated like I’d never seen her. She strutted around the house, not caring about the piles of rotting food because she and Alexander were too lazy to clean up after themselves. Bella was next, and was harder—overcoming the betrayal of stealing a husband wasn’t easy.

But for Widow, it was only a matter of time. As she tended to her desires, she grew more powerful. Soon, no one could resist her. She slipped into houses to steal compulsively, and would sleep with whoever was inside. They would welcome her back happily, and she would repeat the process.

She stole from bars. From parks. She was invincible.

Meanwhile, Alexander grew depressed. Widow had been ignoring him—too absorbed in ghost sex and the thrill of thievery to even pay him a passing glance. He grew frustrated and despondent. He walked in on her with his best friend. But Widow wouldn’t let him go. Whenever he grew angry, she would give him what he wanted: Love, affection. Time between the sheets. He was truly her slave, spending every waking moment of his life either working or doing freelance things for money. Coding. Painting. Working himself to exhaustion for her. He began to grow mad, starved for socialization. He was angry all the time. He binge ate.

And then, one day, when his computer broke, he couldn’t take it anymore. He tried to fix it—an earnest effort—but the computer tragically electrocuted him to death.

And then Widow was alone, broke, in a massive house full of filth and her hoard. She was aging, too—the nonstop sex and parties had left her chubby. Her once youthful features sagged. She was caught stealing a few times, and began to sink into depression. Lack of money was a constant problem, but Widow had no talents. She seduced another man, hoping to marry him and escape her problems, but his wife caught them in the act, sparking a fight. Widow couldn’t go near her after that without it sparking an argument. She started lashing out at people. She was an embarrassment, passing out in public after partying too long, and she was always tired.

Old, alone, and depressed, she began selling her possessions in an attempt to keep up with the bills. This worked for a while, but now she wandered through an empty, huge house, her only company coming from ghosts. This is where she would spend her final days, vegged out in front of her TV, having conversations with the people she had murdered.

When I was done playing with her, I relayed this story to my husband and he looked at me in stunned silence before uttering: “You monster.”. Considering I usually play perfect angels in the Sims, I gotta say creating a real bitch was a delight. XD