Comic starts here:

Bonus feature(?):

This is what my imaginary friend was going to look like. His name is Edward and he’s a celebrity chef. He was scrapped due to budget(???).

My Imaginary Friend, Edward

P.S. Oops, I accidentally put a cup over that paper.

P.P.S. If a video blog is a vlog, is a comic blog a clog?

P.P.P.S. This will most likely be the last clog of this style, because my graphics tablet should arrive next week! Yay!

I didn’t take out the pencil sketching. It’s called laziness STYLE.

Comic starts here:

Disclaimer: Vickiepedia does not condone murdering narrators.

My friend? He said: “oooh no wonder”.

Vickie disapproves (-18) I should stop playing Dragon Age: Origins.

“What do you do during the weekends?”
“I often play video games alone.”

No, Vickie! Sports, friends, violin, study, swimming, tennis, sweat… remember?

“I, uh, often play video games…?”

Examiner 1 shot me an “are you for real” look.
Examiner 2 giggled.

Which is no biggie and just a language / preparation fail if I wasn’t telling the truth.

But I was. The actual things I do during all my weekends. Video games. Alone.

FML.

… Which also completely explains why I’m now sitting here my face all screwed up because a neighbour may or may not be standing somewhat near my toilet window and if I can hear what they’re doing outside they can hear what’s happening inside, yeah?

Shittttt. (Oh Vickie, a pun. I’m so proud of you.)

And that’s only part of the default story. I know.

Over in Strangetown, the Beaker couple allegedly performs strange experiments on a Sim handily named Nervous Subject. Pollination Technician 9, the Smith family father, is an extraterrestrial alien with green skin who has fathered more children than he cared to remember. Pascal Curious, a man, is in his third trimester with an alien baby. Olive Specter has an alarming number of dead ex-husbands and tombstones in her backyard, and an even more alarming memory of having sex with the Grim Reaper.

Oh yeah, the Grim Reaper. I know.

There’s also the easily accessible Criminal career; many, many ways to deliberately kill a Sim should we so feel like it; PlantSims, ghosts, vampires, robots, werewolves, witches, zombies… most of which exist by default whether we like or believe in them or not.

And that’s what makes this game extra fun. I know.

Now let me conveniently overlook the fact that Sims are either asexual or heterosexual by default; but they’d better not call gay marriage “marriage” and make it as fulfilling as straight marriages in The Sims 3, because oh no, that would be so wrong and unnatural, you know!

(Note: Entry originally written in March 2009, 3 months before The Sims 3 was released, when someone replied in the official forum saying that teh gheyz that is us should be satisfied with our getting “joined” / civil union option that rewards less aspiration points than male-female marriages in The Sims 2. I’m sure most of us applaud EA for at least giving us that possibility; but it’s simply not good enough!

The Sims 3 has now been out for 3 months. It acknowledges all marriages as “marriages”, and AI-controlled Sims would become partners with another AI-controlled Sim of the same sex if the players let them experience it.

Unrelated, but I’m disappointed that they took out the tickling interaction between adults, though.)

We walked past it the other day.

So, uh… You people do know what a “snout” is, right?

“This is a five-by-four screen,” I said. “You’re still using a four-by-three resolution on it.”

She blinked.

“You know? The ratio? Five… to… four,” I explained, accompanied with body motions that somewhat resembled the chicken dance.

Turns out when someone doesn’t speak your “language”, speaking slowly or doing the chicken dance doesn’t really help.

I grabbed her mouse as she continued to look at me in confusion. Minimise all, right click, click, click, click, click: 1280×1024; there, a correct screen resolution for a shiny new screen. I smiled, satisfied, and turned to walk away (casually noting the lingering confusion on the colleague’s face), giving myself a mental pat on the shoulder for an unpaid job well done.

“OH MY GOD!” A scream of terror.

I paused, thinking if I’d forgotten to apply the new screen resolution setting properly so the screen had automatically reverted back to 1024×768 while she’s admiring the sharper images. It didn’t.

“Why is everything so tiny? Why do I look so fat in the picture?!” She cried.

And then I cried too.

(She insisted on switching back to 1024×768. I undid my mental pat on the shoulder and complied.)