Is this it?!

Well.  This is it, is it?  Hmm?  After hours of tugging, tweaking, and generally obscene prodding THIS is the best that my cack-handed Creatorix could come up with?  My eyes…well, they are fetchingly evil, I give her that and my chin is suitably strong without being of ‘modern Threepwood-esque’ proportions.  But the nose…really?  Attacked by a pencil sharpener was I, woman?  No…no, no, don’t do anything fucking awful to me, I take it back.  Grudgingly.  At least my clothes are suitably evil in a casual sort of way.  More ‘evil-lite’ which is fine for lulling co-workers into both a false sense of security and a death room, so they will just have to do until something more expensive looking arrives in the paltry shop.  The exercise gear is at least a saving grace…something had to have skulls on it.

Attempts at evil eyeliner failed miserably and the choice of beards on offer make me look like a rapist, so they are right out.  The little goatee chin nugget thing is intriguing but I think my face is far fairer without it…evil doesn’t always have to mean facial hair…this is the 21st century after all.  Still, it is worth considering at a later date perhaps, when I am slightly more established.  As for the rest of the make-up, don’t even think about it…oh yes, how achingly hilarious.  Fuck’s sake get on with it woman, stop faffing with me…
 

Hair looks fine, little roguish, but not a problem - there is no reason I can’t be handsome and evil.  Ah, the obligatory swimwear ‘package shot’…shame that there was no phallus tweaker since I feel rather short changed in that department, but I fear this will have to do.  Even the Creatorix is limited by ‘others’ in regard to her powers, much to her (satisfyingly twisted) chagrin so I shall have to make up for any phallic size/shape control by being twice a prick personality wise.  Still, at least I have some general muscle tone to speak of…I’ll need it if I’m to be hauling ladders out of neighbouring pools and leaving people to drown.

The toying and general messing about now being finally over, perhaps we can get on with it.  A little brush up and I shall be ready for my ‘family snap’.  Here we go…arch evil eyebrow, sneer to the left and…oh for fuck’s sake woman, what now?  Just get on with it will you, I have worlds to take over….what the hell do you mean ‘adding another member’?  I refuse to share my home-to-be with some tiresome hypochondriac or gardening dullard.  I shall simply destroy them, mark my…I…oh, hell’s hole, it’s a girl.  I…well…I don’t care, I refuse to have the bathroom cluttered up with mysterious potions unless they are ingredients for some sort of thermo nuclear device and…ohhh, plaits…blonde plaits…very nice.  Maybe this could be the start of a beautiful evil partnership.  As long as she flosses. 

Well, despite being stood next to my housemate-to-be for our ‘family snap’ earlier and enduring being practically raped by her eyes, (though they were a delicious green), we don’t get properly introduced until we arrive at whatever flea-ridden shack that will no doubt serve as our first home.  I hope that I will have the space to construct a dungeon of sorts…or at least somewhere to dispose of anyone who irritates me.  On second thoughts, I had better make that a very big dungeon…

After muttering darkly for several days and spending another weekend trawling for advice, I was no further forward.  Not even the forum threads (now full of people with the same problem) were any comfort.  And the worst thing?  Despite my initial reactions to the game, I actually wanted to play it. A character was stamping his feet in the back of my mind, ready to spring to life in the form of the Evil Sim diaries, so I needed the damn thing to work, otherwise he would be bursting forth like Athena to wage war upon Sunset Valley by himself.

So I gave in and grudgingly re-installed, allowing the game it’s own stroppy way, primping and huffing into the C Drive, stamping up the stairs into ‘Program Files’, and petulantly slamming the door.  “Fine”, I shout, “…but you will work.”  Except that it didn’t.  Same problem.  ‘PC drive full’.  Bollocks.  You utter shit.  Uninstall, re-install, and try again.  Nope.  The game sits there with it’s headphones on while I shout up the stairs, puce with rage.  Nothing.  By this time I felt like Wile E Coyote weeping tears of frustration as the Road Runner ‘peep peeps’ from across another bottomless chasm.

To the internet I trudged once more.  Patches, patches…and suddenly, the clouds parted and a chorus of flabby arsed angels creaked into life to declare success.  www.simprograms.com, I could have wept.  Clear, concise, well presented and designed and best of all, every released Sims 3 patch in every version – versions being something I was unaware of up until now.  The game isn’t just the game…it has a string of numbers which denote the version/ region…1, 2, etc (e.g 1.4.6.00002) and the versions of the patches are specific to these regions which is why the ones I was randomly pulling off the net refused to install. 

Shakily I downloaded the first one and it installed fine.  A flutter of excitement stirred in my soul, but I have reached this stage before.  Patch two… 1.3.24.00002…installed.  For the first time in relation to this game, I actually smiled.  And then there was the third and final one.  Finally, I’m done.  My character stretches and yawns, close to being freed, my sanity returns, looking slightly haggard and minus it’s underwear, and I can breathe out.  I’ve caught the Road Runner, beaten his brains out with an ACME hammer, and done obscene things to the corpse.

Unfortunately the hour is late and my Sim-to-be will have to wait another day to come out and start his evil machinations, but until then, I am finally happy.  To simprograms.com, thank you.  Without you, my forty odd pounds would have met a very unpleasant end on the BBQ.  And now…to take over the world, one pool ladder at a time.