From here on out, each post will focus on a day (or two) on the journey of these four rascals. First up is Robi, the band’s drummer.
Day 2: A Day in the Life of Robi Duboise
In order to actually start a band in the Sims, the members need to have at least one point in an instrument, otherwise it would just be a group of people smacking their hands against instruments. This was my second step for my Sims. Oddly enough, when I switched back to each one, they were already playing and learning on their own. Everyone, except Robi. His house was empty upon jumping back, the lights off, and a thin layer of dust collecting atop his drum set.
Where was the bad boy of the group? Oh you know, just swimming around in the middle of bay, at 8:30 PM, in dress clothes and a new haircut for some reason. What the fuck, Robi?
I decided to let him do his thing, and just watch. Perhaps this was just a ritual of sorts, to put his mind in the zone and get those drumming juices flowing. He swam around a bit more, doggy paddling right through a school of what appeared to be puffer fish before casually strolling out of the tide, up onto the beach, over a hill, and onto a pathway, still in his presumably soaked clothes. After a short cab ride to the subway station, I figured he was on his way home. He was starting to get tired, and even the craziest people need to sleep every now and then.
What I had failed to notice was the little box in the upper left corner. You may realize what it is. But, I was too busy watching him take yet another cab to a dead-end alley to notice. That is, until the dude flips open the top of a dumpster and jumps all up in that shit. Without even the slightest prodding from me, this crazy bastard decided that the perfect night would consist of fully clothed midnight swimming, followed up by a trip to some seedy alley for a quick dip in refuse. It’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t emerge from the dumpster with 12 different kinds of Hepatitis.
Only after a good half hour of being buried headfirst in old Chinese food and dirty diapers did he decide it was time to head on home. And so, surrounded by the thick, green haze Robi refers to as his “Champion Scent”, he took a cab back to his house, took a shower, and hit the hay, dreaming of demons with empty eye sockets, or whatever it is that bat-shit crazy people dream about.