Mike's Diary

If you're one of the lucky people who have ever played The Sims, you'll know that the game actually doesn't imitate life flawlessly. And while your Sims do things that you would do in real life, as well as things you wouldn't (I hope), the real joy of this game is not living a virtual life, but instead controlling a virtual life, or several virtual lives. You are a god. And you can be one fucked up god. Many times have I not been happy with the way things were going and decided that the best course of action would be to get the daughter into bed on the second floor, only to take the floor away so she is stuck there forever. Or, maybe we could have the mother taking a bath, and one of the house guests walks in. Before the house guest can leave, the door disappears. Take away all the phones and hope the stove catches on fire. Don't feed the baby, and make a dungeon hold all the neighbours you've captured. All these crazy things are possible, and I've done all these crazy things. That's what makes the game so great. But, as silly as the things you come up with are, sometimes they're not nearly as silly as the things the Sims do if you simply leave them alone.

The following diary is the result of a long and painful time building a castle of sorts. It has a very small kitchen for the chef, a bar and entertainment room, where the food is served. It has a church/throne room. It has a small bathroom, and a rather large library. The upstairs consists of a bedroom where the king and queen sleep. The only thing is, I didn't want a king and a queen and lords and knights and chefs and butlers. The only thing I wanted was a young man by the name of Mike. And a maid, because I can't be arsed with cleaning up. I let Mike lose, and watched him for what seemed like hours, because it was hours. I watched, and I took pictures. I never clicked on Mike the entire game. I never gave him commands. The only things I clicked were the picture settings, the time settings, and the quit button when I was finished.

Unfortunately, I lost half the data when my dad's computer completely fucked up. Before it died, I managed to get the first half, and incidentally, the funniest half of the diary on a disk. So, here's the first half. It ends abruptedly, but I like to think of it as the first chapter in Mike's life. You'll see him move into a more modest home if I ever make another chapter. For now, here's the first chapter.

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Hi! My name's Mike, and I live in a castle! I bought the castle after the guy living here burned to death. Here I am in me bedroom, sleeping in my own urine.

Here I am in my wet pajamas, mourning the death of the guy who died that used to own the castle before I bought it after he died... or something. I don't know who he is, but I think I'm gonna start a gravestone collection. If I ever get bored of them, though, I can sell them for $4.00 each! Nice!

This is the tenth time I've washed my hands within the last hour and a half. I washed them before using the bathroom, then three times after. Then I went to the kitchen and washed them again. Then I decided to take a bath, but first I had to wash my hands. After turning off the faucet, I realized I had to wash my hands another three times. I went off to read a book, but decided that first it would be best if I washed my hands.

I like sleeping. When I decide that sleeping in urine on the floor isn't what I feel like doing, I sleep in one of the nearby beds. I just wish that the last thing I see before falling asleep wasn't the huge pointy diamond thing that floats above my head. That things scares me. What is it? What does it want from me? What will I do if it falls?

I often notice that when I go to the bathroom, I am attacked by swarms of evil giant pixels!

After I eat my breakfast and go to the bathroom, I like to go outside and stomp on roaches in my bare feet. But first I have to wash my hands.

After stomping bugs with bare feet, I wash my hands.

After washing my hands, I like to chop off my fingers.

Oh no! My beautiful stove has caught on fire! And a lamp and a painting are attacking me! YAAAAAH!!!

I call the fire department. I don't know if they can help me with haunted artwork, but they can probably help me with fire!

911: Hello?
Mike: Yes! Fire! In my kitchen! Help!
911: Alright. Where do you live?
Mike: In a castle!
911: And which fire fighter would you like?
Mike: Dave, please.
911: Alright. He'll be there in about 45 minutes.
Mike: Ok, thanks.

As if fire and haunted paintings aren't bad enough, now the people in my head are yelling at me again!

I decide it would be best if I run back to kitchen and get attacked by the painting again. Maybe if I scream at the fire while being murdered by the picture, I can scare the fire into leaving! Maybe I can impale myself on that Sims logo, too.

Oh, goody! Dave's here! Hi, I'm Mike and this is my fire! Dave starts fighting the fire by hiding behind the fridge.

Dave let's himself out the back door after putting the fire out. Little does he know... there's no way out of my back yard! Maybe this is the perfect opportunity to enlarge my tombstone collection.

See that black pile? That's my stove.

I often stand in the corner while eating chips.

Then I wash my hands.

I decide to call up my friend, Bella.
Bella: Farfnagn.
Mike: Hawaduaua.
Bella: Yeyomine, yeyoshowurrl!
Mike: Grou!
Bella: Shollowmike.

Well, invisible buddy, it's been fun, but Bella's coming over, and I need to wash my hands.

Standing in a pile of garbage while eating chips is fun.

BOAT!!!

Come on. Climb into the tree. I know you want to.

I'm a zombie! Blaaaargh! Just kidding! HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAA!!! HEY, PARTS OF MY HOUSE ARE MISSING!!!

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After parts of Mike's house went missing, he moved to a smaller, more humble home. Maybe we'll stop in and see him again sometime. Until then, piss off!