Adventures of a Frathouse President: Prologue

I thought it might be fun to tell the story of four years in a Sims 2 frat house, from the perspective of one of my Sims who becomes the frat president. This first section is mostly introduction.
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So, hi. The name's Ray Iburg. My dad wanted to know what living the wild college life was like, so he's making me do this blog. I shouldn't say making -- well, anyway.  My dad sells used books on Main Street, or at least he did before my twin sister and I were born. We've got money, so he didn't really need to keep on. Anyway, this is my second semester at good ol' Sim State University, and my first as a member of Uresha Osha Cham.

UOC is one of the university's biggest and oldest fraternities: our only rival is the Tri-Var Sorority, right across the street. The frat house is a nice place to live:: since it's filled with pool tables, arcade machines, televisions, and the like, there's always something to do. It's usually crawling with people.

Since I'm the new guy, I've always got something to do. I'm responsible for doing all the little chores, like tending to the garden behind the house. This is something the current president, Clark Charvat, thought of -- or at least, I think. The garden, I mean. Making the new guy do the chores is a longstanding tradition.

Clark's a good guy: incredibly popular, but still nice. He's been president of UOC for years and is never at rest, always trying to find new members. UOC has to work to keep its membership rates up: there never seem to be enough willing guys, which is why after this year, not only will I be the only member living in the house, but I'll be the president. There's no one else to do it. Wild, right? His sister is the president of Tri-Var. Well, head of it. I don't know if they even have presidents like we do. Tri-Var tends to be a bit chaotic.

Here's Sinjin Nott, the other guy who lives with us. Sinjin...well, he's an all-right guy. Quiet, a little weird. He's like, depressed, but he's friendly all the same.  He used to be best friends with Clark, but they fell out over something. I don't know what -- maybe a girl -- but Sinjin is prone to spending the night outside in a tent and     crying. It's pretty sad, but I don't know how to approach him. Maybe I shouldn't talk about him here.

I can't say the first year was all that interesting. I dated a little.

Jaiden's cute, but I don't know how far we'll go.  I had a big party for my family once, but that was it.

Here's my twin sister Selena with my little brother Jesse. We're fraternal twins, obviously. Selena's a bit like me: real serious. Or is it really? Really serious.

My brother Jesse's a bit of a nature-boy, if you know what I mean. Well, I suppose you don't. He likes to work in the family garden, and he spends his nights listening to weird music and meditating. Anyway, he and his twin sister -- fraternal, again -- Erin, were born two years after Selena and I. Yeah, so that's why my dad never started selling books again. With two babies and two toddlers, his hands were kinda full, you know?

Speaking of which, here he is: dear ol' dad. His name is Thaddaeus, and when he moved here he wanted to start a counterculture movement. Instead, he married my mom -- Aurora Dreamer, heir to the Dreamer-Caliente fortune. Her first set of twins -- yeah --,  Rachel and Jamie, have the bulk of the fortune, but we've got plenty. I've got a big family, all right.

And here's Erin, the princess of the family. She likes going to parties and acting sophisticated, which makes her the odd one of the bunch: I'm a square, Selena was a loner, and Jessee lives in his own world. Plus, mom and dad? Geez. Neither of them work. They spend their time playing in the garden, painting inside, or locked in their bedroom. That's how come my mom has six kids. Oh, geez. I shouldn't have wrote that here. My mom...well, she was born into money and she's never really had to work, so she keeps a garden and paints.

That party was to celebrate me being "elected" president. I say elected because there was no other candidate:   Clark pretty much appointed me. I spent some of this semester with Clark, getting the feel for my responsibilities. They aren't much: our bills are mostly automatically paid. I just call services when we need them, make sure the house is in good order, and keep the membership roster up. I also get my portrait put on the wall. The inner foyer is lined with portraits of former presidents.

The first president to get his portrait done was Ashely Pitts, the guy on the far right. He's...well. He's kinda famous around town, because he made a fortune in dirty movies. He lives in a big mansion downtown by himself. He's associated with a criminal, so he's mostly an outcast. The next guy, wearing the green glasses, is Castor Nova. I know him better as Brother Nova: the guy's my pastor.  Next to them is...Micky Ruben, I think. I don't know much about him.  He supposedly turned UAC into the home of the university's indie culture.

The next president, again on the far right, is named Dameon Bennett. I don't know anything about him: I've heard his name. He's supposed to be a bum of some kind.  The next guy, playing the piano, is none other than Richard Goth!  Mr. Goth is famous in my neighborhood, of course: he's the first Goth in generations to be politically active, and his being elected Mayor when he decides to run for office is guaranteed.  Tucked into the corner there is Mark Cooper, who owns Cooper Furnishings on Main Street.

This guy is Michael Goth. He's Richard's...cousin, I think? He's also a quasi-brother-in-law. Remember that my mom had a set of twins before me? Well, one of my two older sisters -- Jamie Dreamer -- has been living with him for years. Few people in town like Michael Goth, because he's got a well-earned reputation for being an asshole.

More recent presidents are on the other side of the foyer, this time from left to right. The guy on the far left is Shane Newman, who you might know as the creator of The Sims.  

 

I actually sleep in his old bedroom. He was a major nerd then, and still is -- only now he's making money from his nerdiness as a game designer. Awesome, right?

The next guy, the red-head, is Trevor something or another. He's a cop. That's Jim McGaw next to him:  I've met Jim before. He's this tall, serious guy who doesn't say much but who could probably break a brick with his hand.  On the far right is Clark.

Here I am, posing for my portrait. Clark didn't tell me that he was including the poster.

And here I am, memorialized for all eternity by frowning under the poster of some cheap girl band. Sigh.

At the end of the semester, I waved goodbye to Clark and then relaxed. I've got a full semester in this house by myself to ready new residents. For now, though, I'm going to celebrate my place on the dean's list by taking it easy!

See you later!

The Dominion is Born

Although sayyid may be used in general to refer any city-lord, the term is used only definitively to refer to a select number of men who not only ruled in their time, but dominated it. What modern audiences refer to as the Arab Dominion truly began under the stead of the First Sayyid.  Although Meccan warlords like Mausolous knit the Arab city-states together, they based their power solely on the force of arms. A shrewd, charistmatic, and ruthless warlord like Mausolous could triumph, but after the death of such one, the city-states tended to go their seperate ways. This changed with the First Sayyid, governor of Medina. Although he posessed a private army as did any city lord, he preferred to justify his rule through a set code of laws.

Justice tended to be far less partial in Medina than in neighboring cities. The  future First Sayyid's influence spread: he undermined nearby cities and spread his rule there. Soon, every kingdom but Mecca swore fealty to him. They called him Mausolous reborn, anticipating that he would unite the Arab people once more. The Sayyid ordered that each city should erect a stele in the center of its marketplace, and sent men abroad to carve his code of laws into the stone. There they would stand, a symbol that no man was above the rule of law. Doing away with the bands of militia typically used by warlords, the Sayyid trained an army of horsemen to serve as both cavalrymen and messangers. Their speed and the spread of a common law united the Sayyid's territory in a way never before seen.

 The Meccan chieftans furiously opposed him: in their eyes, only one from Mecca was worthy of leading the Arab people as a whole. They denounced his new ways, rejected that any man of power should bow before stone steles. They decried him as a weakling who sought strength by pandering to the masses: increasingly, the high priests rose against him. His own subordinates were cautious in the face of such forceful opposition: the priests of Mecca held a power over the minds of Arabs everywhere, and if they spoke against the new way, nothing could stop the fall of Medina's new lord.



And so the Sayyid turned to the old ways, sending his troops against the forces of Mecca. He declared total war against the old ways of barbarism: in their place, he would install civilization. Even as his forces met Mecca's on the field of battle, still more troops headed south -- into Russia. Russia's own leaders were far to aggressive in their settling habits for any Arab, but few warlords were willing to risk their armies against a large kingdom.  The Sayyid did not share their timidiity.

Katrine fled to Novgorod, where Arab emissaries met her with an offer of peace: if she would surrender a few inconviently placed colonies, technological secrets, and a sizable portion of her income, the rest of Russia would be spared. Terrified that these strangers had dealt her power such a blow, she acquiesced. While Katrine was later assassinated, no one dared challenge the Arab Dominion.



That his forces had sacked Russia, effected the surrender of Russia's colonies bording Arab domains,  and defeated the Meccans in combat, proved to the Arabs that this man was one to be reckoned with. Soon all cities bowed to him. Declaring that he was an agent of divine providence, the Sayyid established the first known monarchy. Every city soon became home to a stele bearing his code of laws, and soon his private religion -- the worship of two gods named "Zeus" and "Artemis" -- became widespread. Temples to Artemis rose in every city, each serving the monarchy. Under the rule of the First Sayyid, the Arab Dominion enjoyed flowering prosperity like never before. Cities grew and matured, investing in magnificient architechure that still stands today. Upon his death, the Sayyid was succeeded by his eldest son, who ruled with dignity if not with distinction. Few kings in the Dominion's history could measure up to the Sayyid.

Das Land der Dichter und Denker (Part I)

I've never gotten the hang of Civilization IV. I enjoy its many features and music, but keep backing away from the game given my inability to succeed in it. I haven't lost any matches, but I've not truly won any. All of my victories have been historiographic, save one space race victory in the original (sans expansion packs) game. I suppose I could win games via military means, but that's not my style. I'm a man of peace!

Even so, I've decided to play another game. I wanted to try the Philosophical and Organized traits, and so chose Frederick II's Germany.  Frederick the Great, an "Enlightened Monarch", is known for associating with Voltaire and strengthening Prussia by consolidating its territory through war.

The initial land looks good. I rather wish I'd settled in the crook of the river, but my scout didn't spot that until he hit the hill. I begin researching pottery. I'm sure one of the spiritual civs will pick up Buddhism, so I'm going to make my early research more practical.

The land keeps improving: I'm loving the many rivers. And lo, yet another river-crook.

The first civ I meet is France, to my east. We later meet the Portugese (to the north) and the Americans (northeast). Ours is a land like that of a four-quartered square. I am bottom-left.



My scouts are good at what they do, as not a single hut fails to render money, a scout, or other units. Huts give me both a Worker and a Settler, although the settler begins in the extreme north of the mountain. While distance-based corruption is not supposed to be an issue, I decide to chance the wild and have the settlers migrate southward. Hopefully by the time they arrive -- using scouts to help them avoid wild animals -- my econony will be ready for a second town. I never know when too soon is.

And here's Roosevelt, the last of my neighbors.

The settlers finally arrive, and I ask them to settle in the crook of the river. They'll have access to river-flanking plains, elephants, a mineral of some kind, hills, and even some flood plains. All around good site, and the river will afford protection from enemy attack.

Hamburg soon becomes the holy city of Judaism.

Here's my fledging civilization sixty-one turns after the establishment of Berlin. Berlin is building the Oracle, because I love free tech.

I found two more cities, one in the northeast and one on the west coast. Munich becomes the holy city of Christianity, and soon we build a monuments to Zeus and Athena. The Pyramids arise in Berlin, as does another civic-enabling monument. I'm able to switch to Universal Suffrage and Free Religion, making me a rather progressive classical kingdom.

Hamburg is now the holy city of Judaism, Islam, and Confucionism. Yeah. 

While I would be happy to keep making my cities cultural havens, I know I need to expand a little more -- but I can't, for I'm hemmed in by my neighbors. France in particular could have settled southward before agressing ni my direction, but he didn't. As he's constantly making demands, I begin training the appropriate troops -- macemen, crossbowmen, and catapults -- that I'll need to take a couple of his border cities.

So, thoughts: I'm going to try to turn Berlin, Hamburg, and Munich into cultural wonder-states. War may be necessary to keep the wolves from the door, but it's not going to be a priority. This Germany shall be the land of poets, philosophers, and writers.

A Rising Star

The first known empire of the world arose in the west, under the name of the Meccan Dominion. Mecca's initial warlords benefited greatly from good relations with local villages, growing in scientific prowess. No other city-state in the world could claim rulership over two cities, let alone three. The union of Medina and Mecca through the trade-city of Damascus brought Mecca to power, and it continued expanding its rule throughout the land. The first despot of significant power, known to the Greeks as Mausolus, championed the rise of his city through trade, expansion, and war. Under his stead, the world first saw war.

Mausolus personally commanded the archers and spearmen who marched on the Greek city of Thermopylae, a fledgling ivory-harvesting post.

His "huntsmen" met their match in the Greek hoplites, but Mausolus' weight in numbers crushed the Greek forces and took the town. The king of the Spartans who ruled the post, one Leonidas, fled to Athens and bid it serve him.

After a great many years, Mausolus -- having  enlarged his army -- marched toward the northern kingdom of Sparta and its servant-city Athens.  He brought with him Arabian families, intending to the settle the land once he established dominion over it.

Although Leonidas sent emissaries to treat with the Arab warlord, the two kings would not meet but in battle.

Athens fell easily, its defenders having abandoned the city in hopes of taking their stand in Sparta. Mausolos spared the city, proclaiming that it had suffered enough under the tyrant Leonidas. The Spartan king himself fell to assassins when he refused to abandon the Athenian palace. Veterans of Thermopylae who captured the palace claimed that they were responsible for the Spartan's death, and subsequently were granted the title "Leonidas' Demise". Athens became a protected state, and Mausolous' shrewdness made the city loyal to himself.

Although Mausolus refused to meet with the Spartans for a great many years afterward, his armies did not attack Sparta. He preferred instead to secure the most fertile parts of his own realm, leaving the Greeks to the "land of snow and ice". The conquest of Athens heralded the dawn of a new era in Arab history. Before his death, Mausolos would refer the cities he ruled both directly and indirectly through fear as his "Dominion": later, this Dominion would become a centralized state in its own right, one not held together by a military and force, but by the weight of law and tradition. 

Arabian Dawn

Although I've played Civilization III for many years,  I've largely fallen out of the habit and decided to revisit the game to remedy that. I chose to play the standard game, not on a custom map, and do so using a civilization I've never visited before: the Arabs. While I've played a few games of Civilization IV under the Arab flag, they were never appealing to me here. I prefer peaceful games, and their civ "traits" are better suited to militaristic aims. I change the ruler title and name to those more of my liking, and begin. (I change my in-game moniker depending on whom I'm playing: Elan Tulmak is a name I originally made up for my leader in a game involving Cardassians.)

My start forces me to make a decision: should I move toward the sea or toward the grassland? The sea provides a source of revenue, food, and an opportunity for more improvements and monuments. The grasslands are heavenly, but I can plant my second city there. The ocean it is! 

My scout begins exploring along the river, which is realistic. I like to settle my initial cities by following rivers when I can. My worker is building a road there in anticipating of farming. I suppose die-hards would tell me to connect the spices first (to keep my people happy), but on a lower level such as this, I have time. 

I meet both the Russians and the Greeks. The Greeks are to my west, while I won't find the Russians for some time yet. My scout and their scout bumped into one another. Scouts are fast units handy for exploring the native villages:  they're sometimes able to convince the locals to bestow the civilized powers gifts. As the Russian scout came from the south, I can assume he's visited the villages there, so my scout goes north.  I do some trading with the Greeks, but the Russians are not eager to exchange their bronze skills for my magic words. Darn those materialists! My own scientists are attempting to reach Philosophy, as it grants a free technology to the civ who learns it first. I wouldn't try getting it first on a higher level. 

A very wise village decides to submit to my will! How lovely. I assure them that I will be a good despot. No beatings! The surrounding countryside is lovely, isn't it? 

The land north of me is mostly tundra, but it's pretty good tundra. There are mineral-laden hills,  forests, and lots of game.  There are also elephants, god knows why.The locals are also nice. Thanks for the bricks and mortar, fellows.

 

I soon find the Russians, south of the Greeks. We may live in peace, and we may not. I can't say the same for the Greeks -- but of course, I would only welcome them under my rule for the betterment of all. 

Trade between my west and east realms is effected when I establish a trading post midway called "Damascus". The land is sweet and wild: it is worthy of my beneficent rule. 

The known world! The artic elephants -- wolly mammoths? --  graze on that first artic river. I've got some room for expansion, but am predicting the need to consolidate Greek lands. In the south you can see the French: we've been trading technologies with them. I'm hoping to find another power in the south. 

Next time:  expansion and...'consolidation'.

Jury Fury

Vicelord:

• In the Beginning
• In the Beginning II
• The Party
• Back Alley Brawl

Mood Music: "Hyperactive", Thomas Dolby
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It’s morning again, and poor neurotic Ken needs a reminder that we’re keeping on top of things.



I slam the door. “GOOD MORNING, KEN!” He moans.



“What do you mean?”
“Forelli’s cousin, Giorgio -- he’s on trial. Fraud, attempted homicide -- he was BUSY down here a couple of years ago. They want us --
“By which you mean they want me --”
“-- yes, you -- to help the jury make the right decision.”

Manipulating a jury. Nice. I don’t think I’ve done that before. Ken wants me to concentrate my efforts on a couple of chumps who can’t up their minds. Me, I prefer the shotgun approach.



Funny thing -- empty a few rounds of buckshot into a juror’s expensive car, and suddenly the facts seem all so clear.

Later that morning, after I take in lunch, I’m cruising through the city listening to the radio when the cellphone I took from that chef -- Teal? -- rings. It’s rung before, one of Teal’s partners wanting to know what to do with the rest of the product, but I was unable to snow the guy into thinking I was answering for Teal. He hung up. I answer the phone, hoping it’s someone in the same vein. Instead, I heard the voice of my dear old friend -- the charmer who let me sit in prison for fifteen years, Sonny Forelli.

“Tommy! How’s the sun-tan?”  I glance at my arm. It’s good. Little thin in places, but I’ve got time yet.
“I ain’t got no sun-tan,” I say.
“Well, you ain’t got my money, either, so I’m wondering to myself -- what are ya doin’? So tell me, Tommy, what are ya doin’?”
“I’m looking for the money, Sonny. Don’t worry.”
“I am worryin’, Tommy, ‘cause that’s my style. I seem to have this problem in my life of depending on unreliable people.”



I gave Rosenberg my number. Guess Sonny yelled it out of him. Can’t say I blame him. Sonny’s a mean mother, and Ken…Ken would be panicked by a dirty look. I know Sonny from way back. Fifteen years way back.

I don’t too much trust Sonny, and I don’t too much like him, either. It’s mutual. We grew up together, him and me, but the older we got, the less we liked one another. Old man Forelli was obsessed with keeping the Forellis on top of things in Liberty, but more than that he was obsessed with keeping his "good name" clean. He used guys like me to do the dirty jobs: I was one of his favorite fix-it man.I guess Sonny minded his bragging about me, but we started butting heads. Doesn't help matters that I got pinned down and arrested all those years ago, soiling the "good Forelli name".

See, one of the things I did best was make life miserable for the Leones. They were chumps back then, but they knew how to fight. They wouldn't give up, no matter how hard we made it for `em. Eventually old man Forelli tried tact: we'd do them a favor if they stopped antagonizing us. All-out war, we could win....but that'd hurt the Forelli image. So I was told to knock off some guy in Harwood, some pusher the Leones were having a hard time with. I did it, all right -- but I had to go through a bunch of his buddies to do it. All I had was a shotgun, and I used it.

I tried to escape, but a couple of Leones in a car were waiting nearby. They gave my rear end a little tap and pinned me against a wall: the cops showed up and it was all over.

It was a victory for the Leone’s. They’d gotten a Forelli man to do their dirty work for them, and gotten the Forelli name in headlines as a result. The family was embarrassed. I figured that’s why I did fifteen inside -- but while inside, I heard different -- heard that the Forellis offered me to the Leone’s as a concession. I’d hit their enemy, they’d hit me, and there’d be peace.

Do I believe it?