Quark and Quimby grew up into young men. It was time for my plan to swing into action!
First I had to kick everyone out of the house except for Klango and Quimby.
Next, I phoned the adoption agency.
“Uh, Klango? Did you order a baby?”
And I kept phoning the adoption agency.
And finally, Rhubarb.
Each lot holds a maximum of eight Sims, so we were maxed out at six babies. Once some of them grow up and move out, I’ll get more.
The question is, how many babies can you raise in one Sim’s lifetime? The rules (I invented) are:
1. Normal lifespan.
2. Can be aged up with birthday cake, but only after the “So-and-so has 2 days left until their birthday” notice.
3. No cheats (except resetsim when necessary), and no use of the Moodlet Manager.
4. No babysitters or maids.
AHAHA C’MON, I DARE YOU!!! It’s awesome. I really feel like this personal challenge is leveraging my 10 years (!!) of Sims-playing experience. It may not make for the most gripping Sims Sunday posts, but the gameplay is thoroughly engrossing.
Soon, the first batch of babies began aging up into toddlers.
Randy is a creepy-looking little boy.
Rihanna is unimpressed.
Poor Radicchio suffers from Bald Toddler Syndrome. This is a very tragic disease that seems to strike about 1 in every 10 Sim younglings.
“My god… it’s full of babies!”
You can’t sleep there! A baby is crying! Okay, so a baby’s always crying. Whatever.
One more baby ages up, and I’ll have a full Turtle Table quorum!
I took some video of the action. It’s surprisingly hypnotic!
Too bad I didn’t get any sound (I think that’s a setting you have to change?) or you’d hear the music of my gaming: an infinity of babies crying.