Chapter Text
January 21, 2005
Screw you, Marcus Wiley!
The thought scorched through my mind as I smashed the power button on my PC. The clunky Windows 98 operating system always took forever to boot up, so I kicked back in my beat-up leather office chair (handed down from Dad, of course) and sipped on a can of Diet Coke. The cold fizz tickled down my throat, spicy bubbles that popped and made me sigh once I swallowed the mouthful.
After the CRT monitor finally warmed up, my desktop loaded in with the mystic “whoosh” sound it always did. Finally. The dated system was situated atop another hand-me-down, a solid wood desk from Grandma and Pop’s old house before he died and she had to downsize.
I pushed aside the habitual urge to log online and check AIM. Trish had tried to catch me in the parking lot after the last bell let us out of sophomore English that day, but I’d snubbed her and hopped into the ’95 Civic I’d recently gotten. Christmas gift from Aunt Rose. Not even bothering to wave to Trish, I’d rolled the windows down and driven home while the radio blasted “Song 2” by Blur. The wind tempered my nerves, below-freezing temperatures be damned. Upon arriving home I’d given Mom a similar silent treatment before retreating to the cozy confines of my bedroom, wrapping myself up in a fuzzy blanket to fight the draft that crept through cracks in my window.
Nope, not opening my messages. Not even hopping online. The last thing I wanted to do was re-live the shame of being rejected by Marcus Wiley! It’s not like anyone else would ask him to the Sadie Hawkins dance. But I had… Marcus, the only guy in English 2 who could tell the difference between a simile and a metaphor and had actually read The Catcher in the Rye before it was assigned. I’d thought he was the coolest. But now… Marcus Wiley? Bleh!
At least it was Friday. I could lock in for a long night of gaming. Homework, actually talking to Mom and maybe seeing Trish could wait ‘til tomorrow. Or Sunday.
My sixteenth birthday had come and gone in a flash that January. Two weeks prior to the Marcus fumble, I’d had four of my closest friends over for cake and PS2 games. Bryce, Trish’s eighteen-year-old brother, had been the only person to get me a gift aside from my parents. It was always tough having a birthday right after Christmas. Dad had sent me a letter (yay… I guess) and Mom decided I could use some gas cards to go with the Civic and my shiny new driver’s license. That was actually a pretty good move on her part. Thanks, Mom.
Bryce, through Trish, knew me well. The two of them chose to get me The Sims 2 for PC. Luckily it was compatible with Windows 98, albeit tending to crash if I ever ran other software at the same time. It was the perfect gift. Trish and I had spent hours creating ourselves and everyone we knew in the original Sims game on her family computer back in middle school. I was pumped to finally experience all the sequel had to offer, especially with the insane graphical improvements. I hadn’t been able to afford it at launch but knew Bryce had gotten it for himself on day one. Finally, I could see what all the hype was about.
Since my birthday I’d played the game whenever I had the chance. With marching band season long over I had lots more time to lock myself in my room and no-life video games. As long as I finished my homework and practiced my saxophone every once in a while, I could keep up with school just fine.
Two weeks into my save file, though, I felt like mixing up my Sims routine. Up until that point I’d mostly just messed with the pre-loaded households and made some Spider-Man characters in Create-a-Sim. That day, though, I was feeling a little nostalgic for the original Sims days.
It probably would've been more fun if I’d extended an olive branch to Trish and had her come over to join me. She really hadn’t done anything wrong – I knew my friend was just excited to hear how it had gone with him. I decided I’d call her after calming down a bit. Even upon booting up the game my temper was still sizzling.
Loading up my save, I clicked into Strangetown and opted to create a new family. The new Create-a-Sim menu was downright futuristic compared to that of the original Sims. Even on my dinosaur of a computer, through the thick glass of the old monitor, the 3D graphics piqued my excitement and creativity. Now this was a simulation of real life.
The menu prompted me to enter a family name for my new Sims. I rolled my eyes and typed in my own surname, Strath. With that out of the way I generated a teenage girl and went to work on her features. Brown hair, matching eyes, man, they really need more than four skin tones. I selected the second lightest one, close enough, and spent a good fifteen minutes sculpting Sim-Me’s facial features while looking back towards the mirror hanging from my closet door for reference. After selecting a few outfits (mainly black) that I could feasibly stand to wear in real life, I’d finally done what I should have two weeks ago and made Emory Strath, teenage Sim.
Sim Emory was a romance Sim, of course. Every Sim character had a life pursuit that they aspired to: their “aspiration”. Sim-me would absolutely aspire to find love. I pushed the real-life day’s events to the back of my mind and fully immersed myself into the possibilities of this virtual world. Sign-wise, I’m a Capricorn, but the Aquarius personality in the game fit me to a T. A bit messy, slightly shy, only moderately active, but quite playful and “nice.” Well, maybe that last one didn’t apply on that particular Friday. Usually, though, I’m not too grumpy. I guess I’d be a lot nicer if I lived in a world of scripted situations like The Sims. Anyway, virtual Emory Strath was an Aquarius.
I decided to add my mom to the Sim family as well but skipped over Dad. If I wanted the gameplay to be realistic, he wouldn’t be home more than twice a year, which is like a lifetime in the Sims. So, just me and Mom were moving to 73 Road to Nowhere. Strangetown seemed like a good fit for us despite being in the desert, the polar opposite of our real-life town in New England. Weird things always tended to happen in our neck of the Philly suburbs. Ghosts of the Revolution or something. Or maybe even spectral spirits from long before that. That aside, I just really enjoyed the NPCs of Strangetown. They all tended to be quirky and a bit off-color, just like me and my own small circle of real life friends.
My impatient anticipation led me to not spend as much time making Sim Mom’s features as accurate to real life as Sim Emory’s were. Close enough, I’d told myself. I just wanted to start playing.
It was fun getting the feel for the household made to replicate my own. The first thing I did was motherlode in enough simoleons to replicate our actual house. Yes, I was gonna use money cheats. I deserved it. The colonial style of the house didn’t quite fit with the arid setting, but, hey, Strangetown. Hours passed like minutes as I focused on each detail, from the wallpaper in the living room to the placement of windows in my bedroom. I glanced through my actual windows, away from the computer. The sun was already beginning to sink behind the trees. Oh, well.
Finally the household was ready to play. My mom’s fictional personality was a bit off and I wanted to get her into the teaching profession but started her out with food service instead. It was whatever. You could make money any which way in this game. Only in a perfect world would a dish washer get promoted to five-star chef in a matter of weeks. My own Sim did a lot of the legwork getting to know the neighbors. It was silly but a bit idyllic how hordes of townies showed up on our doorstep that first day just to say hi, not to mention everyone who continued to pass by the house with each in-game hour. Making friends off the street in real life seemed unrealistic and a bit treacherous in comparison.
“Em, dinner’s ready!” my mom’s voice broke the screentrance. I looked at the digital clock across the room, on the wooden side table next to my bed – 6:30 already? Wow. Scary how games can suck you in like that. I hit pause on Sims and pushed myself away from the desk, standing up for the first time in hours. Wobbling a little before regaining my balance, I headed out the door.
“Coming.” I headed downstairs and met my mom in the kitchen. Hamburger Helper and pasta sat in the pan on the stove and my stomach growled at the warm, savory scent in the air. Man, I hadn’t eaten in a hot minute.
Mom and I served ourselves and sat at the dining table, a step up from the stools at the counter. Four chairs, three placemats, two dinner plates, one mother and one daughter. Most days I took my food upstairs while my mom ate in front of the TV in the living room, but after hours alone it felt nice to get out of my hidey hole for a bit.
“I haven’t seen you at all today.” Mom’s voice didn’t betray any worry but I still felt a sense of guilt creeping under my skin.
I stabbed a forkful of saucy ground beef and penne before shoveling it into my mouth. “Sorry,” I mumbled through the food. “Rough day. Needed some alone time.”
Mom took a few bites in silence, not commenting on my subpar table manners. “That’s tough. Everything okay at school? I don’t remember the last time you updated me on things.” I could tell she wasn’t trying to nag but I still forced myself to suppress a twinge of annoyance.
“Um… yeah. School’s okay. It’s been a drag going back after break but, y’know. Same old.” I poked at my food a bit, searching for the most appetizing morsel I wanted to eat next.
Mom looked out the window behind her as if searching for something in the twilight. Her eyes, a darker hazel than mine, revealed nothing to me. “They’re saying a big snowstorm is on its way this weekend,” she mentioned before turning back towards me. “I’m thinking of driving over to Grandma’s tomorrow so she doesn’t have to be alone if there’s a power outage or something.”
I noshed on a huge mouthful of carbs and protein while speaking. “Okay. Sounds good.”
“Emory.”
“What?” I finally swallowed, irritation rising at Mom’s scathing tone.
She shook her head. “What would your father think of your manners?”
“He’s not here. Don’t care.” I kept eating in silence, the serenity that had enveloped me while playing my game giving way to an itchy, pestering feeling that made me feel like I had to get up and crack my neck.
Mom sighed and immediately gave up the fight. I normally wasn’t that rude, I swear, but that obnoxious Friday had really grated my nerves to a pulp. I think Mom knew she wouldn’t get anywhere if she tried to lecture me.
“Do you want to come with me? To Grandma’s, I mean?” Mom set her fork down mid-dinner just to convey her interest in my feelings, if she really had any.
I thought about it for a second, rolled it over in my mind. Grandma’s house was okay. My mom’s mom kept her pantry stocked full of snacks for me and all the cousins and had a killer board game collection. A blizzard or a power outage there wouldn’t be too bad. But on the other hand, the backyard of my house was a steep hill that could send sledders and tubers flying for a few hundred, maybe thousand, feet before coming to a stop in the field that backed up to our subdivision. The snow day scene in my neighborhood was pretty unbeatable. Plus, my house had all of my teas and coffees and, of course, my PC. I could get in some more Sims time, at least until the power went out.
I scraped up the last bit of food, chewed and swallowed before answering just to make a point that I could be a proper daughter if I wanted to. “I think I’ll stay home. The quiet house will help me focus on my homework.” Of which I didn’t really have any. Nothing due on Monday, at least.
“Alrighty then.” Mom picked her fork up once more, getting back to her meal. “Charge your cell phone tonight in case I get stranded or the power does go out. I’ll pick up some groceries early tomorrow morning; just write what you want on my list before you head back upstairs.” She gestured to the ruled notepad on the counter next to the fridge. I got up, rinsed my plate, popped it and my fork into the dishwasher, and listed out a few things I’d want for the weekend and potential snow-in. Cheez-its, chicken noodle soup, frosted Mini Wheats, some milk, maybe a couple TV dinners. Diet Coke. I paused and chewed the pen, realizing some of those things needed electricity to prepare or store. Oh well. It’d all get eaten at some point. I scribbled my questionable dietary choices onto the list.
I breathed a sigh of relief at not having to discuss The Incident with Mom and gave her a brief wave before heading back upstairs. The virtual versions of us awaited me, frozen in time where I’d left them just fifteen minutes ago. I fell into my chair once more, scooted myself up to the desk and hit play.
The real-life hours ticked by. My Sim had made it through nearly half of her teenagedom, maintained decent grades in school and threw a couple of house parties. Definitely not something that would fly in our real house, good grades non-withstanding. It was too bad I couldn’t enroll her in band class or pick up a pixelated saxophone. Then it hit me – shoot. I’d left my real saxophone in my band locker in my rush to get out of that damn school as fast as my feet could carry me. Now I wouldn’t be able to practice over the weekend, an issue compounded by the looming threat of a snow day on Monday.
I shook my head. Band auditions for next year weren’t for another two or three months, anyway. I’d be okay missing just a couple days of practice. No sense in dwelling on that or any other blunder from my day. It was barely even 7 p.m., real-world time. The night was young.
My poor Sim’s wants had always tended toward the passionate. I knew this would be the case when I chose her romantic persuasion; nevertheless, I’d been hesitant to even have Sim Emory flirt with any guy or girl who crossed our doormat or flitted by on Road to Nowhere. I guided the lonely digital soul, a sad reflection of myself, to be honest, through one more school day before deciding to finally help her find some action.
After Emmy (I’d actually typed in her name as Emmy, to differentiate her from myself since only a few people are allowed to call me that) got off the bus I tended to her hunger and hygiene needs before sitting her in front of the flat-screen TV to watch a movie. Yes, the flat screen. This was my virtual house and I was going to motherlode to my heart’s content, thank you very much. While she upped her “fun” meter I positioned the game camera to watch the Sims go by her house. MomSim (new nickname for her, too) was at work until late, so Emmy had the whole place to herself. It was the perfect opportunity for uninterrupted socialization.
The stream of townies that went by ranged from sprightly little kids to stooped-over old people with gray hair. Some of them I recognized from playing other households in Strangetown. I knew that Nervous Subject (INSANE name) had made friends with MomSim at some point when he happened upon the house a few in-game days ago. Johnny Smith was one of Bryce’s favorite pre-loaded Sims and although he was also a teenager like Emmy, I knew Johnny had something going on with Ophelia Nigmos, so I felt I had to leave well enough alone. Sorry, Emmy, alien boy is off-limits.
No one was really sparking my interest. Emmy was a projection of myself, so that wouldn’t do for her, either. My eyes, finally a little strained from staring at the monitor for so long, followed as one of the neighboring teens from two doors down walked by the replica of my house. He was one of those guys from that military household, right? The Grunt family? It was an obnoxious pun, all of their names were, really. There was Tank, Buzz, and… who was this one? I paused the game and hovered over the Sim. Ripp… Oh, right! Aww, he’s the black sheep, I think. It started to come back to me. The first time I’d ever loaded up the Grunt family household, I’d gravitated towards the sweet teenager with the floppy brown hair who always seemed to be hanging out with his little blond brother. Before I could even select an interaction for him, this other teen Sim, who I’d come to learn was his brother, Tank, with his crazy war-painted face, started arguing with Ripp. Frantically I’d searched for a social option Ripp could take to defuse the tension, but the two brothers broke out into an all-out brawl right in front of little brother Buck. Oh, no! Guys… I remembered covering my mouth with one hand as Ripp got thrashed by his bully of an older brother. Having siblings seemed hard enough, but being the middle child? I’d never survive that. After the brawl I’d spent some time forcing them to make amends, swapping between each family member including their scary General dad. No matter how many times I clicked “apologize”, it seemed like the older three Grunts were always beating up on each other. Afterwards I’d find Ripp reading a storybook to Buck or getting his mind off of things with creative pursuits like music or drawing. It really tore me up, so I hadn’t gone back to the Grunt household much since that first visit.
I still felt bad for poor Ripp, so I had Emmy get off her ass and go say hi to him. They talked outside for a while and it wasn’t lost on me how quickly they seemed to hit it off. Once the conversation got going I had Emmy and Ripp go inside to talk and listen to music. I read through the social menu options, “discuss interests” catching my eye first. It seemed like Emmy had an affinity for fine arts and culture, which was pretty true to real life. I looked away from the screen for a moment, scanning the various music posters and art prints that plastered my walls in real life. Huh. I hadn’t added those to my room in the Sims. I paused the cute conversation my characters were having to go into build mode and add some décor to Emmy’s room. This was an innocent little hang-out, but, what the hell? If Ripp ever saw her room maybe he’d like band posters. Even if not, I knew Emmy would love them.
I toggled back to live mode, went back to ReplicaHouse’s living room and watched the two Sims interact. Something I hadn’t yet seen in the game became apparent to me – they were sitting across from each other on the floor? What a nice little detail. There was a couch, comfy and gray just like the one in my real living room, but the two characters were just hanging out on the floor like real, dumb teenagers. It felt so much like an IRL hangout that my heart squeezed a little. I missed my friends. I still needed to call Trish before going to bed… I thought about pausing my game to go give her a ring from the landline in the kitchen but realized I’d probably have to tell her about Marcus while Mom was still downstairs. Well, maybe I could call from my cell… The mobile device was plugged in, just as Mom had told me to, across my room on my nightstand. I glanced at it. In a minute.
At that point I was fully absorbed with Emmy and Ripp. Thinking about how, from what I’d seen, his home life was absolutely miserable aside from hanging out with Buck, I started to feel protective of Ripp. I’m pretty sure he had some friends around the neighborhood, but he deserved to have someone close by who he could let go of all his worries with. As the two Sims talked, did some dance moves so corny that I almost had to look away, and played random, made-up games into the virtual night, I finally felt at ease with my own day. Emmy deserved him, too. Like me, she’d spent so much time and energy focusing on school and maintaining good relationships in the community. I didn’t even worry about making my SimSelf do her homework that night in the game; she’d earned the night off. I checked the in-game time – 11:30?! It was a school night! Both of these kids had a bus to catch in the morning. It was ironic how much I felt responsible for these fictional characters, almost like a parental figure. Is this how Mom feels about me? Just as the thought crossed my mind, I noticed that MomSim had gotten home from work without me realizing and was already tucked into bed. I was about to have Emmy say goodbye to Ripp but finally paid some attention to the wants listed next to her character icon.
Want – Flirt with Ripp
Want – Make out with one Sim
Want – Make a new friend
I didn’t even read the last want before glancing at her fears:
Fear – Be rejected for a Flirt with Ripp
Fear – Be rejected for ask on date
Stopping, I rolled my eyes. Yep, that last one was definitely me. A little too on the nose there, game devs. Well, this was as safe an environment as any. Would Emmy get rejected? I checked her relationship meters with Ripp, keeping an eye on the two as they played rock-paper-scissors or something in the kitchen. That was a little random. The stats told me they were already pretty good friends. Amazing. If it worked like that in real life I’d be the most popular person in the world. I paused the game and chewed my fingernail. It’s just a game, right? I shouldn’t take it personally if this random, fake guy made of pixels rejects a completely inaccurate (okay, maybe not) version of me, also made of freaking PIXELS. Hmm. Here goes nothing, I braced myself.
The “flirt” options that popped up had me blushing before I could even click on them. “Hit on?” “Caress?” “WOLF WHISTLE?!?” Oh, that is crazy. Yeah, I’d seen a couple of these while messing with other Sim families, but these were a step up from the original game. I think I clicked “hit on” and tried not to cover my eyes.
I held my breath, waiting for Ripp’s reaction. His little blue eyes softened and he seemed to give Emmy a flirty look in response. Oh! Well, that might be good… Sure enough, all sorts of heart graphics started to pop up as they continued their conversation. I felt my heartbeat in my ears as I kept prompting interactions, eyes nearly popping out of my head at all the new ones that were unlocked to me.
The in-game clock was completely ignored as I found myself forcing these two adorable dollhouse characters to fall helplessly for each other. Squeezing hugs, cute little hints, until I finally had Emmy go in for the first kiss.
The game screen cut away to a cinematic cutscene of the two awkwardly humanoid characters shyly going through probably the first virtual kiss either of their coding had ever experienced. I found myself with my hands over my heart, absolutely gushing over the saccharine lovey-doveyness of it all. Goofy faces aside, Emmy and Ripp really were an adorable couple.
Any notion of calling Trish faded from my consciousness as I continued to play through Emmy’s day-to-day life. Poor MomSim took a bit of a backseat, although still making some of her own friends around Strangetown, as I honed my focus on glowingly happy Emmy and her now-boyfriend Ripp. He always seemed to want to get out of his toxic household and spend time at ours. Ripp would leave roses at ReplicaHouse’s door, complete with notes containing rhyming couplets declaring his love for Emmy. It was so over-the-top but it somehow fit perfectly with these two romantic, artsy characters. They’d go on dates to the pool and the park, stargazing until the game clock read four or five o’clock in the morning and the simulated sun cast its digital dawn light over my characters. I know Ripp wasn’t my Sim, but at this point it felt like he was part of the Strath family. A few times I would switch over control to the Grunt household and play from his perspective. Sure enough, Tank would beat up on my – Emmy’s – inordinately gentle boyfriend whenever the ruthless older brother had the chance. So, of course I’d almost always send Ripp over to 73 Road to Nowhere as soon as he got home from school. I found myself wanting to make him happy as much as I’d wanted to do with Emmy.
It wasn’t until I noticed my eyes feeling unusually dry that I dared to check the time back in real life. 2:00 A.M. Oh, geez. My giddiness suddenly melted into fatigue as the reality of seven-plus hours of self-indulgent gaming set in. Joints in my legs popped as I stood up from the computer, letting the game run on its own for a bit. It had gotten to a point where I no longer had to monitor Emmy’s and Ripp’s actions – even amongst their other friends, they really only had eyes for each other. I stretched and felt the high of novelty finally start to wear off. Had I really spent that long pouring so much effort into a relationship between… who? An idealized version of myself and a bunch of somewhat-charming code that a 35-year-old game developer cooked up to fill out Strangetown’s roster? I guess so. Nevertheless, I hardly felt anything anymore when I thought back to Marcus’s words earlier that afternoon.
“No, I’m good. I don’t really like school dances. Sorry, Emory.”
It hadn’t been that bad. He hadn’t offended me – in fact, I guess you could say Marcus let me down easy. Whatever his real reason had been, thinking back on it didn’t really bite like it did when it first happened.
There are better people out there, I thought, sitting back down with the intention to save my game and quit for the night. People who would want to spend time with me. I just need to find… someone like Ripp, I guess. He would have gone to the dance with me, I know it. Okay, that was a goofy thought. I really needed sleep. But of course he would have; I knew how these game interactions worked and I’d played Ripp like a fiddle when I knew he and Emmy had traits toggled that made them so compatible. It was math: an algorithm. Not real chemistry between real people. That was a bit more complicated.
I watched the screen, eyes straining, as the two of them sat across from each other and talked on ReplicaHouse’s back porch. It didn’t look exactly true to life but it was close enough. I knew that someday I’d find a relationship like that, and I wouldn’t settle for any less.
Saving my progress, I could feel myself starting to slip from exhaustion into sleep as I navigated the game menu to finally quit the application. The game stuttered a bit, something it did occasionally likely due to the outdated OS, before fizzling to a screen somewhere between the Sims 2 start menu and my desktop. Weird. Sometimes it would freeze upon changing screens, especially when it got cold outside. I assumed the computer would push through and close completely to the desktop but didn’t have the patience to watch and wait. I fell into bed from the desk chair and let my eyes shut completely, resigning myself to keeping the PC in sleep mode overnight.
Visions of the glorious 3D ReplicaHouse danced behind my eyelids as I drifted through that precarious place between asleep and awake. I caught a glimpse of my reflection, either in a window or a mirror, my features glossy yet blocky, shaded with a CRT-like filter. Emmy. I looked away and immediately saw Ripp next to me, identifiable mainly by his sparkling blue eyes full of nothing but overwhelming infatuation.
“I love you, Emory!” my brain caught onto the English words, something that felt disjointed and uncanny in the cyberspace.
I heard myself speaking from far away, in Emmy’s charmingly girlish voice. “I love you too, Ripp.”
That’s the last thing I remember from… before.