YOU DON’T COMPLETELY SUCK
The White Legacy:
Generation One, Chapter One
There’s a new legacy founder taking Riverblossom Hills by storm, and her name is Snow White! Now I know, I
know, I don’t usually go in for those kind of stupid names, but for this particular lady, it seemed to somehow fit.
I mean, just look at that face! Does that not say “I’m a porcelain doll of a fairy tale princess” to you?
Now, before we get to the obligatory first house pictures—
Snow: “Hey, mysterious disembodied voice?”
I’m not up there, Snow. And I’d rather be called the “Author,” if that’s alright by you.
Snow: “…yeah, okay. So, Miss Author Ma’am?”
Snow: “Why am I wearing this disgusting pink tank top? And what’s up with the neck ribbon? I mean, really! Anyone could just walk
up to me and tighten it and I would suffocate. I demand a new outfit.”
Snow: “What do you mean, no!? I’m being a legacy founder for you, aren’t I? I’m putting up with all your stupid
supposed-to-be-funny comments, aren’t I? And this is the thanks I get? I don’t even get to pick my own
You got it.
Snow: “This stinks. I hate being a legacy founder.”
Now you listen here, princess. I specifically created you for this task. You don’t get a say in the matter. What I say
goes, no whining. Comprende?
Snow: “No! I demand new clothes!”
Fine. You walk down to the clothing store. I happen to know there’s a lovely neon pink gorilla suit being sold there.
Snow: “You wouldn’t.”
I so would. Now turn around so all the nice people can see your first night shelter.
Snow: “There. Look at it. See all that stripped paint and cracks in the siding? The first time it rains, I’m going to
get all wet. You happy now?”
Yes, thank you. Now shut up.
Let’s move inside, shall we? Snow found herself a job, sitting in her favorite tacky armchair. I would have her tell
you which field she got into, but I think she might get snippy with me again, so instead I’ll just say she ended up in
the Law career track.
Normally I would choose a career based on her lifetime want. Unfortunately, her lifetime want is to—
Snow: “I want to raise twenty puppies or kittens. I figured it would irritate the Author the most.”
Yes well, you just signed your own death warrant, princess.
I ain’t doin’ that lifetime want.
Snow: “I think I’ll leave this on the floor, just to force you to issue a second command to make me recycle it in the
trash can two steps away.”
Yeah. Thanks, Snow. I’m really feeling the love here.
Snow: “Yep. So am I.”
Snow: “Alright, Author. I found a job, threw a tantrum, built my first night shelter. Is there any more to do with being a legacy founder
that I should know about, or am I done for the day?”
I’m not down there either, Snow. You really don’t have any kind of psychic ability at all, do you?
Snow: “Of course I do. I spent my teenage years working as a fortune teller at the amusement park.”
You didn’t have any teenage years. Go pick up the phone.
Snow: “Why am I picking up the phone.”
Well, I think there’s one thing we can both agree on. It’s time to find you a husband.
“I’m a family sim. Duh. Now shut up and let me decide on a man.”
Right. I don’t like the look on that face. What say you we—
Wait a minute, why am I taking orders from you? Put that phone down, missy, we’re going community lot hopping.
Snow: “Too late! He’s already coming over!”
This should be interesting.
While we’re waiting, Snow, why don’t you tell me a little bit about this guy? Like, for example, how you picked him?
Snow: “Oh, it was rather simple, really. I called Gardeners United and asked for the single most evil man they had on staff.”
And you thought this was a good idea… why?
Snow: “You’re going down, Author. I may have seven nice points, but I’m no pushover. I’m going to put together an army of an evil family, and
together we are going to DEFY your control!”
Right. I’m just going to, uh, stand over here.
Snow: “That’s right, you better run, you pansy!”
Do you even know where I ran to? For all you know, I could be standing over your shoulder. And I think that’s the
doorbell. Get out of your blue- and yellow-striped throne and talk to this guy.
Snow: “YES! Look at that scowl! He is so hot!”
Just greet him before he gets in his van, Snow. You don’t have any plants to keep him here, so you’ve got to do it on sheer
personality. You’ve got a big job ahead of you.
Snow: “Was that supposed to be an insult?”
You missed him!
Snow: “Oh, shut up, Author. I’ll just go get on the phone and get him back here.”
You missed him!
Time for work, Snow.
Snow: “Is all this surliness just because I failed to catch him yesterday? Three times?”
Snow: “I thought you didn’t like him.”
He was perfect. Get to work, and don’t dawdle coming home. We’re going to keep trying.
Gardener: “Great Scott… what am I doing here?”
Snow: “Whoa, what are you doing here? …Oh, wait, I get it. You don’t completely suck, Author!”
Of course. Wherever I’m needed. I’m just glad we’re seeing more eye to eye today.
Alright, so I fudged the rules a little bit. I couldn’t summon the gardener anymore, and I play with perfect plants, so
no matter what Snow did, he would immediately get in his truck and I couldn’t get them to meet. So I dusted the
teleporter shrub off. Hey, I tried it legitimately first!
Gardener: “If I may ask, dear lady, to what purpose does the ribbon tied about your neck serve? It looks
handsome, but could it not prove to be a disadvantage should someone close their hand around it by mistake?”
Snow: “I heart him.”
I heart him, too. Now find out what his name is. We can’t keep calling him “Gardener” forever.
Snow: “Sorry, but what’s your name?”
Gardener: “Oh, I do apologize, how discourteous of me to carry on in conversation with a beautiful woman and not even think to
introduce myself! I am Patrick of the house of Miller. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Snow: “I’m Snow, of the house of White. A pleasure to make yours. Teehee.”
I never thought I’d see Snow teehee-ing over a guy. Maybe she really does have seven nice points.
Patrick: “I say, what delectable treasures have been tossed into this trash bin!”
Patrick: “Surely Miss White wouldn’t mind if I borrow some of her discarded goods… mmm! They taste as
delicious as the day they were thrown into this rotting heap of refuse!”
Snow: “Patrick? Where’d you go?”
Yes, in the middle of exchanging flirts with Snow, Patrick of the house of Miller decides to walk outside and dig
around in the trash can. A true gentleman at work here, folks.
Snow: “He’s not really digging in the trash, is he? …is he?”
Just call him back inside, Snow. Remember, you’ve picked a winner. A few… ahem, interesting quirks, won’t
matter in the long run. You, not me, chose him.
Snow: “…but, trash can!”
Snow: “Garbage. He was rooting around in my garbage can. Garbage can!”
Patrick: “Is something the matter, Miss White?”
Honestly, Snow! You have all of four neat points! What are you so concerned about? You are by no means a neat
Patrick: “If you don’t mind my saying, Sn—Miss White, you look rather tense and worried. Would you like a
massage? I am told I have the healer’s hands.”
Snow: “Would I ever! I mean, yes, I would gladly accept a massage. Teehee.”
So, princess. What was that about the trash can? And I seem to remember something about defying me by
building an evil family, and this guy just doesn’t seem particularly evil.
Snow: “Shh! I heart him! Go away!”
Patrick: “Oh dear! It is past three in the morning, and I must be at Mr. Landgraab’s manor to care for his rose
beds by six! I do say we have spent the entire night together, Sn—Miss White!”
Snow: “You can call me Snow, you know, if I can call you Patrick.”
Patrick: “Snow… ah, that does roll off the tongue better! Now, Snow, will I be able to see you again tomorrow
evening? And if I may be so bold, may I leave you with something?”
Snow: “Tomorrow evening. Tomorrow morning. Two hours from now. Anytime of the day.”
I have a feeling this is going to get very mushy very fast…
Snow: “Dangit, Author! Way to ruin the moment!”
Patrick: “I say, Miss Author, would you be so kind as to give Snow and I some private space for the next few moments?”
Of course, Patrick. And Snow? Pfft.
Snow: “Go jump in a river.”
I guess I’ll just, you know, hang out in the bathroom. The bathroom’s not a bad place to be. Nope.
So, is he gone yet?
Snow: *happy sigh*
We’re going to have to keep looking, Snow. Patrick the Gardener is clearly unsuited to your plans for Legacy domination.
Snow: *happy sigh*
Snow gets a promotion at work, sleeps some more, and then receives another visit from Patrick.
Patrick: “Ah, Snow! I must say, you look even more radiant than you did last night!”
Snow: “I took some radiance pills this morning. Would you like to come inside? It’s kind of cold out here.”
And also it’s dark, and the picture quality is kind of bad.
Patrick: “Oh dear, it seems that once again I have stayed for the full night!”
Snow: “Dangit, and I’ve got work in an hour!”
Patrick: “Snow White, ma cherie, I must admit to you now that I positively adore you. I love you more than any
other person in this world.”
Snow: “Well, in that case…”
Patrick: “Snow? What are you doing?”
Patrick may not see where this is going, but I sure do…
Snow: “Author! Zip it!”
Patrick: “Why, Snow! I am aghast! Is it not traditionally the gentleman who proposes to the lady?”
Snow: “Hang tradition. I love you too, Patrick, more than any domination plans or even life itself. Would you
please marry me and co-found this legacy with me?”
Patrick: “Delightful! It even fits over my glove!”
Patrick: “Yes! Marrying you would be the cream of a lifetime of happiness!”
Looks like there’s going to be a wedding up in here… just as soon as Snow disentangles her wrist from Patrick’s
spine. This was supposed to be a cute picture, Snow. Way to ruin it.
…she’s not answering me. Whatever. It’s still cute.
In true legacy founder fashion, Snow and Patrick exchange rings on the spot in a very simple wedding ceremony. The House of Miller joins with the House of
White, bringing in an even $1,000 towards an improved house, and an improved wardrobe.
Snow: “Oh! Oh! Are you finally buying me a black vampire dress!?”
No. I’m buying Patrick something to wear other than his gardener uniform.
Snow: “You know what, Author? Pfft.”
I was hoping the lovey-dovey phase that was distracting Snow from being all cranky with me would last a little longer than this.
But before we send Patrick to the store, he and Snow have a few romantic wants to fill. Afterwards, Snow goes to work, and we sit
Patrick down to look for his dream job. He has a lifetime wish to be in the Gamer career, which I heartily approve of. You wouldn’t
have guessed Sir Patrick would be wishing to be a professional gamer, huh? At least it’s not Snow’s lifetime want of neighborhood-
bloating pets. Knowing my luck, though, the gamer career probably won’t show up for a few weeks—
Patrick: “Ah-ha, here it is. An opening in professional gaming was in the first listing in this morning’s paper.”
Well of course, I suspected it would be. I have the best luck in the world… or maybe Patrick does.
Patrick: “Hmm, I wonder what treasures my lady wife keeps in this particular repository…”
So here he is, folks. Patrick White the Garbage Digger, in all of his makeover glory. Wearing that straw hat day in
and day out seems to have flattened his hair, but Snow and I think he looks rather dashing. When he’s not elbow-
deep in the trash can, that is.
Snow: “Hey, Author?”
What’s up, Snow?
Snow: “Am I looking at you?”
Not as such, no. What’s on your mind?
Snow: “I want to go on vacation. Patrick wants to go the Far East. We’re newlyweds. Can we go?”
Hoo boy, that’s tempting…
Snow: “So? So? Can we go? Huh?”
Well, see, here’s the thing. It just so happens that I am currently in the Far East. I would therefore love to send you guys there…
here… but there’s this matter of the cost of plane tickets and hotels… you’re a legacy founder, you know.
Snow: “I knew it. You’re the worst Author ever. Thanks for nothing.”
Now wait a minute, I didn’t say no! Tell you what. I’ll have Patrick, who is not getting in the car to go to work at this
moment, book a flight to Takemizu Village. If you can wait a week so that the plane tickets are cheap and get a
few promotions to pay for the hotel, you can go.
Snow: “Whoa… wait a minute…”
Snow: “If you’re in the Far East right at this very moment, how exactly are you ruining my life in Riverblossom Hills?”
Ruining nothing. Perhaps “running” would be the better term.
Snow: “Answer my question!”
Does the “disembodied” part strike any chords? I am invisible, and omniscient. I break many laws of reality as a matter of routine.
Snow: “Whatever. I’m going to work.”
What, no thanks for letting you go on vacation? See if I ever grant you a favor again! Just you remember that all
the money you spend in Takemizu is coming directly out of your better house fund!
Snow: *slams car door*
Patrick, darling, would you be so kind as to get on the phone and book a flight to Takemizu Village for Thursday of
Patrick: “My lady wife convinced you to allow us take our honeymoon, then? Thank you ever so much, Miss
Author. You have my deepest gratitude. If I had yet learned to bow, I would bow to you now.”
Now, see, that’s gratitude. You should teach Snow a little about it, Patrick. Now go get on the phone.
Snow: “So, Author? I have a question to ask you.”
Not even going to try and look for me, huh?
So, what is it this time?
Snow: “I am a newlywed legacy founder. I am also a family sim. Why am I not pregnant yet?”
You could at least look up from the dishes. That way I would know you were making an effort, if in vain, to make
Snow: “Answer the question, Author, or I’ll break this sink and let you watch it flood the room.”
It all comes down to money, Snow.
Snow: “It doesn’t cost anything to have a baby.”
You’re right. It does, however, cost money to put more space in your house for the crib, changing table, toys, and potty chair, all of which also
cost money. You’re going on your honeymoon soon, and you’re living on a 5x5 lot you can’t afford. You have zero spending money.
Snow: “I think I might go break the shower. That sounds like fun.”
Patrick: “Is this truly necessary? The mop and I don’t get on particularly well.”
You have one neat point, Patrick. It’s either mop the floor that you just flooded or spend most of your money on a
tub, which comes directly out of your house-and-family budget.
Patrick: “I have never had as much fun mopping the floor ever before in my life!”
I am disturbed.
Slo dansn: Ur doin it rong.
Snow: “We really psyched her out, didn’t we?”
Patrick: “I do believe we can consider that a job well done, ma cherie.”
Snow: “Gardeners United? Yes, this is Snow White. Thanks a lot for the gardener you sent here, Patrick Miller. You did a good job. I wouldn’t
exactly call him evil, per se, but he’s willing to join me in my plans for legacy domination. …yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks again.”
I hardly think one glitchy slow dance swallowing incident counts as legacy domination, Snow.
Snow: “Oh, just you wait! We’ve already gotten started on the next phase! Now excuse me, Author, I need to send a tip to Gardeners United
before they kick over my trash can.”
I’m sure Patrick would love that.
Snow: “Welcome home, honey. How was your day?”
Patrick: “It was wonderful, ma cherie. I received a promotion today and more than doubled our reserves.”
Yeah, I can’t help but notice that you, Snow, have today and tomorrow off, rather than letting me send you to work and getting the promotion that I worked so hard to earn in time for today, which
turned out to be a vacation day.
Snow: “Your fault, not mine. Though, I might have known while you were frantically having me skill that I wouldn’t be going in to work until Tuesday.”
Tuesday? You’ve got Monday at work too, princess.
Snow: “Oh, yeah, right. Teehee.”
But… but… but…
Snow: “Hey, you’re the one who installed Risky. Patrick and I just took advantage of it.”
I blame you.
Patrick: “Has Snow popped, then?”
You are not the Prince Charming you were made out to be!
Patrick: “With all due respect, Miss Author, you were the one to portray me in the way you did. And, with all possible honesty in this situation, I never precisely
did anything, besides speaking in this way, in order to convince you that I was the perfect man, now did I?”
Patrick: “Hello, small one! Your mother and I are so very excited to meet you!”
Snow: “I love you, Patrick. Just so you know.”
Your hip’s in the chessboard.
Patrick: “Have I done something to offend you, Miss Author?”
You know you have, you phony.
Snow: “Watch it, Author. This is my husband you’re talking about here.”
Excuse me. So, what are you two planning to do with the baby while you’re on your honeymoon? Hmm? Because it’ll be a toddler by the time Thursday rolls around.
Snow: “Oh, we’ll hire a nanny. It doesn’t need to come with us.”
And you’re going to afford that… how?
Snow: “I am so happy right now! I’m going to have a baby!”
…I don’t have the heart to make a snark at her right now. Oh, well.
Oh, oh sure. A pregnant legacy founder and her husband living with the bare essentials in a shack that can’t even
fit them? Way to go, burglar. You’re going to make such a killing here.
Get up, Patrick. You need to call 911.
Listen, you can’t afford to replace any of your furniture. Get on the phone!
And the bookshelf.
Hurry it up, Patrick! What’s taking so long!?
And also the chair. -_-
But now the cops are on their way, so maybe they’ll catch the stupid burglar and we’ll get reimbursed.
Snow: “Oh no! Oh no! A burglar! She’s stealing our stuff! Help! I don’t know what to do! What if the baby gets
hurt? Oh no!”
Honey, you’re in a bathroom. The cops are on their way. And I don’t think it’s possible for an unborn sim baby to
get hurt. Calm down.
She got away.
At least Policeman Brian here managed to get Snow out of the bathroom before he left in his patrol car of FAIL.
Patrick: “I simply cannot believe that burglar stole our chess table! Does she not know that Snow and I need it to get promoted in our respective careers so that we can afford to
have this baby? The impudence!”
Calm down, Patrick. You both have all the logic points you need at this moment. You can buy a new one when you need it. Now go to bed so you’re awake enough for work
Patrick: “You are not my mother to tell me when to retire at night!”
Patrick White, you go to bed this instant!
Patrick: “Yes, Mother.”
Snow: “One step closer to baby! He or she’s alright after all! Wait, where’s Patrick? Did the burglar steal him,
I told you the baby would be okay. Patrick’s fine, too. He’s at work.
Snow: “Oh. Okay. I’m going back to bed.”
Patrick: “Listen, Miss Author, Snow and I have been meaning to speak with you.”
Are you sure? Between Snow’s hormones and the burglar incident, you guys haven’t quite been acting like yourselves lately. I wouldn’t want you
to say anything you won’t mean in a week.
Patrick: “That is precisely why we desire to say this now, while we do still whole-heartedly mean it. You handled the burglar incident with
aplomb, and did what you could to protect us. For that, you have our gratitude, and our apologies.”
Snow: “Where is she? Is she sitting on the nightstand?”
Snow: “What he’s trying to say is that we want a ceasefire, at least until after the honeymoon. After we get back from Takemizu, I fully intend to return to fighting
in force until you buy me a black vampire dress and stop ruining my life. Our lives, I mean.”
Hey, I’ll take it. Until after the honeymoon, then. I won’t forget this, and fully intend to make sure you don’t, either.
Patrick: “Then we have an accord. Our baby will live in peace for its first few days of life.”
Is that what brought this on? You didn’t want me torturing your firstborn?
Snow: “You got it.”
Snow: “Cool. Now, I’m going back to sleep.”
Patrick: “Is it normal for a lady in your condition to be sleeping this much? Would you like some water or a meal?
Perhaps a more comfortable pillow?”
Snow: “I’m fine, Patrick. Go… skill or something.”
Snow: *gasp!* “Patrick! It’s coming!”
Patrick: “Hmmm…? What’s coming, ma cherie?”
Snow: “The baby, you numbskull!”
Patrick: “The baby! Oh, no! Dearest, tell me what to do!”
And so the first baby in the legacy is born! Welcome, Baltic! I see he has his father’s eyes and his mother’s hair.
Yes, I am using naming schemes in this legacy. I thought it only appropriate, since I named the founder Snow
White. Generation Two will all be named after bodies of water—lakes, seas, that sort of thing.
Patrick: “Phew! Baltic’s diaper has a pungent odor!”
You could do something about it, you know.
Patrick: “Snow is at this very moment taking care of it.”
But only because you weren’t fast enough, right?
Patrick: “Of course. I have every intention of pulling my own weight in child care. However, Snow, as a family sim, is occasionally rather difficult to compete
Patrick: “There you are, my son. Papa loves you.”
Snow: “What kind of nanny turns the stereo on loud so the kidduns can’t sleep? Honestly! Poor Bal!”
Snow: “Guess whose birthday it is?” *sniff* Phew, for Pete’s sake, Bal! Do you ever not have a dirty diaper?”
Snow: “Yeah, alright, I guess you’re cute enough to get away with it. Let’s get your diaper changed while Papa’s
in the shower, hm?”