Mission Highly Unlikely: Mission Complete

[Schipperke]

Prologue, Part I

Diary Entry:

Blame my father.  It all started with him.  He's the one who caused everyone's hopes and dreams to crumble.  Yeah, dear old Dad.



I could have been Dynasty Boy – rich, privileged, immortal, and famous.  My family was on track to be one of the most successful Dynasties of all time.  People were even starting to mention our name in the same breath as the Dreamweavers.  When Generation 6, my father, became a teenager, his father took him aside to explain things.  “My boy, now that you're growing up, you need to understand your responsibilities to the Dynasty.”  Responsibilities?  Dad didn't like the sound of that.  Grandpa went on to talk about Supermaxing a skill, with Dad becoming increasingly dismayed.  And by the time Grandpa was done explaining about the level 10 career, Dad had made up his mind:  No Way.  Being constitutionally averse to work, Dad couldn't see the sense in shackling himself to a job and skill treadmill just so he could live forever as a bent-over old Sim – he wanted to enjoy his youth. 

In vain, Grandpa tried to convince Dad to do his duty as first-born Sim.  Dad refused to be convinced.  Grandma pleaded, Great-Grandma cajoled, Great-Great-Grandma wheedled.  Grandpa threatened, Great-Grandpa blustered, even the Founder got involved.  To no avail.  King Metropolis, overseer of Dynasties, was consulted to see if just this once, an exception could be granted to allow the second-born to inherit.  The answer was No.  If the first-born didn't fulfill his responsibilities, the Dynasty was over.  Not just out of the Hall of Fame, Over.  As in, dead as a doornail.

Just like that, everything the previous five generations had worked for was gone.  Kaput, done, finished.  The five generations did not take this crashing blow lightly.  Think about it:  all the work they had done to get to this point, completely undone by a “lazy, good-for-nothing wastrel too selfish to think about anyone but himself.”  The family's name was removed from the Registry of Dynasties-in-Progress.  The five generations quietly disappeared into oblivion.  And Dad?  They kicked him to the curb.  Banished forever, nevermore to darken their doorway.

And so my father became a remittance man, paid a small monthly stipend on condition that he leave town and never return.

Dad moved to Hidden Springs and embarked on a merry round of parties, nectar, and mooching off friends.  Lazy as he was, Dad always had a certain success with the ladies.  Attracted by his charm and good looks, women always seemed to think they might be able to “make something of him.”  And one of these women finally managed to convince him to get married – my Mother.



Mother was a good woman, earnest, ambitious, and hard-working.  It didn't take long for her to realize that if the household was going to survive, it would have to be through her efforts.  She got a job, worked hard, got promotions, and at the end of the work day she came home to a relaxing evening of cooking, cleaning and unclogging the toilet.



In the fullness of time, I was born.  My parents both loved me very much.  Of course, it was Mother who taught me my toddler skills and later made sure I did my homework and ate properly.  But Dad was a great buddy.  We played together, went fishing, enjoyed our favourite television programs together, and waited for Mother to come home to make our dinner and repair the shower.



Dad died just as I was becoming a Young Adult, and Mother and I were bereft.  Mother missed him so much she couldn't bear to go on without him, and soon followed Dad to the grave.

Orphaned, I drowned my sorrows in the only way I know how – parties and nectar.  Hidden Springs hadn't seen such parties since the days of my father's youth.  I managed to catch the eye of a certain young lady.  What she saw in me, I have no idea, but she seems to have decided that the love of a good woman was what was needed to set me on the right track.  And she began her campaign of making something of me.  Somehow, I woke up married one morning with no clear idea of just how things had reached that point.  My new wife took a job, “just until the children come and you can find yourself the right position, darling.”  Then our daughter was born, and she was the most wondrous, glorious child ever.  We named her Ashynna, meaning shining light, which she was.

   

Ashynna was my delight.  After her mother had fed and bathed her, Ashynna and I spent many joyful hours playing together.  But my marriage was deteriorating rapidly.  Unlike Mother, my wife was not prepared to do all the work.  When her efforts to convince me to get a job or help out around the house came to nothing, my wife grew first angry, then sad, and then eventually resigned.  She sued for divorce.  She convinced the courts that I was an unfit parent and unable to support myself and Ashynna, and she was given sole custody of our daughter.  She and Ashynna left town for parts unknown.



How could I go on without my shining light?  My daughter, she for whom the birds sang their sweetest songs, she whose smile could dispel all darkness, whose every action was a joy to behold.  And even if I could go on without her, why would I want to?  Plunged into the depths of despair, I reverted to my old partying ways.  These parties had a very small, select guest list – me, myself and I, and numerous bottles of the cheapest nectar available.   Unlike dear old Dad, I had no monthly allowance to keep me going.  Soon my only social contact was with Repo woman, who just shook her head pityingly as she vacuumed up one after another of my possessions. 



Even the birds seemed to mock me with their incessant song of “cheap, cheap, cheap.”  I didn't care.  And so I continued on my downward spiral.  The dirt and grime built up and it was a toss-up which was filthier:  my house or I myself.





Eventually the neighbours complained that my garbage-strewn yard was damaging their property values and I had a visit from a policeman who delivered a stern lecture.  I was fast wearing out my welcome in my home town.



Did I care about any of it?  No.  I just drowned my sorrows in another bottle of cheap nectar.

Then one day a man in grey came to the house.

[JudesSims]

Cool! A Schipperke story!

[Gogowars329]

Ooh! This is very interesting. I'm sure that anyone who has read a Schip story knows who is coming.

[Louise56]

Awesome start! I can wait to read more.

[saltpastillen]

Can't wait for more!

[Audren]

Yay! Another Schipperke story!  Is our protagonist's father from the Ataseurks, or a different Dynasty altogether?

[sdhoey]

Oh boy!! I can't wait to read more ..

[Schipperke]

Is our protagonist's father from the Ataseurks, or a different Dynasty altogether?

Someone who remembers the ill-fated Otokrak Dynasty!  I did wonder if "Dad" might have come from that Dynasty, but decided there was no way the Otokraks were even close to the league of the Dreamweavers.  So I think "Dad's" Dynasty must have been another one.  But since their name was expunged from the Registry, I don't imagine we'll ever know for sure.

I'm sure that anyone who has read a Schip story knows who is coming.

Yes, I imagine that's true.  As I was writing this, it crossed my mind that I was being quite predictable, having the man in grey turn up every time.  Especially considering he was originally only intended to be a one-use character and I didn't even bother thinking up a first name for him!  It's almost as if the old boy has a life of his own.  All my story ideas these days seem to require his involvement.   

But I do think this may be the biggest challenge the old boy and I have ever taken on.  Thanks for the interest, everyone, and I should have the next update ready in the next day or so.

[saltpastillen]

Don't worry about being to predictable, that old boy is already a classic, and a classic never goes out of style.

[Schipperke]

Well thanks, saltpastillen.  And I do think that if ever a story required the man in grey's involvement, this one does.  I would probably have never have considered doing a story like this one if not for him.  Which makes me wonder who's in charge here, him or me.  Hmmm ... better not try to answer that one, my ego might not like the answer! 

[RainBeau]

Yes, he has his work cut out for him this time! Anytime someone doesn't know how to take care of themselves and is too selfish, he can lend a hand. I thought the failed Dynasty opening was hysterical. Good job on that creative idea

[Schipperke]

Prologue, Part II

Diary Entry:

One afternoon I was having a refreshing snooze on the park bench I acquired after my couch had been repossessed.  Something caused me to awaken, and I looked up to see a man in grey standing looking at me.



I couldn't figure out who this fellow was or why he was watching me so intently.  He wasn't dressed like the Repo agents, he didn't look like a policeman, and who else would be paying a call on me?  I wondered if he was a local politician, come to tell me they were repossessing my house and I had to get out of town.  I struggled awake, as the man made himself at home on my one remaining chair.



His lip curling in distaste, the man said, "How can you stand to live like this?  Filthy surroundings, flies buzzing around - don't you find it disgusting?"  He sighed heavily and continued, "Well, I needed a slob and there's no doubt you qualify."

He needed a slob?  I was beginning to think the old boy was a bit touched in the head.  Perhaps he had just wandered off from the GO Treatment Centre*.  Should I call the police to take him back?  Then again, I didn't really want to do anything to draw police attention to myself.  I decided to just let him rattle on and maybe he'd leave on his own.  Which I hoped would be soon, as there were a couple of bottles of nectar on the kitchen counter calling my name.



The old fellow continued talking:  "Are you a student of history?  Silly question, I can see you're not a student of anything except cheap nectar.  So you may not have heard of the great meteorite disaster that  ended the Clan Douglas Dynasty*.  It is believed that the Douglas family managed to escape to some unknown destination, but the town they lived in was completely destroyed."



What a strange old fellow.  Did he really imagine this ancient history would be of any interest to anyone younger than Methuselah?  I yawned and thought longingly of the bottle of Werewolf's Blood I had just acquired.  It was reputed to be the strongest nectar available in its price range, and I was eager to put that claim to the test.

He continued, "But forgive me for not introducing myself.  My name is Mr Payne."  I was about to tell him my name when he hastily held up a hand, saying "Please - don't say your name.  I know who you are, and we can't be too sure who might be listening."



I sighed.  Of all the houses the old loon could have dropped in on to vent his paranoid delusions, he had to walk in on me. 

He resumed his tale, "Some of the town's residents were killed in the meteorite shower.  But the destruction wrought by the meteorites was as nothing compared to what was to come.  The town needed to be rebuilt, and the forces of Evil sensed an opportunity.  They would rebuild the town according to their own preferences.  Evil Sims from everywhere converged on the town.  Soon the accumulated evil in the town was such that Good Sims could no longer bear to live there; they departed en masse, and the Evil Sims laughed as their hold on the town was thus solidified."

Well, the old boy was obviously quite a storyteller, but I couldn't see any reason for him to be wasting my time with this fantastic story.  So I asked him, "What does all this have to do with me?  Why are you telling me this?"

*links in my signature

[Audren]

Someone who remembers the ill-fated Otokrak Dynasty!  I did wonder if "Dad" might have come from that Dynasty, but decided there was no way the Otokraks were even close to the league of the Dreamweavers.  So I think "Dad's" Dynasty must have been another one.  But since their name was expunged from the Registry, I don't imagine we'll ever know for sure.

Oops! Atasuerk was the founder's first name, not her last. Doink! 

Don't worry about your beginnings being predictable. This is the best Payne beginning yet! I'm very curious to see what his plan is, and how our protagonist (I really need to think of a nickname for him. Nectarman? No, that doesn't sound good.  ) is related to it.

[Louise56]

I wonder why Mr. Payne needs a slob? I can't wait to read more.

[Schipperke]

Prologue, Part III

Diary Entry:

The old man gazed at me in his strange, compelling way.  He said, "The town needs to be reclaimed.  The forces of Evil cannot be allowed to triumph.  If Evil gets a foothold in the Sim world, it's only a matter of time until it will spread to other towns.  'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.'*  Tell me, what are your traits?"

Well, I thought that was a bit nosey of the old boy.  I mean, he wanders uninvited into my house and trots out this fantastic story, and I'm supposed to just tell him all?  I don't think so.  I said nothing.



He sighed and said, "Never mind.  I'll tell you.  Your traits are Slob, Childish, Couch Potato, Handy and Good.  Unlikely as it seems, several of those traits are just what we need.  I don't suppose you'd consider having some of your traits changed?  I can do it without you having to pay for a SWAP treatment - it wouldn't hurt at all."

Change?  He wanted me to change?  Now he was beginning to sound like my ex-wife, and I thought I'd better squelch this nonsense firmly.  "Absolutely not," I told him.

He rolled his eyes and muttered something about "Sims have to want to change."  Then he said, "Now, about your Lifetime Wish.  You realize that drinking all the nectar in a bottomless cellar is not a proper Lifetime Wish for a Sim?"



The old boy was really beginning to bore me.  I tuned him out, barely noticing when he said, "You will have to have a proper Lifetime Wish.  It is required.  Let's see - what shall it be?"  I said nothing.  He said, "I know!  Renaissance Sim.  That will give you plenty to aim for.  Do you have any skills at all?"

At this point I would have told him anything he wanted to know, in hopes of getting him to leave.  I told him I had a couple points of Piano skill, from the lessons my Mother made me attend as a child.

He responded, "Excellent!  That will be your cover story - you'll be an itinerant musician, playing for tips.  That will make it easier for you to meet people and nobody will see you as a threat.  Now, I want you to be particularly cautious around this woman.  She is the most powerful Sim in town, very politically influential, and totally evil.  You could say she's the queen of the evil empire.  She has a big book that she studies from time to time.  Nobody else has ever been allowed to look at it, so no-one knows what is written there.  Some believe the book contains the secrets to her evil power.  Others think it contains information her spies have collected for her to use against Sims in town."



"Other Sims are required to pay obeisance to her.  Sims can sometimes get on her good side by flattering her - she loves to be told how wonderful she is.  This is Gunther Goth.  The Goth family were permitted to stay in town, despite having no Evil members.  Their friendship with Vita made the difference."



"Here you see Boyd Wainwright trying to get on Vita's good side and being rejected.  The Wainwrights were gone from town the next day."



"This is Thornton Wolff, whose efforts to please Vita were also unsuccessful.  Although the Wolff's banishment probably had a lot to do with Thornton's wife Morgana having the Good trait."



"It was a member of Vita's own family who contacted the Elders' Council and made it possible for us to  intervene.  Holly is one of only two Good Sims left in town - they were allowed to stay because of their family connections.  I'm not sure who the other one is; you'll have to find out when you get there."

"When you get there?"  Well, honestly - this was the limit!  I'm an easy-going sort of bloke, but who was this old buzzard to wander in and start planning my life without so much as a by-your-leave?

I was getting ready to show him to the door when he continued relentlessly:  "You can't stay here any longer in any case, you know.  Town Hall is preparing an eviction notice even as we speak.  And where will you go?  You have no money and no friends.  Do you want to live out your days as a Bin Sim, ignored and unwanted, hoping someone will one day care to bring you to life?"



They were going to kick me out of my house?  Could they really do that?  And how would this strange old fellow know something like that?  What would I do?  Much as I hated to admit it, the old guy was pretty much bang-on with his assessment of my circumstances.

While all this was going through my head, he was still talking:  "I know this is too much for you to take in all at once.  I'll write the rest of it down and you can read it after you arrive.  Now, you'll need to take a Handiness class and a Charisma class before you go.  There's just time for you to attend both classes before your flight departs.  Oh, and don't worry about where you'll live.  There's a good-sized house that we were able to get quite cheaply when the old vampire that used to live there passed on.  It sat on the market for a long time because the Evil Sims thought it looked like a big bird of prey coming after them.  Evil is essentially cowardly, remember that.  Bullies may seem strong but they have a way of crumbling when Good Sims stand up to them."

Diary Entry Ends.

So our hero, accustomed to always follow the path of least resistance, found himself being hustled off to class.



And Mr Payne, looking after the young man, could only scratch his head.  Was there any hope at all of success with such an unpromising hero?  "Mission Highly Unlikely" was Mr Payne's assessment of the situation.



*Edmund Burke, 18th Century Irish Philosopher and Politician