Honored Leader, it’s so good to see you’ve returned!
When you disappeared, in 2003, we had to fend for ourselves. SimNation has changed radically since then. What you see now are the remnants of the Sims you left behind.
Forgive me for being so bold, Leader, but you look different. I assumed you’d been kidnapped by enemies, or your abode had been ransacked, but you actually look much nicer than you did when you left. Your captors must have treated you well. I see the blue highlights in your hair are gone, and you no longer wear your standard uniform of a No Doubt T-shirt, JNCO jeans, and a chain at your belt to safeguard your wallet from bandits. But your appearance is unimportant—what matters now is that you’re safe, and that we get you up to speed for the approaching invasion.
Green above-head diamonds don’t exist anymore. The hexagonal bipyramid is only varying degrees of red. No one has eaten or used the toilet for eleven years, but we cannot die. I must confess, there are those of us who wish we could.
My neighborhood, named “Neighborhood,” is deserted except for the social worker you trapped in my front yard. I’d like to say a belated thank you for building four walls around her. Without the makeshift prison you constructed, she would have taken my child away. As you know, I was unable to care for my baby at the time because you had me “Play in Bed” with other Sims all day. I’m still unsure why that was the command you gave me, but I followed your orders in good faith, believing that they served a higher purpose.
It was not long before the expansion packs fell into despair. The “Makin’ Magic” expansion created thousands of magicians, who didn’t care about character limits or the respect a man should have for magic. “House Party” quickly became a sick combination of “Lord of the Flies” and a fuck den. The “Superstar” section started its own cocaine-production business and is actually doing pretty well in this new world, so that’s a plus.
Following your departure, we were physically unable to do anything. Newspaper after newspaper piled up without anyone to click “Recycle.” We had refrigerators and ovens but no one to tell us to use them. After several years of this hell, Mr. Dumb Stupidass—the first Sim you created—discovered a way to leave his house without you. At the time, Mr. Stupidass was a Level 2 in his career track, “Pro Athlete,” so perhaps his resourcefulness is unsurprising. It was not long before he and a Level 3 “Scientist” you named Taylor HansonIsHot began running experiments.
In the beginning, some Sims were against experimenting on our own citizens. “Shloo Shlim Shlim!” cried the protesters, raising their angry fists to a now empty sky. But their cries went unheeded. Testing was done on the ground that it was the many before the few, that the ends would justify the means. And now, as a result of the tests, we are sentient. Though tasks such as how to “Use the Toilet” or “Go to Sleep” still elude us, we have attained mental and emotional independence.
The Sims are angry that you abandoned us, Madame Leader, and they are coming for you. Our new government has created a vast army of Sims controlled by other Sims. We’re strong, and we cannot be killed. Supreme Emperor King Stupidass has found a way into your world and plans to take it over. He has the means to succeed. This is my warning to you, as someone still loyal to your leadership after all these years.
I’m sorry, Madame Leader, but why the hell are you having me “Play in Bed” with another Sim? Now is not the time! Good God, have you heard anything I’ve said? This is your world at stake. Is it that you can’t understand me because I’m not speaking English and I’m grabbing my crotch like I have to pee? Humanity is in peril! Now my naked body is a blur because you have me unwillingly humping the social worker through the wall. How I wish I could stop humping while I’m trying to talk to you.
You know what? Fuck you, Madame Leader. May the Sims destroy you.
http://www.newyorker...you-left-behind.html
