So I bought Sims 4 Dream Home Decorator.
I turn up at my first clientsâ house, ready to renovate one of their rooms. They apparently donât care which. I do want something to go off, so I ask for an idea of one of my clientâs likes and dislikes. She tells me she hates woodworking. Her father runs out of the house to inform me he also hates pianos. I approach her mother, begging her to tell me something they do like.
âWell,â she tells me, âWhat I really love⌠is pipe organs.â
I turn a spare bedroom into a pipe organ room. Every house needs one. I realise I forgot to take Before photos, so I snap some of the entirely unchanged landing. I invite my clients back and lead them up the stairs to it. (They insist on covering their eyes with their hands to climb the stairs, despite the door to their new Pipe Organ Room being closed.) The client who asked for the pipe organ wanders off to use a computer, rather than look at the new room, but finally they tell me they want to talk about it.
âI think Iâve seen enough. Letâs go over my thoughts.â
âIâm ready to talk about the renovation.â
These are among the most ominous statements Iâve ever heard, and Iâm certain theyâre about to ask, âExcuse me, but why did you replace our bed with a pipe organ?â but they assure me they love it. To prove it, they shake an empty piece of air instead of my hand.
I return home, where a NAP inspector turns up to fine me for not having recycled any of the furniture in the apartment I moved into yesterday yet.
Luckily, I donât have to worry about the increase in bills too much, as another Sim responds to my roommate advertisment. We go into her room and talk. She seems nice, so I invite her to be my roommate. She accepts, then yells at me, walks into my room to poke at my chest of drawers because she likes that decor style, and leaves a note on my floor. As she starts using the mirror in my room, I read the note:
âPlease follow the golden rule. I donât come into your room and touch your stuff, do I? No, I donât.â
I ask her to leave my room and stop touching my stuff.
Luckily, she soon settles down into living with me, making a white confetti cake for us as a peace offering. After we have each eaten a slice, she starts making a white confetti cake She leaves it in the oven, presumably having remembered she already has a white confetti cake. The next day, she clears it out of the oven, and makes a white confetti cake.
Meanwhile, my work continues. I get a request from the Greenburg family to renovate their walk in closet. I know the name, but canât quite place the family, until I arrive at their house to discover itâs made up of a crane and a large shipping crate. There is no walk in closet to be seen. There is no room for a walk in closet to be seen.
I try my best, demolishing their kitchen area to fill it with closet space. I throw out their easel, because they told me they hate painting. They also hate rockclimbing, so I sadly dismiss my plans of installing a climbing wall in their closet. Knox and Blossom tell me they like the finished product, even though it wasnât what they wanted. I am entirely unsure what they wanted. Blossom decides to flirt with me, as her wife, Mary, watches. Mary tells me she hates the renovation. This could be because I flirted with her wife but could also be, to be fair, because I demolished her kitchen and replaced it with a closet.
Getting home from my terrible dayâs work, I discover my roommate has left a second note, this time in her room. Wondering what she needs to tell me, I go in to look at it. It tells me not to come into her room and touch her stuff. I have to admit, she got me with that one. Nonetheless, she makes a white confetti cake.
The next day is Talk Like A Pirate Day. After redesgning a living room to have nothing pink, blue, basic, mid-century, or to do with bowling, I try to compliment one of my clients, another elderly lady. I get my pirate speech confused, and accidentally flirt with her. Perhaps my purpose in life is to flirt with old women, the way my roommateâs purpose is to make white confetti cakes.
Moving up in the world, I get a gig to renovate the kitchen at the biggest penthouse in San Myshuno. I am unable to enter the building, or knock on any of their doors, so I have no choice but to teleport myself in. I ask a client what sheâs looking for in her kitchen renovation. She tells me she hates cooking. Anything to do with cookingâovens, fridges, microwaves, cupcake factoriesâshe canât stand the things. She doesnât want them in her kitchen.
Despite being the kind of people who can afford to live in a penthouse, have a suit of armour costing $8k on display and, apparently, either order takeaway or go out to eat for every meal, they give me only a couple of thousand simoleons to work with. Luckily, I can get more by selling their hated oven, replacing it with popcorn and ice cream makers. I add a guitar. They love guitars.
The family are delighted with their new cookingless kitchen, so I leave their home to buy myself dinner from a street vendor. My clients are apparently hungry too, as, bereft of an oven, one of them heads into the garden to use the grill.
He sets the grill and himself on fire.
A few minutes later, I teleport back up as the rest of the family come out to approach the Grim Reaper, and the body of their father and husband. One of the children complains that heâs hungry. The manâs widow gives the Reaper a back rub. They go back inside.
The Grim Reaper tells me his favourite colour is blue. I head home to rest before tomorrowâs appointment with the Greenburgs. I guess they donât want their shipping crate filled with closet space any more. My roommate makes a white confetti cake.
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