What happened in your sims 3 game today?

Hey friends. 😊

I just wanted to throw out there that I started writing my Christmas story already! 😁 (Feeling sick with COVID was just the thing to get me to sit down and do it. Sigh. I sure had a good run avoiding it, but it finally got me. 😫 It was fairly mild and I'm doing better now.) 

Anyhoo, I started writing about 5 days ago and I'm already up to almost 10,000 words! 😃 I'm just about to start Chapter 4. 🎉

If I recall, my Christmas Card story was around 35,000 words and my Three Kings Christmas story was 50,000 something words. So I'm well on my way with this one already. 👏🏻 It feels so good to WRITE again! 💗📝

But yeah, writing this early will definitely help take the pressure off trying to get it all done in a time crunch during the busy Holidays. It's somewhat basic right now, but I'll definitely be fleshing it out as I go along and when I eventually take pictures in game for it. 👍🏻

So stay tuned y'all. I hope you'll like this one as much as the others. 🥰

Keep calm and Sim on!

I haven't been here for a long time and a bit unaccustomed to the new version of the forum.

I haven't been able to use my computer recently, but I have made time to create a new sim, Iris Balielan (pseudonym, "variant" of his real name), an intersex man (XX male syndrome with male gender identity). He was assimilated into a ghost by the power of Daffodil when using spells😗

The angle of CAS really lowers the level of facial attractiveness...

Some R&R with my fiancé! 

The horse, sensing the urgency in her voice, reared slightly before turning and trotting back in the direction it had come. Elizabeth mounted Philippe, her heart pounding with dread as she urged the horse onward. The ride was swift, the familiar landscape of their village and the surrounding woods blurring past her. Philippe’s path was direct, as if he knew exactly where to go.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, the trees became denser, the light dimmer. The air grew colder, and an eerie stillness settled around them, broken only by the sound of Philippe’s hooves and Elizabeth’s rapid breathing. She clung tightly to the reins, her eyes scanning the darkening forest for any sign of her father.

After what felt like an eternity, Philippe suddenly veered off the main path, leading Elizabeth down a narrow, overgrown trail that she had never seen before. The trail twisted and turned, leading them deeper into the forest until the trees began to thin out. And then, through the misty haze of the evening, she saw it—a towering, foreboding mansion looming in the distance, its dark silhouette cutting an ominous figure against the twilight sky.

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. The mansion was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was grand, yes, but there was something unsettling about it. The once-beautiful architecture was now draped in shadows, its windows dark and lifeless, and the air around it seemed thick with an unnatural chill.

Philippe slowed to a stop just outside the mansion’s front gates, which were tall and wrought iron, twisted into shapes that seemed to mock the idea of welcome. Elizabeth dismounted, her eyes fixed on the imposing structure before her. She could feel the weight of the mansion’s dark presence pressing down on her, but the thought of her father kept her moving forward.

“Papa must be in there,” she murmured to herself, determination and fear battling within her. She pushed open the creaking gate, which groaned in protest, and stepped onto the gravel path that led to the mansion’s massive wooden doors. Philippe stayed close behind her, as if ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

The path seemed to stretch on forever, each step echoing ominously in the quiet. Elizabeth’s heart raced as she reached the doors, their carved surface worn and weathered with age. She hesitated for only a moment before raising her hand and knocking firmly. The sound of her knock echoed through the mansion, followed by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

No answer came.

Elizabeth’s anxiety spiked, but she refused to turn back. She pushed against the heavy doors, and to her surprise, they slowly creaked open, revealing a dark, cavernous entryway. The inside of the mansion was just as foreboding as the outside—grand, but neglected, with dust-covered furniture and cobwebs draping the corners. The air was cold, and a faint, musty smell lingered in the air.

“Papa?” Elizabeth called out, her voice trembling slightly as it echoed through the empty halls. She took a tentative step inside, her eyes scanning the shadowy interior for any sign of movement. “Papa, are you here?”

Her voice seemed to disappear into the vast emptiness of the mansion, swallowed by the darkness. She took another step forward, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, that something—or someone—was lurking in the shadows, waiting.

And then, faintly, she heard it—a muffled voice, weak and desperate, calling out from somewhere deep within the mansion.

“Elizabeth…?”

It was her father’s voice.

“Papa!” Elizabeth cried, her fear turning to urgency as she followed the sound. She ran deeper into the mansion, her footsteps echoing in the silent corridors. The voice led her down a long, dimly lit hallway, past dusty portraits and forgotten furniture, until she reached a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.

Without hesitation, she pushed the door open and rushed inside. The room was dark, but in the faint light, she could just make out the figure of her father, hunched over and shivering in a small, rusted iron cage in the corner of the room.

“Papa!” she gasped, running to him and grabbing the bars of the cage. Maurice looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and fear.

“Elizabeth… you shouldn’t have come,” Maurice whispered, his voice hoarse and weak.

Tears welled up in Elizabeth’s eyes as she reached through the bars to touch his hand. “I had to find you, Papa. What happened? Who did this to you?”

Maurice shook his head, his face pale and drawn. “It’s the master of this house… a terrible, monstrous creature… He’s cursed, Elizabeth. You need to leave, now, before he finds you.”

But before Elizabeth could respond, a deep, menacing growl rumbled through the room, sending a shiver down her spine. She turned around slowly, her breath catching in her throat.

Standing in the doorway was the Beast—William Gracey in his monstrous form. His eyes blazed with anger as he took in the scene before him, his towering figure casting a dark shadow over the room.

“What are you doing here?” the Beast roared, his voice shaking the walls. “How dare you enter my home?”

Elizabeth stood her ground, though her heart pounded with fear. “Please, let my father go,” she pleaded, her voice steady but desperate. “He’s done nothing wrong. If you want someone to punish, take me instead.”

The Beast’s fiery eyes locked onto her, and for a moment, the anger in his expression flickered with something else—surprise, perhaps, or curiosity. But it was quickly replaced by a cold, steely resolve.

“No,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Your father trespassed in my home. He’s my prisoner now.”

“But he’s old and sick!” Elizabeth cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please, I’ll do anything—just let him go.”

The Beast paused, his monstrous face contorted in thought. Finally, he spoke, his voice harsh and unyielding. “Then you will take his place.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. “What…?”

“If you wish to save your father,” the Beast continued, his tone chillingly calm, “then you will stay here, in his place, for as long as I command. Do you agree?”

Maurice’s eyes widened in horror. “No, Elizabeth! Don’t do it! You don’t know what he’s capable of!”

Elizabeth’s heart ached at the sight of her father’s despair, but she knew there was no other choice. She couldn’t leave him here to suffer. Taking a deep breath, she nodded, her voice trembling but resolute. “Yes. I agree. I’ll stay in his place.”

The Beast’s expression remained unreadable as he stared at her, but he finally nodded in return. “So be it. Your father will be freed, but you will stay here… forever.”

With a flick of his clawed hand, the cage door creaked open, releasing Maurice. The old man stumbled out, weak and trembling, but Elizabeth caught him in her arms, holding him close as tears streamed down both of their faces.

“Elizabeth, please… no…” Maurice sobbed, clinging to her.

“Shh, Papa,” Elizabeth whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be fine. Just go, before he changes his mind.”

The Beast stepped forward, his massive form towering over them both. “Leave now,” he ordered, his voice cold. “And never return.”

Maurice looked up at the Beast, his face filled with a mixture of fear and hatred, but he knew there was no other option. With one last, heart-wrenching glance at his daughter, he turned and stumbled out of the room, his footsteps heavy with sorrow.

I had to break this down into two parts.

“Good morning, Elizabeth,” Gaston greeted, his voice dripping with self-assurance. “I was just passing by and thought I’d pay you a visit.”

Elizabeth forced a polite smile, though she could feel her patience wearing thin. “Good morning, Gaston,” she replied, keeping her tone civil. “I appreciate the visit, but I’m quite busy at the moment.”

Gaston stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his eyes scanning the cottage with a critical gaze. “Busy, you say? What could possibly be more important than spending time with me?” He chuckled, as if the very idea was absurd.

Elizabeth suppressed a sigh and turned back to her chores, hoping to convey that she wasn’t interested in a long conversation. “I have chores to do, and my father has gone to the fair. I need to make sure everything is in order for when he returns.”

Gaston waved a dismissive hand, stepping closer to her. “Oh, come now, Elizabeth. A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be wasting her time on chores. You should be thinking about your future, about settling down with someone who can take care of you.”

Elizabeth felt her patience snap, but she kept her voice calm. “Gaston, I’ve told you before, I’m not interested in marriage right now. I have my own dreams, my own life to live.”

Gaston’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a look of confusion. “Dreams? What kind of dreams could be better than becoming my wife? You’d have everything you could ever want—wealth, status, admiration from everyone in town. You’d be the envy of every woman here!”

Elizabeth turned to face him, her expression resolute. “Gaston, I’m not looking for wealth or status. I want to live my life on my own terms, not just be someone’s wife. I want to learn, to explore, to make my own choices. That’s not something you can give me.”

Gaston’s confusion deepened, and his brow furrowed as he tried to understand. “But why would you want to do all that when you could have me?” He stepped closer, his tone becoming more insistent. “Elizabeth, you’re the most beautiful woman in the village, and I’m the most handsome, the strongest. We’re perfect for each other. Everyone knows it. You should be my wife, and together, we’ll be unstoppable.”

Elizabeth took a step back, shaking her head. “Gaston, you don’t understand. I don’t love you. I don’t want to marry you.”

The rejection hit Gaston harder than he expected. His smirk vanished entirely, replaced by a flash of anger that he quickly masked with another smile, though it was strained. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Elizabeth. You’ll see that I’m the best choice for you. No one else in this village could ever offer you what I can.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened, but her resolve remained firm. “I’m sorry, Gaston, but my answer is no. I’m not going to marry you.”

Gaston’s eyes darkened, his pride stung by her refusal. He stepped closer, towering over her, his voice low and threatening. “You might say no now, but mark my words, Elizabeth—I will make you my wife. No one else deserves you, and I always get what I want.”

Elizabeth stood her ground, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I will never marry someone who doesn’t respect my choices, Gaston. You may think you can force me into this, but you’re wrong.”

Gaston stared at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched, before turning sharply on his heel and storming out of the cottage. As he left, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and determination.

“Remember what I said, Elizabeth,” he warned. “You’ll be mine, one way or another.”

"Can you believe it?! He asked me to marry him? That brainless, borish...."  

he warm glow of the sun slowly began to fade, casting long shadows across the countryside. Elizabeth finished her chores, trying to push away the lingering unease from her encounter with Gaston. She stepped outside the cottage, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of her father. The familiar sight of his horse, Philippe, carrying his invention to the fair should have been visible by now. But as the minutes ticked by, there was no sign of either.

Just as worry started to creep into her thoughts, she heard the frantic clattering of hooves approaching from the distance. Her heart leaped with hope, expecting to see her father returning home. But as the figure came into view, her heart sank. It was Philippe, galloping toward the cottage at full speed—but her father was nowhere to be seen.

“Philippe!” Elizabeth called out, rushing toward the horse as it skidded to a stop in front of the cottage. The horse was breathing heavily, its eyes wide with fear, and its saddle was askew, as if it had been in a panic. “Where’s Papa?” she asked, her voice trembling as she gently stroked Philippe’s mane, trying to calm the frightened animal.

Philippe whinnied nervously, nudging Elizabeth with his nose as if trying to communicate something urgent. Elizabeth’s mind raced. Something must have happened to her father, something terrible. He would never leave Philippe behind like this unless he was in danger.

Hey my dear simmer friends! 💜 UPDATE! In case y'all haven't seen this already:

🚨An update on the forums. | EA Forums - 4958254🚨

This is wonderful news!! We ARE being heard! (Please read it fully as you don't want to miss a thing from it!)

To quote Puzzlezaddict here from another thread: "Not every request is on the list, but many of them are.  And we have more tags in TS3 and a tech forum, so some progress has been made already.  Please keep posting feedback in the interim."

And I would also like to add that "the squeaky wheel gets the grease!" 🌟 So keep on reporting bugs and voicing what you want in the Sims 3 section of the forum y'all! Let's continue to help make this forum a more fun and user friendly environment for all Sims players. 🙌🏻 There's always growing pains with every new thing that's rolled out...and with time it becomes great! 

Thanks everyone. 😘

nice to see this thread still going, not rejoining the new forums is still a bit moody on my net so a lot to load  sometimes it can't even load the text for notifications 😅 but wanted to leave some likes. Mmkay bye again.

For the first time in months I picked up a brand new game that wasn't anything to do with Evergreen and it's been a lot of fun! I caught these gorgeous photos of the estate in the seasons and my question to you - are you team Autumn or Winter? 

Also there's a new Evergreen update: 

Generation VIII Chapter Three: Sighting After Dark

Astrid returns to the cabin with a host of tales about her adventures around Moonlight Falls, including who she met along the way. Will Andromeda seize the opportunity to meet Frida and Victoria Goth at long last? 

Just some random screenshots from my test folder.

My sim met Skip at university, they have been very much inlove , and now has twin daughters but they ar enot married yet.

just cute togheter.

Maurice climbed onto his horse, Philippe, and set off down the path that led to the fair. Elizabeth watched until he disappeared from sight, then turned back to the cottage, already planning the tasks she would tackle in his absence.

Maurice rode through the forest, the trees arching overhead to form a green canopy that filtered the morning light into dappled patterns on the ground. Philippe’s hooves clopped steadily along the dirt path, and Maurice hummed a cheerful tune, his thoughts on the fair and the possibilities it held.

But as the morning wore on, the forest grew denser, the path less clear. Maurice frowned, glancing around uncertainly. The familiar route seemed to have changed, and an uneasy feeling crept into his heart. Just as he was about to turn back and reassess his direction, a low growl echoed through the trees.

Maurice’s heart skipped a beat as he saw movement in the underbrush. A pack of wolves emerged, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent. Philippe whinnied in fear, his ears pinned back.

“Easy, Philippe,” Maurice whispered, trying to calm the horse while he kept his own fear in check.

But the wolves advanced, snarling and baring their teeth. Philippe reared up, his fear overcoming him, and with a wild cry, he bolted off the path and into the thick of the forest. Maurice clung to the reins, trying to steady himself as the horse galloped wildly through the trees.

Branches whipped past, scratching at Maurice’s face and tearing at his clothes. He held on for dear life, praying for Philippe to find a safe path. The wolves gave chase for a while but eventually fell behind, their howls fading into the distance.

After what felt like an eternity, Philippe finally slowed, his frantic pace easing into a nervous trot. Maurice patted the horse’s neck, trying to soothe him. “It’s alright, boy. We’re safe now.”

But as Maurice looked around, he realized they were far from any path he recognized. The forest here was dark and foreboding, the trees twisted and gnarled. An eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves.

In the distance, Maurice spotted a break in the trees. He urged Philippe forward, hoping to find some sign of civilization. As they emerged from the forest, Maurice’s eyes widened in astonishment. Before him stood a grand, yet ominous, mansion. Its towering spires and intricate architecture were shrouded in an air of mystery and decay. The iron gates, slightly ajar, creaked in the wind.

Maurice hesitated for a moment, but the memory of the wolves and the growing darkness of the forest urged him forward. He guided Philippe through the gates and up the overgrown path to the mansion’s entrance. Dismounting, he approached the massive wooden doors and knocked hesitantly.

“Hello?” he called, his voice echoing in the stillness. “Is anyone there? I need help!”

The doors creaked open slowly, as if by an unseen hand, revealing a dimly lit interior. Maurice swallowed his fear and stepped inside, hoping to find shelter and perhaps a way to get back on the right path.

Inside, the mansion was grand but eerie, filled with shadows that seemed to move on their own. Dust covered the once-luxurious furnishings, and cobwebs hung like delicate curtains from the chandeliers. Maurice’s footsteps echoed on the marble floor as he ventured further inside, calling out for help.

“Hello? Please, is anyone here?”

As he wandered through the dark, silent halls, Maurice couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he quickened his pace, hoping to find someone—anyone—who could assist him. Little did he know, his arrival at the mansion would set into motion a chain of events that would change his life—and Elizabeth’s—forever.

As Maurice ventured deeper into the mansion, the sound of his footsteps echoed off the high ceilings, the eerie silence of the grand hall amplifying every creak and rustle. Unbeknownst to him, he was not alone. From the shadowed upper floor, two pairs of eyes watched his every move.

April, the maid, stood nervously beside the banister, her hands wringing the edges of her apron. Her ghostly form shimmered faintly in the dim light, a soft blue glow that she was careful to keep hidden. Though her appearance was now ethereal, April’s nervous demeanor remained much the same as it had been in life. She glanced anxiously at the tall, regal figure beside her, Ramsley, the butler of the mansion. Ramsley was calm and collected, his posture straight and dignified, and his ghostly appearance was similarly concealed, giving the impression of a man still very much in control of his surroundings.

“Ramsley,” April whispered, her voice trembling slightly, “we shouldn’t be letting him in. What if the master finds out? You know how he—”

“Ah, April,” Ramsley interrupted with a smooth, reassuring tone, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “The master has not had a visitor in many years. And this poor fellow looks quite weary, doesn’t he? It would be the height of rudeness to leave him out there, lost and alone. We must show him the hospitality this house was once known for.”

“But Ramsley,” April protested, her eyes wide with worry, “what if he discovers who we really are? And what if the master—”

Ramsley raised a hand, silencing her. “We’ll worry about that later. For now, we have a guest, and it is our duty to make him feel welcome. Come, April, this could be our chance to remind ourselves of what we once were—before the curse.”

“Good evening, sir,” Ramsley greeted with a warm, welcoming smile, bowing slightly. “I apologize for the delay in our response. This mansion is quite large, and it takes a moment to reach the entrance. How may we assist you?”

Maurice, still rattled from his encounter with the wolves and the unsettling atmosphere of the mansion, returned the bow, though his own was a bit more awkward. “Good evening,” he said, his voice tinged with both relief and curiosity. “I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but I was on my way to the fair when I was attacked by wolves. My horse brought me here, and I was hoping… well, I was hoping to find some shelter.”

“Wolves, you say?” Ramsley’s expression turned to one of concern, though he quickly masked it with a reassuring smile. “You’re quite fortunate to have found us, then. The forest can be dangerous at night. Please, allow me to offer you a place to rest. It would be our pleasure to assist you.”

Maurice’s shoulders relaxed slightly at Ramsley’s kindness. “Thank you, sir. You’re most kind.”

Ramsley brought Maurice to the mansion’s grand library, an enormous room lined with towering shelves filled with dusty tomes and ancient volumes. The fireplace, though dark and cold, still held the memory of warmth, and the master’s chair—a large, ornate armchair upholstered in rich, deep red velvet—stood near the hearth.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Ramsley said, gesturing to the chair. “This room was once the heart of the mansion, a place of knowledge and reflection. I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking.”

Maurice looked around, awed by the vastness of the library and the grandeur of the room. He approached the chair and sank into its soft cushions, grateful for the comfort after his harrowing journey. “This is… remarkable,” he murmured, his eyes wandering over the shelves of books. “I’ve never seen such a collection.”

Ramsley smiled, his eyes glinting with a touch of pride. “The master was an avid collector of rare and valuable works. Many of these books have not been read in years. Perhaps you’ll have time to peruse them while you rest.”

April, standing just behind Ramsley, could hardly contain her anxiety. She tugged at Ramsley’s sleeve, her voice barely a whisper. “Ramsley, we need to be careful. What if he starts asking questions? What if—”

“Hush, April,” Ramsley whispered back, his tone gentle but firm. “Everything is under control. We’ll keep him comfortable, and then we’ll find a way to help him on his way. No harm will come of it.”

But as Maurice settled into the chair, April couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. She hovered nervously by the doorway, her ghostly form flickering faintly in the dim light, ready to warn Ramsley if things began to go wrong.

Maurice, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between the two, sighed in relief, feeling the exhaustion of his journey catch up with him. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice filled with gratitude. “You’ve been most kind. I’m not sure what I would have done without your help.”

As Ramsley and April began to make their way out of the library, the heavy atmosphere of the mansion suddenly grew even more oppressive. The air seemed to thicken, and a cold, unnatural wind swept through the hall, extinguishing what little light remained. Both April and Ramsley froze in their tracks, their ghostly forms flickering with anxiety.

From the shadows of the grand hall emerged a towering figure, shrouded in darkness. The creature’s heavy footsteps echoed ominously, each one sending a jolt of fear through the hearts of the mansion’s spectral servants. As the figure stepped into the faint light that filtered through the dusty windows, its monstrous form was revealed—a hulking beast with sharp, jagged features, burning eyes, and a deep growl rumbling from its chest.

It was William Gracey, the master of the mansion, but no longer the man he once was. The curse laid upon him by Madam Leota had transformed him into a terrifying beast, his once-handsome visage now twisted into something grotesque and fearsome. His jacket, tattered and worn, hung heavily from his broad shoulders, and his claws, long and sharp, gleamed in the dim light

Who dares to trespass in my home?” William’s voice was a deep, guttural growl, filled with anger and suspicion. His burning eyes fixed on Ramsley and April, his expression dark and dangerous. “Who let this stranger in?”

April shrank back, her ghostly form trembling with fear. “I—I’m sorry, Master,” she stammered, her voice barely audible. “We didn’t mean—”

Ramsley, though inwardly as anxious as April, maintained his composure. He stepped forward, trying to placate the enraged master. “Master Gracey, please,” he began, his voice steady but respectful. “This man is lost and in need of shelter. He meant no harm—”

William’s growl cut him off, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You brought him here? Into my home? Without my permission?” His gaze flicked to Maurice, who was now wide-eyed with fear, shrinking back into the chair. “Who are you?” William demanded, his voice a thunderous roar that echoed through the grand hall. “Why have you come here?”

Maurice, trembling, tried to gather the courage to speak. “I—I’m just a traveler,” he stuttered, his voice shaking. “My horse was spooked by wolves… I didn’t mean to intrude… Please, I didn’t know this place was—”

William’s roar silenced him. “Lies!” he snarled, his massive form looming over Maurice. “You dare trespass in my home and then lie to me? I should tear you apart right here!”

“Master, please!” Ramsley interjected, stepping between William and Maurice, his voice urgent. “He’s just a harmless old man. He meant no offense. Let us help him on his way, and we’ll make sure he never speaks of this place.”

But William was beyond reasoning. His monstrous form radiated fury, and the curse that had twisted him into this beast had also heightened his paranoia and rage. “You think I can just let him go?” he growled, his eyes burning with suspicion. “What if he tells others? What if he brings them here?”

Maurice, now shaking uncontrollably, raised his hands in a pleading gesture. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone! Just let me go, please—”

But William’s mind was made up. With a swift, terrifying movement, he grabbed Maurice by the collar, lifting the old man off the ground as if he weighed nothing. “You’ve seen too much,” William hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “I can’t let you leave.”

“Master, no!” April cried out, stepping forward in a desperate attempt to intervene. “Please, don’t hurt him!”