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I was playing Sims Superstar lately. It's actually pretty fun to try to get your Sim to be famous and have them do ridiculous things you wouldn't dream of doing in real life (like that scandalous juggling paparazzi stunt or using the "Price of Fame" amulet, if you have Makin' Magic, too).

I decided to write these monologues after one of my celebrity Sims started getting too big for his britches and acting up. I don't know what I'm going to do with them, but maybe they could be part of a bigger story. 

They're both about a Sim named Basil Somebody. The first speaker is a Sim who lives with Basil and is friends with him (or at least has a positive relationship with him). Let's call him Trey. The second speaker is another Sim in the household who knows Basil but really dislikes him. Let's call him Seth. Trey is trying to break into the Studio Town (Sim equivalent of Hollywood) fame game, but needs to step out from under Basil's shadow first. Seth would rather be behind the scenes than in them, and is pursuing a job as a writer, but has been pushed around by quite a few celebrity Sims. As for Basil, you'll get an idea of his character in the monologues (whether it's an accurate idea is probably another monologue that I should write). 

When I wrote these, I imagined them in the Sims 2 instead of the first game, because the Sims don't have facial expressions in the first game. If I were going to do anything with these, I'd probably make them with Sims 2.

There is strong language in the second one. 

Enjoy, maybe.
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Trey (on the phone with a fan of Basil):

Have you read the Studio Town News lately? And have you read anything about a Mr. Basil Somebody?

Oh. You saw that story. Well, that’s kind of unfortunate. I’m really sorry you had to read that. 

Okay, this is gonna sound weird, but there was probably a really good reason why he kicked his producer in the face. Basil’s been under a lot of stress lately, with his album dropping and everything. The last one didn’t do so hot on the charts and he wants to make up for it. When they said he was off-pitch, I guess he just snapped.

Yeah, he lip-synched at the concert last week. But he was so nervous, his voice would’ve been all over the place if he actually sang. He couldn’t bear to give a sub-par performance. He loves his fans too much, you know?

That’s why he got so upset over the comment on his singing. He’s sort of excitable like that. He doesn’t even want to entertain the idea that he can't give the people what they want.

Really. He just wants to make you guys happy.

Er…Yeah, I suppose not kicking dogs outside the studio would please his fans. But you have to understand; Basil is sort of nervous around dogs. He seriously did think the dog was gonna attack him. He thought the look in the dog’s eyes was threatening, and he can't play for you if he’s dead from rabies. 

Yeah, I guess he could have handled that better. But, hey, fight versus flight. It’s just a natural instinct.

Yes, I guess it’s also just natural to put on underwear if you’re wearing a kilt, but Basil isn’t like the average Sim. He’s kind of eccentric, but without that, we wouldn’t have all this great music, now would we?

The STN doesn’t have the whole story. You can’t possibly understand Basil unless you really know him, and I don’t mean like when you watch him on TV or see his “The Drive” special on SimTunes TV.

Do I know him like that? Of course! Baz and I go way back, all the way to middle school!

I knew him when he was the star of the Drama Club. The director was reluctant to put him in the musicals until he got voice lessons, but she just couldn’t see the raw talent oozing from Basil like so much hair gel. Not the way I could.

I knew him way back in high school, when he turned the karaoke bars upside down. Not even the loudest tracks could drown out his powerful voice. I always had fun singing with him. Sometimes, he even let me sing lead.

I knew him when he was just a poor college student, giving impromptu, unpaid performances in the dorm’s common room.

I’ve been friends with the guy since we were both kids. He’s really not all that bad.

Really.
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Seth (possibly after another conflict with Basil and a few other wannabe-famous Sims):


No, keep the film rolling. I want to see them.

I want to see them at their best. Perfect clothes, perfect hair, perfect abs, perfect ass. I want to bask in the fact that this person is a Sim and so am I, and we’re both part of the same species, like he even has anything to do with me. I want to revel in the Photoshopped magazine covers. Every little soundbite, every audio or visual tidbit is manna to my ears. I will scour SimTube for every single performance these people do and drink in every auto-tuned note like the sweet Kool-Aid it is.

I want to swear they’re fucking Pavarotti when I could do a better job singing their songs with a mouthful of gravel.

I want to forget their flaws and make 'em a saint, even though they treat their employees (and pretty much everyone) like utter crap. “Oh, but they’ve had such a rough life,” I’ll say. “They had to share a one-room flat with seven relatives. Their parents made them work at thirteen. Some kid called them names once, for Chrissakes!” All kinds of excuses for why they can’t act like a decent Sim.         

I mean, there’s got to be a perfectly good reason why they can’t even thank the person cleaning their spitty coffee cup. Or why they forbid the commoners to look at them in public.

Then comes the fall. They’ll screw up. Maybe they’ll get caught lip-synching at the big concert. Maybe they’re stealing money from their favorite charity. Maybe their nasty attitude hit the wrong director and someone finally told them, “That’s it. Bitch, get to steppin’.”

Or maybe they just forgot their underwear or some shit.

Anyway, no one likes them anymore. All kinds of dirty laundry falls out of the Fame Machine. They kicked a dog. They stole candy from a baby. They murdered their assistant/rival/stylist and dumped the body in the pool, wrapped in last year’s animal print.

The flashbulbs keep poppin’ and so does my corn.

They go nuts. They freak out and attack people. They start with those good-for-nothin’ paps, ‘cause they basically have it coming. But then they turn on innocent people. They chuck their mocha-latte/chai tea/vodka-and-red-bull on some poor peasant who dared glance toward them in all their deranged glory.

But isn’t that what you wanted, Mr. Somebody? Everyone’s attention? I mean, no one deserves it more than you.

So now everyone sees what a jerk they are and they really go bananas. They’re getting wasted. They’re busting club windows in. They’re wrecking the FUCK out of their Ferraris (or whatever car they have—it’s kinda hard to keep track after car number fifteen). And everyone sees.

But more importantly, they see. They can’t walk into a convenience store without seeing their cracked out mug staring back at them. They go outside; everyone’s nose-deep in a tabloid rag full of their shit. They turn on the TV; their latest attack on the peasantry who didn’t polish their feet and lick their ass is all there, full color, High Definition.

I want them to see. I want them to see what a fame monster they’ve become. Not so nice having people judge you for your zits, huh, bitch? Gotta wait in a long line to buy Cheez-Doodles and beer from the Quickie Mart? Join the rest of us poor slobs. People have better things to do than shower you with attention? Too bad, so sad.

And to think, you fooled us into believing we were inferior to you.
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Seth's monologue is not representative of how I think of celebrities. I really have no problem with them. I just think their situation is weird sometimes.

The inspiration for this came partly from the books Starstruck: When a Fan Gets Too Close to Fame by Michael Joseph Gross and Fame Junkies: The Hidden Truths Behind America's Favorite Addiction by Jake Halpern. I'm kind of fascinated by why some people pay attention to celebrities and why some people want to be famous. 


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