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Experiment Seven: Fractures in Timespace

Experiment Eight: Isolation

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Experiment Nine: The Effects of Torture on the Afterlife

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Experiment Ten: Attempting to Recreate the Experiment

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I might have overestimated my ability to control this world. The gateless fence continues to wreck havoc on the lives and intentions of the other artificial intelligences in the game. The neighborhood paper girl appeared by the toilet for only a moment to howl from between worlds and vanish.If I was a scientist in the real world, I wouldn't be allowed to keep filling endangered species with different smokeless propellants until I found the one that ignites from inside a panda. But in the Sims 3, if I want to test a floor sealant, there's no regulation against forcing a fat clown into a mirrored booth where he watches himself wet his pants to death. I found that there is also no regulation on the human spirit, even a video game simulation of it. Day after day went by, and Subject Beef stood in that booth and refused to die. He babbled at the mirrors, glared at a bunny painting when I told him to, and every two minutes he would try to perform an activity described as "Contemplate Surroundings." I had my finger on the trigger to click that away as quickly as possible. If he figures a way out of this, I fully expect him to be standing behind me in my world. I designed the booth to be inescapable, but I don't trust that word anymore. I noticed that four of the gnomes in charge of watching him on the toilet had left their post to surround his isolation booth. I don't remember doing this, b-but I must have, right?The subject survived over six days, his time, inside the booth with no water, food or sleep. The strange thing is that at the moment of his death, he still had a full Fun Bar, which is technical jargon for a bar that computerized beings use to measure how much fun they're having. What did he enjoy about his slow starvation in a vertical coffin? I'll tell you one thing: If it's not the idea of killing me, then I'm a shitty scientist. The Grim Reaper descended onto the corpse and made him into a ghost, which did wonders for the 380 pounds of baby fat he was still carrying. The slimmer, undeadier Subject Beef floated through the smoldering ruins of his former prison, and as I turned the game the fuck off, already shouting out the window for a priest to reconsecrate the pox placed upon my computer... I could have sworn for a moment that I saw Linda.When you create a Sim, it records a copy of them. This allowed me to go back to the menu and start the game over with a fresh genetic clone of Subject Beef and Turbo Sexaphonic. With science marching along next to me, I moved them into the burned-out, haunted remains of my old facility to recreate our grand experiment. What happened next is a true story: the clone rummaged through the trash for exactly 25 hours, then ran to the pool to sink and die. It's like the first thing he did after being created was. Going over all this data, I can conclude that science and all the dark-sided Gozar-summoning magic it brings with it can kiss my ass.