#cats and dogs + my first pet stuff + cottage living + horses literally all couldve been one pack. maybe not cottage living but likee. idk

[nomaishuttle]

the way that literally every aspect of the horse ranch expansion pack either was covered by/shouldve been included in a different pack. Lol.. horses shouldve been in pets or cottage living sheeps and goats shouldve been in cottage living the build style is cottage living and strangerville the clothing style is cottage living and strangerville likeee. the world is pretty but its also ely similar to some of the other worlds we have. and nectar making is a completely seperate skill from that juice skill or whatever. IDK

[lessthanpog]

thinking about how in the sims 2 weather was supposed to be base game, but for some reason, a shit ton of progress on the game was lost, and it ended up getting pushed off. that one little thing let ea continue to monetize a feature the creators originally wanted to give people for free for 40 dollars with each new iteration. sims 2 was supposed to be more definitive. it was an improvement! it went from 2d to 3d and that was fucking amazing. not to mention fucking lifestates! sims 3 gave us the open world, compared to not even being able to go to other sim's houses, and not getting any progression from other households. there were bumps in the road with these, but the regression with the sims 4 is fucking insane. why is story progression so much fucking worse this time around? why do saves just depopulate a few generations in. even with neighborhood stories, you just get weird ass nothing households. and that's just touching on the base game! they keep making excuses about the game needing to run well on lower end computers, but it can hardly run on dedicated gaming computers at this point! my piece of shit computer takes longer to load sims 4 than sims 3. they should implement the ability to disable packs like in sims 3 at this point, because half of them don't even fucking add anything and the load it adds to the game is fucking ridiculous. I don't know how they expect to have better graphics like the dynamic lighting they showed off in the next iteration and also have it run on goddamn mobile? i mean, there are some games that are fucking beautiful on mobile (albeit they're gacha games), but they take massive amounts of space on your phone and are often poorly optimized. and then that'll be the excuse forever-- "oh, snow depth? well, for mobile users--" please. just actually listen to the community.

even if the devs have a shred of passion for the game, its clear EA is limiting them to milk their cash cow further. there is no other reason the horse ranch pack, cottage living, cats and dogs, and my first pet stuff are all separate packs. I know my first pet stuff is dlc for dlc, but this is pretty obvious cut content too. and its only going to get worse. because this works. people buy their shit. even if they're part of the group that fucking complains about it. I am literally praying project rene crashes and burns like simcity, or sims online, or any of their other failed live service/online bullshit, because you just know this game is going to be linked to being online. if not because of its own gross incompetence, but because of competitors finally getting into the market. they don't even have to be great competitors. just fucking something, anything. I want EA to be a little, tiny bit scared for once in their stupid corporate lives.

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 44. New Zealand

Back again! It'd only been three weeks since Chelsay and I returned from New Zealand, and although the South Island was one of our best trips ever, we felt like something was missing. Did we not have enough CookieTimes? Well, duh, but it was something else... Oh. That's right! We forgot to go to the North Island.

Having missed half the country, Chels & I decided we needed a Kiwi Trip Round II, but this time, we wouldn't be exploring alone. Our friends Pete & Megan joined our journey from real-life Hobbiton to Mt Doom. And so it began: the Fellowship of (adventu)Ring

Before getting to the North Island, I want to briefly mention a work trip I’d returned from only 2 days prior. My meetings were in Atlanta, but if I’m flying 17+ hours to the US, I’m stopping in Dallas. Now, my family had been in Sydney only 6 weeks before, but I hadn’t been home since August. That meant this “house (work) money” stopover was a long-awaited oppo for home-cooked meals, QuizTime by Matt, and board games with the whole fam (Mini Monopoly was the game of choice).

It actually worked out that Chelsay wasn’t with me this trip — see, we can’t play Monopoly together. Her strategy is to buy all the property, lose all her money, not allow me to trade her cash for property, then continuously mortgage the properties until I start paying rent. It’s a ruthless, bleed-out strategy! The winner is decided in the first lap around the board, but I think she enjoys watching me slowly die over the next 6 hours.

That was a tangent... Anyway, I had a great time at home, and am actually returning for another work trip in just a few weeks.

Back to NZ now. I returned to Sydney on a Wednesday, and we were flying out to Auckland that same Friday. I basically just stayed at the airport for the day and a half in-between... Actually, this would have been a viable strategy with Megan’s ridiculous credit card benefits: her perks got us ~$200 in free food! I have to admit: we were so distracted by the free food that we nearly missed our flight. Last ones on the plane!

We arrived in Auckland fairly late, and had a 2.5 hour drive to our first destination: scuba diving at Poor Knight’s Island. I was still jet lagged from the US trip, so hardly remember any of the ride up. Actually, the only thing I remember from that night is that we needed to wake up at 7:15 for an 8:15 dive check-in.

7:15 didn’t happen. I awoke to Peter announcing to the room: “It’s 7:47!” I’m not sure why he happened to wake up, but we were so lucky he did. Our phones hadn’t switched timezones, but thank god’s Pete’s internal clock did. Sleeping any later might’ve caused us to literally “miss the boat.”

We somehow made it to the dive shop in time, but this early AM rush was just the start of the day’s excitement. See, Poor Knight’s is considered one of the most diverse, most secluded, and most best (yeah I did) dive spots in the entire world. Don’t believe me? Well, Jacques Cousteau lists Poor Knight’s in his Top 10, which is like cracking Chelsay’s favorite piece of white furniture. My point: he knows what he’s talking about.

As explained by our Welsh skipper, Poor Knight’s is a now-deserted island that was once part of a 25 km-wide caldera (!). For reference, the ring of that volcano was the same distance from Seattle to Sammamish.

As we got closer to the island, our guide Juergen prepped us for the dive. What safety checks we need to do in advance, what different hand signals meant, which animals we’d see, which animals we’d see “doing it”... Wait what? We didn’t say anything at the time, but this was the first instance of Juergen’s weird and repeated references to reproduction.

Some would say Juergen over-prepared us for the dive - we now knew too much. Anyway, we geared up into our 7 mm cold-protection wetsuits, threw on extra vests and a hood for good measure, and hopped in.

A couple things to note here. First, although normally frigid, we had really lucky weather which warmed the island’s water temp to a very reasonable 20 C. This meant our 7 mm wetsuits were overkill, though I think the extra coverage helped avoid Juergen’s objectifying eyes...

Second thing to note: the 7 mm wetsuit is FAR more buoyant than the 2 mm we’re used to wearing in Manly. After our initial dive descent, I quickly experienced this difference, nearly blacking out as the buoyant suit pulled me up from 10m to 3m in just a few seconds.

It actually took most of this first dive to adjust... and to just remember how to scuba dive. It was bizarre, but an absolute blast to be back in the water after not diving since Indonesia 7 months before. The setting lived up to its billing as well, as hundreds of species, thousands of fish, and infinite seaweed swayed back and forth with the current. Specifically, on Dive #1, we saw a sting ray, eagle ray, several camouflaged scorpion fish, a group of orange spotted nudibranch, and one especially playful wrasse.

I felt far more prepared for the next dive, which was lucky because we spotted all of the big stuff on this trip. It turns out I’m pretty good at spotting things when (A) they’re big, and (B) I’m not blacking out like I did on the first dive. For Dive #2, we saw two eagle rays, a moray eel, and a massive sting ray. Megan, our group’s most experienced diver got pretty close, which provides reference for how big this thing was.

A few more things I’d like to remember from our dive day:

My scuba learning curve might have been slow, but Chelsay had zero trouble. I think it’s because of her unique technique. First, I’ve never actually seen her swim. Instead, she sort-of floats around like a dead person and let’s the current do the work. Second, she takes EVERYTHING in. Through a combination of the goggle magnification and her already big eyes, it constantly looks like she’s just seen a shark.

Poor Knight’s is really a great spot for diving. Beyond the fish and swaying seaweed, the setting itself is just really cool. 20m tall pillars, underwater ocean caves, and phenomenal visibility to take it all in.

As if the diving wasn’t enough, our boat (“The No Stress Express”) came across a pod of ~15 curious dolphins on our ride back to shore.

After reaching land, we had a five hour drive to that night’s AirBnB. This seems like a long trek (basically driving from Seattle to Couer d’Alene AFTER a full day of scuba diving), but our entire group was up for the journey. It’s rare but extremely lucky to have travel buddies equally willing to push for the perfect itinerary, but that’s exactly what Chelsay and I had with Pete and Megan: our mirror couple that prioritizes getting the absolute most out of their travels.

How else did we ensure we were maximizing our time on the North Island? Road trip Maccas and Cookie Time McFlurrys. Crumbly chocolate chip cookies coated in caramel sauce and mixed in a creamy “bucket” of soft serve. ...Juergen would’ve made an inappropriate joke about the word creamy.

Thanks to Johnathan van Ness teaching us “How to Treat Our Skin Like the Gorgeous Organ She Is” and Daniel & Jorge explaining “What is a multiverse?”, the five hour drive went quickly and we were at our AirBnB in no time. And what a unique AirBnB it was.

We pulled into the Big Bird BnB, where our lovely host Dotty stayed up late to show us our cottage. Dotty off-handedly mentioned her animals, which gradually led to us discovering she had entire petting zoo. This wasn’t just any petting zoo though... Dotty had a “collection” of MINI cats, dogs, cows, goats, rams, and horses. Note, not all of the aroused horse was tiny... Juergen would’ve been going nuts. This miniature collection went along with normal-sized animals: pigs, ostriches, emus, and snaggle-toothed alpacas. Damn Dotty, where’s the Ark!?

The exclamation mark on our bizarre but very pleasant surprise of a BnB was the breakfast: bacon and (ostrich) egg on toast, with kitten cuddles on the side.

We couldn’t have asked for a better start, but it was only the beginning of an adventurous day. Our first stop was the nearby Waitomo Caves, one of TripAdvisor’s Top 10 highest rated destinations in the world. ...between this and Jacque Cousteau’s dive spot, a lot of Top 10s in this trip already.

We’d signed up to essentially float through an underground cave on an inner tube. The catch: rather than head lamps, the caves are illuminated solely by bioluminescent glow worms.

After a brief introduction, we once again wetty’d up for cold, wet, damp, and unavoidable submersion. We followed our guides through the cave’s entrance, which was really just a crack in the ground barely bigger than my body. Once inside, the walls didn’t get much wider, though they got far taller. Navigating narrow passages towering as high as 40 feet, we sloshed through running water while descending deeper and deeper into the damp dwelling.

Now 50 feet below the surface, we’d escaped all natural light. The cave itself was wet, but we were also soaked after tubing through underground streams and leaping off several waterfalls. After a particularly splashy jump from a 6-foot ‘fall, our guide asked us to form an inner tube-train. Something was happening — we must have arrived.

The group formed a floating line, though with our headlamps on, we couldn’t really tell what the fuss was. This particular cavern looked like each room before: a long, narrow passage, framed be limestone walls and stalactite millennial (i.e. they took a millennium to develop. Not millennial like... instagrammers. No, not funny? I’ll try another millennial reference in a sec).

The guide asked us to turn our headlamps off, and the show began. The limestone walls and entitled millennial stalactites disappeared in the darkness, but the cave hadn’t quite turned pitch black.... Galaxies of tiny blue bioluminescent lights now consumed the cave’s ceiling above us. Layers and layers of overlapping blue light.

It didn’t seem real — more like an attraction at Disney. This is fake right? The rock is just hollowed plastic, and there’s a black light somewhere back there?

Nope, these lights were very real and (uh huh) very natural. See, the light is produced when underground worms create waste. Through evolution, the worm’s waste began to glow, which attracted and trapped more food. Nature!

The amazing thing is that these glow worms had been all around us, but were hidden by the light from our headlamps.

With all other lights off though, the worm’s shit shined. The sharp light from the cave’s ceiling softly reflected off the water below, illuminating the long passage of the otherwise black cave into infinity.

Shockingly, we were underground for almost 90 minutes, so our eyes had really gotten used to the dark. Exiting into the sunlight felt like leaving da clubz after an all-night bender... which I do often.

We were literally stepping out of a hole in the ground, which is a perfect transition to our next destination: Hobbiton. The fictional home to hobbits, where their homes are built directly into holes in the ground. Does a hobbit’s shit glow too?

The ride over was short but entertaining. First, the views. Having now driven through both the North and South Island, New Zealand’s landscape continues to amaze me. I don’t know how such a small country can have such diverse landscapes. It’s like the entire EU packed into a country the size of WYOMING. This particular drive reminded us of Ireland, with vibrant rolling green hills and a population of cows that far outnumbered the local humans.

Second point to note from the ride, our entertainment: Chelsay. Megan hadn’t seen the LotR’s series (c’mon Pete), but Hobbiton wouldn’t be the same experience without context. Don’t worry. There’s no one better to boil down a 9 hour film series than Chelsay. She should have her own show summarizing plot lines. I try to imagine what Tolkien would say if he’d heard Chelsay’s explanation of LotR... I’m sure he’d agree it was an Oxford-level literary lesson.

With our whole team now on the same page (book pun?) re: Hobbiton, we were ready to tour the fictional hamlet. Our guide for the day was Paul, who was truly living his best life. Describing Paul as “a big LotR guy” would be an undersell. There’s a 120% chance he dressed up as Gandalf for the movie premiers. We couldn’t have gotten a better tour guide though, as Paul’s enthusiasm was infectious.

Not only was Paul Middle Earth’s biggest cheerleader, but he clearly knew his stuff. As we perused the Green Dragon Inn or Bag-End, Paul shared insider stories from Hobbiton’s history.

Before filming started, Peter Jackson, LotR’s Oscar-winning director, had flown over this farmland and thought it would be the perfect Hobbiton. He landed his helicopter and approached the owner, asking if the farmer would allow a film set on his property.

Not hip to the fantasy fiction culture, the farmer rejected the offer and told Jackson that “he, his helicopter, and their Harry Potter magic riff raff could bugger off.” I’m paraphrasing.

That night the farmer told his family about the cooky Hollywood director. The farmer’s son (more hip to the fantasy fiction culture) saw LotR’s dollar sign potential and called his dad a “daft sod.” Dad called Jackson the next day and the rest is history.

EXCEPT NOT! After LotR finished filming, they tore the set down! The first trilogy wrapped up in 2003, and without further need for Hobbit holes, the farmer took his land back. Great. Except he was missing out on a huge tourist opportunity.

Luck again saved our fortuitous farmer friend though, as LotR was so successful that Jackson pursued a second trilogy, The Hobbit. The filmset was built back up, but this time, they didn’t tear ‘nuffin down after filming. Instead, they put up a sign that read “Nerds welcome,” and the tourist crowds came in droves. Our group included.

The set is genuinely a fairy tale. What used to be open farmland is now truly Hobbiton, with 39 (!) intricately detailed homes, each etched with hints of the occupant’s occupation. Florist, baker, village drunk. Led by fanatical Phil, we paraded through “precious” pathways (alliterative Golem reference), trying our luck at hobbit games like stilts, and quenching our thirst with brewed-on-site beverages.

The fairy tale hamlet was buzzing and jovial, but we had to get a move on because that night’s AirBnB was about two hours south.

The drive a stark contrast to Hobbiton as it included almost zero humans. I mean that in two ways: there was both a lack of civilization, and also everyone in the car fell asleep during my turn to drive. Daniel & Jorge were the only ones to keep me company, and they rambled on about small-talk-topics like whether the universe is random or chaotic.

Shockingly, we came across a small town closer to our AirBnB. Thank god because we’d finished all the car ride CookieTimes and I was hungry. There appeared to be only one restaurant in this town, and its name was Rust — not the most appealing description. With few alternatives, we shot our shot and the meal was a massive success. Massive is the key descriptor. These burgers needed a butchers knife to stay upright.

It was necessary sustenance though, as our hike the next day, the Tongariro Crossing, required all the energy we could muster (mustard? Burger pun? ...I’m tired and writing this from a 24 hr plane ride to London).

For a bit of extra energy, we slept-in the next morning and took our time with a tasty fried egg breakfast courtesy of Chef Pete. Unfortunately this slower start created a new risk. See, Tongariro is a 19 km one-way hike: you park at the trail-end, then take a shuttle up to the start. However, because it’s such a long hike, most trekkers start early so the shuttle only runs from 5 AM to 10 AM. We pulled into the lot at 10:08. Ohhhhh, pickles.

Luckily there was a man wearing an orange construction vest. He looked official, like a park ranger, but honestly he could’ve been anyone. We asked him if he knew a way to get back to the trailhead, and because he had a truck, asked if he could give us a ride. I don’t want to give this guy too much credit because I’m sure he’s perfected this with hundreds of sleepy-headed tourists, but the savvy SOB responded “You got cash?” Goodonya mate. This burly Maori man is in the middle of nowhere New Zealand, and he’s created his very own Uber for Idiots Who Slept In. I’m immediately recommending him to EY’s Entrepeneur of the Year program.

“Joe”, as he introduced himself, was actually a really nice guy. He offered to pull over for pictures, asked if we needed any sunscreen, and even told us about his family. He was proud that his eldest daughter had just shot three deer... which means he has guns... which means we weren’t pulling over for any pictures... actually we just want to get out of Joe’s truck asap.

The ride was quite long (30 minutes), so upon safe delivery, we thought we were being generous when we offered 40 AUD to Joerotorua (we were skeptical of his white person name so made up our own). Joe really had us by the balls when he responded “That’s all?” We played dumb, sheepishly smiled, and quickly exited.

Woo. I joke about Joerotorua, but he actually saved us. Our day could’ve been seriously sidetracked if he hadn’t helped-a-Hobbit out. Thanks to his entrepreneurial venture though, we ended up right where we needed to be: the Tongariro Crossing trailhead.

Now, Tongariro was actually a tough fit into our initial itinerary. When planning, we struggled to justify forcing this out-of-the-way hike into an already packed agenda... I mean, we’d already been to Poor Knight’s, Waitomo Glow Worm Caves, and Hobbiton. Was it really worth it? Let’s have a Googl-WE’RE GOING! It took about two Google images to realize this other worldly landscape was a must-do.

And so we set off, taking our first steps into the 19.4 km trek. The payoff was essentially immediate. Within the first few Ks, we were navigating towns of bizarre lava formations, trekking through Martian deltas under LotR’s Mt Doom, and conquering what we would later find out is called The Devil’s Staircase.

We were really lucky with the weather. As I write this, I’m not sure I even appreciate how lucky we were. Spoiled brat. This particular weekend, the traditionally hit or miss North Island was hit by and Aussie Heatwave (and I don’t just mean my sexy mid-length socks *wink*). But seriously, it was hot. 90 degrees. No shelter or shade. Walking on an active volcano. Like a desert mirage, the horizon shimmered into a sweltering haze.

Like Frodo and the Fellowship, we fought the dark powers of Mt Doom’s incline before reaching the trail’s saddle. From here, the 360 degree views were unbelievable. I specifically remember looking out at the perfect desolate symmetry of Mt Doom and thinking “This is crazy.” The I turned 180 degrees to see the otherworldly colors of an exploded volcanic crater and thought: “THIS is crazy!” Then I walked 100 yards to find sulfuric steam rising from emerald lakes located between Martian lava fields and I thought: “EVERYTHING is crazy!”

We stopped for some epic-LotR journey footage on Pete & Megan’s drone (aka Charles Lindbergh), before enjoying potentially the most picturesque picnic of my life. In terms of hard grades, the views were and absolutely unbeatable A+. Our entertainment was also 10/10: a super friendly Kiwi who showed us how to quickly descend the scree via skip (we called it the “graceful little prance”... or was it “graceful little prince”. It works either way). The only F grade: a sulfuric fart smell hanging in the air.

Now, Poor Knight’s, Waitomo, and Hobbiton (+ Dotty’s animal farm) all exceeded expectations. They were dope, but it was this track, the late add to the itinerary, Tongariro Crossing, that I’ll remember most from the North Island.

Mt Doom and our 19km hike through Mordor was truly a full-day activity. Following our eight hours on the trail, we had a two hour drive to our final stop of the trip, Rotorua (yes, of “Joerotorua”). By the time we arrived, the only sensible option was a second round of Maccas. Imagine how badly Frodo and Samwise would’ve wanted a CookieTime McFlurry after their own hike through Mordor.

We passed out *herd* (Chelsay saying “hard” in her hood voice) that night, but were surprising spry the next morning. It was our last day on the North Island, and Rotorua (aka RotoVegas... that’s not a joke) had plenty to offer.

We had three options for the day. First, street luge. Yerp. Second, redwoods. Yerp. Third, geothermal hotspots. Ehhhh. We decided to pass given we’d endured enough fart smells at Tongariro (...I’m also pretty sure Joerotorua let a rage-one rip after we shorted him with 40 AUD). Anyway, we decided to focus on the first two picks.

Stop one was the famous Rotorua Street Luge. This place was another adult playground... I’m surprised Queenstown didn’t have a street luge. Oh wait, they did? Makes sense. But the Rotorua version is bigger and better!

We decided one run wouldn’t be enough, so signed up for three. For the first luge, we went conservative in the intermediate lane. It was good getting a feel for the track, but once we’d raced to the bottom, we were ready for Expert.

It was here that our group became known to the locals. They started calling us the “Bomb Squad”... (They didn’t, but I’m retroactively adding it). Our four-person havoc wreaking, hell raising, Harry Potter magic riff raff group bombed down the track as we passed far more conservative Chinese tourists and liberally braking/highly offended families. They’ll forever remember the Bomb Squad. A couple other notes from the luge:

You actually go quite fast (up to 30 mph), and the Expert track dips to help you power through turns.

My stomach flipped a little as I pulled two wheels off the ground on one particularly hard turn.

I’m not sure Chelsay applied her brakes. Like, not once.

Like the real Vegas, RotoVegas was toasty, so our next stop was a welcomed reprieve: Rotorua’s redwood forests. After stepping out of the car to the parking lot’s sulfuric smell, we escaped from both the fart scent and the sun into the pine-y shade of the redwoods. It was here that we were able to reflect on what and action-packed four days it had been.

I’ve always said that the sign of a great trip is the ability to point to a memorable activity from each day. Well, damn. One day we went scuba diving in one of the top dive sites in the entire world, spotting horn-tailed sting rays and even hornier-tailed dive instructors. The next day we explored a seemingly fake glow worm cave, followed by a visit to a seemingly real-life Hobbiton. Then we trekked through Tongariro (aka Mordor... aka Mars... aka Joerotorua’s place of business). Finally, we wrapped up with street luge and big ass trees.

This isn’t even to mention the wonderful company Chelsay and I got to share. Sure, the itinerary delivered an amazing four days, but what made this trip truly special was spending it with our mirror couple Manly fam (aka the Bomb Squad).