a multiplayer game of parenting and civilization building
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I was born a boy to a new mom who didn't know how to name kids. I had a big sister who was mistakenly named my when mom said you are my baby? I was named by my grandma Dayya she named me Icarus. I spent my early childhood helping the town shepherd feed his flock. My big sister had her first child when I was 12. She named her bb girl deadrea (of course, she really wanted to name her dead) My sister was cold and stand offish from her newborn I believe she suffered post partum lol. So I clothed her and supervised her interactions with her mom to make sure she was receiving proper care. I believe it was a direct result of her bad relationship with our mother that caused this.
After the birth of my niece the shepherd passed away and I became head of the flock. I began harvesting the sheep's wool for clothes and culling the fat overfed one for meat pies and mutton steaks. I had a young boy close to my age who wanted to help me watch the growing flock and we spent our time caring for the berry bushes and carrot fields to feed the young lambs as they grew. During this time my sister gave birth to a bb boy. As I ran to greet the new offspring my sister said some unkind words to it before I arrived and it promptly died of SIDS. My sister spent the rest of her days in succumbing to her mental illness. She sulked around naked until the age of forty when she ran into the wild to be mauled by a bear.
My niece deadra now 18 had become the town's rabbit trapper. She would come and go from town with her cart of furs to trade. Later on she gave birth to a bb girl herself. She was a good mom and named her daughter Berry and clothed her well in the furs she had caught. She took her child with her everywhere always watchful of danger.
In my 30s while on the outside of town with the flock grazing I heard the cry of a newborn. I ran towards the sound and found an infant covered in the blood of its mother who had died protecting it from a pack of wolves. The child was starving and on the verge of death. I rushed it back to town where I was able to feed her a bowl of milk from our cow. I named her Miranda. I brought her to the nursery and entrusted her care to my cousin who was breastfeeding her own toddler by the fireplace. After a long day tending to the flock I would come check on my adopted daughter. I would bring her many gifts. A new dress a new bag a pretty hat which I had fashioned out of the skin of the wolf that killed her mother lol. She was grateful, she was a good child.
As she grew she decided she wanted to learn the black smithing trade. For my 45th birthday she brought me a new shovel and sheep shears to replace my old outdated ones. For the remainder of my life I enjoyed making wool sweaters and weaving pants for my three grandsons. Every new child Miranda had she knew to come show them off to grandpa. I died of old age surrounded by my niece, her daughter, my daughter and three grandsons. They promised to bury me in the fields I raised my sheep.
Check this out upvote if you agree!!! https://www.reddit.com/r/OneLifeSuggest … heck_this/
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