(There were more screenshots but EA’s PR team only okayed three shots of the same oil refinery, so, uh, you’ll have to use your imagination)
Hi! Hello! Mayor of StartingCity, here. Yes, yes, come in. Room for everyone. Lovely. Well, not really room for everyone actually as we’re sort of redeveloping the incredibly narrow roads at the moment and trying to overcome our crippling infrastructure problems. Anyway. Make do and mend, and all that.
Up to the North we’ve got the Industrial District, where everyone works, I assume. Sounds like the sort of thing you’d do in an Industrial District, doesn’t it? In the South we’ve got some houses – yes, that’s right, we had to relocate them all from the North after we discovered pollution moves around when you release it into the atmosphere! Who knew? Well, we didn’t, that’s for sure. You might also notice that we have no money thanks to the relocation efforts, so, uh, try not to hurt yourselves because we really have no way of dealing with that at present.
To the West you can see a number of roundabouts with houses and shops on that I built after I discovered you could build roundabouts, so that’s fun. There’s also some parks to counteract the sewage works and garbage dump that form the, uh, focal point of the region. Try not to look at or smell the sewage works and garbage dump until I find a way of sending waste out of the city, please.
No, the houses aren’t hard to get to, I swear. They’re secluded. Completely different. Much nicer. Please do not look at the sewage works.
Anyway, look, it’s been lovely talking but it’s all go here at head office – we’re putting out fires all over the place! Well, actually, we’re not putting out fires, which is sort of the real problem. Maybe all the criminals who’ve just appeared will catch fire and everything will sort of, mm, cancel itself out. Fingers crossed!
When we founded Scumsville, we had one aim in mind: Black gold. Liqid Dinosaur. Sweet lady Oil. We didn’t want none of your fancy schools. Don’t need no book-learnin’ ta pump oil outta the ground.
Listen, bud. You move to a city called Scumsville, you don’t get to complain about murders. We built your houses upwind of the pollution. Ain’t that enough for you? You ingrate.
But apparently oil wasn’t enough to keep the folks of Scumsville entertained. We built a gambling hall in the centre of town – well, I say the centre of town, it was in the middle of the hovels and slums on top of the cliff overlooking the industrial district. The real centre of town was my house, my mansion, deep in the oil fields. Right in the heart of ’em. I like to feel the beat of my city as we pull money out of the bowels of the Earth, wet and glistening and raw.
So the gambling hall did a brisk trade, although it caught fire a couple times and no-one could reach it on account of the cripplin’ transit infrastructure problems. Still. The real money was oil. Fields of the stuff, all along the highway into town. Anyone driving into Scumsville knew precisely what we were about.
Sometimes I just sit here and watch the pumps go up and down and wish that all the people were pumps, too, because pumps can’t get sick or complain about inferior garbage collection facilities or leave Scumsville. The pumps understand me.
Hey. You. Yeah. You with the face. You wanna have a little fun? Wanna spend a little money on the tables? Try your luck on the slots? Maybe take in a show? No? Well get the hell outta here.
This is Gambletown. You wanna know what we do here? Clue’s in the name, buddy. GAM-BLE-ING. Sure, your other cities might have fancy-pants Universities and police and parks and plumbing. What we got here is FUN.
Yeah, we also got homelessness. There are a lotta homeless people here. That’s admittedly a thing. But hey – some win, some lose. Some lose their houses because I put a giant disco Space Needle on top of ’em, but that’s the hand life deals you. You want a nice easy life, go live in Lovelytown to the North. I ain’t stopping ya.
Fair, fair, my crippling infrastructure problems are stopping ya. That seems to be a theme around these parts. I can only apologise, although, let’s be honest, I ain’t even gonna do that. Not my way.
But hey, when you’re sleepin’ on their couch, tell your family to come visit. We got everything here. We got blackjack. We got craps. We got comedy clubs. We got lounge singers. We got the Eiffel Tower. We got the freakin’ Statue of Liberty.
You want the Arc de Triomphe? We got yer stinkin’ Arc de Triomphe right here. Now get out your wallet, bub.
Not too obviously, though, or someone’ll take it. The whole No Police thing coming into play, there. Be lucky!