Buying Games > Playing Games

Oh honey, you thought game development could be a "hobby"? PLEASE! The top shows you joyfully balancing your YouTube channel with work and life, while the REALITY lurks below - your forgotten skeleton on the ocean floor, completely consumed by Twitch streaming and uploading to Itch.io! What started as "I'll just make a cute little game on weekends" has transformed into a 24/7 obsession where you haven't seen sunlight in WEEKS! Game dev doesn't want some of your time - it wants your SOUL! Your friends are sending search parties while you're debugging collision detection at 4AM muttering "just one more fix" for the 87th consecutive night!

You just spent 72 hours building the most gorgeous side project of your ENTIRE LIFE, and you're bursting with excitement to show someone—ANYONE—who will appreciate your genius. But then reality hits like a segfault: your non-programmer friends will just nod politely while their eyes glaze over, and your family will ask if you can fix their printer now. The tragic existence of a developer is having nobody who understands why your perfectly optimized algorithm or that slick UI animation deserves a standing ovation. So there you are, desperately trying to show your masterpiece to people who think "backend" is a compliment about jeans.

When your IDE documentation is just ASCII art instead of actual descriptions. The developer who made this struct literally drew a 3D cube in code comments instead of writing proper documentation. Then labeled the vertices A-H and called it a day. Pure chaotic genius! Bonus points for the struct being named "CubeInt" which somehow makes it both obvious and completely unhelpful at the same time. Who needs formal documentation when you can just sketch it out in ASCII?

Support agent really out here suggesting port forwarding for a single-player offline game. That's like telling someone to check their WiFi password when their monitor isn't plugged in. The logic gap is so wide you could fit an entire datacenter through it. But sure, let's forward ports to servers that... don't need to be contacted... because there's no internet. Classic tech support script reading at its finest. Have you tried turning your offline game online?

You know that one indie dev friend who won't shut up about their "cozy farming sim with roguelike elements"? Yeah, they've used the word "cozy" approximately 47 times in the last 10 minutes. The gaming industry has collectively decided that "cozy" is the magic word that makes investors throw money at you and players smash that wishlist button. It's gotten to the point where even survival horror games are being pitched as "cozy existential dread simulators." The real kicker? It works. Slap "cozy" on literally anything—fishing, cooking, tax filing, debugging segmentation faults—and suddenly you've got a viable game concept. The word has been so overused it's lost all meaning, but game devs keep reaching for it like it's the only adjective in the English language. Meanwhile, the rest of us are sitting here wondering when "cozy battle royale" is gonna drop.

Epic Games has mastered the art of buying developer loyalty through free games instead of, you know, actually making their platform good. Everyone's thrilled to claim free AAA titles every week, but the second they're asked to actually purchase something? Crickets. Tumbleweeds. The sound of wallets snapping shut. It's basically the digital equivalent of a grocery store giving out free samples—everyone loves the guy with the toothpick tray, but nobody's buying the frozen lasagna. Epic's entire business model relies on Fortnite whales funding their "charity work" of giving us free games while they desperately try to compete with Steam. Spoiler alert: having a shopping cart feature actually matters. The irony? We're all complicit. We've got libraries full of Epic games we'll never play, but hey, they were free. Meanwhile, Steam gets our actual money because it has features invented after 2005.