Every. Damn. Time.

When Death comes knocking for the guy who literally created Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, Medal of Honor: Allied Assault, Titanfall, and Apex Legends, even the Grim Reaper has to show some respect. The man's been dropping legendary FPS titles since before most devs learned what a game loop was. Death tries the whole "it's your time" routine, but then has to pause and ask the real question: "Was I a good game developer?" And honestly? Death already knows the answer. You don't get to revolutionize the FPS genre multiple times, spawn entire competitive ecosystems, and create movement mechanics so smooth they make parkour look clunky without earning your wings. The Grim Reaper's response says it all: "No. I'm told you were the best." That's not just a participation trophy—that's recognition from the universe itself. Respawn Entertainment didn't get that name by accident, and neither did Zampella's legacy in gaming history.

Cloud gaming promises you the future of entertainment—play AAA titles on any potato device! Just stream it, they said. No downloads, they said. Then your WiFi hiccups for 0.2 seconds and suddenly you're a frozen T-Rex suspended in mid-air like you just violated the laws of physics. The irony? You're paying premium prices to rent someone else's GPU while being completely at the mercy of your ISP's mood swings. Nothing says "next-gen gaming" quite like getting wrecked in a boss fight because your internet decided to take a coffee break. At least with local gaming, when you die, it's actually your fault.

The eternal struggle of every game developer who still lives with their parents. That crushing moment when Mom walks in, sees you clicking away at Unity or Unreal Engine, and assumes you're just wasting time on Fortnite again. The sad cat face perfectly captures that mix of indignation and despair when your career aspirations are dismissed as "playing games." Sure, I'm staring at a screen for 12 hours straight, but I'm creating worlds, not just living in them! Pro tip: Next time, just tell Mom you're "optimizing recursive algorithms for interactive entertainment systems." She'll either be impressed or confused enough to leave you alone.

Remember when video games were just... fun? Before you became a programmer and couldn't help but see the collision detection glitches, frame rate issues, and spaghetti code lurking beneath the surface? Now you're sitting there calculating the physics equations they used for that jump animation, mentally optimizing their render pipeline, and thinking "that NPC pathfinding algorithm must be A* with a custom heuristic." The curse of knowledge strikes again. You've peeked behind the curtain, and now you can't unsee the matrix. Gaming will never be the same, but hey—at least you can impress absolutely nobody by explaining why that texture is flickering.

BETHESDA STUDIOS, I'M BEGGING YOU! Stop re-releasing Skyrim and give us a new Elder Scrolls already! The audacity of rejecting a new game (TES VI) to instead milk every last septim out of Skyrim (14 years old) and now they're digging up MORROWIND (20 years old)!? I've bought Skyrim on more platforms than I've had relationships! At this point, Todd Howard could sell me a sweet roll in real life and I'd probably buy that too. THE HORSE ARMOR WAS JUST THE BEGINNING OF THE MADNESS!

Oh honey, the AUDACITY of non-programmers approaching developers with their "brilliant" game ideas! 🙄 The first panel: "I have a great idea for a game..." *IMMEDIATE REJECTION* Because sweetie, ideas are a dime a dozen and your "revolutionary concept" is probably just Flappy Bird with cats. But the second panel? "...and I've already created the graphics, 3D models, sound effects, music and everything else you'll need." *INSTANT ATTENTION* NOW we're talking! You've actually done the hard part instead of expecting me to manifest your fever dream into reality for exposure and a pizza! The bar is literally on the floor and you somehow managed to step over it!