Frame Generation Is The New Motion Blur

The absurdity of modern software bloat in one perfect screenshot! A 10KB JPEG requires 152.77GB of space? That's like needing an aircraft carrier to deliver a postcard. Game developers be like: "We fixed a typo in the credits. Download size: 87GB." Meanwhile, entire operating systems from the 90s fit on a floppy disk. The driveway analogy is brilliant—having storage space doesn't justify developers treating your SSD like their personal dumping ground. No, I don't want to sacrifice 1/4 of my hard drive because you couldn't be bothered to implement delta patching.

The dreaded "storage execution" scene! That moment when your SSD is at 99% capacity and you need to install a 60GB game. Suddenly you're Negan from The Walking Dead, bat in hand, deciding which of your precious game installs gets the digital axe. The 45GB game is sweating bullets while the 92GB behemoth is practically begging to be spared. "But I'm only 30% through the campaign!" Meanwhile, the 58GB and 89GB games are silently accepting their fate, knowing they haven't been launched in 8 months. Bonus pain: after deleting 200GB worth of games, you realize the new one needs another 50GB for the day-one patch.

A dumpster full of RTX 5090 GPUs? That's not garbage—that's my retirement plan. After spending three years trying to buy a single card at MSRP while crypto miners hoarded them all, seeing this feels like stumbling across El Dorado. Would I dumpster dive? I'd rent a U-Haul and bring snacks for an overnight operation. That's roughly $50,000 of hardware or exactly one mortgage payment in today's economy.

The high-refresh-rate rabbit hole claims another victim. Once you've experienced the buttery smoothness of 144 FPS gaming, your standards get completely warped. Suddenly 60 FPS—which used to be the gold standard we all dreamed about—feels like watching a PowerPoint presentation. Your GPU is crying, your electricity bill is skyrocketing, but you refuse to compromise because "I just don't think at this age I'm meant to live an uncomfortable life." The gaming equivalent of refusing to drink anything but top-shelf liquor after that one time you splurged.

Game engines: either drowning in endless menus or making you frantically jump through hoops to accomplish basic tasks. The comic nails it by sorting them into just two categories - "menus" (looking at you, Unity) or "parkour" (hello, Unreal). Anyone who's tried to find that one specific setting buried in Unity's seventeen nested dropdown menus knows the pain. Meanwhile, Unreal devs are performing mental gymnastics just to implement a simple "Hello World" blueprint. And poor Unity, getting called out for "jumping around a lot" yet still being classified as "menus" - the ultimate burn for an engine trying so hard to be developer-friendly. It's like being told you dance like a spreadsheet.

The indie game development experience: one person sitting behind a table with name tags for "Producer," "Director," "Actor," "Editor," "Writer," "Video Editor," and "Creative." It's the software development equivalent of wearing all the hats in your closet simultaneously. Big studios have entire departments. Indie devs have... coffee and determination. And probably a concerning browser history full of "how to fix [obscure engine] bug at 3AM" searches.