Just Make It Exist First

Ah, indie game developers and their groundbreaking ideas! First, they'll make a "top-down RPG" (revolutionary, never been done before). Then they'll make it "Earthbound inspired" (because apparently that's a personality trait now). And finally, they'll add "crafting" (because every game needs to let you combine sticks and rocks for some reason). Meanwhile, Squidward is all of us experienced devs dying inside as we watch the 500th pitch that's basically just "Stardew Valley but with guns" being presented as the next gaming revolution. How daring indeed.

Ah, the classic indie game developer financial strategy! Why struggle with bootstrapping when you can just burn through a fortune instead? The gaming industry's version of "how to make a small fortune in aviation: start with a large one." Most indie devs are out here eating ramen while debugging collision detection at 3 AM, but apparently the secret sauce was just having a billion dollars to begin with. Silly me, I've been doing it all wrong!

Ah, the eternal struggle of PC gamers waiting for the perfect discount. If it's not at least 90% off, might as well be full price. We'll just stay in bed, refreshing Steam every 8 minutes, waiting for that sweet indie game to hit rock-bottom pricing. Because paying $3.50 instead of $0.50 for a game we'll play for 200 hours is clearly financial irresponsibility.

When game engine limitations meet developer ingenuity! In Fallout 3, the devs couldn't implement rideable trains due to engine constraints, so they created an NPC with a train-shaped hat who walks underground. Players think they're riding a train, but they're actually just wearing a dude like a hat who's shuffling below the surface. This is basically the digital equivalent of two kids in a trenchcoat pretending to be an adult, except it's a human pretending to be a train. Classic game dev hack that shows sometimes the most elegant solution is the most ridiculous one.

The universal law of parental needs: they're inversely proportional to your gaming availability. You ask if help is needed, they say no, and the millisecond you commit to a ranked match that you can't pause, suddenly they're performing an interpretive dance of urgent requests. It's like they have a sixth sense for detecting the exact moment your ELO rating is on the line. The worst part? This cosmic joke transcends gaming—it applies to critical git pushes, database migrations, and that moment when you finally understand a complex algorithm. The universe simply cannot allow uninterrupted focus.

When you install a new game but forget that your gaming rig needs to compile shaders before you can actually play. That moment when you hit "Play" all excited, only to be stopped dead in your tracks by the dreaded "Compiling Shaders: 1 of 9378" progress bar. The betrayal! Your evening plans suddenly held hostage by the GPU equivalent of watching paint dry. And somehow it's always when you've only got a small window of free time to play. Those shaders might as well be compiling your disappointment in real-time.