Programmer X Accountant: Double-Entry Damage System

That smug feeling when a non-programmer is absolutely blown away by a game glitch you could fix with a single if-statement. Sure, let them think you're some kind of wizard for understanding that the collision detection just needed a simple boundary check. Meanwhile, you're sitting there knowing it's basically the "Hello World" of game development fixes. The superiority is just *chef's kiss* delicious.

Product managers and UX designers really thought they did something by adding that tutorial button, huh? Meanwhile, 99% of users are smashing "Yeah, Skip!" faster than they can say "I'll figure it out myself" and then immediately flooding Slack with "how do I..." questions. The real kicker? Your team spent three sprints building that gorgeous interactive tutorial with tooltips, animations, and progress tracking. Nobody watches it. Ever. But somehow it's the devs' fault when users can't find the export button that's been in the same spot for two years. We've all been on both sides of this. Skip the tutorial, break something, then complain the documentation sucks. It's the circle of tech life.

When someone asks what your RTX 5090 cost and you're trying to calculate whether to tell them the GPU price alone or include the therapy sessions, the divorce lawyer fees, and the kidney you sold on the dark web. The real answer? Your dignity, your savings account, and probably your relationship. But hey, at least you can render those triangles at 600 FPS now. Totally worth living on ramen for the next six months, right?

Sony Online Entertainment telling us "You could not live with your own failure" only to become PlayStation Studios a decade later asking "Where did that bring you? Back to me" is the corporate equivalent of deleting your embarrassing account just to create a new one and watch all your old friends follow you anyway. The gaming industry's greatest magic trick: rebrand your failures, wait for nostalgia to kick in, then welcome back the same players who swore they'd never touch your games again. The circle of gaming life!

Ah, the classic CS student interpretation of "make a game." Instead of creating Pac-Man or Tetris, this brilliant mind went straight for digital self-destruction. The code randomly generates a number between 0 and 5, and if it's 1 (which has a 1/6 chance), it deletes your Windows system folder. Nothing says "game over" quite like bricking your operating system! The professor asked for a game, not digital Russian roulette with your computer's vital organs. At least they named the file honestly - the only thing missing is a comment that says "// Do not run this unless you hate your computer and future self."

Intel Core i7 with McDonald's graphics. Congratulations, you can run all menu items at 60 FPS but your thermal paste is actually ketchup. Perfect for running Burger Clicker and French Fry Simulator, but Cyberpunk will just make your laptop smell like burnt nuggets. The real question is whether your warranty covers milkshake spills.