Raise Your Hand If You've Been Rule 34'ed

Ah, the eternal GPU rivalry immortalized in muscular arm form! Since 2013, NVIDIA and AMD have been locked in this sweaty, vein-popping handshake of technological one-upmanship. The only thing more impressive than these bulging biceps is how both companies continue convincing gamers they absolutely need that extra VRAM for... *checks notes*... slightly better shadow rendering in games they'll never actually finish playing. Meanwhile, everyone's bank account is in the corner doing the opposite of flexing. The real winner? Electricity companies watching your power bill after running these heat-generating beasts.

The hierarchy of pain in CS specializations is too real. Cybersecurity and game design folks living the Buzz Lightyear dream - shiny, exciting, and mass-produced. Operating systems specialists get the Woody treatment - still relevant but definitely sweating. Then there's the compiler students... burning in literal hell, questioning every life choice that led them to parsing syntax trees and debugging segmentation faults for eternity. The compiler specialization isn't just hard mode - it's masochism with extra steps. And yet, those compiler wizards are the ones who make everything else possible. Suffering builds character, they say... mostly to justify the trauma.

Ah, the sweet delusion of game developers thinking they've outsmarted players. First, you laugh at clientside prediction, then celebrate with friends. But soon the boss music starts . You add lag compensation? Players counter with anticheats. You implement lag configuration? Players just adapt. And then there's the final boss: PVP balancing in games without clientside prediction - a mythical creature that eats developers for breakfast. Seven years in game networking has taught me one truth: no matter how clever your netcode, players will find ways to make you question your career choices. It's not about winning—it's about how gracefully you lose.

Ah, the project graveyard – where dreams go to hibernate indefinitely. That folder structure on the right isn't just storage, it's a memorial to our collective optimism. We all start with "JUST MAKE IT EXIST FIRST" – that beautiful cyan circle of possibility – convinced this time we'll finish what we started. Then reality kicks in. That 3D spaceship model? That game engine experiment? That revolutionary app idea? All neatly tucked away in folders, waiting for the mythical "when I have time" that never arrives. The true skill isn't starting projects – it's finishing one before getting seduced by the next shiny idea. Meanwhile, our hard drives become digital museums of what-could-have-been.

The eternal dilemma of our time: spend $2,000 on the latest RTX 4090 graphics card that'll be obsolete in 18 months, or invest in 1,342 pieces of garlic bread that will bring immediate joy and carb-induced euphoria? Tough choice for any dev working on rendering engines from home. The bread won't help you run Cyberpunk at max settings, but it also won't make your electricity bill rival the GDP of a small nation. Plus, garlic bread has never required a driver update or crashed during a deadline.

The flowchart of gamer desperation! This masterpiece maps out every possible financial scenario that inevitably leads to buying games on Steam. Broke? No job? No possessions? No problem! The algorithm always terminates at "BUY" because let's face it, your financial responsibility routine has more edge cases than a poorly written regex. My favorite path is the "BLASPHEMY" route – because nothing says "I'm a responsible adult" like cursing the capitalist system while simultaneously emptying your wallet during the Summer Sale. And if you've reached the "Do you have a soul?" decision node, you're already too far gone. Just accept your fate and prepare for your bank account to hit that recursion base case: zero.