There Can Be Only One Game Engine

You just spent 72 hours building the most gorgeous side project of your ENTIRE LIFE, and you're bursting with excitement to show someone—ANYONE—who will appreciate your genius. But then reality hits like a segfault: your non-programmer friends will just nod politely while their eyes glaze over, and your family will ask if you can fix their printer now. The tragic existence of a developer is having nobody who understands why your perfectly optimized algorithm or that slick UI animation deserves a standing ovation. So there you are, desperately trying to show your masterpiece to people who think "backend" is a compliment about jeans.

The eternal lie we tell ourselves before opening Steam or our closet. "I have nothing to play" says the developer with 347 unplayed games in their library. Same energy as "I have nothing to wear" while staring at a closet that could clothe a small village. The difference? At least clothes don't go on sale every other week tempting you with "90% OFF! BUY NOW OR REGRET FOREVER!" Wallet and storage space - the real victims in both scenarios.

The gaming industry in a nutshell: Cyberpunk 2077, a game from 2020 with futuristic graphics that would make your bank account cry, running at a buttery 100 FPS with an RTX 5090 (a GPU that probably costs more than your car). Meanwhile, Borderlands 4, allegedly coming out in 2025, will somehow manage to look like it was rendered on a toaster from 2019 and still make your high-end rig struggle to hit 45 FPS. Game optimization is clearly an art form that some developers treat like abstract expressionism – nobody knows what the hell is going on, but we're all supposed to nod and pretend it makes sense.

OH. MY. GOD. The AUDACITY of these system shutdowns! Your laptop and that poor confused emoji are BEGGING to stay alive, but that dictatorial Overwolf app is like "NOPE, not today sweetie!" 💅 Meanwhile, your precious unsaved code is hanging by a thread! That one rebellious gaming overlay that decides YOUR WORK isn't as important as ITS update. The digital equivalent of someone unplugging your life support to charge their phone! And the worst part? NO ONE ASKED THE TERMINAL! That poor, neglected command line never gets a say in anything! TRAGIC!

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.

That thin blue sliver of productivity is feeling a bit generous today. Nothing says "I'm totally making progress on my game" like spending 8 hours researching the perfect shade of blue for a button nobody will click. Meanwhile, Twitter scrolling has officially become a "market research" expense on my tax forms. The best part? That character on the right is all of us pretending we're not procrastinating when someone asks how the game development is going. "Oh yeah, just finalizing some... uh... physics calculations."