There Goes 40 Minutes

Ah yes, the ancient stone tablet IDE. Because nothing says "I'm a serious developer" like carving your collision detection algorithms into limestone. Modern IDEs with their "syntax highlighting" and "error detection" are clearly for the weak. Real programmers chisel their bugs directly into rock so they're permanent, just like their technical debt.

LinkedIn optimization at its finest. Rejecting the harsh reality of "broke and unemployed" in favor of the much more impressive "full time indie game developer" – which is technically the same thing but with a Steam page that has 3 wishlists (all from family members). The resume gap becomes a "focused development period" and ramen dinners transform into "startup culture."

The bravado of developers who claim they "fear no API" only to cower in terror at the sight of Vulkan is just *chef's kiss*. For the uninitiated, Vulkan is the low-level graphics API that makes even seasoned graphics programmers wake up in cold sweats. It's like saying "I'm great at assembling IKEA furniture" and then being handed the blueprints to build the actual IKEA store from scratch. The documentation alone is thicker than a computer science textbook, and the error messages might as well be written in ancient Sumerian. Meanwhile, OpenGL (referenced in the title) is like the friendly neighborhood graphics API that suddenly looks like a cuddly kitten in comparison.

Ah yes, the authentic game dev experience – crying in bed while wrestling with OpenGL collision detection. No fancy ergonomic setup, no whiteboard full of brilliant algorithms, just pure existential despair with C++ error messages burning into your retinas at 2 AM. This isn't just coding, it's emotional damage with syntax highlighting. The "TRUE VIBE" isn't the satisfaction of solving problems – it's the soul-crushing reality that you've spent 16 hours debugging why your character falls through the floor when walking diagonally.

The four horsemen of the apocalypse: World of Warcraft, beige computer tower, Mountain Dew, and pepperoni pizza. Back when your biggest worry was whether your guild would show up for the raid, not whether your Docker container would deploy correctly. The "work from home" setup before it was mandatory – except you weren't working, you were grinding for epic gear while your parents yelled about the phone line being tied up. Twenty years later and I'm still staring at screens, drinking caffeine, and eating delivery food... just with better resolution and more expensive hardware.

The duality of programmer perfectionism is a beautiful thing to behold. Top left: spending 47 hours meticulously organizing virtual factories in Factorio with conveyor belts that would make Marie Kondo weep tears of joy. Top right: obsessing over system architecture diagrams until your eyes bleed because "IT MUST BE PERFECT." Meanwhile, bottom left: the actual code you're paid to write has security so weak it might as well be a "Please Don't Hack Me" sticky note. Password literally hardcoded as "Password"? *chef's kiss* Bottom right: villain from a silent film declaring "MY JOB HERE IS DONE" because hey, it compiles and passes that one test you wrote! The optimization is clearly happening in all the wrong places. But the code runs in production, so... ship it!