Thinking How Cool It Would Be To Make A PC Game Vs. Actually Making One

The desperate dance of GPU pricing in real-time. Nothing says "I'm totally not panicking" like dropping your price by $130 in a series of increasingly frantic messages. From $940 to $810 with a brief "Bought it for more than that" thrown in for emotional leverage. This is basically the GPU market's version of drunk texting your ex. "Hey... u up? I'm actually worth $940... no wait $915... actually $810... please respond."

The four-panel descent into game dev reality hits harder than a production bug on release day! It starts with pure optimism: "we make the game" (cue innocent developer dreams). Then the marketing team swoops in with their brilliant strategy: "we market the game to the people who want to play the game" (revolutionary, I know). But then comes the soul-crushing realization in duplicate panels: "we realize nobody actually wants to play this game." That moment when you discover your revolutionary procedurally-generated roguelike dating sim with blockchain integration isn't actually appealing to... well, anyone. This is why market research before writing a single line of code isn't just good practice—it's emotional self-preservation!

Ah, the evolution of game development—from heroic optimization wizards to corporate dumpster fires. Remember when devs were literal coding gods who could fit entire games in kilobytes and make them run on a potato? Now we've got these "Triple A" clowns shipping 50GB broken messes, requiring NASA computers, and forcing you to be online just to play a single-player game. The best part is the "optimization" advice. "Just buy a better PC, bro" is the game dev equivalent of "have you tried turning it off and on again?" except it costs you $2000. And let's not even address whatever the hell is happening with that breast milk situation. Modern gaming, everyone! 👏

When your friend discovers you're hardcoding an entire chess game by manually printing each board state for every possible move. 2.6 million lines of code instead of using a chess library or even basic loops? That's not programming, that's digital masochism. The real checkmate here isn't on the board—it's the developer's sanity. Somewhere, a computer science professor just felt a disturbance in the force and doesn't know why.

The circle of tech life continues. Nintendo's 3DS died in 2024, only for Samsung to resurrect the glasses-free 3D concept a year later with their fancy Odyssey monitor. Ten years of developers avoiding 3D like the plague, and now we're supposed to believe it's revolutionary again? Watch us waste another decade optimizing for a feature nobody asked for while our actual code still runs on duct tape and prayers.

The career path of a developer who started by hacking game ROMs is like finding out your coworker used to be in a cult. Normal devs learned Python in high school, but the ROM hackers were out there reverse-engineering assembly code at age 12 just to make Mario wear a cowboy hat. Now they're sitting next to you debugging TypeScript with thousand-yard stares, permanently damaged by their formative years of hex editing and wondering why modern languages have so many "unnecessary features" like memory management.