Who Needs Therapy When You Have Gamedev?

The eternal developer graveyard of unfinished projects claims another victim. That suggestion to "finish your last project" might as well be suggesting cold fusion or dividing by zero. The look of pure existential dread says it all - we don't start projects, we merely begin permanent relationships with GitHub repos we'll eventually ghost. That folder labeled "projects" on your drive is basically a digital hospice where good intentions go to flatline.

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.

OMG VINDICATION AT LAST! That moment when your incessant "wouldn't it be nice if..." suggestions ACTUALLY EXISTED THE WHOLE TIME! 😱 Game developers secretly validating your feature creep addiction while your friends roll their eyes at your "unnecessary" requests. The sheer DRAMA of discovering that notepad function was hiding there all along! It's like finding out your ex actually WAS the problem! Sweet, sweet validation for your feature-demanding soul! And the best part? You didn't even have to file a single GitHub issue! 💅

The gaming industry's evolution is less "technological advancement" and more "descent into madness." Old-school devs were optimization wizards who could fit entire games into kilobytes and make them run on calculators. They'd offer free demos because they actually wanted people to enjoy their creations. Meanwhile, modern "Triple A" studios are out here shipping 50GB games that still need a 50GB day-one patch, requiring NASA-grade hardware just to hit 30fps, and forcing always-online connections for single-player experiences because apparently tracking your every move is an "essential feature." And let's not forget the bizarre workplace environments where employees are apparently... stealing breast milk? I'm not even going to ask what kind of agile methodology that falls under.

That moment when you're submitting your PR and frantically re-reading the contribution guidelines for the 17th time. "Did I format my commit messages correctly? Is my code style compliant? Will the maintainer publicly shame me in the comments?" Nothing quite like the cold sweat of wondering if your brilliant solution violates some obscure rule buried in paragraph 37, subsection C of the README. The code review Russian roulette begins!

Left side: John Carmack in his Oculus days, looking like the brilliant but slightly disheveled programmer who could optimize your rendering engine while explaining quaternions over lunch. Right side: Post-Facebook acquisition Carmack, who clearly discovered the secret API that transforms cargo pants energy into executive chic. The function signature must be something like: transform(millions_of_dollars, years_at_meta) . The real optimization algorithm was inside his wardrobe all along. Still has that "I could rewrite your entire codebase in assembly before dinner" vibe though.