Steam Memes

Someone at Valve looked down one day and realized they could literally see steam coming off their body. That's when Gabe Newell had his eureka moment: "What if we made a platform that's equally bloated and impossible to get rid of?" And just like that, the gaming distribution monopoly was born. The platform runs on the same principle as this person's chair—constantly under pressure and making concerning noises, but somehow still operational after 20 years.

Nothing hits harder than a positive review on Christmas morning from someone who literally can't run your game. Posted at 12:27am on December 25th with "Product refunded" stamped on it like a death certificate. They played for 18 minutes total, their PC gave up the ghost, and instead of leaving a salty one-star rant about optimization, they still gave it a thumbs up because the YouTube gameplay looked fun. That's the digital equivalent of saying "the restaurant smells amazing" while being wheeled out on a stretcher from food poisoning. This is either the most wholesome gamer ever or someone whose hardware specs include a hamster wheel and prayers. Either way, this dev just got the most bittersweet recommendation of their career.

The annual ritual where your wallet screams in terror while Steam dangles those sweet 90% off deals in front of you. You're excitedly grabbing every discounted game like it's Christmas morning, completely ignoring the 247 unplayed games from last year's sale still gathering digital dust in your library. Meanwhile, Epic Games is sitting at the bottom of the ocean like a forgotten skeleton, having given you so many free games that you've become completely numb to their existence. They literally gave away GTA V and you still haven't installed it. The hierarchy of attention is clear: Steam Winter Sale is the golden child, last year's backlog is the neglected middle child desperately trying to get noticed, and Epic's freebies are the family skeleton we don't talk about anymore. Your backlog isn't just drowning—it's achieving new depths of abandonment.

Game dev discovers the ancient marketing algorithm: if everyone you know wishlists your game, and everyone THEY know does the same, you'll achieve exponential growth until the entire planet owns your indie platformer. It's foolproof math, really. Just need your mom, her book club, their extended families, and approximately 8.2 billion strangers to click one button. The cat's expression perfectly captures that moment when you realize your "viral marketing strategy" requires solving a recursive function where the base case is "literally everyone on Earth." Fun fact: Steam wishlists actually DO help with visibility in their algorithm, but the platform has around 120 million active users, not 8.2 billion. So you'd need to convince every human, including uncontacted tribes and newborns, to create Steam accounts first. Priorities.

Epic Games has mastered the art of buying developer loyalty through free games instead of, you know, actually making their platform good. Everyone's thrilled to claim free AAA titles every week, but the second they're asked to actually purchase something? Crickets. Tumbleweeds. The sound of wallets snapping shut. It's basically the digital equivalent of a grocery store giving out free samples—everyone loves the guy with the toothpick tray, but nobody's buying the frozen lasagna. Epic's entire business model relies on Fortnite whales funding their "charity work" of giving us free games while they desperately try to compete with Steam. Spoiler alert: having a shopping cart feature actually matters. The irony? We're all complicit. We've got libraries full of Epic games we'll never play, but hey, they were free. Meanwhile, Steam gets our actual money because it has features invented after 2005.

Steam slides into your DMs offering a measly 10% discount and suddenly you're blushing like a schoolgirl, ready to empty your wallet for the fifteenth copy of Skyrim. But when Epic Games shows up with an ENTIRE FREE GAME—like, literally zero dollars—you're immediately on the phone with HR screaming about workplace violations. The audacity! The BETRAYAL! Steam could offer you a used napkin and gamers would frame it, but Epic literally throws AAA titles at people for free and gets treated like it committed a war crime. The gaming community's loyalty to Steam is stronger than most marriages, and Epic's desperate attempts to win people over with free games just makes everyone more suspicious. Nothing says "I don't trust you" quite like refusing free stuff out of pure spite.

The chocolate gorilla is melting away to deliver the harsh truth about Valve's pricing model. "The price of steam cube is..." but he's completely dissolved before finishing his sentence. Just like how your hopes of ever seeing Half-Life 3 slowly melt away with each passing year. Valve took the "no time to explain" approach quite literally here—the messenger is gone and so is your wallet.