Add Capsule Collider

So you made an indie game and found it on Pirate Bay. Instead of rage-tweeting about lost revenue, you discover there's a VPN ad embedded in your torrent page. Congratulations—you're now technically making money from piracy through affiliate marketing. The real kicker? Zero leechers. Not even pirates want to finish downloading your game. That's a level of rejection that even your Steam reviews couldn't prepare you for. At least you got 10 seeders though, which is 10 more people than bought it legitimately. Fun fact: Some devs actually intentionally leak their games to torrent sites for the free marketing. It's the digital equivalent of handing out flyers, except the flyers are your entire product and nobody's paying you.

OH. MY. GOD. The gaming community's duality in ONE image! 😱 On the left, Gordon Ramsay is ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTED when gamers create sweet, innocent fan content about their favorite characters. It's all rainbows and unicorns! But the SECOND those same fans unleash their depraved imaginations and start creating adult content (aka Rule 34 - "if it exists, there's porn of it")? FULL MELTDOWN MODE ACTIVATED! The chef's horrified "You f***ing donkey" reaction is the digital equivalent of needing therapy after accidentally clicking the wrong fan art link. The internet is a terrifying place, and no beloved character is safe from being... anatomically enhanced. 💀

Game devs live in a universe where physics simulations, particle effects, and complex AI pathfinding are just "Tuesday morning tasks," but adding a cosmetic item like a scarf? That's apparently where the engine decides to have an existential crisis. The contrast is beautiful—rendering a demon erupting from molten lava with real-time particle effects and collision detection is trivial, but cloth physics or character customization? Now we're talking about refactoring the entire rendering pipeline. It's the classic case of "we built this system to do one specific thing really well, and now you want to add a feature we never considered." Turns out the game's architecture was designed around demons and explosions, not fashion accessories. Welcome to game development, where complexity is completely arbitrary and nothing makes sense until you're knee-deep in the codebase.

Look at that high-end Bugatti with no wheels—just like those fancy Unreal Engine 5 games that look incredible in trailers but run at 12 FPS on actual hardware. Sure, the graphics are mind-blowing, but what good is a sports car (or game engine) when it can't actually move? Six months after launch: "We're optimizing the experience with our latest 50GB patch." Meanwhile your GPU is sweating harder than a junior dev during a code review.

The eternal struggle of developer-gamers everywhere! That moment when you finally carve out precious minutes from debugging production issues to play that RPG you bought six months ago—only to stare blankly at the controls wondering which button does what. This proposed "adults with busy lives" feature would be worth its weight in gold. Imagine not having to relearn an entire control scheme or remember where you left that quest item every time you manage to squeeze in some gaming between pull requests and sprint planning! Game developers, if you're reading this: implement this feature and take my money. My muscle memory for your game lasts approximately 3.5 days—roughly the same time it takes me to forget about that unhandled edge case I promised to fix.

That's just Journey's protagonist after the budget cuts hit. When your indie game funding runs out but you still need to ship something, you grab grandma's knitting project and call it "innovative character design." Half the Steam reviews will call it "a profound statement on isolation in the digital age" while the other half will complain that the hitbox is too big.