The Developer

After what felt like a goddamn war against my own body, I finally finished the review.

My thumb hovered over the submit button, my lips twitching into a smirk as I read over my masterpiece.

-------------------

Title: Who the Fuck Thought This Was a Good Idea?

Review:

"This game is absolute dogshit. Who the fuck wrote this script? Who decided that the main character should be the most pathetic, spineless, bootlicking simp in gaming history? Damien Elford isn't a protagonist—he's a walking humiliation fetish. No agency, no fight, just a punching bag for whatever cruel, sadistic garbage the writers felt like throwing at him."

"And don't even get me started on the choices. Oh wait—THERE ARE NONE. It doesn't matter what you do. It doesn't matter if you grind, level up, play perfectly. The game just slaps you in the face and says, 'Nope! You're still a bitch!'"

"Was this supposed to be fun? Was this supposed to be some kind of profound message? Because all I got from this was a headache, regret, and the urge to throw my console out the fucking window."

"If you enjoy suffering and have absolutely no self-respect, go ahead and play this mess. Otherwise, do yourself a favor and set your money on fire instead. At least that would be entertaining."

Rating: 0/10, Fucking Fix Your Game.

---------------

I exhaled through my nose, satisfied.

There.

It was done.

I might have sworn like a sailor while writing it, but so what?

At the very least, these bastards could get better.

At least they could improve.

Not that I had much hope for that, but hey—if even one of those idiots read this and felt a fraction of the suffering I went through, then maybe the world would be just a little less shitty.

Smirking, I slammed my thumb down on Submit.

Done.

After submitting the review, I leaned back against the hospital bed, my body finally loosening up.

The tension that had been coiling inside me, that pent-up frustration, that itching, restless anger—it was all gone.

Like I had exorcised it from my system.

I exhaled, feeling a strange sort of relief wash over me, and then—

"Ahaha..." A small chuckle escaped my lips.

"Why did I not do it sooner?"

Seriously.

I had been sitting on all that rage, all that annoyance, all that sheer disbelief—and for what?

I had played through the whole fucking game. I had endured it. I had let it drag me through its bullshit, knowing full well how it would end.

And why?

I tilted my head slightly, staring at the ceiling as the answer surfaced in my mind.

Because I hate leaving things unfinished.

That was it.

That was the real reason I had pushed through it.

Not because I had hope for a good ending. Not because I thought the game would redeem itself.

But because I hate stopping halfway.

Even when something is horrible, even when I know it's a waste of time, even when it makes my blood boil—

I still have to see the end.

I have to know.

Even if I regret it afterward.

And fuck, did I regret it.

A little.

Maybe.

Just as I was settling into the calm after the storm, my phone buzzed.

A notification.

I sighed, reaching for it lazily. "Another scam message again, most likely."

It always was.

Some bullshit about winning a lottery I never entered, or a delivery I never ordered.

I swiped my thumb across the screen, expecting to delete it without a second thought—

But then—

"Hmm?"

It wasn't a scam.

It was a notification from Stream.

My eyebrows lifted slightly. Did my review already get flagged or something? Wouldn't be the first time some thin-skinned devs couldn't handle criticism.

I tapped the notification.

And what I saw made me pause.

[RighteousOne:

Hello, Successful_Cucumber. I am the developer of Shackles of Fate. First of all, thank you for playing the game.

I see that you had quite the emotional reaction to it. That means, in some way, we succeeded in what we wanted to create.

This game was never meant to be empowering for guys. It was meant to be fair. We wanted players to experience something that people often refuse to acknowledge—

That sometimes, no matter how hard you try… no matter how much effort you put in…

There will be nothing you can do.

Especially in the name of love.]

The moment my eyes scanned that reply, I felt something snap inside me.

And then—

"PFFFT—AHAHAHAHAHAH!"

A loud, uncontrollable laugh burst out of my throat.

I threw my head back, my entire body shaking with hysterical laughter.

"What the hell?! 'This game was never meant to be empowering for guys'?"

I clutched my stomach, the sheer absurdity of it hitting me like a brick wall.

"What does that even mean?! Isn't this game meant to be played by guys?!"

I wheezed, struggling to breathe between my cackles.

So what, they made a game targeted at men… just to make them feel like shit?

This was beyond comedy. This was actual insanity.

I swiped a hand down my face, trying to regain my composure, but I couldn't stop the smirk stretching my lips.

Because if I was mad before, I was fucking livid now.

I wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes, my smirk stretching wider as I tapped on the reply button.

Alright, let's entertain this delusional bastard.

[Successful_Cucumber: Reply...]

"Oh, so the goal of this game was to make sure guys didn't feel empowered? Congratulations, my dude. You absolutely fucking nailed it. Five stars for making me feel like absolute garbage. Job well done."

"But here's the thing—I don't actually believe that was your intention."

"Because let's be real, this game doesn't feel like it was written with any kind of goal in mind. It just feels like you suck at writing main characters. Period."

"So tell me, genius, if this game wasn't meant to empower men… and it wasn't meant to appeal to women… then who the fuck was it for? Who was the target audience?"

"Because all I see is a pathetic waste of time and money."

"A game that doesn't serve anyone except maybe the developer's own unresolved issues."

Send.

I leaned back, waiting for the inevitable excuse, and sure enough—

A new notification popped up.

[RighteousOne: Reply...]

"There are countless guys out there who have been in this position. Not everyone wins in love. Not everyone gets a happy ending. We wanted to tell a story that reflects those real experiences—so that people like us can be understood, even if just a little."

And just like that—

I lost it.

"PUAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

I slapped my palm against my forehead, barely able to contain myself.

"Oh my fucking god! So you were just a loser all along! You didn't write a game—you wrote your own tragic sob story and tried to dress it up as 'realism'!"

I wheezed, clutching my ribs.

"AHAHAHA! No wonder the main character was such a fat, ugly, self-pitying mess! It was literally a self-insert! YOU'RE the loser, aren't you?! That's why you made him such a pathetic sack of shit—because you saw yourself in him!"

I laughed so hard my chest actually hurt.

This wasn't just bad writing.

This was actual, unironic cope.

This developer wasn't telling a story. He wasn't making a statement.

He was just projecting his own miserable life onto a game.

And that?

That was the funniest fucking thing I had ever seen.