Say Yes To Making Bad Games, What the Hell is Titanfall?, Translation

"No, no, no—hold up!" Jada shrieked, panicking on her Twitch stream.

She'd been confused earlier, wondering why Vampire Survivor's "bullet hell" had no bullets. Just sluggish bats. Now she got it—the "bullets" were the monsters, swarming in waves!

Human-wave tactics!

Bats flooded the screen, and Jada's heart raced. No wonder the game only let her move. She was juggling too much: dodging attacks, keeping up damage, eyeing monster waves for gaps, and snagging experience gems when she could.

She was swamped.

Her frantic dodging and yelps when bats grazed her filled the stream with chaos. Chat ate it up:

"Jada's losing it, LOL!"

"Monster swarm's got her shook!"

"Whip's on fire, though."

"This game's 'easy,' huh? (doge)"

"Jada's gonna ban you for that."

"She ain't reading chat—she's too busy!"

"Groundhog in a cactus patch vibes."

"Whip Guy: 'Jada, you mockin' the designer?'"

"Bats: Welcome to pain city."

"Bro, is this a Southern ranch whip-fest?"

Chat roared with laughter as Jada's screams echoed. The bats' chip damage stacked up, cutting into her health like a thousand paper cuts.

"Ouch! Stop it! Oh god!" she wailed, a frantic mess.

Despite grabbing upgrades—new weapons, passive buffs—Jada was a newbie, greedy for every item. Her scattered build couldn't keep up. A sudden bat wave ended her.

"Nooo!" She slammed her desk.

SlickRick, hearing the chaos, smirked over voice chat. "Yo, Jada, you dead already?"

Jada gritted her teeth. "Yeah, so what? Bet you're restarting too!"

SlickRick had started earlier. No way he was faring better.

But then he cackled. "Sorry, sis! Swing by my stream and learn how to win!"

Jada's jaw dropped. "You're still alive?"

Curious, she pulled up his stream. SlickRick's mage was a beast, surrounded by a garlic aura that melted bats on contact. Magic orbs blasted distant enemies, and axes spun from his head like a divine lawnmower, shredding stragglers. Gems pinged as he vacuumed them up.

"Woo! This game's a vibe!" SlickRick whooped. "Pure stress relief!"

Jada blinked. Are we playing the same game?

Chat was hyped:

"SlickRick's mage is a war god!"

"Lawnmower mode: activated."

"Jada's game: pain. Slick's: power fantasy."

"Garlic aura's busted, yo."

"Slick's living the dream."

"Jada's stuck in nightmare mode."

SlickRick gloated. "See, Jada? This ain't hard. Just a chill mowing sim. Where's the stress?"

But as he bragged, the game hit ten minutes. A ring of piranha plants spawned, closing in like a trap.

"Huh? New enemies?" SlickRick muttered, searching for a gap.

He'd learned a trick: keep moving, never get boxed in. But the plants had no gaps, tightening like a noose. Then a giant mantis—three times his size—stomped over the plants, charging him.

"What the—?!" SlickRick yelped. "This is cheating!"

The Cat Leo flashbacks hit hard—traps within traps. Five seconds ago, he was king. Now, a tanky mantis shrugged off his attacks, and the plants blocked his escape.

Jada, sensing blood, turned sarcastic. "Yo, Slick, what happened to your lawnmower? Can't handle a boss?"

Chat erupted:

"Jada's throwing shade!"

"Revenge is sweet."

"Sibling roast fest!"

"Difficulty spike's brutal."

"Cat Leo designer's back with the evil."

The mantis swung its scythe. Game Over.

SlickRick slammed his desk. "No! I was vibing! Round two—let's go!"