Here’s MY team:
Me serves as the team’s storyteller and lead producer, a role he executes with a feverish dedication to questioning the ontological stability of his own shoelaces. His workflow is punctuated by sudden pauses to interrogate whether the color “mauve” is a collective hallucination regarding the colour “blue”. He is plagued by nostalgia for childhood summers he never experienced and frequently emails the team at 3 AM on whether reality is merely a collaborative fan-fiction project formed by cosmic entities. His hobbies include staring at walls until they stare back. Literally Me on February the 25th…
Myself is the team’s developer and artist (I’m lookin at you, @Luke). By day, he is a jubilant fellow, regaling the colleagues with tales of his pet fish’s political opinions. By night—or whenever a bug emerges—he undergoes an indescribable metamorphosis, muttering incantations in JavaScript and HTML while his eyes glow an unholy shade of #de5d12. His bipolar workflow oscillates between crafting almost @Luke level landscapes and just… destroying EVERYTHING. Colleagues have learned to flee when he begins shaking uncontrollably while cracking his knuckles; it heralds a coding sprint that will end only when the sun collapses into a white dwarf. Hobbies include competitive napping, arguing with AI’s about the definition of “art,” and trying to kill I.
I holds the title of Director and Manager, a role he embodies with the warmth and empathy of a sentient spreadsheet. He communicates not through words, but through psychic emanations that taste like burnt toast and existential dread. His mere presence in a Zoom call (camera perpetually off, username: I_See_All) compels Me to rewrite entire narratives and Myself to debug code he swore was flawless. I’s management style is a masterclass in passive-aggressive telepathy: he projects sensations of “your UI looks like a toddler’s finger-painting” and “this deadline is a social construct, but suffer anyway.” Myself has attempted to “accidentally” attack him three times (always fails); Me, ever the philosopher, argues I is “a necessary tragedy, like taxes or pineapple on pizza.” I’s hobbies include calculating the team’s mortality rate, staring blankly at calendars until they apologise and shift back a week, and existing.
Together, this triad operates in harmonious dissonance, producing games that are… masterpieces? Idk.
Or should I say ‘“I” doesn’t know.’