Devlog #3

— Really, are you sure the elephant is stronger than the hippopotamus? — I’m certain: I read a book about it not long ago, and the guys explained that, in fact, it’s because all their strength is concentrated in the trunk. Of the elephant, mind you, that’s what I’m talking about.

The customer is practically salivating at the generosity of the commit messages: Jouable 1 - New characters. The “franglais” is trashy and militant; we open the debug in a chiaroscuro from which monsters emerge that are more trashy than militant.

We tweak three coordinates in an <svg> and suddenly Robocop has clearly taken way too many amphetamines, evidenced by his 500HP hidden in a config file. Merlindroid emerges from a rave with his party favors and a well-trimmed goatee. Given the pee-hole eyes he’s hiding under his hat, it’s a miracle he has more than 100HP. Gawain has escaped from a 16-bit episode of Bomberman to go mushroom picking, and Lancelot is literally taking a dump while staring us straight in the eye. Below is a speedrun in defensive-yolo mode against Mordred. Where is the "You defended 765789 times and Merlin died like a pro" achievement? It’s dreadfully half-baked; we’re not going to get any traction this way.

It’s been a bit more than three days that the “Kouign of Code” has been wandering through this strange forest, which contains more policemen dressed as Batman than actual Korrigans. The code lays down the law, and the “Forest of No Return,” neighbor to the Uncanny Valley, can quickly lead to the fringes of bad taste. Between two “agentic workflows” of my @ss, one indulges in a bit of jokey prompting to draw characters. And then one rushes to cram everything in like a baboon onto the battlefield in a Jouable 2 - Character Updates that isn’t as trivial as it looks. Gone is the discreet charm of the <svg>; we’re haphazardly cutting out pngs that smell of blood and sweat—but not the blood of Templars.

All this starts with Edward Coley Burne. Just as devastated as his Lancelot at the thought that we used HIS work for THIS sh*t.

This making-of is an anti-AI manifesto all by itself. The spectacle has eaten everything, and if we had understood Debord, we could explain it to you. We don’t know if it’s a L’Oréal ad or artwork anymore. We are in the juice up to our eyeballs. The shock is total.

It’s the Crap-a-Cola version of character design. Matthew B. Crawford’s desperate cry echoes in this virtual world—smoothed to the extreme, stereotyped, terraformed in an instant without any roughness. Perfect and vomit-inducing. Perfectly vomit-inducing.

Fifteen seconds later, we’re having a bitter laugh after whispering “Hades” to Gemini.

We are on the verge of being convinced while the messy hair of Éric Sadin—passionately enraged by our childishness—stirs in our mocking consciences, torn between shame and laughter.

The crime is perfect. The cultural appropriation by the machine is total, riddled with flaws. The robot’s mockery of the human is complete in the muse with the ermines.