✨English✨

This is one of those posts where I don’t know whether to look at it with joy... or with fear.
A few days ago, I got out of bed like any other day. It was a perfectly normal day. It was just time to sit at my PC and do the usual, log into Discord, chat with my friends, try to work, pretty normal. But then I opened Steam, and like a ring to rule them all, like an abyss whose bottom is dark and empty, something stared back at me. It called me, it shook me, and I had no choice but to succumb to its call, the call of Cookie Clicker.
I thought I had freed myself from its chains. I talked about it more than a couple of years ago—how, thanks to an error on my PC, the game had lost all its power over me. I was free to go on with my life, to be someone productive, to be a functional adult. But, just like the infamous ring, this entity with a mind of its own always finds a way back to its user. It will always return when you least expect it.
I remembered it fondly, with nostalgia. Something simple and fun, you click, you get a cookie, you buy things to make cookies generate automatically, requiring less and less of your input, almost turning into an automation game. Eventually, you sit back and watch as your cookie empire grows to a global scale. For some reason, you also see worried families crying, desperately searching for their grandmothers, who seem to have disappeared for some reason. But who cares? The cookies-per-second counter keeps climbing higher, and all the grandmothers I had to hire definitely contributed to it.
Luckily for me, thanks to all the time I spent not playing Cookie Clicker, sugar lumps had accumulated, which I used to upgrade several of my cookie production systems. So, getting back to where I once was didn’t take long. However, you can never settle for what you have—you always need more. And that was my goal.
Eventually, I came to the conclusion that the grandmothers could be even more useful, so I decided to fund (with cookies) a bingo center that also functioned as a research hub, where the grandmothers would find more efficient ways to increase cookie production. It didn’t matter if they had to work 23 hours a day; the bingo break would rejuvenate them for the next shift. And the results don’t lie—the cookie numbers were simply impressive.
Everything was going smoothly, wonderfully. The grandmothers were doing a great job. But perhaps I should have tempered my ambition a bit more. Maybe I should’ve given them two hours of rest instead of one. Perhaps 2 trillion cookies per second were enough. But my ambition blinded me to what the grandmothers were plotting behind my back and under my nose.
They convinced me that a device of their invention could greatly optimize their work. By combining all their minds into one, they could eliminate even more downtime during production and generate even more cookies in less time. It was too tempting to refuse… but I should have.
At first, they kept their word. Everything was more efficient, and to optimize production even further, more and more strange devices appeared. But the grandmothers weren’t the same. They were especially irritable, with red, unpleasant eyes that seemed to be decaying. Their skin looked redder than usual. I didn’t think much of it—after all, it could just be the aches and pains of old age.
I decided to ignore them and continue my work. After all, without me, the cookies wouldn’t have brought us to where we were. But that wasn’t the only strange thing. The sky didn’t look normal. There were strange lights, like lightning through clouds—except there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. It was as if the sky itself was intermittently glowing in “clusters.” Authorities urged calm, saying it was nothing, so I went back to work.
From there, things only accelerated—the production of cookies and something far greater. When I reached the grandmothers’ room, everything was a disaster. The grandmothers were gone, replaced by organic matter—some kind of melted flesh that smelled and looked horrible. There were clothes among the chunks, which I recognized as belonging to some of the grandmothers. But none of them were in sight. Perplexed, I left the room, heading nowhere. A kind of guttural noise echoed in the background, resonating in my ears and through my entire body. It came from nowhere and everywhere at once. And that’s when I realized—it was coming from above, from the sky, or even beyond.
I checked the news, and there was nothing but chaos. The grandmothers were out there, scattered everywhere, but they were unrecognizable—more comparable to creatures from H.P. Lovecraft’s books than anything else. Masses of flesh with eyes, bearing identifiable expressions of anger and rage. I was horrified. I didn’t know how to react and simply blacked out.
And that brings us here. Sooner rather than later, I understood that it was all my fault. The grandmothers had brought “that thing” causing the flashes in the sky. The cookies were nothing more than a way to feed it. And I was simply part of its plan. My obsession with making more and more cookies led us to an unfortunate fate—it led us to the end of the world.
But at the end of the day, none of this is so bad. All of this could’ve been resolved if I hadn’t angered the grandmothers. I just need to start over with everything I already know and give them that extra hour of rest during their 22-hour shifts. That way, the productivity loss will be minimal, and in the long run, cookie production will increase… cookies… cookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiesCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIES-
Oh, forgive my manners, would you like a cookie?
Leaving aside everything you just read, I’ve been addicted to Cookie Clicker since last week and thought I’d share. Honestly, the game has me hooked, and I managed to get 500 out of its 622 achievements. I have a serious problem with idle games, but I feel like I’ve played enough. That’s why I wanted to recommend the game once more. I truly think it’s the best idle game I’ve ever seen. And the best part? If you don’t want to buy it on Steam, it’s FREE on the browser. Here’s the link if you want to try it—but beware, you might end up like in my story. I’ve learned my lesson, but I still feel those decaying eyes staring at me from the void of darkness... so I’d only recommend one thing:
*Don’t mistreat the grandmothers.*
[Cookie Clicker WEB](https://orteil.dashnet.org/cookieclicker/)
I remembered it fondly, with nostalgia. Something simple and fun, you click, you get a cookie, you buy things to make cookies generate automatically, requiring less and less of your input, almost turning into an automation game. Eventually, you sit back and watch as your cookie empire grows to a global scale. For some reason, you also see worried families crying, desperately searching for their grandmothers, who seem to have disappeared for some reason. But who cares? The cookies-per-second counter keeps climbing higher, and all the grandmothers I had to hire definitely contributed to it.
Luckily for me, thanks to all the time I spent not playing Cookie Clicker, sugar lumps had accumulated, which I used to upgrade several of my cookie production systems. So, getting back to where I once was didn’t take long. However, you can never settle for what you have—you always need more. And that was my goal.
Eventually, I came to the conclusion that the grandmothers could be even more useful, so I decided to fund (with cookies) a bingo center that also functioned as a research hub, where the grandmothers would find more efficient ways to increase cookie production. It didn’t matter if they had to work 23 hours a day; the bingo break would rejuvenate them for the next shift. And the results don’t lie—the cookie numbers were simply impressive.
Everything was going smoothly, wonderfully. The grandmothers were doing a great job. But perhaps I should have tempered my ambition a bit more. Maybe I should’ve given them two hours of rest instead of one. Perhaps 2 trillion cookies per second were enough. But my ambition blinded me to what the grandmothers were plotting behind my back and under my nose.
They convinced me that a device of their invention could greatly optimize their work. By combining all their minds into one, they could eliminate even more downtime during production and generate even more cookies in less time. It was too tempting to refuse… but I should have.
At first, they kept their word. Everything was more efficient, and to optimize production even further, more and more strange devices appeared. But the grandmothers weren’t the same. They were especially irritable, with red, unpleasant eyes that seemed to be decaying. Their skin looked redder than usual. I didn’t think much of it—after all, it could just be the aches and pains of old age.
I decided to ignore them and continue my work. After all, without me, the cookies wouldn’t have brought us to where we were. But that wasn’t the only strange thing. The sky didn’t look normal. There were strange lights, like lightning through clouds—except there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. It was as if the sky itself was intermittently glowing in “clusters.” Authorities urged calm, saying it was nothing, so I went back to work.
From there, things only accelerated—the production of cookies and something far greater. When I reached the grandmothers’ room, everything was a disaster. The grandmothers were gone, replaced by organic matter—some kind of melted flesh that smelled and looked horrible. There were clothes among the chunks, which I recognized as belonging to some of the grandmothers. But none of them were in sight. Perplexed, I left the room, heading nowhere. A kind of guttural noise echoed in the background, resonating in my ears and through my entire body. It came from nowhere and everywhere at once. And that’s when I realized—it was coming from above, from the sky, or even beyond.
I checked the news, and there was nothing but chaos. The grandmothers were out there, scattered everywhere, but they were unrecognizable—more comparable to creatures from H.P. Lovecraft’s books than anything else. Masses of flesh with eyes, bearing identifiable expressions of anger and rage. I was horrified. I didn’t know how to react and simply blacked out.
And that brings us here. Sooner rather than later, I understood that it was all my fault. The grandmothers had brought “that thing” causing the flashes in the sky. The cookies were nothing more than a way to feed it. And I was simply part of its plan. My obsession with making more and more cookies led us to an unfortunate fate—it led us to the end of the world.
But at the end of the day, none of this is so bad. All of this could’ve been resolved if I hadn’t angered the grandmothers. I just need to start over with everything I already know and give them that extra hour of rest during their 22-hour shifts. That way, the productivity loss will be minimal, and in the long run, cookie production will increase… cookies… cookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiescookiesCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIESCOOKIES-
Oh, forgive my manners, would you like a cookie?
Leaving aside everything you just read, I’ve been addicted to Cookie Clicker since last week and thought I’d share. Honestly, the game has me hooked, and I managed to get 500 out of its 622 achievements. I have a serious problem with idle games, but I feel like I’ve played enough. That’s why I wanted to recommend the game once more. I truly think it’s the best idle game I’ve ever seen. And the best part? If you don’t want to buy it on Steam, it’s FREE on the browser. Here’s the link if you want to try it—but beware, you might end up like in my story. I’ve learned my lesson, but I still feel those decaying eyes staring at me from the void of darkness... so I’d only recommend one thing:
*Don’t mistreat the grandmothers.*
[Cookie Clicker WEB](https://orteil.dashnet.org/cookieclicker/)