You will never be a real castlevania. You have no soul, you have no gameplay, you have no soundtrack. You are a silksong clone twisted by vibecoding and lazy art direction into a crude mockery of gaming’s perfection.

All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Konami is disgusted and ashamed of you, your “fans” laugh at your soulless appearance behind closed doors.

True fans are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed players to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even metroidvanias who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a fan. Your gameplay is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a soyboy home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your repetetive, generic soulslop mechanics.

You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.