How I Tried to Build a Gaming PC and Utterly Fucked It Up

--- So there I was, balls deep in the guts of my new gaming PC, ferociously battling a foam-packaged tech demon that I was certain belonged in some Matrix-esque dystopian universe, not my miserably small New York apartment.

First, let me clarify something: I'm about as tech-savvy as a goldfish, which is probably an insult to goldfish. My career in tech support mostly consists of telling old ladies to turn their routers off and on again. And before you ask, no, I don't know why I thought a DIY gaming PC was a good idea.

So there I am, in my boxers, surrounded by a shit-ton of pricey components, and a 72 step guide that may as well have been written in fucking Elvish. At this point, I've managed to install the CPU and RAM, but God Almighty, the GPU was just a monster. It was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, if the square peg cost you a month's salary and the round hole was a seemingly innocuous slot that now held your financial stability in its clutches.

I'm sweating bullets, and not just because my AC is an absolute shit show. It's like arm wrestling a gorilla. I'm pushing, wiggling, pleading, cursing - I'm pretty sure at one point I was actually crying. After what feels like a sad eternity, I feel a click. I'd done it. I'd beaten the beast.

Or so I fucking thought. Fast forward to three days later, I'm all geared up for my first glorious gaming session on my self-built PC. I'd even managed to get the damn thing to turn on and not explode - a major win, I reckon. Then, I fire up Cyberpunk 2077, and my newfound pride and joy freezes, crashes, and shits the bed in the biggest way.

I rip open the case and there it is, the GPU sitting a bit... skewed. Turns out I'd jammed it into the slot like a baboon with a jigsaw puzzle. I'd completely fucked the GPU and the motherboard. My month's salary was now a very expensive, very useless piece of technology.

Now, here's the real kick in the balls: I had to take the sad, broken remnants of my dream machine to a professional to be fixed. So, I walk into a legit tech shop, feeling like a total knob, holding this disaster in my hands. The tech guy, to his credit, tried to keep a straight face. He failed, of course. I mean, I would've laughed at me too.

So yeah, to add insult to injury, not only did I butcher an expensive piece of hardware, but I also got an ego check in the process. And, to add a cherry to this shit sundae, the pro fix cost me another hefty chunk of money. I swear, if I ever have to deal with another GPU, I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon.

Why am I even sharing this? I guess it's the same principle as a kid touching a hot stove - you warn others not to be as dumb as you. If you're a tech-idiot, don't try to be a hero. Stick to what you know.

Anyway, that's it. That's the tragic tale of how tech support failed tech & gaming. A moment of silence for my dignity, please.