Ah yes, SNES game. Rendered in 3D with no stuttering, smooth turning and full voiced audio.

Maybe it was made for an SNES from Planet X that's as powerful as a PC.
So I went to the download page, expecting a non SNES game, with a bloated file size (20MB) that would never run on the actual hardware (we're talking 6 MB maximum for Star Ocean).

Old heads all remember loading your 32/64-bit Windows Executable files into those 16-bit Nintendo Gaming Consoles!
But it has to be accurate... the site itself said so.
Ah, maybe the "very old SNESy+" emulator, which would essentially just be a virtual SNES, runs a COMPLETELY different architecture that supports Windows executables. Something like that would be worthy of note on a wiki of some kind. Maybe the emulator wiki?

Zero results for SNESY, and SNESY+... on the list of emulators huh?
You wouldn't...
lie about there being an emulator, when it's just an executable, and cram a totally empty SMC file into a folder named "ROM", right?
You will never be a real catgirl developer. You have no womb, you have no ovaries, you have no knowledge of ASM. You are a homosexual man twisted by drugs and anachronisms into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and smooth-brained. Behind your back people mock you. Your computer science teachers are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
Anyone with knowledge of any system are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed autists to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even trannies who “appreciate the classics” produce unrealistic and unnatural products. Your data structure is a dead giveaway. Even if you manage to get a retarded Youtuber to be impressed with you, it will be because you lied, and due to no natural talent.
You will never be happy. Your work is inaccurate, dishonest and cringe. You wrench out a fake smile, and rename random folders to "ROM", telling 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.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope from Lowe's, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and claim it's a hand-made from 1992. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably male.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.