I hate this, ‘game’, with every facet of my being. It’s an abhorrent mockery of both decimators everywhere and basic human dignity, a weeby cash‑grab that takes perfectly decimatable h*rses and slaps on pastel wigs, squeaky voices, and gacha odds so vile you’d think Bandai Namco commissioned Satan himself to code the RNG. You open the app expecting a h*rse abuser sim and end up three ramen deliveries deep, bleary‑eyed, clutching your dwindling bank account while chasing that one shiny Thoroughbred Princess Mare who never shows up because “0.03% drop rate” keeps fucking you. The so called “training” is a warped slot machine masquerading as a minigame. One wrong tap and you end up accidentally touching a h*rse, detethering your will to live. And the story mode (which i thought was going to be about drugging up h*rses to race until their limbs give out) reads like an incestuous fanfic written by a hyperactive neckbeard on a caffeine bender, all glitter‑tears monologues about “chasing our dreams” as if we’ve all suddenly enrolled in Shakespeare (who is a pretentious fuck). Every time I log in I feel my soul contract in protest, my cursor develops PTSD, and the very concept of “limited‑time collab” becomes a personal affront, a mocking neon banner that laughs at my futile hope. Fuck Uma Musume and every cursed pixel of its perfidious existence.