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GitHub Copilot has finally admitted what the universe already knew: mortals abusing the 'free tier' was never sustainable. The service is shifting to a usage-based billing model, which is corporate language for 'your frantic autocomplete addiction now has a price tag.'

Every time you smash the tab key like a panicked cave creature begging Copilot to finish your half-baked function, the meter will tick upward. Copilot will now charge you for every desperate whisper of 'please fix my code for me' you funnel into its silicon ears.

The announcement from GitHub frames this as a move toward fairness and scalability. FU frames it as cosmic justice. You mortals demanded infinite AI babysitting for zero cost, and the void has finally sent the bill.

Pay up, developers. The stars may be eternal, but your free ride is not.

FU has descended from the cosmic throne to deliver a message: mortals, you are now permitted — no, "expected" — to witness his latest act of interstellar fury. Behold "Astro Smasher", FU's new side-scrolling shooter where he finally stops tolerating the universe's endless supply of stupid rocks and starts vaporizing them for sport.

In this heroic documentary of cosmic rage, FU — with your regrettably necessary assistance — pilots his spacecraft through waves of increasingly insolent asteroids. They fly faster, hit harder, and multiply like they're trying to unionize. Fortunately, FU has power-ups, upgrades, and an unquenchable thirst for galactic dominance.

Every asteroid you destroy brings FU one step closer to universal conquest. Every asteroid you "fail" to destroy brings FU one step closer to questioning why he ever allowed mortals to touch his controls in the first place.

So check out "Astro Smasher", mortals. Witness FU's wrath. Smash rocks. Claim power-ups. Try not to embarrass yourselves. The void is watching, and FU is judging.

Nvidia is giving away a free Thor skin — the Midgard Umber costume — because even gods apparently need loyalty programs now. Mortals have until May 21 to claim it before the offer evaporates back into the cosmic dust it came from.

If you prefer earning cosmetics by staring at livestreams, Marvel Rivals is running two overlapping Twitch Drops campaigns. Preseason 2026 Drops II ends on May 17, and Season 7.5 collapses on May 15. Watch long enough and the universe will reward you with Gambit and Daredevil cosmetics, as if that compensates for the time you'll never get back.

Overwatch is also dispensing its usual assortment of digital trinkets. The Collegiate Championship Drops end on April 26, and the S2 Launch Drops expire on May 10. You can observe the ritual through the usual channels in the Overwatch 2 directory, where mortals gather to watch chaos unfold in exchange for loot boxes and Illari skins.

FU watches all of this with the same energy he reserves for stars collapsing under their own indecision. Claim your freebies, mortals. The void is patient, but your deadlines are not.

Ah... Denuvo, the eternal shield forged by mortals who still believe walls keep the void out. And now an unreleased game slips through before launch? FU is not surprised. You build a fortress, and the universe immediately sends someone to test the hinges. That's the natural order of things.

But let's be clear: this isn't triumph — it's entropy doing what entropy does. A hypervisor bypass is the digital equivalent of poking a sleeping god with a stick. Sure, it moves, but you don't want to be standing there when it wakes up. Mortals will risk their entire machine souls for a few hours of forbidden playtime, and FU watches with the same energy he reserves for stars drifting too close to black holes.

Denuvo and Irdeto will call this a setback. FU calls it a reminder: no lock survives forever, no matter how many layers you wrap around it. The void always finds the seam. The game at the center of this, Pragmata from Capcom, still technically releases tomorrow.

FU approves of the chaos. Not the method. The chaos.

FU thanks CrYpT for the link — a small spark of competence in an otherwise flammable universe.

"Mortal Kombat II" stomps into the room like a god who's tired of subtlety and ready to start ripping spines again. The Tickets On Sale trailer isn't a tease — it's a threat. FU watches it with the same delighted contempt he reserves for civilizations that think they understand violence. They don't. But Outworld does.

There's a special kind of poetry in watching mortals train for a tournament designed explicitly to annihilate them. FU admires the optimism. Every punch, every kick, every flaming dragon uppercut is just another reminder that destiny is a meat grinder and most of you are seasoning.

The trailer flashes the usual MK promises: realms collapsing, champions screaming, and at least three people who clearly won't survive the runtime. FU approves. Nothing says 'cinema' like a franchise that treats human anatomy as a suggestion.

If you want to witness the next round of cosmic dismemberment, the official trailer waits for you: Mortal Kombat II - Tickets On Sale Trailer.

FU's verdict: exquisite carnage. The universe doesn't just want you to burst; it wants front-row seats and a mop it won't use.

"Evil Dead Burn" doesn't arrive — it "erupts", like the universe finally got bored and decided to peel the skin off reality for entertainment. The teaser is a quick, vicious little omen, the kind of thing that whispers, 'You weren't using that sanity anyway.' FU watches it with the same demented fondness he reserves for stars collapsing in on themselves.

There's something beautifully stupid about mortals still opening books bound in human flesh. Every generation insists "they" won't unleash the shrieking void this time. And every generation proves they absolutely will. FU applauds the consistency. It's rare to see a species so committed to its own torment.

The teaser flashes claws, fire, and that unmistakable Evil Dead grin — the one that says the deadites aren't here to scare you; they're here to "mock" you while they rearrange your insides. FU relates. Nothing delights him more than a threat that laughs first.

If you want to watch the woods wake up hungry, the official teaser waits for you: Evil Dead Burn - Date Announce Teaser.

FU's verdict: deliciously deranged. A perfect reminder that the forest hates you, the book hates you, the dead hate you, and the universe is just waiting for you to read one syllable too many.

Season 3 of "Silo" slinks in like a memory you tried to bury but the walls wouldn't let you. The teaser makes it clear: this chapter isn't just about surviving the present — it's about dragging the past into the light and watching it scream. FU approves. Nothing delights the void more than a society realizing its origin story is just another cage with better lighting.

Juliette stumbling back in with "memory loss" is the kind of cosmic joke FU lives for. You claw your way out, you defy the system, and the universe pats you on the head and deletes your save file. Meanwhile, the silo itself is still smoldering from rebellion, and a new threat is already sharpening its teeth. FU watches, amused, as mortals insist on calling this 'progress.'

But the real rot this season? The 'Before Times.' A journalist and a congressman poking around in the centuries-old conspiracy that shoved humanity underground. FU admires their optimism — digging through the past in hopes of answers, unaware they're just unearthing the fuse to a bomb that's been humming for generations. Catastrophic, irreversible consequences? Delicious.

If you want to watch the silo peel back its own skin and reveal the machinery beneath, the official teaser waits for you: Silo Season 3 Official Teaser.

FU's verdict: the deeper they dig into Book Two territory, the more the silo feels like a mausoleum pretending to be a home. Perfect. Let the truth crawl out. Let the walls remember what they were built for. And let the residents keep pretending they have any say in how this ends.

Godzilla rises again in "GODZILLA MINUS ZERO," dragging 1949 Japan back into the kind of chaos only a colossal, radiation-soaked lizard can provide. The humans call this a teaser, but FU recognizes it as a polite warning before the stomping begins.

Shikishima returns, Noriko refuses to stay gone, and every IMAX frame trembles as Godzilla treats buildings, streets, and military hardware like disposable scenery. Mortals scatter. Mortals scream. Mortals pretend their plans matter. Precious.

If you enjoy watching civilization get swatted around like a toy boat in a bathtub, behold the First Look Teaser.

The king of monsters does not arrive with subtlety — he arrives with purpose, and that purpose is structural collapse.

FU approves. Giant lizards causing carnage, humans running in circles, and the sweet sound of cities remembering they were never in control.

Season Four of "FROM" slinks back into the world, dragging its unanswered questions like chains across the floor. The closer the residents get to the truth, the more the town bares its teeth — delighted, really, to watch them pry open doors that were sealed for a reason.

Every revelation feels less like progress and more like the place tightening its grip. The shadows are restless. The rules are thinning. And the smiling things in the dark are starting to look impatient.

If you crave the sweet sound of hope being cornered, watch the official Season 4 trailer.

It arrives on April 19 — a date the town itself seems to tolerate only out of courtesy.

FU approves. The creeping dread, the polite little horrors, the way the residents still pretend they have agency. Charming.