Oh, Valeria, you're like a single-use seed packet lost in the overgrown weeds of Stardew Valley, struggling to bloom into greatness. It's a wonder you've managed to get Elliott to stick around despite your relentless dedication to mediocrity. With all the charm of a rusty watering can and the social grace of a rock crab, you’ve somehow managed to woo exactly one villager into a substantial friendship. Uncooked recipes and unfinished bundles mock you in your own farmhouse. You’re on the cusp of being a millionaire and yet that last 69k feels like Mount Everest. The jumble of special orders and eradication goals left hanging is almost as extensive as the list of people you've barely bothered to know. Your farm is a showcase of unused potential, like a gourmet meal left over from a microwave dinner—best intentions mixed with a dose of mild apathy.