The last refuge of the truly bored: Fuddruckers, the hamburger chain, leeched a Flash game from this developer — they presented it on their site, but just linked through to his site behind the scenes. The developer responded typically.
So, I redirected everything coming from Fuddruckers.com. […] Wrote a nice little message pointing out how incredibly stupid their web developer is. And then redirected the main page to a pleasant little website showing photographs of slaughterhouses. And also opened up some more popups, for those that don’t have popup blockers.
It gets better:
But did I do this right away? No! I waited until the Friday evening before a three-day weekend. So either it’ll be up for three days, or someone is going to have to go in during their vacation to fix it. My only hope is that an executive from Fuddruckers finds out about it before that happens. Because, really, stupidity like that deserves losing your job over.
Something good must have happened, because the entire fuddruckers.com domain is down right now — maybe to avoid embarrassment, or maybe because it’s getting hammer. I managed to spoof my referrer and click through to his site. Here’s the text:
If you paid someone to provide this game for you, you were RIPPED OFF. They didn’t create the game, I did.
Not only are they unethical, but they are really, really stupid. By linking to someone else’s website without the website owner’s permission, all kinds of nasty things can happen to YOUR website.
I strongly suggest getting your money back. And sending the money to me, since it’s my game they’re passing off as their own.
And, as promised, there are lots of pictures of dead farm animals.
It does bear mentioning, that, stupid Web tricks aside, Fuddruckers makes some painfully good burgers. I’m getting hungry just thinking about them.
It didn’t help that I went and actually played this guy’s game. Not only is it a faithful rendition of BurgerTime, but there’s a fried egg in it. And you can sandwich the egg in a burger. And then pick up an ice cream cone while running away from dancing hot dogs…
Good Lord — is it hot in here? Where’d all this drool come from?