The same reason the literal entirety of society exists. After we completely figured out food, water, and shelter, we got bored. We stopped being at risk of famine 10k years ago, we pretty quickly figured out fermentation and distillation makes water not kill us, and we figured out how to house everyone.

Then we kept just making that faster and easier to accomplish.

Well what do we do with all that free time? Fuck play games, do some entertainment, kill other people over petty nonsense, create pointless class based societies that generate artificial scarcity simply because a few people are greedy and most are too trusting of those greedy people, enrich out lives through momentary joy.

So in the dark ages of computing this tradition was continued and a very smart, highly paid scientist in charge of tens of millions of dollars of equipment made some of that equipment play table tennis.

A few decades and massive corporate funding of naive over enthusiastic nerds with much cheaper but more powerful equipment later and we have video games instead of going to the pub to play dice or doing a war…

Proper use of the format, well done. In my view there are two types of nachos;

The formal nacho, this is what you’d see in fancier restaurants but you can certainly make it at home. You carefully measure and place ingredients per chip, and then cover each chip with cheese and bake so that each individual chip has the perfect ratio and can be individually eaten without disturbing another chip. This is truly a tapas for the more civilized texmex enthusiast.

And

The informal nacho. This can be soggy, but that’s not the point. The point is it’s 6pm on a Sunday. You’ve just woken up hungover and have the ineffable feeling of diarrhea, nausea, and extreme hunger for all the cheese you can physically endure. This is the trough nacho. A pile of chips, a pile of protein, a pile of jalapenos and any other veggie that you already have prepared, slathered in either cheese from a can or preshredded cheese you don’t remember buying. Microwaved somehow at too low of a power and yet for way too long. Your meal fit only for the laziest of fat fucking pigs whines when it’s ready, the steam the only thing preventing the chips from going too stale… And as you lift it from the microwave the half decade old paper plate you decided to use gives one warning wobble that this whole affair is as stable as the rest of your life. The informal nacho will be soggy, should be soggy five minutes in; if only to remind you of the shameful act you’re committing as an affront to God, Mexico, the ants that brought corn to the natives, and all of the rest of creation. A good informal nacho will leave you slick and sticky with the feeling of satisfaction and absolute self disgust. At the end you should feel simultaneously like you should work out to counteract what you just did to yourself; and like if you worked out you would spew the totality of everything ever human in history has ever eaten out of every hole god gave you.