Along with the joy and pleasure of great new games, we also experienced frustration, hatred, and other negative emotions from disappointing projects. You read that right—in this article, we’ve rounded up the top underdogs of 2025, according to our editorial team!
Monster Hunter is one of those series that I have a rollercoaster relationship with. I like some things, and I don’t like others. One minute I’m screaming with delight after defeating a huge dragon, and a few minutes later I’m feeling sick from having to drearily prepare for yet another hunt. It’s a mixed bag, to be honest.
I was apprehensive about starting the new game for a long time. I was thrilled with Monster Hunter Rise—it was smaller, but more concise and intense. And most importantly, it knew how to leave on time. It took no more than half an hour to prepare and hunt, and then you could go about your business. But World, like Wilds, are full-fledged installments in the series, requiring you to dedicate yourself entirely to them, putting the rest of your life aside, if you want to achieve anything.
And after five hours of playing Wilds, I started to wonder: why am I doing this? I’m bored, tedious, and uninterested in battling the same monster over and over again to build up my power for new contracts or story missions. I’m tired of running through the monotonous orange desert, occasionally giving way to dirty green canyons. I’m sick of the stupid armor and weapon designs, so overdone in an anime-style way!
Yes, five hours is ridiculous for a definitive verdict. But while the above can be appreciated or tolerated, at least for research purposes, the game’s abysmal optimization is unforgivable. Poor CAPCOM is already tearfully begging players to return and promising to improve, but the developers are only making Wilds worse. The latest patch nerfed the graphics so the game could at least run at 60 FPS on high-end PCs. Shame on your Japanese heads! Give us Rise 2 for Switch 2!
As good as Battlefield 6’s multiplayer mode is, the new shooter’s story campaign is just as terrible.
No one will argue that sometimes it’s okay to indulge in various conventions for the sake of spectacle, to overlook the lack of logic, and to forgive plot holes in the hope that the game will later fix it and provide a more coherent explanation. In the case of Battlefield 6’s campaign, almost everything is made up of conventions—action for the sake of action. What? Who? Why? It doesn’t matter. The heroes will stare and make loud, but completely meaningless, speeches.
The story mode will only take a few hours to complete, but they will be the most aimless hours of your life. Faceless heroes struggle to complete seemingly meaningless tasks. The final, “killer as a butler” twist completely puts an end to any hope of a sequel, which the game clearly hints at. You’ll simply sit in front of the screen, feeling simultaneously angry, disappointed, and frustrated that you wasted your time on this.
There’s no doubt the campaign was built using the extra money from the multiplayer, solely to justify the $70 price tag. It seems like it wasn’t just AI that worked on it, but no one made any changes afterwards—it was just left as is. People will spend more time in multiplayer anyway.
The first Death Stranding is one of my favorite games, not least because it was the first game I played on the iPad with my daughter. The second promised to be a real family event.
When the end credits rolled and my daughter realized what Uncle Sam had done, her small, childish joy turned into a full-blown dance on her dad’s neck. At that moment, it felt like Death Stranding 2 was the best game ever, because no other game had delivered such a thrilling ending. And then came the aftertaste. And the realization that those emotions weren’t the game itself, but your child’s reaction.
And what does the game itself leave behind? It feels like a needless sequel. Don’t get me wrong, Death Stranding 2 is a wonderful work. It takes everything that was best about the first game and elevates it to the next level. The technical execution is truly amazing. Everything about the game is great, except the question “WHY?”
The problem with the sequel is that Hideo Kojima said everything he could and wanted in the first game. The original is a complete work, requiring no explanation. The plot of the second part feels like a wrung-out rag. Drops are also water, but not enough to quench your thirst. Are there emotional moments? Absolutely. Is the directing superb? Of course. But it’s hard to empathize with a plot whose main intrigue is guessed after 15 minutes. And the entire 40 hours are spent making a fool of the viewer.
But the sequel wasn’t just flawed in its plot. The first game divided the community: you either embraced it or absolutely rejected it. The second game tried to please everyone, but it backfired. The original offered an incredible sense of satisfaction from overcoming impossible odds. The sequel made them even harsher, but from the start, the game gives you a choice: if you loved suffering, suffer even more; if you didn’t, here’s an all-terrain motorcycle and a ton of weapons.
Naturally, when you have a choice, you prefer not to suffer, which ruins all the developers’ work. The second part lost the feeling of grueling overcoming, because any route can be traversed at a breeze, knocking down all the enemies along the way. The game won’t punish you for it anyway.
On December 21, 2025, news broke that renowned developer Vince Zampella had died in a car accident. This devastating event for the industry brought to mind his greatest contribution to the shooter genre. He was one of the creators of Medal of Honor: Allied Assault, the first Call of Duty games, Modern Warfare 1 and 2, and Titanfall 2. All of these games had one thing in common: they were surprising. They placed players in challenging situations and evoked intense emotions. Some scenes from Zampella’s projects have become iconic. His teams understood how to create choreographed shooters like no one else.
Call of Duty: Black Ops 7’s campaign is also surprising and shocking. In the worst possible way, though. To say that this is the work of a bad neural network is an insult to neural networks. To call Black Ops 7’s campaign “creative bankruptcy” is an insult to the words “creative” and “bankruptcy.”
This amorphous jumble of clumsy references, journeys into the heroes’ subconscious, and battles with enormous bosses evokes nothing but sadness. Can modern studios really sink to such depths? It turns out they can. It turns out they’re capable of reassembling levels from scraps of multiplayer maps, mindlessly chucking out enemies—without direction, without meaning, without any idea.
Once upon a time, when you launched the Call of Duty storyline, you knew the creators had something cool in store for you. Now you realize the developers have once again disproved the saying “there’s nowhere lower to fall.”
The history of TV series and games is replete with “leaked” finales. The reasons vary—creative differences, tight deadlines, team changes—but the result is almost always the same: disappointed fans and the loss of a cult following, if it ever even had one.
The release of version 6.0 was supposed to be a landmark conclusion to the five-year saga promised back in 2020. A journey through the seven regions of Teyvat, a fairytale world, dozens of characters with deep histories—all of this seemed destined to converge into a single, multi-layered metaplot. But it’s now clear: initially, this plot existed only as a rough outline. The writers were given free rein at every stage, not being tied to a clear ending. And when the time came to write it, it turned out there was nothing left to finish.
The fragments of the plot proved too disjointed, and HoYoverse still seems to have trouble piecing them together into a coherent mosaic. Instead, the developers introduce a rapid technological leap—the “Western” civilizations of Teyvat suddenly embrace mechanization and industry. This is attributed to the influence of the Traveler starship, which arrived in this world many centuries ago. Thus, Genshin Impact transforms from a fairytale fantasy into a techno-fantasy.
But was it worth it? Let’s recall the Might and Magic series, and especially Heroes of Might and Magic III. How many players back then envisioned alien ships and high technology in those universes? No—they believed in mages and dragons. And when HoMM III attempted to add the Forge faction, with its distinctly techno-centric leanings, the community rejected it, despite the fact that it “fitted” into the lore.
It’s the same here: the contrast between Nod’s Edge 6.0 and Mondstadt from version 1.0 is shocking—and not in a good way. Yes, the gameplay mechanics work flawlessly. But I don’t feel like playing anymore. Genshin Impact 6.0 is no longer the game that millions fell in love with in 2020. And that’s the biggest disappointment of the year.
2025 wasn’t exactly a year of major mobile game releases. Against this backdrop, Destiny: Rising had every chance of being noticed not only by franchise fans but also by the millions of smartphone players. A successful launch instantly generates a wave of discussion. And if Rising had succeeded, we would now have one of the best releases of the year.
Instead, we experienced a rapid decline in audience by the time the first update arrived, and the developers’ clichéd promises to fix everything. But it feels like the game is beyond saving.
Formally designed to fit all the molds, Rising fails in its most fundamental aspect: the gameplay experience. Personally, I found the shooting to be primitive and uninspired, unworthy of NetEase, which is hardly a newcomer to the market. While the Chinese giant has few of its own franchises, it has extensive experience working on licensed projects. How they could make the core mechanics of a shooter so weak is beyond me.
But beyond the questionable shooting, the game has plenty of other problems: a bland storyline, awkward AI, repetitive level design, and a strange character art style. And, as icing on the cake, there’s the gacha mechanic in the game with PvP zones. The developers claim that gacha provides no advantage and there’s no pay-to-win. Perhaps that’s true for now. But the very idea of combining gacha and competitive play is inherently flawed.
It’s a big mistake to re-release a PS2-era game with modern graphics in 2025, complete with micro-levels and a ton of technical limitations. It looked weird even 20 years ago, and now… It’s just primitive.
Hideo Kojima once wanted to make a jungle survival game (don’t ask), so the hero hunts animals, stores meat in his inventory, and devours it right in the middle of battle. You can also use camouflage, climb trees, sink in mud, attract enemies with a growling stomach, and one boss can simply die of old age. The list of gimmicks is long. The problem is that the game doesn’t force you to use them, and its structure is outdated.
Tiny arenas, dumb enemies, linearity. You can simply run from one checkpoint to the next to watch a cutscene and continue on. If you’re spotted and the alarm is raised, no problem. Just reach the loading screen of the next location, and the pursuit will magically end.
The peculiar plot is a separate issue. Double and triple agents, clown bosses from a traveling circus, and inappropriate references to previous games (despite this being a prequel). Added to this are the awkward controls and poor optimization.
Metal Gear Solid 3 failed to make a splash in the hit-rich year of 2004. Now the remake has been released… and has been immediately forgotten, reminding us only of the disappointment of 20 years ago.
The most painful disappointment usually happens when you’re expecting something so much. You imagine it, you fantasize, and in the end, you get… Silent Hill f.
And the idea of setting the game in 1960s Japan isn’t so bad after all. Silent Hill isn’t always, or so much, a town as it is a purgatory where sinners pay for the horrors they’ve committed. This concept captivated me right up until the release, and combined with the surreal art design of the local monsters, covered in the sprouts of some unknown plant, it really sold the game!
However, the problems started as soon as I launched the game. What kind of heroine is this? Why does she act like a half-rotten log in dialogue, express no emotion, show no surprise at what’s happening, and when she does break down, she does it in such a deliberately Japanese way! It’s as if Johnny Stereotype, not Ryukishi07, had penned the script. In a word: I don’t believe it!
And the further I progressed, the more questions and inconsistencies arose. I won’t even mention the completely flawed and awkward combat system—it’s a problem with every game in the series, part of the atmosphere. The main problem is that Silent Hill 5 requires three or four plays to piece together the plot puzzle. You know what it’s called? A mediocre script and creative impotence, when the story needs to be stretched out over three or four playthroughs. Just like in Nier: Automata!
It’s hard to understand how the renowned studio Obsidian (creators of Fallout New Vegas, Neverwinter Nights 2, and Pillars of Eternity 1-2) could pull off such a thing. These veterans of the RPG genre, under the wing of Microsoft, once unveiled a trailer for a game in the style of The Elder Scrolls. Dark fantasy, first-person perspective, swords and magic. Everyone was thrilled. Later, we were shown gameplay footage of Avowed—the art design had deteriorated significantly, but we were promised a deep RPG with the ability to play as a true villain, with a fitting ending.
And then Avowed came out. And it was disappointing. Much of this can be explained by the fact that the developers initially created a co-op action game, but then abruptly changed course and began stretching the logic of a classic RPG onto its skeleton. Dialogues with forks in the road that lead nowhere. Villainy occurs, but often off-screen—in a couple of lines of text. You simply move forward through the guts of the level, simultaneously extracting stories from your dull companions. The plot feels bland, and the world is a set piece. The main character with a mushroom on his head (if you choose that race) looks downright comical.
The combat is decent, but it quickly becomes boring. The weapons barely change—in each chapter, you simply find materials to upgrade your sword to something like “epic” status and defeat “epic” monsters. And since resources are awarded strictly according to the storyline, there’s no point in exploring the levels in search of secrets.
Finally, the game is simply visually repulsive—yet another plastic world built on Unreal Engine 5, seemingly splashed with bright colors without a sense of proportion. The game lacks character. It’s a banal fantasy that’s ten years too late.
This game made quite a splash in 2025—not as much as Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 or Dispatch, but enough. So, I decided to check it out. And what did I get?
But I received a very weak project. The plot is banal and stupid: it tries to explore various themes—from social inequality to the thirst for revenge—but it always switches to the next question, forgetting the previous one. What’s the point of all this? They should have chosen one thing and delved into it!
The gameplay is just as bad: it’s a banal stealth puzzle with only one solution. It would be fine if you just had to figure it out—that would be fine. But no, this single solution is often executed very poorly: sometimes you have to perform actions with pinpoint precision, hitting the right pixel. Make a slight mistake, and you have to start over! Fortunately, at least there are plenty of save points scattered about.
The only thing I can praise about the game is its atmosphere: the locations are beautifully drawn, the music immerses you in the action, and the overall visual quality is sometimes superior to that of major blockbusters. It’s just a shame that all this goodness costs a pretty penny—2,500 rubles. Seriously?
It’s easy to criticize outright bad games—give them a piece of slack and forget about them. It’s much more difficult when a game has numerous positive elements that make it enjoyable. Of Ash and Steel boasts a unique world, well-developed characters, and the developers clearly put effort into its mechanics.
The execution ruins everything. You constantly feel frustrated during the most mundane activities. Trying to find a quest objective, fighting, leveling up, and gathering resources is irritating. One of the most common complaints is the delay in receiving the map, and these complaints are justified—the territory is vast, and good landmarks are few.
The game’s poor state makes matters worse: many merchants and artisans are either absent or not at their workstations; quests are broken by bugs; clearing difficult camps doesn’t reward adequately. On top of that, you have to endure the poor technical state, where the game devolves into a slideshow.
For now, we’re writing the “worst” title in pencil, hoping that in the future the game will be improved to the level of “best.”
World War II games were an integral part of my childhood. Perhaps that’s why the newest installment in the Sniper Elite series, Resistance, struck me as a rather thin and boring game.
In terms of gameplay, it’s 90% a copy of the fifth game, with only minor changes. In some places, it’s even worse: the levels are smaller, there are fewer enemies, there are fewer officers. It’s as if the developers found some leftover material lying around after the release of “V” and decided to cobble together another game from it, selling it for a whopping $50.
The story campaign was also disappointing. The developers attempted to craft a coherent narrative, but it came out dull: the characters are flat, the action reeks of a narrative arc, and the overall tone fluctuates constantly. It would have been better to simply create a series of missions with briefings without cutscenes, like before—it would have been cheap and cheerful.
The only interesting thing I can say is the multiplayer: fighting real players in sniper duels is fun. It’s just a shame it gets boring quickly—after 10-15 hours.
The only saving grace is the fact that it’s available through Game Pass. Otherwise, it would be a complete waste of money.
This is one of those games that tries to impress with an original concept, but ultimately disappoints. After a few hours, it becomes obvious that the project is too superficial, despite the initial attention to detail.
The developers attempt to evoke a sense of anxiety and powerlessness by immersing the player in a terrifying atmosphere with guests emerging from the ground, but these attempts often lead to fatigue. The gameplay is too monotonous: the character sits in a house, checks guests, and decides who to let in and who not. The cycle quickly repeats, and the choices become increasingly mechanical—especially considering that the game initially feels like a roulette wheel. The plot fails to live up to expectations: the characters tell the same stories over and over again, and their stories fail to reveal the depth of the universe.
Despite the presence of choices and consequences, No I’m Not a Human fails to live up to its potential and needs some refinement. What began as an interesting challenge—guessing which guest poses the real threat—devolves into a dull task with slightly different endings.
While the marketing hype and excitement can be attributed to the developers, that’s not what matters most to players. The only real draw is the atmosphere. Otherwise, the game isn’t worth the time.
The Ghost of series primarily captivates with the aesthetics of feudal Japan. It’s pleasant to gallop through fields and relax in springs, but without a plot, this beauty quickly becomes boring. While in the first game, Jin Sakai sacrificed his honor to save his homeland, in Ghost of Yotei, the heroine Atsu simply seeks revenge on the Yotei Six gang. Her journey is devoid of moral anguish: an evil woman runs across Japan, slicing her enemies into sashimi.
The antagonists’ development has noticeably dwindled. Unlike the charismatic Khotun Khan from the original, the members of the “Six” are cardboard cutouts with no depth. They’re simply functional bosses, there to give the player something to cross off their list. They’re forgotten exactly one minute after their victory.
The developers’ attempt to push the idea of ”revenge is bad” completely ruins the plot. This premise, while questionable in The Last of Us 2, is completely ineffective here. The game creates dissonance: its gameplay encourages the spectacular execution of enemies, but the writers ultimately lecture the player, devaluing their actions.
The hopelessly outdated open world doesn’t help matters either. A structure that seemed fine five years ago is now a yawn in 2025. The map is littered with question marks and repetitive activities: more foxes, more haiku. Instead of a vibrant adventure, the game offers a routine of map clearing.
Finally, the derivative nature of the gameplay permeates its very core. Sucker Punch was afraid to change the already-working formula, making the sequel feel like a massive DLC. Muskets and kusarigama add a bit of freshness to the combat, but the overall combat system remains the same. It’s a “safe” sequel that treads water, afraid to take a step forward.
This is a bold, yet failed, attempt by Remedy to expand and deepen the Control universe. It’s commendable that the renowned studio decided to try its hand at a new genre of co-op shooters—clearly hoping to cash in on skins and trinkets to please investors. But at least they need to be smart about their approach, as an interesting universe alone won’t get them very far.
The interesting design and promising concept couldn’t hide numerous problems: poor balance, tedious grinding, monotonous mission structure, lack of voice chat (in a multiplayer shooter, duh!), technical bugs (even without taking into account the unavailability of servers from Russia), and a disgusting interface.
Another controversial decision was the game’s tone. Control and Alan Wake were serious projects, so it’s completely unclear why Remedy turned Firebreak into a comedy and its characters into clowns. However, it’s understandable why the studio decided to declare the game a financial failure, write off the money spent, and redirect its efforts to Control Resonant.
Painkiller is a project that turned out to be of no use to anyone. Neither the newcomers it was designed for, nor the series veterans well-versed in its past. The developers managed to fail in virtually every aspect: from game design to setting and storytelling.
The main problem is the complete lack of challenge. Painkiller offers no challenge and essentially plays itself. This is especially evident in solo mode. It’s impossible to disable the bot companions, and even on the hardest difficulty, enemies don’t feel threatening. The companions’ effectiveness is jacked up to the point of absurdity: they constantly dodge, take almost no damage, never miss, and save the player in any situation. Moreover, their final score often surpasses the player’s own. As a result, you’re not beating the game; the game is beating itself.
Technically, there are special enemies and mini-bosses that require “tactics,” but in practice, any upgraded gun allows you to kill them in a couple of shots without even thinking. The plot is beyond words. The main plot turned out to be a farce, hiding behind which you’d be tempted to play for dozens more hours.
The outcome is predictable, but disappointing. Painkiller received only one technical update, with no new content. The project is effectively abandoned. Online traffic hasn’t even surpassed 900 players, and currently hovers around 20-30 players per day. The servers will likely be shut down by summer.
There’s no hope for a second attempt to resurrect the series. This Painkiller has completely buried the franchise.
The project “Bunny,” from artist and game designer Saikono Joker, based on the book of the same name by Dmitry Mordas, was developed over a long period of time as a horror visual novel set in 1990s post-Soviet Siberia. The game was praised for its atmosphere, stylish art, musical score, and well-developed characters. In the first episodes, the player is immersed in the mysticism of a taiga village, encountering strange animals, investigating the disappearances of children, and making choices that supposedly influence the plot.
By the final fifth episode, fans’ expectations had turned to disappointment. The sweeping endings proved absurd, often illogical, featuring uncontrollable violence, schizophrenia, transformations into monsters, and the devouring of characters. There were virtually no positive outcomes, the choices contradicted the endings, and some scenes felt as if they had been orchestrated by an AI rather than a human. Many players felt the project had lost its charm.
Despite the disappointing conclusion, “Bunny” will appeal to those who appreciate child-focused horror stories in the vein of Stephen King’s “It.” The early chapters are capable of holding attention and evoking an emotional response, but the extreme violence, chaotic endings, and lack of a coherent script made it one of the most controversial and disappointing games of 2025.
Talking about Escape from Tarkov is difficult once again because everything has already been said. All the problems have been addressed, the reasons for its failure have been explained, and the project itself has been thoroughly examined in both the release announcement and the full review. So here it only makes sense to summarize my experience and explain why Tarkov was, for me, the worst game of the year.
Speaking of the gameplay experience itself, it was entirely negative. The technical state, customer support, and attitude toward the audience are no different from the practices of the worst publishers of the 2010s. Bugs have been unresolved for years. Nikita Buyanov declares some of them “features,” while others are simply ignored. The most telling example is the sound, which still doesn’t work properly in Tarkov.
Nothing has changed legally either. The license agreement is being used as a pressure tool. Pre-order users who tried to get refunds were denied or banned. Owners of the Steam version of BSG continue to have their accounts blocked after requesting refunds on Steam. However, refunds are still being issued.
The community deserves a separate discussion. It’s the community that’s been the biggest disappointment. A paradoxical picture emerges on forums and streams: people admit the game is broken, yet continue to call it “good” and believe in the future.
This belief is unfounded. Regardless of the claims about “Tarkov 2.0,” things won’t get any better. The developers themselves say active support will continue for another two years. Over the past ten years, the studio has had time to bring the project into order. Instead, they prioritized ultra-expensive editions, bans for dissatisfied players, and shady money-making schemes.
The only thing that can be said with certainty is that Escape from Tarkov will live on. Not because it’s good, but because it has built an audience willing to consume any product. The logic behind this behavior is a mystery to me.
As long as the black market exists in Tarkov—item trading, raid promotions, cheats—the game will remain a profitable environment, primarily for cheaters and traders. And it’s for them, in fact, that the game exists today.
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