A year of dashed hopes and unexpected discoveries. We were expecting GTA VI, but got a boom in indie and Chinese hits. We buried the Xbox, but said goodbye to Call of Duty. We feared AI and were horrified by the price of computer hardware. The editors sum up the results of the crazy year 2025 – honest, angry, and uncensored.
Have you noticed how games are gradually becoming less ideologically explicit? This is partly due to the changing political climate—after all, claiming that games are apolitical is tantamount to an ostrich-like tactic. But this is a slow process, and in response to this tired “agenda,” a new trend has emerged: sexualization as a universal marketing crutch used to confuse players.
It’s important to clarify my position right away. The problem isn’t attractive characters. I’d prefer a game with expressive aesthetics and sexual energy to a sterile product assembled according to the mold of the “new ethics.” However, something else is troubling: sexuality is increasingly being used not as part of the artistic vision, but as a screen to hide budget shortfalls, game design, and direction.
Stellar Blade became the flagship of this logic. At launch, the game showcased a combat system where showcasing the heroine’s charms took precedence over animation readability and timing precision. And soon, Code Violet will be released—its developers abandoned a PC release under the pretext of protecting it from “controversial” modifications. Now they’re selling revealing outfits for pre-orders and the deluxe edition. And in the latest gameplay trailer, they emphasize not the wooden shooting and mediocre gameplay, but how the heroine looks in various outfits. They hope the project’s crudeness will simply go unnoticed against the backdrop of a latex-clad backside.
Even in HoYverse games, interesting characters are increasingly being replaced by the illusion of romance with yet another “waifu.” This irritates not only critics of gacha games but also many fans, as any “relationship” ends the moment the next banner is announced.
There are many more examples. The conclusion is clear: a dubious ideology has changed its form—it’s now rounded and appealing—but the essence remains the same. Bad games remain bad, even if they’re beautifully dressed up. I’m all for quality projects where appeal complements skill, not masks its absence.
The gaming industry has once again been rocked by an attack from proponents of “purity and morality.” This time, the attackers were Visa and Mastercard, which imposed conditions on major gaming platforms like Steam and Itch.io. The terms were simple: “You remove the games we don’t like, and we won’t take away players’ ability to buy your games.” The first to be targeted were 18+ games, where imaginative characters find their way into the world of gaming.
Raids on adult games have already damaged the gaming industry, as they serve as a training ground for aspiring developers. After gaining experience, creators typically move on to much more vanilla projects. The most frustrating thing is that people invested effort and money, only to have their creations destroyed at the whim of corporations.
But don’t think the censorship advocates will stop there. Adult games are the “canary in the coalmine,” the first to perish when danger strikes. This is evidenced by games with explicit content like Fear and Hunger, where explicit content would only arouse sexual arousal in people with a very specific psychological makeup. For example, the horror game Horses, where the developer poured his heart and soul into his dream project, was removed without proper explanation.
The number of such examples will only increase, as the censorship steamroller won’t stop so easily. A horde of incompetent individuals is paid to complain and demand the removal of games with provocative content, leaving behind boring and impersonal, but politically correct projects. As a result, we must rely on initiatives like Stop Killing Games, which will force consumers’ rights to be respected. Otherwise, players will en masse raise the pirate flag and continue to support independent creators from the shadows. In no universe would such a situation benefit the gaming industry or the economy as a whole!
In 2025, the PC component market was shaken. Prices for key components began to rise, and this came as an unpleasant surprise to many. The main, but not the only, reason was the increased demands on computing power and memory, driven by the rapid development of artificial intelligence technologies.
Giants like Google and Microsoft are actively building new AI data centers to handle massive amounts of data. They require colossal amounts of hardware to store and analyze the data. Manufacturers find it more profitable to ship memory in bulk to tech giants than to bother with retail. This has created a shortage of high-speed memory (DDR5, HBM2) and SSDs. The result is predictable: prices for home-built systems have skyrocketed.
AI-optimized graphics cards are also at risk. For example, NVIDIA GPUs are designed for machine learning, making them popular among large corporations and scientific institutions. Analysts predict that mainstream graphics cards will continue to rise in price starting in January 2026.
In addition to the growth in demand driven by AI developments, economic sanctions and supply disruptions also played a role in the component market. These factors limited component availability and increased their costs, creating additional challenges for manufacturers and end users. Experts believe this trend will continue until at least the end of 2026. The most pessimistic forecasts suggest problems could extend into 2027–2028.
We’re used to thinking that corporations are above the law. But 2025 proved otherwise. After Ubisoft cynically removed The Crew from users’ libraries, the player community couldn’t take it anymore. People rallied around the Stop Killing Games initiative, which aims to legally compel studios to keep their games running even after servers are shut down.
The path to success was rocky. The petition lacked momentum, and it faced opposition from prominent figures in the media, such as streamer Jason “Thor” Hall of Pirate Software. He had long criticized the demands of the movement’s ideologist, Ross Scott, convincing his audience of the futility of the initiative. However, after a series of scandals that undermined credibility for “Thor” criticism, public opinion swung in the opposite direction.
The barrier has been breached: the petition has collected the necessary signatures and has officially been submitted to the European Commission for review. Of course, there are no guarantees—the bureaucratic machine is sluggish, and many officials still consider video games frivolous entertainment. But the very fact that it’s being considered is a victory. After all, this isn’t just a question of “toys,” but of fundamental property rights and consumer protection in the digital age. This is a historic opportunity to change the rules of the game.
In 2025, artificial intelligence has become a permanent fixture in every gamer’s life—but not in the way we dreamed. Enemies in shooters haven’t gotten any smarter; they seem to be deteriorating with each passing year. Instead, AI is now responsible for upscaling blurry, low-resolution images to 4K. We’ve reached the point of absurdity: even top-end graphics cards can’t handle modern lighting and systems like Lumen without the help of upscalers.
The year was also marked by endless scandals. While the industry has become accustomed to “neurocode,” attempts to replace artists and scriptwriters have provoked public outrage. For players, creativity remains sacred human territory, off-limits to algorithms.
The pendulum has swung toward automation: it’s trendy, fast, and cheap. But the risks are enormous. It’s becoming increasingly difficult for young professionals to break into the industry—why hire a junior when ChatGPT can write a script in a second? And who will replace today’s veterans in 10 years if newcomers don’t gain experience?
Finally, AI has hit players from the most unexpected angle—financially. Neural networks require not only electricity but also colossal amounts of memory. With OpenAI hoarding up to 40% of global chip production in an attempt to outpace competitors, the shortage is hitting ordinary users. Today’s stratospheric RAM prices are a direct consequence of this race.
Many compare the AI boom to a financial bubble. But even if it bursts, it won’t make things any easier for players. The shockwave could engulf half the IT industry, and we’ll be left to clean up the mess.
Promises to turn any project into a VR game were made even at the launch of PlayStation VR2. Sony actively praised its new tools, which were supposed to allow studios to port hits to virtual reality “with a single click.” As we know, this magic button remained buried in the depths of beautiful press releases.
However, on PC, the fairy tale became reality thanks to UEVR, a free injector from modder Praydog. This tool does exactly what Sony dreamed of: transforming virtually any Unreal Engine 4 and 5 game into a fully-fledged VR project with true 3D and head tracking.
Ever dreamed of experiencing what it’s like to wander through the fog of Silent Hill yourself? No problem. Launch the game, turn on the injector, put on the helmet, and you’re inside. Want maximum immersion? A few settings, and Silent Hill 2 Remake transforms from a third-person horror game into the terrifying experience of the first, where monsters breathe right in your face.
Too lazy to fiddle with settings? The community has already created thousands of ready-made profiles, even adding motion controls. Want to feel like a kid and play The Ascent or strategy games, like you’re arranging soldiers on your bedroom floor? Check it out. This tool unlinks the camera and gives you complete freedom.
UEVR is a breakthrough technology. There’s no longer any need to wait years for official VR versions or complain about the lack of options in expensive projects. You can create your own. I’ve tried dozens of games, from The Callisto Protocol to Hi-Fi Rush, and it offers a unique experience. The main thing is that your vestibular system can handle it.
Nostalgia and retro gaming can come in many forms. Some buy original hardware, old CRT TVs, and scour flea markets for rare discs. Others emulate old PC games, cranking up the resolution to 4K and HD textures, and overclocking older titles to 60 frames per second.
I chose the golden mean, combining a portable form factor with the power of the legendary Snapdragon 865 chip and the Android platform—I bought the Retroid Pocket Flip 2 retro console. Its killer feature is its Nintendo DS-style clamshell form factor, with the screen on top and all the controls on the bottom. It has two thumbsticks, all the standard buttons, and analog triggers on the back. And this console is one of the most memorable retro gaming experiences for me this year, right up there with the still-struggling PS3.
This little device can handle hits from the Dendy/Sega era, as well as heavyweight PlayStation 2 and GameCube titles. They say it even runs Nintendo Switch-level titles, but I haven’t tested it. However, native Android games and ports like Hollow Knight or Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown run like clockwork—no surprise there with the Snapdragon 865!
It’s much more exciting when I have a free minute in line at the MFC or while waiting in the car for my wife to get home from work, to take out this little thing, open the lid, and immediately dive into a game: Burnout 3: Takedown, The Punisher, Crazy Taxi, Final Fantasy X, Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory, Castlevania: Symphony of the Night—these and many other titles run at 2X-4X resolution, with improved textures and anti-aliasing. Yes, sometimes the games themselves may not be optimized for the emulator, but in the six months I’ve been using the console, I can count those on one hand.
If you’re looking for a fresh take on a device with a powerful processor under the hood, long battery life, and a huge library of older games, consider the Retroid Pocket Flip 2. But keep in mind that you’ll still need to dig around and figure out how it works!
Valve remained silent for a long time, but in November, it broke: Gabe Newell unveiled three new gadgets. This is the company’s most significant hardware announcement since the release of Steam Deck.
The first new product is the Steam Machine. Yes, Valve is returning to the idea of a “console-like” PC for the living room. They promise 4K and 60 FPS—albeit with the caveat of using the FSR upscaler. The device runs SteamOS and strives to combine the flexibility of a computer with the convenience of a console. The main question is the price. A price tag of $800–$1,000 seems steep, but against the backdrop of skyrocketing prices for graphics cards and memory, such a “ready-to-go” setup may even prove to be a good deal.
The second new product is the Steam Controller 2. The first version was too experimental and didn’t take off, but engineers learned from it. The new model features proper magnetic thumbsticks, HD vibration, and improved trackpads. Compatibility with the entire Valve ecosystem is a plus, but skepticism remains strong after the first model.
And finally, the Steam Frame is a standalone VR headset running SteamOS. No wires, a dedicated processor, and PC game streaming. The concept is excellent (a sort of “Quest from Valve”), but the display specs could have been more advanced. As always, the device’s mass availability will depend on its price, which is currently being kept under wraps.
With this announcement, Valve comes full circle: it now has solutions for the pocket (Deck), the living room (Machine), and VR (Frame). The company is clearly building a backup plan to finally untether PC gaming from Windows in the future.
We were waiting for PIONER and urging people to add it to their Steam wishlist. It was, albeit a flawed attempt, to create our own MMORPG, featuring a Fallout-style open world, raids offering harsh challenges, and treasure hunts in PvP zones offering the thrill of losing everything after encountering another player. And all of this in our aesthetic, complete with our signature “loaves of bread,” “gopniks,” and “AK-47s.”
Then the developers announced that 500,000 people had already added the game to their wishlists. A strong promise of success! But two days later, news came that PIONER had become exclusive to the new Rostelecom Games service in Russia and Belarus. The developers had betrayed their audience and sold them profitably to Rostelecom.
And then the circus began. PIONER’s developers explained that their decision to sell to Rostelecom would allow them, with the help of “partners,” to provide a better experience for residents of Russia and Belarus. While it wouldn’t be “better,” it was certainly unusual. For starters, there were problems purchasing and downloading the game. Download speeds on release day were so slow that it took hours for files to download. Even if the “play” button activated after three hours, the technical difficulties were just beginning.
A black screen would prompt me to log in (to who knows where) or log out. That was it, period. Developers would release updates, and Steam users would download and install them without issue. In Rostelecom Games, updates either wouldn’t download or install, forcing me to wait days for the issues to be resolved.
Want a refund for PIONER? Rostelecom support hints at this possibility, but keeps pushing back the decision date. We were unable to play or get a refund.
Finally, regarding the game. Users (those lucky enough to get in) complained about endless loading times, missing items, no chat (in an MMORPG!), limited content, impossible missions, insufficient ammo, and so on. And all this, coupled with the fact that the game itself is unfinished. There’s little content, numerous bugs, only two raids, and a clunky and unpleasant intro that highlights the game’s cheapness. At its current stage, PIONER is unrecommended, especially on the Rostelecom Games service.
You’ve probably never heard the term “friend-slop,” but you’ve probably played at least one such game this year. It’s not an official genre, but a phenomenon that has quietly taken over the market.
The word “slop” translates as “slop”—it’s the internet’s nickname for low-quality content, often generated by neural networks, for mindless consumption. In gaming, this has evolved into “friend-slop”: cheap, cheap, home-brewed co-op projects. They’re boring and painful to play alone, but with friends, they become pure joy.
Prominent examples include REPO, PEAK, RV There Yet, and MISERY. All are built around primitive mechanics, flawed physics, and situational chaos that only unfolds in co-op.
For indie developers, this has become a gold mine. No need to write a complex plot, create cool graphics, or polish the balance. It’s enough to take an absurd idea and adapt it for co-op play, so players have fun breaking the game rather than learning its rules.
This genre has spawned a content pipeline. Streamers adore friend-slop: a ready-made show where screams, laughter, and ridiculous deaths are generated automatically. Viewers see this fun, gather their friends, and rush to buy the game for a few dollars.
Friend-slop feels less like a classic video game and more like a drunken party. It’s characterized by the same chaotic chaos, absurdity, and noise as a live party. This is precisely its main advantage—and its limitation.
The Nintendo Switch 2 was destined for success. Its iconic predecessor, backward compatibility, and reasonable price—that alone would have been enough to fly the console off the shelves. Even if the Japanese hadn’t released a single exclusive at launch, it wouldn’t have been a disaster. But Nintendo was prepared. And, unfortunately, it was the launch lineup that became my biggest disappointment of the year.
First of all, I’ve long outgrown Mario Kart, Pokémon, and the Dynasty Warriors clones. So, Mario Kart World, Kirby Air Riders, Pokémon Legends: ZA, and Hyrule Warriors: Age of Imprisonment are all passé. They’re hits for fans, but not for me.
My hopes were pinned on Donkey Kong Bananza and Metroid Prime 4. Unfortunately, I didn’t embrace the new take on the gorilla series. The idea of constantly hacking at rocks to collect bananas quickly became routine. The game doesn’t challenge you, but rather stifles you with monotonous grinding.
Metroid Prime 4 was a downright unpleasant surprise, with its gameplay design feeling twenty years outdated. Trivial shootouts, “sponge” bosses, and dreary wanderings through empty dungeons. The film’s downfall is tedious desert drives and the obligatory crystal collection, which artificially stretches the running time.
For now, the Switch 2 is a useless piece of plastic for me. I hope that in 2026 it will stop collecting dust on the shelf and finally offer games worth buying for.
When I bought a Steam Deck in May 2022, I genuinely couldn’t understand why I needed a Switch anymore. It seemed like the era and philosophy of Nintendo were hopelessly gone. I had a true “multi-chef,” a super-combine. A huge Steam library, emulators for everything from the PS2 to that very Switch. Yes, it’s not as compact. Yes, it’s a bit heavy. But the possibilities were overwhelming.
After three years without Nintendo and buying a Switch 2 at launch, I suddenly realized why I hadn’t touched my Steam Deck for six months and eventually sold it. It’s simple: the Steam Deck is boring.
It’s not about the games. Nothing compares to Steam’s library diversity, that’s a fact. But availability and regional pricing played a cruel joke: I stopped playing games and started “gaming sales.” I bought hits I never even played. I thought, “Let them sit there, someday the time will come.” But that time never came. My mind was occupied not with gameplay, but with endlessly sorting through my backlog and searching for discounts.
The Switch 2 is a different matter. This device brings value back to the purchase. Here, buying a game isn’t just a transaction, but a mini-festival with its own sounds and animations. The entire system is built around your enjoyment. You’re not holding a mini-PC with a bunch of settings, battery percentages, and performance graphs. You’re holding a Toy. An expensive, high-quality thing whose purpose is to give you fun.
With Steam Deck, I lost that feeling. My mind was too often filled with the question, “Will this work here?” instead of, “I want to play this.” The Switch 2 is all about the games, not the features. And in today’s world, where every minute counts, I choose to spend time playing the game rather than trying to get it to work.
Modern gamers and bloggers have completely turned into a caste of hysterical women—I wrote about this last year. I didn’t particularly want to repeat myself, but I’ll have to, to some extent—after all, in 2025, screaming and convulsing gamers were burying not just anyone, but an entire Xbox, complete with Phil Spencer.
Every successful game was scrutinized for the slightest flaw. Every failure was savored in dozens of videos and articles online. Every console sales report was presented as irrefutable proof of the platform’s demise. It seemed as if any minute now the coffin would arrive and the ill-wishers would start ripping up the accordion at the funeral!
And Xbox still isn’t dying. It boasts its strongest lineup in years: Avowed, Doom: The Dark Ages, South of Midnight, Ninja Gaiden 4, The Outer Worlds 2, Gears of War Reloaded, Call of Duty: Black Ops 7, plus smart expansion onto competitors’ platforms. It’s simply impossible to list them all.
In the fall, Microsoft took a new step forward, partnering with Asus to release the ROG Xbox Ally, a portable Windows console with a special “game mode” a la Steam’s Big Picture. It’s a powerful device, and games are specifically optimized for it. They also revitalized the Xbox Play Anywhere program: now, with a single purchase, you can play a game on your home console, portable device, and PC.
The plans for 2026 are no less grandiose, but the detractors still persist, spewing venom, proving that Xbox’s demise is just around the corner. Maybe so, but I think the brand will outlive some of its haters. After all, as the saying goes, “Where the dogs bark, the caravan moves on!”
2025 passed in anticipation of GTA VI. The internet was flooded with wild rumors about the plot, release date, and locations. The news of the game’s delay to 2026 became a personal tragedy for many. Fans angrily canceled vacations and even rescheduled weddings that had been timed to coincide with the game’s release. Now they’re forced to make plans anew—and it feels like a personal tragedy.
However, mobile gamers are watching this hysteria with a slight smirk. Their attention is focused elsewhere: on the announcements of Ananta from NetEase and Varsapura from HoYoverse. For them, GTA VI might not even be released, as Chinese studios have already matured into projects of similar scale. Open world, deep mechanics, multiplayer, and, most importantly, exceptional quality of execution—all of this is already here.
Of course, the Chinese still lack the obsessive detail that we love about Rockstar (horses on smartphones are unlikely to have their genitals shrinking in the cold). But is this really that important for gameplay? The truly important things—freedom, scale, dynamism, and a vibrant world—are already being demonstrated by the Asian giants.
The gameplay trailers for Ananta and Varsapura look terrifyingly cool. Yes, the anime style isn’t to everyone’s taste. Yes, the gacha game scripts are questionable. But if the final product maintains the quality of the trailers, these releases will revolutionize the mobile market just as GTA III did the console industry a quarter of a century ago.
For many mobile gamers, the Ananta and Varsapura presentations became the highlight of 2025—and the brightest hope for the future.
2025 will be remembered not only for the triumphant return of Battlefield, but also for the disaster of its eternal rival. The Call of Duty franchise, which held the crown of the planet’s premier shooter for decades, collapsed. The failure was so deafening that even the most devoted fans began deleting the game en masse.
I’ve long since lost interest in online battles, despite spending hundreds of hours in them as a kid. But even I was deeply affected by this situation. I spent dozens of hours in the Battlefield 6 open beta and didn’t regret a single minute—it was fresh, fun, and ambitious. But when I launched Call of Duty afterward, I was left feeling nothing but disappointment. The difference is colossal: a once-great series now feels hopelessly outdated and derivative.
I hope Microsoft’s management, which now owns the brand, draws the right conclusions—after all, the bottom has finally been hit. As for EA and Vince Zampella, congratulations are in order. The situation is ironic to the point of shock: the man who created Call of Duty, years later, took over Battlefield and destroyed his own creation. A true “Taras Bulba” of the video game world: “I gave birth to you, and I will kill you!”
Almost 10 years of development ended with a massive flop. Fans weren’t expecting a miracle. They simply wanted the obvious issues fixed with the 1.0 release. Especially since the Steam release was so anticipated! In other words, the hardcore military simulator was no longer being presented to a “close crowd,” but to a wider audience. What a nightmare that was…
Let’s start with the fact that Escape from Tarkov simply wouldn’t launch upon release for various reasons. Sometimes you couldn’t log in, sometimes the game would ask you to verify and redownload files, sometimes it would report that your account was already online and block you from logging in. The chaos continued for several days. All of this instantly killed the game’s Steam rating, and people started asking for refunds.
Later, the login issues were resolved, and players started logging into Escape from Tarkov. But what awaited them was exactly the same game they’d encountered before version 1.0. Long load times (10-15 minutes) and cheaters were back. No hints for newcomers—what to do, where to go, where the map exit was. Movement issues, getting stuck, and the inability to jump over obstacles were back. The new thing was a mind-boggling “storyline,” which takes even experienced players hundreds of hours to complete. And not because of its complexity, but because they don’t understand what to do. A typical mission: “Go there, I don’t know where. Find that, I don’t know what.” Often, the game makes you simply wait a day or two in real time during a mission! Why? Because. Finally, the game’s merchants now have 3D models, but they look like they were made by different hands and in different years. Some are good. Others look like they were created at the dawn of development.
Fans watched Escape from Tarkov 1.0, sighed deeply, cursed Nikita Buyanov, and waited again. This time, for Escape from Tarkov 2.0. Maybe something will change there.
The year 2025 has finally cemented a shift that had been brewing for years. Indie developers and mid-budget projects are increasingly becoming the focus of players’ attention, not as alternatives to big-budget blockbusters, but as flagships of cultural influence and the quality of the gaming experience.
There are many reasons for this. Among them are the high entry point for major blockbusters, which approaches $80—and in some cases exceeds it due to questionable practices. Then there’s the price of entry into gaming—running an unoptimized AAA title requires a computer that costs as much as a used car.
The pace of life is also accelerating, making time scarce and players more selective. As a result, the selection criteria shift toward the density of experiences per dollar spent and, just as importantly, per hour spent.
And this is where they come in—original projects created by small teams on modest budgets. Uneven, sometimes rough, not always technically flawless, but with soul and inner freedom. They’re unafraid to make mistakes, experiment, and surprise, because they’re not obligated to conform to a checklist or justify investments worth hundreds of millions of dollars. This freedom increasingly translates into more vibrant and memorable experiences.
This isn’t about the death of AAA. The industry still needs blockbusters, but they’ve become sluggish dinosaurs. Major publishers are stuck in an expensive production model that can’t keep up with the market.
Small studios, on the other hand, maintain agility and flexibility, allowing them to ride the wave of interest without risking drowning under their own weight. In 2025, this will no longer be about exceptions and anomalies, but rather a trend. Just look back at your game library this year: chances are, it was the smaller projects that gave you the most powerful experiences.
For years, the Silent Hill formula remained unshakable: the hero finds himself in a town teeming with monsters that embody his inner demons. In the background, there are always cultists and an ancient evil—the source of all evil.
The new Silent Hill f seems to follow the canon: a Japanese schoolgirl, emotional trauma, grotesque monsters. But that’s just the surface. In terms of gameplay and atmosphere, the game feels like another Dark Souls clone, not a psychological horror game. And the requirement to play through the game three times to understand the plot completely kills the suspense.
The changes might have been acceptable, if not for Labyrinth Of The Demon King. This indie project, reminiscent of a cross between King’s Field and Condemned, achieves what Konami couldn’t: it takes us back to the days of Silent Hill 2.
As you wander the endless corridors of a Japanese castle, the eerie sounds and sense of danger weigh heavily on you. Rust, rot, despair—all the elements that made us fall in love with the series are here. Sorry, but it’s a shame when a lone developer captures the atmosphere of Silent Hill better than the rights-holding company, who has a knack for it!
2025 unexpectedly became the year of the release of projects many had already lost faith in. Games that had been languishing in “production hell” for years, turning into memes and symbols of unfulfilled hopes, suddenly reached release.
The list of completed games is impressive. We finally got Hollow Knight: Silksong (after seven years!). Escape from Tarkov, the symbol of eternal Early Access, finally reached version 1.0. Ninja Gaiden fans suddenly got the fourth installment. But the biggest miracle was the release of The Adventures of Captain Blood—Akella’s legendary long-running project, which had been gathering dust since 2005.
Of course, not everything went smoothly. The long-awaited return of Painkiller turned into a flop: the iconic shooter was turned into a dull co-op game that plays itself. The remakes of Oblivion and Metal Gear Solid Delta, hastily transplanted to Unreal Engine 5, also raised more questions than joy.
And yet, the mood in the community changed. There was a sense that the industry was beginning to repay old debts. Players began to believe in miracles again—to the point that jokes about the Half-Life 3 announcement ceased to be just jokes.
2025 will be remembered not so much for the quality of these games (which varied), but for the fact that they were released. The year when myths became reality.
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 is a wonderful adventure. It features a unique world, an emotional story, charismatic characters, and a polished combat system. It’s a game that will leave you captivated and definitely worth checking out.
However, the buzz around it is so intense it seems like there simply weren’t any other worthy games released in 2025. The online hype is off the charts, and at The Game Awards, the project took home nine statues, including “Best RPG” (Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2 is a real shame). The awards continue to rain down. Yes, the game deserves praise, but it’s clearly overdone it.
Expedition 33 is a high-quality, masterful compilation of other people’s ideas. Astro Bot did something similar in 2024, but he wasn’t hailed as a messiah. Looking back at the landmark projects of past years, they all shook the foundations. Baldur’s Gate 3 showed that a complex isometric RPG could be an expensive blockbuster. Elden Ring reinvented the open world. Hades created the “story-driven roguelike” genre. It Takes Two revolutionized co-op. Even Sekiro (damn it) taught the entire industry how to parry.
Expedition 33 doesn’t change or reinvent anything. It’s simply a very good game. And perhaps the most overrated this year.
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