10 Games I Bought Because of TikTok

Look, I need everyone to understand something before we begin: TikTok has completely destroyed my ability to make responsible decisions.

I don't buy games because of reviews anymore. I don't even buy games because my friends recommend them. No, now I'm buying games because I saw a clip at 1am of a silly little guy falling off a mountain while someone screamed into their microphone like they were being hunted for sport. It is true. So here are the games that TikTok absolutely manipulated me into buying this year.

Sledding game

I saw a TikTok of a little penguin sledding down a hill at Mach 5 while three frogs watched from the side like they were witnessing a Nascar event, and I ran to Steam.

Sledding Game feels scientifically developed in a lab to appeal directly to people who miss the golden age of Flash games and also own at least one plushie. Everything about it is aggressively charming.

The developer posting updates on TikTok was genius because every clip looked like a game you accidentally lose six hours to. Watching the map slowly evolve through TikTok clips also made me strangely emotionally attached to this game before I even bought it. Like I was following the development of someone's little cozy child. There's also something deeply powerful about a game whose entire pitch is “what if little creatures went wheeeeeeeeee downhill”.

Librarian: Tidy Up The Arcane Library

Librarian: Tidy Up The Arcane Library going viral proved to me that TikTok users will turn any task into a personality trait. Because explain to me why millions of people were suddenly debating whether it was cozy or psychologically painful to put books in silence. The premise is almost unbelievably simple. You organize books in a magical library. That's all. You just sort books as the world's most overqualified library assistant. Still, I couldn't stop watching videos of it.

Every TikTok about this game felt like a social experiment. Half of the comments were people saying “this looks so relaxing”. The other half were people who said they'd rather walk out into traffic than alphabetize fake spellbooks for four hours. Of course I bought it right away.

Content warning

Content Warning feels like someone looked at Lethal Company and said what if we added influencer culture. I mean that as the highest possible compliment.

The whole concept is perfect TikTok bait. You and your friends enter terrifying underground monster zones to record content for something literally called SpookTube. It's already fun, but the real genius is that the game allows you to save and upload the actual footage you shot.

This meant that TikTok was immediately flooded with clips of people screaming, dying, being thrown into walls and accidentally filming the worst movie ever created. Of course I bought it because I'm weak. Seeing creators like CaseOh completely lose their cool while some nightmare creature folded their team like lawn chairs was enough to convince me that this game needed to be in my library.

Web fishing

Webfishing weaponized my Animal Crossing nostalgia against me personally. The second I saw clips of little cat avatars fishing together while chatting and being silly, I was done. There was never a chance I wouldn't buy this game. TikTok basically held up a cozy aesthetic moodboard in front of me like a hypnotist's watch.

Nothing dramatic happens, and no one tries to save the world. You just live in peace with friends, catch fish, customize your character and mood. Apparently, it was all people wanted because TikTok became completely obsessed with this game. I think part of the appeal is that Webfishing feels almost suspiciously sincere. There is no stroke, just little cats fishing together because life is hard, and sometimes you need it.

Super Battle Golf

Every TikTok clip of Super Battle Golf looks like a sporting event held moments before society collapses. People drive golf carts straight into each other, swing clubs like medieval warriors, deploy land mines and somehow still try to finish the course. The comments calling it “golf with friends, no golf against friends” were painfully accurate as this game turns every friendship into a temporary blood feud.

TikTok clips of it were impossible to resist as every single one escalated instantly. Someone lines up a normal golf shot, and three seconds later an orbital laser appears from the sky as divine punishment. I bought it after watching a clip of eight people piled into a golf cart speeding towards disaster while someone was screaming incoherently over the proximity chat, and I have no regrets.

Dead As Disco

This game made my brain light up like a Vegas casino. Everything about Dead As Disco feels designed specifically for short-form video. Every beat synced to music looks like it belongs in an edited TikTok fan cam with comments full of people saying “OH THIS.” It helps that they are right.

Watching battle clips perfectly synchronized with the soundtrack activated something primal in me. I was convinced that I too could become a rhythm battle god instead of someone who regularly misses fast events because I panic.

Megabank

I want you to know just the name has already got me interested. Megabonk sounds like a game invented by someone sleep-deprived at 4am, which of course I respect. TikTok loved this game because every clip looked absolutely incomprehensible in the best possible way. There are explosions everywhere; a skeleton on a skateboard doing something deeply unsafe; a monkey in sunglasses causing what appears to be financial collapse.

Roguelikes go viral on TikTok because they all eventually reach a point where the game stops looking intentional and starts looking like divine intervention. Megabonk reaches that point almost immediately. It is beautiful.

Repos

Repo convinced me that fear and stupidity are the two strongest forces in multiplayer games. The concept itself is already stressful enough. Carefully transport valuable items while terrifying monsters try to kill you. It sounds pretty simple, except your teammates are there too, which instantly turns every mission into a workplace safety breach.

TikTok clips from Repo were inevitable for a while, and every single one followed the same formula from “everything seems fine” to “screaming disaster”. The monster encounters were a major reason why the game exploded online, although the real stars are the characters themselves. Those weird little cylinder bodies and giant eyes make every moment ten times funnier. Horror becomes comedy instantly when the person screaming looks like a sore thumb.

Plus, there's nothing more fun than watching a team spend ten minutes carefully carrying fragile prey only to have someone accidentally launch a microwave across the room moments before extraction. It's art, really.

YapYap

TikTok has fully entered its era of friends-yelling-into-microphones, and YapYap might be the purest example of that. The gimmick is brilliant. You cast spells with your real voice. Which sounds cool and immersive until you realize that most people immediately use this power for evil.

Every viral clip by YapYap is just complete vocal mayhem, and I watched maybe five clips before I bought it. Games like this work well because they create instant comedy without trying too hard. None need to be configured; the humor comes naturally from people completely collapsing under pressure. TikTok has become the natural habitat for friend games at this point. Every few months, a new co-op disaster simulator pops up and collectively consumes the internet. But with how much fun it is, YapYap earned its place.

Top

I knew this game was going to ruin my life when I saw someone banana peel their friend off a mountain. Peak is the kind of game TikTok was born to promote as each clip is a perfect storm of teamwork, betrayal, physics disasters and human suffering.

You must work together to climb this gigantic mountain. Instead, each group turns into the worst expedition team imaginable. People constantly fall, someone always wastes important things, and at least one person becomes obsessed with sabotaging everyone else for content. The banana clips alone probably sold thousands of copies. There's just something timeless about slapstick comedy that occurs at catastrophic heights.

Peak captures the exact energy of trying to collaborate with people who share a common brain cell. Which is apparently my favorite genre of game now. TikTok didn't just convince me to buy Peak. It convinced me that watching my friends repeatedly fall off a mountain would somehow count as entertainment. Disturbing insight, indeed.