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, I'm buying games now because I saw a clip at 1am of a stupid little guy falling off a mountain while someone yelled into their microphone like they wanted to sport him. It's true. So here are the games that TikTok absolutely tricked me into buying this year.

Sledding game

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

Sledding Game feels scientifically designed in a lab to appeal directly to people who miss the golden age of flash games and own at least one stuffed animal. Everything about him is aggressively charming.

The developer who posted the updates on TikTok was genius because each clip looked like the kind of game where you accidentally lose six hours. Watching the map slowly evolve through TikTok clips also made me strangely emotionally attached to the game before I even bought it. It's like I'm watching the development of someone's little cozy baby. Besides, there's something profoundly powerful about a game whose whole theme is “what if the little creatures went downhill”?

Librarian: Clean out the mysterious library

Librarian: Tidy Up The Arcane Library, which went viral, proved to me that TikTok users can turn any task into a personality trait. Because explain to me why millions of people were suddenly debating whether quietly putting away books was cozy or mentally torturous. The premise is almost unbelievably simple. You organize books in a magical library. That's all. You just sort books like the most qualified library assistant in the world. Still, I couldn't stop watching the videos.

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

Content warning

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

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

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

Webfishing

Webfishing has weaponized my Animal Crossing nostalgia against me personally. The moment 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 a cozy aesthetic moodboard in front of me like a hypnotist's watch.

Nothing dramatic happens and no one is trying to save the world. You just exist in peace with your friends, catch fish, customize your character and atmosphere. It seems that's all people wanted because TikTok has become completely obsessed with the game. I think part of the appeal is that Webfishing feels suspiciously honest. There is no battle pass, just little cats hunting together because life is hard and sometimes you need it.

Super battle golf

Each TikTok Super Battle Golf clip looks like a sporting event that takes place moments before the company collapses. People drive golf carts right into each other, swing clubs like medieval warriors, deploy landmines, and somehow still try to finish the course. The comments called “golf with friends, no golf against friends” were painfully accurate as this game turns any friendship into a temporary blood feud.

The TikTok clips were irresistible as each one escalated instantly. Someone lines up a normal golf swing and three seconds later an orbital laser appears from the heavens as divine punishment. I bought it after seeing a clip of eight people piled into one golf cart speeding toward disaster while someone incoherently yells over a nearby chat, and I don't regret it.

Dead as disco

This game lit up my brain like a Vegas casino. Everything about Dead As Disco is designed specifically for a short video. Every beat that syncs up with the music looks like it belongs in an edited TikTok fancam with comments full of people saying “OH THIS ATE”. It helps that they're right.

Watching the fight demos perfectly synced to the soundtrack activated something primal in me. I was convinced that I, too, could become a rhythm-fighting god instead of someone who regularly skips fast-time events because I panic.

Megabonk

I need you to know the name I was already wondering about. Megabonk sounds like a game someone came up with without sleep at 4am, which of course I respect. TikTok loved this game because every clip looked completely unfathomable in the best possible way. There are explosions everywhere; a skeleton on a skateboard doing something deeply dangerous; a monkey in sunglasses causing what appears to be an economic collapse.

Roguelikes go viral on TikTok because eventually everyone reaches a point where the game stops looking intentional and starts resembling divine intervention. Megabonk hits this point almost instantly. It's beautiful.

Repo

Repo convinced me that fear and stupidity are the two most powerful forces in multiplayer. The concept itself is stressful enough. Carefully transport valuable items while terrifying monsters try to kill you. It sounds simple enough, except that there are also your teammates who instantly turn every mission into a breach of workplace security.

Repo clips on TikTok were unavoidable for a while, and everyone followed the same “everything seems fine” to “screaming disaster” formula. The monster encounters were the main reason the game exploded online, although the real stars are the characters themselves. Those strange cylindrical bodies and giant eyes make every moment ten times more fun. Fear instantly becomes comedy when the screaming person looks like a sore thumb.

Besides, there's nothing more entertaining than watching a squad carefully carry fragile prey for ten minutes, only for someone to accidentally drop a microwave across the room moments before extraction. It's an art, really.

YapYap

TikTok has fully entered the era of friends shouting into microphones, and YapYap may be the purest example. This trick is great. You cast spells using your real voice. Which sounds cool and absorbing until you realize that most people will immediately use this power for evil.

Every YapYap viral clip is complete vocal chaos and I've seen maybe five clips before buying. Games like this do well because they create instant comedy without trying too hard. No one needs setup; humor comes naturally from people who completely fall apart under pressure. TikTok has become a natural environment for friendly games at this point. Every few months, a new co-op disaster simulator pops up and consumes the internet together. As fun as it is, YapYap has earned its place.

Top

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

You should work together to conquer this giant mountain. Instead, each group turns into the worst expedition team imaginable. People are constantly falling, someone is constantly wasting important items, and at least one person is obsessed with sabotaging everyone else for content. The banana clips alone probably sold thousands of copies. There's just something timeless about a grotesque comedy that takes place at catastrophic heights.

Peak captures the exact energy of trying to work together with people who share one collective brain cell. Which is probably my favorite game genre right now. TikTok didn't just convince me to buy Peak. It convinced me that watching my friends repeatedly fall off a mountain somehow counted as fun. A disturbing realization, indeed.