1. Mass Effect: Andromeda
Man, *Andromeda* landed with a face-plant heard across the galaxy. Those early facial animations became instant memes, signaling a rushed launch that felt more like a beta than a finished BioWare epic. It felt like the developers were trying to push a square peg into a round hole, sacrificing quality for an arbitrary deadline. This whole debacle was a stark reminder of what happens when corporate pressure trumps creative integrity, and it stung, especially for long-time fans.
2. Cyberpunk 2077
Oh, *Cyberpunk 2077*. The hype was astronomical, promising a next-gen revolution. Instead, we got a glitch-ridden mess, especially on base consoles, leading to unprecedented refunds and delistings. It felt like a betrayal, a glaring example of over-promising and under-delivering, fueled by aggressive marketing that showed a game nobody actually received. This wasn't just a bad launch; it was a masterclass in how to shatter player trust and goodwill.
3. Duke Nukem Forever
*Duke Nukem Forever* wasn't just late; it was practically a fossil. After fifteen years in development hell, it finally lumbered onto the scene, looking and playing like a relic from the past. The humor was stale, the mechanics clunky, and the whole experience felt less like a triumphant return and more like an embarrassing uncle trying to be cool. This game was a testament to how *not* to manage a project, turning anticipation into pure, unadulterated cringe.
4. Anthem
BioWare, again? *Anthem* promised Iron Man suits and a sprawling world, but delivered a repetitive grind with a paper-thin story and baffling loot systems. It felt like an identity crisis, unsure if it wanted to be *Destiny* or something else, ultimately failing at both. The post-launch support was a slow, painful death, showcasing the industry's obsession with live-service models that often forget to actually be fun or deliver content. A true lesson in mismanaged potential.
5. Fallout 76
*Fallout 76* launched as a buggy, empty shell, then proceeded to add insult to injury with its collector's edition canvas bag fiasco and a string of questionable monetisation tactics, including pay-to-win elements. It felt like Bethesda fundamentally misunderstood what players loved about *Fallout*, chasing trends instead of building on its strengths. This wasn't just a rough start; it was a masterclass in how to alienate your most dedicated fanbase through a series of tone-deaf decisions.
6. The Day Before
*The Day Before* wasn't just awkward; it was a full-blown ethical disaster. After years of vague promises and suspiciously polished trailers, it launched as a clearly unfinished, asset-flipped shell of a game, only to be pulled from sale and its developer shuttered days later. This whole situation felt less like a game launch and more like an elaborate, cynical cash grab, leaving a trail of refunds and shattered trust. It’s a stark warning for consumers and a black eye for the industry.
