We all have that one game we swear we only downloaded ‘as a joke.’ Or maybe it was ‘for research.’ Or ‘just to see what the hype was about.’ Next thing you know, you’ve logged 40 hours, decorated your in-game cafe, and developed very real emotional attachments to cartoon dads or anthropomorphic puffles. Look, we’re not here to judge, we’re here to confess.
These are the guilty pleasure games we can’t stop playing, even if our pride wishes we would. They might be corny or designed for literal children, but we love them. Unironically. Loudly. And yes, we’re dragging you down with us. Don’t worry, you’ll be too busy pressure-washing patios to care.
It’s wholesome. It’s heartwarming. It’s, well, still a dating sim where you woo cartoon dads with carefully chosen dialogue and the occasional minigame. Dream Daddy is unapologetically sweet, and it has no business being this well-written. We told ourselves we were playing ironically. We told our friends it was for the memes. But truthfully, we stayed for the Dadsona customization and heartfelt moments.
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll question why you care so much about a barista’s backstory. It’s not exactly hardcore gamer material, but hey, we’ve all got our soft spots, and ours happens to wear a cardigan and offer fatherly advice. My type is soft, pun-loving widowers with good grill form.
We logged in as a joke. That’s what we told ourselves, right? But next thing you know, we’re playing Sled Racing like it’s an Olympic event and frantically redecorating our igloos. Club Penguin Rewritten is the video game equivalent of opening your childhood toy box and finding everything exactly how you left it.
Sure, we’re adults with real bills and real deadlines. But for a few minutes (or hours), it feels really good to waddle around pretending we never grew up. And maybe, just maybe… we never should have.
There’s something deeply unhinged about how fast we went from ‘I’ll be a doctor this time!’ to ‘Oops, I just married six people and robbed a bank.’ BitLife lets you live out the alternate lives you’d never dare pursue in real life. One minute you’re on the straight and narrow. The next, you’re joining a crime syndicate, getting plastic surgery to fake your death, and investing in illegal pet trades.
It’s peak mayhem, all wrapped in a deceptively simple interface. And the worst part is, we feel zero remorse. BitLife gives you the thrill of moral-free decision-making, and boy, do we run with it.
It’s a jump scare factory. The story makes absolutely no sense unless you’ve absorbed ten lore videos and a spreadsheet, and yet… it works. Five Nights at Freddy’s somehow taps into a primal fear we didn’t even know we had: haunted animatronics and retro security cams. The fear is way too real for a game made in a pizza-themed death trap.
It’s easy to mock the fandom or roll your eyes at the merchandise empire, but when that power meter hits zero and Freddy starts his little jingle, suddenly, you’re sweating and whispering no like your life depends on it.
It’s just cleaning. That’s it. You hold down a button and slowly, methodically blast dirt off of things, and it is perfect. PowerWash Simulator is the definition of mindless satisfaction, like popping bubble wrap, but on your computer and extremely damp. No enemies and no timers. Just you, your pressure washer, and a delightfully filthy playground slide that’s begging to shine.
It’s the kind of game you start playing to relax for ten minutes and then resurface four hours later, wondering if your real car is also this dusty. Don’t ask us why it works. Just know it does. And we’re not even a little bit sorry. Dirt is gone, but anxiety is also gone.
It is just Sanrio-flavored Animal Crossing, but do we care? Not one bit. Hello Kitty Island Adventure is an adorable life sim where your biggest concern is whether Cinnamoroll likes your outfit. It’s cozy, colorful, and devoid of the usual grind-heavy nonsense.
You collect outfits, bake pastries, and give friendship gifts to a frog. It’s self-care in game form. We know it’s technically made for kids, but look, we’ve seen enough of the real world. Sometimes we just want to vibe with My Melody and pretend everything’s fine. And in this game, it actually is.
Yes, it’s basically Candy Crush in a Pokemon hat. And yes, we’ve sunk an embarrassing number of hours into it anyway. Pokemon Cafe Remix ropes you in with its pastel aesthetic, then traps you there with shockingly hard puzzles and a constant need for more Gengar-themed latte art.
There’s something weirdly thrilling about assembling a squad of culinary-inclined Pokemon to whip up macarons and match icons like your life depends on it. We’re not proud of how invested we are in unlocking seasonal recipes, but here we are. And we’ll keep coming back, for the cafe vibes, of course.
Say what you want. “It’s for kids.” “It’s too sweaty.” “What even is the meta anymore.” We’ve heard it all, and yet, we’re still here, queuing up for one more round. Fortnite may be loud and constantly shifting, but that’s part of the fun.
It’s got concerts, crossovers, a banana man named Peely. It’s not just a battle royale anymore; it’s a theme park wearing a very fashionable pair of Jordans. Sure, the dance emotes are cringe, but let’s be so real, you’ve used them. We all have. Sure, Fortnite is popular, but we’re not above it.
Among Us has already made us question every friendship we had. Now it’s in VR, and somehow ten times worse (or better?). You can hear the panic in someone’s voice as they fumble through wires. You can hear the guilt when your bestie stabs you in the back and awkwardly coughs in real-time.
Among Us VR adds a terrifyingly personal layer to the betrayal simulator we all love to hate. There’s nothing like standing face-to-face with your would-be killer while they try to explain how they were definitely in MedBay. It’s absurd and hilarious. It’s social deduction at its absolute weirdest, and we love it.
The guns talk. The jokes are crude. The gameplay is…fine. And yet, somehow, High on Life got under our skin. Maybe it’s the colorful alien environments, or maybe we’re just suckers for a game that fully commits to beingthatguy. You know the one: loud, never shuts up, but occasionally says something surprisingly clever.
It was never going to win any Game of the Year awards, but it will make you laugh at something you’ll instantly regret. That’s the High on Life experience: part shooter, part stoner comedy, all guilty pleasure. And we keep coming back for more.
