2023's Gaming Gluttony: A 2026 Belch of Nostalgia

The year 2023 was a banquet of gaming delights so bountiful that, even in 2026, one can still hear the faint echoes of bellowing stomachs and the clatter of controllers. It was a year where every weekend seemed to unleash another masterpiece, making mere mortals weep over their ever-expanding backlogs. Between the blockbusters and the indies that punched like heavyweight champions, the only real loser was sleep. One intrepid player, armed with caffeine and a stubborn refusal to abandon side-quests, navigated this gluttonous timeline and emerged with a list of ten games that still tickle the nostalgia bone.

10 - Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty

Is it even fair to let an expansion elbow its way onto a game-of-the-year list? In 2023, the answer was a resounding “yes, choom.” Phantom Liberty did more than fix Cyberpunk 2077—it rebuilt its soul. Dogtown arrived like a rusty angel, offering a spy-thriller narrative so taut you could floss with it, and quality-of-life tweaks that made every cybernetic implant purr. Fast-forward to 2026, and the redemption arc has calcified into legend: CD Projekt Red still rolls out occasional patch notes that read like kindly old letters to fans, and anyone who skipped Night City the first time around now looks on with jealous eyes.

9 - Jusant

Not a single word is spoken in Jusant, yet the mountain speaks volumes. It whispered to players who were sick of endless dialogue trees, delivering a silent symphony of climbing, cairn-building, and environmental storytelling. By 2026, the game has become a beloved palate cleanser—the thing you boot up after an open-world megabomb to remind yourself that beauty doesn’t need a quest log. The inverted paradise still haunts daydreams, its colours more vivid in memory than on any OLED screen. Who knew a rope and a dried-up ocean could feel so cathartic?

8 - Theatrhythm Final Fantasy: Final Bar Line

Dozens of hours sunk into 3DS Theatrhythms were mere appetizers for the feast that Final Bar Line laid out. Square Enix basically said, “Here is every Final Fantasy tune you’ve ever wept to, now tap along until your thumbs disintegrate.” Three years on, the game still dominates rhythm-game small talk, and no family gathering is safe without someone demanding a four-player match of “One-Winged Angel.” It’s the musical encyclopedia that keeps on giving, and its DLC pipeline only recently quit pumping out new tracks. If you don’t still have calluses from it, did you even 2023?

7 - A Space For The Unbound

In a year packed with existential dread, A Space for the Unbound served up a quieter, more personal apocalypse. It rummaged through memory and regret like a friendly ghost, asking players to decide which parts of themselves deserved a future. By 2026, the game has become a quiet classic, the kind recommended in whispered tones on Reddit threads titled “What game made you cry and rethink your life?” Its pixel-art melancholy paired with a supernatural cat remains one of the most tender punches the medium has ever thrown.

6 - Goodbye Volcano High

Goodbye Volcano High was the meteor-sized dose of teenage angst nobody saw coming. Humanoid dinosaurs grappling with band practice, identity, and impending extinction—chef’s kiss. It managed to be both achingly nihilistic and stubbornly hopeful, a combination that hit harder than a power chord. In 2026, the soundtrack still drips off playlists, and the characters have become cosplay darlings. The game proved that even when the sky is falling, you can still rock a killer guitar solo.

5 - Hi-Fi Rush

Hi-Fi Rush crashed into 2023 like a surprise album drop—shadow-dropped, criminally stylish, and rhythmically infectious. Every fight was a fist-pumping jam session, every joke landed in time to the beat, and the punk-lesbian duo gave life goals. Three years later, Tango Gameworks’ gem has aged beautifully, inspiring a wave of rhythm-infused indies that can’t quite capture the original’s effortless swagger. It remains the only game where missing a dodge feels like hitting a wrong note in a mosh pit.

4 - Final Fantasy 16

Final Fantasy 16 was a frustratingly barebones RPG if you squinted at the map and asked where the status effects went. But oh, the spectacle. It shrugged off tradition and became a character-action opera where every Eikon battle threatened to burn down your television. In 2026, the debate still rages—best or worst evolution?—but nobody argues about Clive’s brood or the scale of Valisthea’s thunderous set-pieces. Directors now reference Bahamut’s orbital laser as the gold standard of “how to ruin a player’s eyeballs in the best way.”

3 - Alan Wake 2

Remedy finally stopped teasing and crafted the singular, unapologetic horror show they’d been threatening for decades. Alan Wake 2 twisted reality like a pretzel, fused live-action, musical numbers, and psychological panic into a flawed masterpiece that refused to leave anyone’s head. By 2026, the game’s meta-layered narrative has been dissected to death on forums, yet still manages to surprise with each new playthrough. It’s the survival-horror equivalent of a David Lynch marathon, complete with coffee-induced shivers.

2 - Baldur’s Gate 3

Baldur’s Gate 3 made role-playing games look easy. Larian dropped a dice-rolling, bear-romancing, goblin-negotiating colossus that rewired synapses and consumed entire seasons. The sheer density of choice meant every conversation could spiral into chaos or romance, and 2026 still hears party banter arguments about which Karlach path is the most canonical. It is the game other developers nervously reference in job interviews when they say “we love player agency.” Its shadow looms so large that even today, any new RPG must explain why it isn’t simply Baldur’s Gate 4.

1 - The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

Breath of the Wild already rewired brains, but Tears of the Kingdom threatened to make its predecessor obsolete—a near-impossible feat. Nintendo handed players an entire physics sandbox and whispered, “Go nuts.” The result was a year of Ultrahand monstrosities, Korok torture devices, and sky islands that redefined verticality. In 2026, the game’s staying power is monstrous: speedruns still evolve, shrine designs still bewilder, and the collective imagination of builders shows no sign of stagnation. While some miss the lonely melancholy of the wild, the sequel’s sheer creative joy ensures that the kingdom isn’t just in tears—it is laughing uproariously, three years later, at anyone who thought gaming had peaked.