Games That Pulled A Bait And Switch On Fans

The video game industry is still essentially the Wild West of the entertainment world, given how new it is and how few regulations have been put in place to prevent game companies from abusing consumers. That's why we've rounded up these games, all of which are notorious for having bait-and-switched fans. These corporate betrayals range from the mundane to the malicious, including misleading marketing, shady product delays, and a whole host of other sneaky tactics companies have employed in order to pull one over on their paying customers.

In case you needed a refresher on the seediness of the industry or want to learn why you should always stay frosty when buying games, the titles on this list are great examples of why it pays to be a smart, cautious consumer. Because, while some major game companies like CD Projekt Red and Nintendo are careful to only release products that live up to their internal quality standards, other publishers and studios whose games have landed on this list don't care quite as much. Read on to receive a crash course in how games, both old and new, have bait-and-switched fans over the years.

For the longest time, any news regarding Sonic Mania was good news. But Sega found a way to muck it up with less than a week left until the game's release.

96 hours before release, Sega announced that Sonic Mania's PC port would be delayed by two weeks for "optimization." Sega pulled this little stunt four days before the game's launch! The company offered people who pre-ordered the game on PC a free copy of Sonic the Hedgehog (1991) as an apology, but the damage was already done. The game came out on consoles as scheduled, and Sonic fans on PC had to sit and pout while trying to avoid Mania spoilers online.

Then, when Mania finally arrived on PC two weeks late, it came with a new surprise attached: Denuvo, a controversial anti-piracy software that punishes paying consumers and is rumored to hamper computer performance. So not only did Sega delay Mania on launch week, but according to the evidence at hand, the company lied about why it did it and went on to insert a nasty piece of intrusive, unwanted software into the game. Keep in mind that pirates still cracked Mania days after launch, meaning illegal downloaders essentially got the best version of Mania, the one free of Denuvo, for zero dollars just a few days after paying customers suffered through the release delay. Not only was this whole situation embarrassing for Sega, but also insulting to the paying fans.

If you compare Watch_Dogs' 2012 E3 footage to the final product we received years later, it's no understatement to say that this is arguably the biggest bait-and-switch in all of video gaming. It's incredible how vastly different the previews were from the retail release.

The previews sold this game as the next Crysis-level industry bar-setter in terms of visual fidelity and luster. The marketing footage reels featured shadow and lighting effects of a caliber gamers had never seen before, as well as impressive fog and wind technology, all of which took the game's already incredibly detailed environments to new heights. When the game released, however, the graphics looked two generations older than what had been shown off up to that point, and the disparity in graphics only made them look even worse by comparison. All of a sudden, the "next gen" of consoles (which, at the time, were the PS4 and Xbox One) were repping a game that looked like it was a PS3 launch title.

Graphics weren't the only casualty in Ubisoft's infamous bait-and-switch. Gameplay took a hit as well. The preview footage showed the world being more immersive and interactive than what we got, and the game's central hacking gimmick looked a heck of a lot more engaging in promotional clips than what it ended up being in the retail release. In the final product, the game's primary mechanic ended up being little more than a single button you could tap to distract, and occasionally eliminate, enemies. Lame.

Mass Effect: Andromeda was hyped by EA as the follow-up to the Mass Effect trilogy, the fourth act in a series that had, by and large, earned a lot of goodwill with gamers the world round. And Andromeda's marketing definitely succeeded in selling the game as a worthy torchbearer of the franchise's name. The game's trailers and previews painted Andromeda as a technological step forward thanks to the game's utilization of the Frostbite engine, and told us the game would explore imaginative galaxies unlike anything we'd ever seen before. We were told we would meet new species and go on exciting new journeys throughout space. Though a lot of this sounded like tired assortments of advertising buzzwords, the reality was that if any game had the talent and tools to make good on its lofty claims, it would be Mass Effect: Andromeda.

Then the game came out, and it was revealed that EA's marketing machine had hoodwinked Mass Effect fans. Andromeda was riddled with serious bugs and sloppy animations (especially with regards to characters' faces), failed to introduce any substantial, game-changing sci-fi elements to the established ME universe, didn't deliver a compelling narrative on par with previous entries in the series ... basically, Andromeda missed its mark on a lot of fronts — fronts that were carefully hidden from view right up until the game hit store shelves.

No Man's Sky was the game where the development ethos, at least the one Hello Games sold to consumers, was that the sky was no longer the limit. This game was aiming to be an infinite galaxy of opportunities at your fingertips. So many claims from the devs and from pre-release footage made the game out to be something truly extraordinary. We were told there would be multiplayer, and diverse, intriguing factions of enemies and allies. We were told there would be deep, engaging lore. We were shown footage of a game where every planet was unique and beautiful, loaded with massive packs of indigenous animals interacting naturally with one another. We were sold a lifelike experience.

Then the game released.

No Man's Sky, in its launch state (not the improved state the devs managed to get the game to years later via patches and updates), was a grade-A con-job. Hello Games overpromised big time, and it showed. None of what we mentioned above ended up in the game at launch. In fact, most of the magic of the trailers and pre-release footage failed to make it into the retail release, which was comparatively desolate and uninspiring. The abundance of life and organic ecosystems we'd seen in the marketing for the game were nowhere to be found in the game itself. While we're sure Hello Games and Sony just wanted to get us as excited for No Man's Sky as they were, that doesn't excuse the deceptive advertising.

Mighty No. 9 was a troubled Kickstarter game lead by Keiji Inafune, a man who'd spent many years working on Mega Man games. Given Capcom's abandonment (at the time) of the Mega Man IP, Inafune saw an opportunity to bring that style of game back to life through his very own project. Thus, Mighty No. 9 was born, claiming to be a spiritual successor to Mega Man.

The game's Kickstarter project went smoothly, for a while. Communication and interactivity from the devs was good, fun stretch goals were announced, and everything was shaping up for Mighty No. 9 to be a Kickstarter success story.

Slowly but surely, however, things turned sour. Mighty No. 9's previews shifted art styles and the game, in a lot of people's' opinions, got uglier over time. Inafune's team started another Kickstarter project before the initial one had even wrapped. The game got hit with multiple delays while all this was happening. These things came together to warp the public's perception of Mighty No. 9, to the point where people were no longer excited, but worried and frustrated.

Thankfully, the game did eventually come out and most of the Kickstarter project's goals were realized, but the finished product achieved nowhere near the precision-platforming magic of the ye olde Mega Man games it was imitating. Though Mighty No. 9 wasn't a bad game, it never lived up to the hype it had so gladly generated in order to take fans' money.

Imagine if Marvel released Avengers: Infinity War, complete with its cliffhanger sequel-bait ending, but then decided it didn't want to release Avengers: Endgame afterward. If that sounds like an infuriating bait-and-switch on the part of the storytellers, now you know how every Half-Life fan has felt for over a decade.

It's been a long, long time since Half-Life 2: Episode 2 came out. The story ends with Gordon Freeman and Alyx Vance gearing up to take on the next leg of their episode-spanning journey, but just before the credits roll, Alyx's dad gets violently murdered. The last thing we see is Alyx holding her dead father in her hands.

And that's how the Half-Life story ends, as far as Valve is concerned. For years upon years, Gabe Newell and most people at Valve have coyly sidestepped or given non-answers to the majority of Half-Life-related questions flung their way, a PR strategy that doesn't look like it'll be changing anytime soon. So the next time Valve announces a second installment of something, be it an episodic release or a sequel to your favorite IP, realize that that's the bait, and the switch will be when it ends on a cliffhanger and Valve never releases a third game to tie up the loose ends. Please join us in a moment of silence for Half-Life 3.