When did games decide power was something you had to earn with your wallet?
Back in the day, cheat codes weren’t just little secrets. They were part of the culture. Left-right-left-right-up-down-up-down-slap-the-cartridge kind of stuff. Infinite lives. All weapons. Unlock everything. Some of it was absurd. Some of it broke the game. And that was the point.
They weren’t handed out. You either found them, guessed them, or learned them from someone on the playground who swore they knew a guy whose cousin worked at the developer. You didn’t fact-check. You tried it, just in case. Because the idea that games had secrets baked in? That was powerful. It gave the game a sense of mystery.
The best cheat codes gave you real power. Not convenience. Power. You skipped the boss, gave yourself a rocket launcher, and turned the level into a fireworks display. You were walking through walls. You were invincible. You could break the sequence and go wherever you wanted. The developers put up fences and you just walked around them.
And it didn’t make the game worse. It made it yours.
You could play it straight, or you could turn on god mode and mess about. Both were valid. You weren’t punished for experimenting. You weren’t shamed for wanting to blow off steam. You didn’t have to unlock chaos, you just had to know the code.
Now? Everything’s balanced. Locked down. Sold back to you.
Want to level up faster? That’s £4.99. Want to unlock everything? That’s the deluxe edition. Want to start the game with a powerful weapon? That’s a preorder bonus. We used to type in a code. Now we enter a credit card number.
And when you do try to play with power? The game stops you. You get a warning. You won’t unlock achievements. Your save will be flagged. Multiplayer access restricted. The game punishes you for not playing the right way. It’s like power is something to be feared.
Even the developers don’t seem to have fun with it anymore. No more big head modes. No more disco floors. No more silly physics cheats or surprise cameos. Everything’s too serious. Too curated. Too worried about balance.
You can still find mods and trainers, sure. But that’s not the same. Cheat codes used to be part of the game’s DNA. They were there on purpose. Built in. A wink from the devs. A little voice that said, “Go on, wreck it.”
Some people will argue that cheat codes were lazy. That they ruined the experience. That you were meant to suffer through every encounter the hard way. That mindset is poison. It kills experimentation. It kills joy. Games are supposed to be fun. Not just tests of patience.
Cheat codes didn’t make you a worse player. They made you a freer one. And the freedom to break the game? That’s what made it feel alive.
We didn’t just want to win. We wanted to see what happened if we gave ourselves all the keys and kicked the doors open. And when games let you do that, you remembered them.
The ones that took themselves too seriously? You probably stopped playing them the moment they got annoying. But the ones that let you bend the rules? You stayed. You played again. You showed your mates. You laughed when the physics broke. That’s power.
Not balance. Not structure. Power.
Which cheat made a game more fun, not easier, just better?
