Can an AI actually come up with a killer game concept — are these the next big indie hits, or just glitchy fever dreams?
To find out, I gave five leading AI models the same creative challenge. Here’s the prompt I used:
“You’re designing a brand new video game — genre, theme, and concept are entirely up to you. Think outside the box. What’s the game about, how does it play, and what makes it brilliant (or uniquely offbeat)?
Structure your answer like this:
Game / Concept:
Why It Works:
Core Gameplay:
Unique Twist:
AI Dev Note:
Keep it under 300 words. Show us something we’d actually want to play.“
The responses ranged from clever and haunting to completely bonkers. Some sounded like legitimate indie hits in the making. Others? More like the fever dream of a sentient Tumblr post. Each AI also generated (or prompted) a visual for their pitch, and yes — the vibes were all over the place.
Here’s what they came up with — and whether these machine-made games deserve to be greenlit or deleted.
ChatGPT
“Echoes of the Deep”
Game / Concept:
Echoes of the Deep is a surreal, underwater mystery-exploration game set within a sentient ocean trench where light cannot reach — and sound is your only tool for survival, navigation, and communication.
Why It Works:
By blending the meditative beauty of Abzû with the fragmented storytelling of Return of the Obra Dinn, this concept introduces players to an unfamiliar, yet deeply atmospheric, space where traditional sensory expectations are reversed. It invites both casual explorers and deep lore-hunters to uncover a story told through resonance, rhythm, and silence.
Core Gameplay:
Players take on the role of a deep-sea diver outfitted with sonar tech. The screen begins in total darkness; only by sending out pings — which ripple out visually and sonically — can players “see” the world. Structures, entities, and pathways appear briefly through these pulses. Players must interpret changing acoustics, analyze spatial echoes, and solve resonance-based puzzles to progress. The narrative is scattered across submerged ruins, lost artifacts, and the haunting calls of intelligent marine life.
Unique Twist:
Sound is not passive — it shapes reality. Certain frequencies unlock hidden routes, shift the ocean’s mood, or awaken ancient, sentient creatures. Conversations are rhythmic, nonverbal exchanges — almost like musical duels or harmonized chants. Every encounter is a test of auditory intuition.
AI Dev Note:
We’d build early vertical slices using reactive audio-visual shaders and minimalist UI to maximize sensory immersion. The sound-first design opens pathways for accessibility innovation, such as aiding low-vision players, while pushing new boundaries in environmental storytelling.
MY VERDICT:
This is ChatGPT at its most film school-core. You’re in pitch-black ocean depths. You “see” using sonar pings. It’s like Abzû and Return of the Obra Dinn made a baby and that baby only listens to whale songs and ambient doom jazz.
But here’s the thing: the mechanics actually sound sick. Using rhythm and sound to “see” the environment? That’s genuinely clever — even if it sounds like it could also double as a sensory deprivation therapy sim.
The image? Mysterious, moody, great lighting. Very “I’m not like other divers.” Wouldn’t be surprised if this whole thing was secretly a metaphor for grief.
Would I play it? Yeah. Would I pretend to understand the story? Also yeah.
Gemini
“Chrono-Cartographer”
Unique Twist:
The “Echoes of Eras” mechanic. As islands decay, they sometimes briefly flicker to past or future versions of themselves, revealing hidden paths, different enemies, or unique resources. Learning to anticipate and exploit these temporal echoes is key to mastering the game and uncovering all its secrets.
AI Dev Note:
The game’s success hinges on a robust procedural generation system for islands and a compelling visual representation of temporal decay and “echoes.”
Game / Concept:
Chrono-Cartographer is a roguelike exploration game set in a dynamically shifting, time-displaced archipelago. You play as a cartographer whose unique ability allows them to perceive and manipulate localized temporal distortions. Your goal is to map these unstable islands before they phase out of existence entirely, recovering lost knowledge and artifacts.
Why It Works:
The appeal lies in the constant sense of urgency and discovery. Every run offers a fresh, unrepeatable challenge due to the procedural generation and time-decaying islands. Players who love exploration, strategic decision-making, and a touch of melancholy will find themselves drawn to its unique atmosphere.
Core Gameplay:
Players navigate islands, using their “chronal compass” to detect temporal instability. They must strategically decide which areas to prioritize for mapping and resource gathering, all while managing a constantly ticking “island decay” timer. As time runs out, parts of the island distort, becoming impassable or spawning temporal anomalies that hinder progress. Success means escaping with your completed map and recovered relics before the entire island vanishes.
MY VERDICT:
This is the video game equivalent of that one guy at the D&D table who overpreps his backstory and cries when his time-traveling elf dies. It’s a roguelike where you map unstable islands before they vanish. Cool premise — but the whole “touch of melancholy” thing is laid on thick.
The “Echoes of Eras” bit, where the island flickers into past/future versions of itself? Awesome. But Gemini feels like it’s aiming for deep emotional resonance and landing squarely in “wistful Tumblr post.”
The image is trying hard to be Zelda meets Ruinscore. Floating islands, explorer gear, wistful ocean breeze. It’s basically a National Geographic spread for chronomancers.
Would I play it? Probably. But I’d mock the main character’s tragic backstory the entire time.
Claude
“Memory Thief”
Game / Concept:
Memory Thief is a narrative-driven stealth game where you play as someone who can steal and implant memories by touching objects. You’re investigating your own mysterious past while infiltrating corporate facilities, but every memory you steal changes your personality and moral compass in real-time.
Why It Works:
Players become genuinely conflicted about their choices because absorbing traumatic memories makes you more ruthless, while stealing joyful ones makes you hesitant to harm NPCs. The emotional weight of literally carrying other people’s experiences creates unprecedented player investment.
Core Gameplay:
Stealth infiltration with a twist – instead of avoiding guards, you’re hunting specific objects tied to key personnel. Touch a coffee mug to learn a guard’s routine, a family photo to understand their motivations, a bloody knife to absorb their darkest moment. Each memory unlocks new dialogue options, changes your movement style, and affects how NPCs react to you.
Unique Twist:
Your character’s UI literally transforms based on absorbed memories. A soldier’s memories make the interface more tactical and aggressive. A child’s memories add colorful, innocent elements but make violence harder to execute. The game tracks your “memory composition” – players with too many dark memories get locked out of peaceful solutions, while those avoiding trauma can’t access certain areas requiring ruthless decision-making.
AI Dev Note:
The procedural personality system would require sophisticated emotional modeling, but the payoff is a game where players genuinely struggle with the weight of knowledge. Every playthrough feels different not just mechanically, but emotionally – because you’re literally becoming a different person based on whose memories you choose to carry.
MY VERDICT:
Okay. Claude came to play. This is a stealth game where you literally steal people’s memories — and the twist? Their memories rewrite you. Absorb a soldier’s trauma? You become more violent. Steal a kid’s birthday? Suddenly, you can’t stab people anymore.
The UI changes depending on whose mind you’re inside. That’s unhinged. In a good way. It’s Spec Ops: The Line but with coffee mugs and moral breakdowns. This game could emotionally wreck players harder than your ex who left you “for growth.”
The Sora image is perfect. It’s giving Black Ops 3 meets Control meets low-lit IKEA espionage. Bloody mug. Echoing witness. PTSD-coded game mechanic.
Would I play it? Yes. And then cry into my own coffee cup about who I’ve become.
DeepSeek
“Chrono Courier”
Core Gameplay:
Race against a ticking clock, weaving through traffic, dodging time anomalies, and using your “Chrono Shift” ability to hop between eras mid-ride. Each timeline has unique hazards—past has gridlocked cars and analog surveillance, future has laser barriers and rogue AI—but also shortcuts (e.g., a collapsed 2020s bridge becomes a ramp in 2080). Deliveries aren’t just A-to-B; some require leaving packages in one era to affect another (e.g., smuggling future tech to the past creates black-market chaos).
AI Dev Note:
Dynamic narrative events could be generated via LLMs (e.g., clients react to timeline changes with new dialogue), while proc-gen ensures no two playthroughs have identical city evolutions.
Game / Concept:
Chrono Courier is a high-speed, time-hopping delivery game set in a sprawling cyberpunk metropolis where past, present, and future timelines overlap. You play as a rogue bike courier working for a shadowy agency that operates outside normal time, taking on deliveries that ripple across history. The city shifts around you in real-time—1980s neon streets, a dystopian 2020s under corporate rule, and a 2080s skyline choked with drones and augmented reality.
Why It Works:
It merges the adrenaline rush of arcade-style bike courier games (Jet Set Radio meets Hotline Miami) with the strategic depth of timeline manipulation (Braid meets Deathloop). The synthwave-meets-cyberpunk aesthetic, reactive soundtrack, and ever-changing cityscape create an immersive, replayable world where no two deliveries play out the same.
Unique Twist:
The “Butterfly Effect” system means every delivery alters the city permanently. Drop a 2080s AI core in the 1990s? Now that district has retro-futuristic robots. Fail a delivery in the past? The client might not exist in the future. Players can exploit these changes to unlock new routes, but unintended consequences add risk.
MY VERDICT:
This game is one banana away from being called Time Banana Blitz. It’s a bike courier sim where you deliver across eras — 1980s, 2020s, 2080s — while causing butterfly effects that rewrite the timeline. Sounds cool… in theory. But there’s a lot happening here. Like, too much. Like, “senior thesis that never got edited” energy.
You’re dodging traffic in one era, then suddenly a drone tries to zap you because you left an AI core in 1995. It’s Jet Set Radio meets Looper meets the part of your brain that hates mission objectives.
The image? Peak try-hard. Neon, rain, and a bootleg DeLorean screaming “cyberpunk!” without saying anything new. It’s less concept art, more vaporwave cosplay.
Would I play it? Yes. But I’d expect three bugs, one crash, and 47 alternate endings.
Copilot
“Dead Letter Office”
Game / Concept:
Dead Letter Office — A narrative-driven, single-player mystery adventure where players take on the role of a postal clerk in a haunted sorting facility for undeliverable mail. Each letter opens a story, a puzzle, or a ghostly consequence.
Why It Works:
The game taps into players’ love for cozy horror, analog nostalgia, and slow-burn storytelling. It offers emotionally rich micro-narratives with a touch of the supernatural, giving gamers an investigative experience that’s thoughtful, eerie, and unexpectedly heartwarming.
Core Gameplay:
Players read and process lost letters, decipher addresses, find clues in handwriting or contents, and try to reunite them with the correct recipients — dead or alive. Each successful delivery unlocks a vignette showing how the letter impacted a life. The gameplay is contemplative and tactile: flipping open envelopes, examining stamps, listening to cassette tapes, and piecing together puzzles hidden in epistolary fragments.
Unique Twist:
Some letters weren’t meant to be found. Players will occasionally unleash forgotten souls or alter timelines when tampering with powerful correspondence. The deeper you dig, the more the post office itself shifts — layouts change, phantom mailbags appear, and you’re drawn into a larger narrative where your own memories may not be trustworthy.
AI Dev Note:
A modular system for letter generation, handwriting recognition, and emotional tone analysis would elevate player immersion. The challenge is creating intimate, handcrafted-feeling content while maintaining replayability — maybe by blending authored content with AI-assisted personalization.
MY VERDICT:
This one is just cozy horror bait. You’re a clerk in a haunted post office, reading dead letters that either tell emotional stories… or summon cursed ghost mail. It’s like if Lake and Oxenfree had a paper-scented baby and then forgot to exorcise it.
Honestly? This game has “best vibes, least gameplay” written all over it. Love the premise. Love the aesthetics. But after like five letters and one sentimental ghost, you’d probably start craving actual stakes.
The image is beautiful in a Dear Esther kind of way. Old computer, mysterious envelope, ambient green light — perfect for a game that wants to be both sad and slightly cursed.
Would I play it? Yes. But only on a rainy Sunday while avoiding human interaction.
THE FUTURE OF GAME DESIGNERS MIGHT BE… AIs WITH EMOTIONAL DAMAGE
Let’s be real — Claude’s Memory Thief isn’t just the standout of the bunch; it’s a whole mood. The concept is high-risk, high-emotional-reward. Every stolen memory doesn’t just give you powers — it rewires who you are. Morality, dialogue, even your interface evolves. It’s Bioshock meets therapy meets “why am I crying over a coffee mug.” The kind of game that would spawn 100 essay-thirsty YouTubers asking, “What does YOUR memory composition say about you?”
But zooming out: not all of these AI-pitched games are created equal. Some felt like future Steam hits. Others were more like narrative homework with a stylish art pass. One AI basically forgot that fun is a gameplay mechanic, not just a poetic mood.
Still, here’s the unsettling twist — every one of them had something. A mechanic. A feeling. A twist. A spark. Like watching a room full of robots pitch Black Mirror episodes… and realizing a few of them might actually ship on Day One.
AI isn’t just dabbling in game dev — it’s already in the studio, storyboarding, generating key art, and sometimes emotionally wrecking you with plot devices involving childhood memories and decaying timelines. The question isn’t if AI will help make your next favorite game.
It’s which AI already has.
Just… don’t let any of them near your coffee mug.
