PGA Tour 2K25: A Decade’s Best Golf Game Undermined by Unfair Tactics and Greed

Picture this: digital golf and I have been inseparable companions for years. I’ve even given a home to the Golden Tee arcade machine. Back in my teenage days, EA’s Tiger Woods games were my go-to for unwinding. Now, as an adult with a barely-used set of real golf clubs gathering dust in my garage—thanks to a life that’s always on the go—I find solace in golfing video games to fill that void.

Enter PGA Tour 2K25. I had some free slots in my gaming schedule and thought, why not give it a shot? I’m no stranger to 2K’s efforts to capture the essence of golf simulations, having dabbled with their earlier releases. So, with a hopeful heart, I opted for PGA Tour 2K25 over the latest from EA. With a quick click on Steam and a hefty sum spent on the Premium Edition for early access, I was all set. Initially, my excitement was through the roof.

Fast forward from the last time I played in 2021, and 2K’s 2025 version is almost unrecognizable—smooth, stylish, and user-friendly. One of the standout features is their assists system, much like what you’d find in a high-octane racing game like Forza Motorsport. It strikes a perfect balance between delivering that pure simulation experience and offering arcade-like fun.

In a nutshell, it feels like going back to the golden years of the PS2 and Tiger Woods games, with the added bonus of customizing your career player. The more challenges you take on by toggling off features, the more experience points (EXP) you earn.

It’s kind of like racing in Forza where turning off the racing line gives you an EXP boost. In PGA Tour 2K25, if you’re confident with your driving skills, you can disable wind compensation aids for extra rewards, but for someone terrible at putting like me, those aids are non-negotiable.

After playing around with the settings, I managed to get a 120% boost on the usual EXP, something more seasoned players can easily outdo.

Gaining EXP is crucial as it not only opens up new rewards but also levels up your player, enabling you to acquire better equipment. Yet, I appreciate the game’s breezy nature with the assistive features tuned moderately, with room to make it a harsh simulator if desired.

What’s refreshing is the career mode doesn’t bog you down; it doesn’t force you to play every single hole. You can choose to participate in select moments while the AI simulates the rest. If you’re a purist, though, it’s just a menu option away to play it all. Beyond the greens, there’s an array of activities like training games, press interactions, and player rivalries—keeping the spirit of the older golf games alive. They’re simulations at heart, but they don’t shy away from the fun aspect. Golf, at its core, is about accessibility, whether in real life or virtually. In the real world, you only need some basic clubs and a group of friends to have a good time. In video games, it’s about playing at a professional level, simulating a career without the stress that real golf sometimes brings—trust me on that.

But, as with any tale of triumph, there’s a twist. For all of PGA 2K25’s appeal, a darker shadow looms over its brilliance, which became apparent after their first subtle update.

Here’s the catch: evolving your custom-made ‘myPLAYER’ mostly hinges on spending virtual currency (VC), which you either earn in-game or buy. Want a new set of clubs? That’s some VC. A fresh outfit? More VC. Improving your golfing skills? Open that wallet for even more VC.

Granted, earning and spending currency is common in games. It’s reminiscent of experience points in RPGs. Selling currency for real money may feel scummy—a sort of shortcut to cheat—but it’s not unheard of. However, 2K decided to stretch the boundaries.

When the game initially launched in its early access phase, the fans experienced a certain rate of VC accumulation. Come final release, an unannounced patch hit, drastically slowing down VC earnings—a move that didn’t go unnoticed by the vigilant community on Reddit.

Analyzing those numbers, players report that achieving level 99 with your character jumped from an already demanding 92 hours to a monumental 214 hours. The VC needed for leveling up or buying necessary upgrades saw a price hike of about 60%. Initially, progression was bearably paced, but 2K decided it wasn’t yards slow enough, prompting a sprint to their virtual cash tills—a maneuver reminiscent of a gluttonous kid in a candy store.

Despite not being deeply embedded in the PGA 2K community, even I stood up and took notice of the stark contrast in earnings before and after the change—leading me down a rabbit hole on Reddit where the full extent of this unsettling truth was laid bare. Negative reviews on Steam are aplenty, throwing around words like “greedy” in what’s best described as a “predatory” practice.

It’s disheartening because initially, I loved PGA Tour 2K25. But now, my initial annoyance with slow menus and intrusive pop-ups pales in comparison to the money-grabbing progression system—a feature typical of a free-to-play mobile game, not a premium gaming experience. Competing online is suddenly synonymous with a tedious grind unless, of course, you choose to shell out more cash. With progression now frustratingly slow, heavily leaning toward microtransactions, I find myself emotionally distancing from the game.

Frankly, this sort of nonsense might fly in a free-to-play, gacha-infused world, but not here. Some folks have spent over a hundred bucks on this game; the basic version alone costs sixty. It’s a joke—a bad one—that’s tainting what could have been the finest golf game of the decade. In a tragic twist akin to missing a crucial putt after a flawless drive, 2K crafted something wonderful only to mar it in the end. Such a bitter shame.