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

I’ve always had a soft spot for digital golf. Seriously, it’s a bit of an obsession—I even have a Golden Tee arcade machine at home. Back in my teenage years, EA’s Tiger Woods games were my go-to for unwinding. Nowadays, though real golf clubs gather dust in my garage—because who has the time to hit the actual links?—a good golf game could definitely scratch that itch.

So, with some free space in my gaming schedule, I thought I’d check out PGA Tour 2K25. I enjoyed 2K’s initial dive into golf simulations, so I figured this new installment might have improved even more since then. With high hopes, I launched Steam, shelled out for the Premium Edition to start playing early, and, initially, I was on cloud nine.

From what I can recall from back in 2021, this newer version is leaps and bounds ahead. It’s smoother, more intuitive, and just overall more polished. What I really appreciate is its assist system, reminiscent of racing games like Forza Motorsport. It cleverly balances between giving a satisfying simulation feel while offering that arcade-style fun.

Essentially, playing through an arcade experience that echoes the golden days of those old PS2 Tiger Woods games, you’d earn full Experience points each time. But here’s the twist: the more aids you disable, the more bonus EXP you rake in. The parallel to racing games is spot on: in Forza, I turn off the racing line for bonus EXP because I don’t need it. Similarly, I’m confident with my drives, so I nix those wind compensations and make things a tad challenging with my swings. However, my putting? It’s atrocious, so I crank up all the helps on the green.

With my setup, my EXP gain jumped to 120% of the norm. More seasoned players will undoubtedly earn even more. This EXP matters—unlocking cool rewards, boosting your player, and gathering that all-important currency for gear upgrades. But the game’s charm, with just enough assists, is alluring. And I love that I can tweak it to be as punishingly realistic as I’d like.

This aligns perfectly with how career mode is structured. It doesn’t force you to slog through every single hole. Out of a full round, you might only play a handful, with AI filling in the gaps. This takes the pressure off, but if you prefer a hole-by-hole challenge, you just change it in the settings. Plus, there are plenty of off-course distractions—training mini-games, press conferences, rivalries, and more.

These elements capture what made those classic games so endearing. They might be sports simulations, but they’re mostly about fun—much like golf itself. Grab some clubs, head to the greens with pals, and you’re set. Video game golf, to me, offers a chance to play at a higher level—a chance to relax and enjoy, not stress out as I do in real life.

Yet, there’s a cloud hanging over PGA 2K25. Despite the enjoyable casual-to-hardcore transition, there’s this underlying issue. Right after the game launched, a quiet update changed the dynamic for the worse.

Building up your custom golfer is tied directly to spending currency. You earn it in-game or, as you might have guessed, buy it. Want new clubs? Pay up with VC. New attire? That’s more VC. Level up your golfer’s skills? Hand over even more VC!

Now, this isn’t groundbreaking—many games use currency systems. Think of it like experience points in RPGs. Sure, selling currency for real cash feels a bit exploitative, but things take a turn with 2K’s approach.

When PGA 2K25 debuted in early access, a certain amount of VC could be earned. But right when it officially launched, they applied a covert patch drastically reducing the rate of VC gain. Redditors have crunched the numbers, revealing the grind has inflated from 92 hours to a staggering 214 hours to hit the coveted level 99. The VC costs have risen by up to 60%—a gut punch for players.

I wasn’t super active in the PGA 2K community, but even I noticed a stark drop in earnings. Delving into Reddit confirmed my suspicions. The steam reviews? Brutal. “Greedy” appears frequently among user feedback, and honestly, “predatory” might be even more fitting. I’d add “disgusting” to the list, but my less print-friendly thoughts? I’ll leave those up to your imagination.

I was thrilled with PGA Tour 2K25—until this issue deflated my excitement. What was previously just a minor irritation with cumbersome menus and pop-ups has now been overshadowed by this greedy progression model. The system feels ripped straight from a mobile game, pushing players to grind endlessly or, you guessed it, open their wallets. Progression feels deliberately sluggish—practically coaxing players to spend on microtransactions.

For a free-to-play title, this would be par for the course. But this isn’t that. Many forked out plenty for the game. Even the base version is costly. It’s a bad joke, one that undermines what is otherwise perhaps the finest golf game of the past decade. It’s like sinking with a double bogey after setting up perfectly on the green—2K had crafted something truly incredible but fumbled right at the last moment. It’s unfortunate, really.