15 Urban Video Game Legends We All Believed Were True

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Ignacio Weil

Gaming - November 7th 2025, 20:30 GMT+1

Herobrine Minecraft 2011 — Herobrine – Minecraft (2011)

That moment when you glimpse two white, pupil-less eyes staring from across an un-touched Minecraft world is equal parts thrill and childhood trauma. The legend says a ghost with a default skin wanders the landscape, carving odd tunnels and leaving unnerving structures behind, so players treated every strange hill or misplaced block like evidence. Mojang leaned into the joke for years, cheekily listing “Removed Herobrine” in patch notes and watching the community howl with delight. Even after developers confirmed he never existed in official builds, the idea stuck because it made the sandbox feel a little alive – and a little spooky. Fans kept retelling sightings, sharing screenshots and building the myth into the game’s folklore. | © Mojang Studios

GNR building plaza Fallout 3 2008 — The Numbers Station – Fallout 3 (2008)

Wandering the irradiated wastes and tuning radios made Fallout 3 feel eerily alive, so the idea of a hidden “Numbers Station” fit perfectly: imagine stumbling on a creepy, repetitive countdown on a forgotten frequency. People swore that after certain triggers you’d hear coded transmissions instead of the normal in-game stations, as if the apocalypse had left a secret message behind. While modders and players chased phantom files and odd audio, no such station exists in the vanilla release – but that didn’t stop the legend from fueling late-night explorations. The myth thrives because it blends Cold War paranoia, radio static, and Fallout’s lonely atmosphere into a perfect urban legend cocktail. | © Bethesda Game Studios / Bethesda Softworks

Bigfoot Grand Theft Auto San Andreas 2004 — Bigfoot / Sasquatch – Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas (2004)

The hunt for Bigfoot in San Andreas turned casual drives into full-blown expeditions: fans rolled up to the forests around Mount Chiliad and Back O’ Beyond at midnight, flashlights metaphorically flicking as they scanned for a lumbering silhouette. Rumours promised a reward for the brave, while the community patched together blurry screenshots and shaky video clips as “proof.” Rockstar eventually made it clear there was no Bigfoot in the base game, but the myth lived on – helped along by mods, hoaxes, and the game’s perfect mix of open world and mystery. The legend became less about the creature and more about the ritual: get in your car, drive out to nowhere, and feel that communal thrill of maybe finding something extraordinary. | © Rockstar North / Rockstar Games

Shadowplay Luigis Mansion 2001 — Shadowplay – Luigi’s Mansion (2001)

Luigi’s Mansion practically begged for late-night storytelling: dim rooms, spooky music and an anxious plumber holding a vacuum louder than his courage. So it was perfect breeding ground for “Shadowplay,” a claim that the game could glitch into eerie shadow interactions or camera flips that made it feel like the mansion itself was watching you. Players experimented with timing, light conditions, and odd controller inputs hoping to trigger something supernatural, and the game’s atmosphere made even mundane quirks feel suspicious. While no official “Shadowplay” mode exists, the rumor kept the community trying new things and telling each other ghost stories – which, frankly, is part of the fun. | © Nintendo

Cropped Ben Drowned The Legend of Zelda Majoras Mask 2000 — Ben Drowned – The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask (2000)

Ben Drowned is the kind of digital campfire tale that elevated a creepy game aesthetic into full-blown internet horror: a haunted cartridge that corrupts saves, speaks in eerie text and makes the moon feel personally threatening. It started as a serialized creepypasta and leveraged Majora’s Mask’s already unsettling themes to hook readers into believing a cursed save could follow you offline. The story is fiction, but it’s built so well around the game’s mechanics and eerie tone that it felt plausible to many players at the time. That fusion of in-game strangeness and online storytelling turned Ben Drowned into one of gaming’s most memorable modern myths. | © Nintendo

Cropped Madden NFL 1999 — The Madden Curse – Madden NFL series (1999)

For years, landing the cover of *Madden NFL* was both an honor and a hex. The so-called “Madden Curse” claimed that any athlete featured would soon face injury, scandal, or career decline. Fans began noticing patterns – one player twists an ankle, another misses the playoffs, and suddenly superstition becomes prophecy. It reached meme status, with athletes joking about dodging the spotlight altogether. Whether coincidence or cosmic prank, the curse added an eerie mystique to an otherwise straightforward sports sim. And honestly, it’s one of the few times a football game felt like it came with genuine horror lore. | © EA Tiburon / Electronic Arts

Cropped Squall Is Dead Theory Final Fantasy VIII 1999 — Squall Is Dead Theory – Final Fantasy VIII (1999)

Somewhere between sorcery and sci-fi, *Final Fantasy VIII* launched one of gaming’s strangest fan theories: what if Squall actually died halfway through the story, and everything afterward was a dream? Players pointed to the surreal tone shift, bizarre imagery, and that scene where he takes an icicle to the chest – and then, miraculously, gets up as if nothing happened. The internet ran with it, analyzing dialogue, symbolism, and that unnerving ending that feels a little too dreamlike. Square never confirmed it, of course, which only made the myth thrive. Squall might be fine, but the theory definitely lives rent-free in our collective imagination. | © Square Enix (formerly Squaresoft)

Cropped Aerith death Final Fantasy VII 1997 — You Can Save Aerith – Final Fantasy VII (1997)

Every gamer from the late ’90s knows the heartbreak that birthed this rumor: surely there *had* to be a way to save Aerith. Players scoured every town, NPC, and obscure sequence, convinced they’d missed the one secret choice that would rewrite fate. The idea that her death was optional gave hope to devastated fans – and added months of replay value. Forums filled with elaborate guides, all of them false but lovingly crafted. In truth, no amount of limit breaks could undo destiny, but the belief itself became legendary. It was denial turned devotion, and that’s what made it timeless. | © Square Enix

Secret Warrior Cows Diablo — Secret Warrior Cows – Diablo (1997)

“Don’t click the cow too many times,” they said – and a legend was born. Players claimed that if you interacted with enough cows in *Diablo*, a portal would open to a secret cow-filled battlefield. It was absurd, hilarious, and somehow perfectly believable in Blizzard’s dark, tongue-in-cheek world. Developers denied it existed in the original game, but the rumor spread so widely that Blizzard eventually made it real in *Diablo II* as the “Secret Cow Level.” It’s one of the rare times a myth became canon, proving sometimes developers enjoy playing along with the madness. | © Blizzard Entertainment

Mew Under the Truck Pokémon Red and Blue 1996 — Mew Under the Truck – Pokémon Red and Blue (1996)

Long before official guides or internet fact-checking, there was that one friend who swore you could find Mew by moving a random truck near the S.S. Anne. The theory spread like wildfire – kids resetting cartridges, trying every HM, convinced they were one secret item away from catching the mythical Pokémon. Of course, the truck was just background decoration, but that didn’t matter. The story felt *real*, and the mystery made the game feel bigger than its 8-bit boundaries. Mew wasn’t under the truck, but the sense of discovery it inspired definitely was. | © Game Freak / Nintendo

Cropped Lavender Town Pokémon Red Green 1996 — Lavender Town – Pokémon Red & Green (1996)

It’s hard to find a creepier legend than the one that turned a catchy Game Boy tune into an urban horror story. Lavender Town claimed that the eerie, high-pitched theme music made children sick – or worse – when the games first released in Japan. The myth spread fast online, helped by distorted remixes and fake “lost reports,” transforming a ghost-themed town into something far darker. Of course, no such incidents ever happened, but the story perfectly matched the unsettling tone of Pokémon’s spookiest location. The real magic was how a simple melody became the stuff of gaming nightmares. | © Game Freak / Nintendo

Lara Croft Nude Code Tomb Raider 1996 — Lara Croft Nude Code – Tomb Raider (1996)

Ah, the most adolescent myth in gaming history. Back in the ’90s, playground gossip swore that if you entered the right code, Lara Croft would – well – lose her iconic outfit. Players spent hours inputting nonsense combinations, convinced the secret existed somewhere behind those tank-top polygons. It never did, though that didn’t stop countless “patches” and fake screenshots from popping up online. The rumor’s endurance says less about the game’s realism and more about the hormonal curiosity of its fanbase. In truth, the only thing ever stripped bare was the dignity of everyone who tried it. | © Core Design / Eidos Interactive

Cropped Ermac Mortal Kombat 1992 — Ermac Is a Playable Character – Mortal Kombat (1992)

Arcade-era gamers loved a good mystery, and the tale of Ermac might be the best of them all. A cryptic entry labeled “ERMAC” in Mortal Kombat’s diagnostics menu sparked whispers that a hidden red ninja lurked in the game. Players claimed to have fought him, some even sharing fuzzy photos of arcade screens as “proof.” The developers at Midway later admitted it was a programming term, not a secret fighter – but fans’ obsession was so strong that Ermac eventually became a real character in later titles. From typo to legend to canon – few myths get a happier ending than that. | © Midway Games

Shen Long Street Fighter II 1991 — Sheng Long Is in the Game – Street Fighter II (1991)

Before internet fact-checking, gaming magazines were law – and one April Fools’ prank changed Street Fighter forever. An English mistranslation of Ryu’s quote about “Sheng Long” led fans to believe a hidden master could be unlocked under impossible conditions. Kids pumped quarters into arcades trying to meet him, performing elaborate combos that never worked. The developers eventually admitted it was a hoax, but the legend’s popularity pushed Capcom to create Gouken years later, giving fans a real “Sheng Long” after all. It’s the ultimate example of a joke becoming part of the mythology it mocked. | © Capcom

Cropped Polybius 1981 — The Phantom Arcade Cabinet – Polybius (1981)

Imagine a coin-op that shows up overnight, eats quarters, and leaves players babbling about visions and men in dark suits – that’s the spine-tingling tale of Polybius. The story reads like a late-night conspiracy: an arcade cabinet that allegedly induced nightmares, caused seizures, and attracted mysterious researchers taking notes in the corner. Nobody ever produced a cabinet or a production log, but that only amplified the legend, turning a possible prank into an urban myth cocktail – equal parts paranoia and pop-culture seasoning. Over time, Polybius slipped into folklore, inspiring indie homages and paranoid fan theories rather than hard evidence. Whether it was a hoax, a moral panic, or pure imagination, the idea that a game could be *that* powerful is why the story still gives people the chills. | © Wikipedia

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Before Google, Reddit, or dataminers could ruin the fun, gamers lived in a world where playground rumors ruled supreme. Someone always swore their cousin’s friend unlocked a secret boss, revived a dead character, or found something horrifying hidden in the code. These weren’t just tall tales – they were rites of passage, whispered secrets passed between schoolyard experts and sleep-deprived teens at 2 a.m.

From haunted cartridges and hidden characters to mysterious numbers stations that never existed, these myths blurred the line between fact and fantasy in the best way possible. So grab your memory card, blow on the cartridge for luck, and let’s revisit the weird, wonderful, and totally believable lies we all once fell for.