Recursive Loops: Games Based on Movies and TV Shows Based on Games

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Ignacio Weil

Gaming - October 30th 2025, 17:00 GMT+1

Angry Birds Action 2016 — Angry Birds Action! (2016)

When a game based on a movie based on a game arrives, it’s hard not to smile at the loop of it all – and *Angry Birds Action!* leans into the spectacle with gusto. The pinball-style mechanics had the birds bouncing around like relics of their Angry Birds Mobile past, now dressed up in cinema tie-in garb. What’s charming: that it dared to go sideways (literally) with the franchise rather than just retread old territory. What’s strange: the fact that the movie aesthetic dominated the mobile game, making it feel like a promotional extension rather than a true evolution. It felt fun for a moment, but equally like a reminder of how fast mobile tie-ins can fade. For a game trying to ride film hype, it left the question: are we playing for the movie, the birds, or both? | © Rovio Entertainment

Sonic Boom Rise of Lyric 2014 — Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric (2014)

Packed into *Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric* is a textbook case of “franchise fatigue meets cross-media ambition”. The game, spun off from the TV series, promised a fresh take on Sonic lore – but the execution felt more chaotic than creative. With glitches, camera issues, and story threads that seemed to exist just to tie into toy lines and episodes, it became a cautionary tale in transmedia overload. It’s the kind of title that whispers “we had a concept” but shouts “we also had a deadline”. For fans hoping the series would evolve, it instead pointed back to older Sonic games and asked “remember these?” The result is less clever reboot, more warning label. | © Sega

Cropped Pac Man and the Ghostly Adventures 2013 videogame — Pac-Man and the Ghostly Adventures (2013)

A TV show inspired by Pac-Man, turned into a game inspired by that show – that’s pretty much the definition of recursive. *Pac-Man and the Ghostly Adventures* the game takes the iconic arcade chomper and puts him into a 3-D platform universe that leans heavily into kids’ TV sensibilities. The series might’ve hoped to refresh the brand for a younger generation, but the game often felt like it didn’t know whether it was an arcade heritage piece or a Saturday-morning cartoon. It had solid ideas, yet they were masked by the over-bright visuals and somewhat generic level design. To gamers who loved the original simplicity, this was charming but diluted; to fans of the show, it was fine but forgettable. Ultimately, the loop closed, but perhaps not in the way the brand hoped. | © Namco Bandai Games

Resident evil degeneration msn — Resident Evil: Degeneration (2008)

There’s something oddly meta about a game based on a movie based on a game û and *Resident Evil: Degeneration* embraces that full circle. The CG film carried the lineage of the franchise into animation, and the mobile game then brought the film’s narrative into interactive form. On one hand, it was a novelty: survival horror on a phone with tilt controls and a recognizable storyline. On the other hand, it highlights how freaking complicated brand loops can become. It’s a game that exists because of a movie that exists because of a game, and that layering sometimes distracts from just playing something fun. If you played it for the provenance, fair; if you played it for the horror experience, maybe you left wanting. | © Capcom

Cropped Sonic X 2007 leapster — Sonic X (2007)

When *Sonic X* the show became *Sonic X* the game on the Leapster, the recursive fun arrived in tiniest form. The Leapster game transformed the anime episodes into math and platform challenges, creating something educational-toy-ish rather than full Sonic revolution. It’s fascinating because it shows how far the loop can go – from big console franchise to little learning cartridge. The charm lies in its weirdness: Sonic running through levels solving math problems, because sure, why not? But ironically, the game’s ambition to educate diluted the franchise’s speed and fun. In the end, it’s less “loop closed” and more “loop redirected into preschool territory.” | © LeapFrog Enterprises

Cropped F Zero GP Legend 2003 — F-Zero: GP Legend (2003)

It’s easy to forget that *F-Zero: GP Legend* was born from an anime, not directly from the blistering SNES or N64 classics. This Game Boy Advance entry tried to bridge the high-octane chaos of the originals with the show’s soap-opera storytelling – rivalries, destiny, and all. The result was surprisingly cohesive, if also a bit restrained compared to its predecessors’ reckless speed. For a franchise built on adrenaline, the TV inspiration brought a curious touch of melodrama to the mix. It was still fast, still loud, but maybe a little too aware of its narrative this time. A noble experiment that proved even racing games can get tangled in their own lore loops. | © Nintendo

Cropped Pokémon Puzzle League 2000 — Pokémon Puzzle League (2000)

Of all the recursive creations out there, *Pokémon Puzzle League* might be the most delightfully random. Inspired by the *Pokémon* anime rather than the mainline games, it transformed familiar trainers into characters in a block-matching puzzler that looked more like *Tetris Attack* than anything involving Poké Balls. The strangest part? It worked. The voice acting, the anime-style cutscenes, and the breezy mechanics gave it charm far beyond its spin-off origins. Sure, it wasn’t a “catch ’em all” experience, but it had just enough *Pokémon* spirit to keep players hooked. Proof that not every adaptation needs to make sense – sometimes it just needs to be fun. | © Nintendo

Pokémon Yellow 1998 — Pokémon Yellow (1998)

This one practically defines the recursive loop. *Pokémon Yellow* was based on the *Pokémon* anime, which was based on the original *Pokémon Red and Blue* games – making it the gaming equivalent of a snake eating its tail. Pikachu follows you around, Team Rocket’s Jessie and James crash your journey, and the whole thing plays like a remix designed for fans who watched the show religiously. It’s an early example of media synergy done right: familiar enough to feel nostalgic, yet distinct enough to justify its existence. In hindsight, it may have been the first time gamers realized the Pokémon universe could exist as both an adventure and a brand ecosystem. | © Nintendo / Game Freak

Cropped Street Fighter The Movie 1995 the game — Street Fighter: The Movie (1995)

And here it is – the crown jewel of recursion chaos. *Street Fighter: The Movie* the game is based on *Street Fighter: The Movie* the film, which was based on *Street Fighter* the game. Yes, it’s exactly as weird as that sounds. Using digitized actors from the live-action movie, the arcade version felt like *Mortal Kombat* wearing a Ryu costume. The gameplay was clunky, the animations awkward, and yet it remains a strangely fascinating artifact of the 1990s – when Hollywood and game studios were convinced this sort of loop was the future. Today, it’s remembered less for quality and more for sheer audacity. A beautiful, broken relic of recursion gone rogue. | © Capcom

Cropped Street Fighter II The Interactive Movie 1995 — Street Fighter II: The Interactive Movie (1995)

Imagine watching *Street Fighter II: The Animated Movie* and thinking, “What if I could *control* this?” – that’s basically how *Street Fighter II: The Interactive Movie* happened. It’s part film, part game, and somehow neither fully works as either. Instead of fighting your way through iconic matches, you play as a mysterious “observer,” collecting data while the story unfolds. It’s ambitious in theory, but feels more like watching a VHS that occasionally asks for your input. Still, it stands as a fascinating piece of mid-’90s experimentation, a time when everyone was convinced interactivity was the future of storytelling. In hindsight, it’s clunky, odd, and kind of brilliant for even trying. | © Capcom

Cropped Double Dragon Neo Geo 1995 — Double Dragon (Neo Geo) (1995)

The recursion here is deliciously absurd: the *Double Dragon* game became a movie, and that movie spawned *Double Dragon* on Neo Geo – a brawler that reimagined the original arcade heroes through the lens of the film adaptation. The result was a grittier, slightly off-kilter version of a franchise already known for its exaggerated style. It played decently, but it also felt like a copy of a copy, where the edges got blurrier with each iteration. The irony? The movie it was based on bombed, yet the game based on that movie turned out surprisingly solid. It’s recursion with muscle, leather, and a hint of Hollywood regret. | © Technōs Japan Corp.

Cropped Dr Robotniks Mean Bean Machine 1993 — Dr. Robotnik’s Mean Bean Machine (1993)

Sometimes recursion comes dressed as a puzzle game. *Dr. Robotnik’s Mean Bean Machine* takes its cues from the *Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog* cartoon, itself derived from Sega’s blue-blur legacy. But under that animated villainy lies a re-skinned version of *Puyo Puyo*, with Robotnik dropping colorful blobs instead of crafting evil plans. It’s weird, addictive, and one of the most charming cases of Sega reusing an existing idea to fit its TV universe. While Robotnik steals the spotlight, the gameplay proves timeless, long outlasting the cartoon that inspired it. A recursion win, if there ever was one. | © Sega

Cropped Pac Land 1984 — Pac-Land (1984)

Long before cinematic universes and brand synergy became buzzwords, *Pac-Land* pulled a recursive trick decades ahead of its time. It was inspired by the *Pac-Man* animated TV show, which was, of course, based on the original arcade game. Suddenly, Pac-Man had a nose, shoes, and a whole suburban life that no one asked for – but everyone remembered. The side-scrolling gameplay was surprisingly forward-thinking, paving the way for platformers like *Super Mario Bros.*, even as its cartoony design baffled arcade regulars. It’s goofy, colorful, and an early reminder that even back in the ’80s, Pac-Man couldn’t resist starring in his own meta-experiment. | © Namco

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Adaptations are nothing new, but sometimes Hollywood and the gaming industry fall into a creative feedback loop that feels almost philosophical. A video game becomes a movie, the movie becomes a game, and before anyone notices, the whole thing’s eating its own tail like a pixelated ouroboros. Somewhere between cash grab and cultural experiment, these recursive projects blur the line between homage and hallucination.

It’s fascinating, really – each new layer claims to “expand the universe,” yet often ends up remixing the same plot in slightly shinier packaging. Still, there’s something hypnotic about watching the cycle repeat itself. It’s a strange little corner of pop culture where art imitates art, and sometimes, accidentally, makes something better in the process.