BlockBlasters wasn’t just a game; it was a $150,000 crypto heist concealed within Steam
Source: X (@rastalandTV)
Steam’s latest crisis demonstrates how quickly a “cute indie game” can morph into a “cryptocurrency drain.”
The game, titled BlockBlasters, debuted on Steam in July, seemingly harmless with retro-inspired visuals. But on August 30, an insidious update containing malware went live. The malicious code included scripts that bypassed antivirus protections, hijacked browsers, and emptied crypto wallets.
By the time cybersecurity experts identified the attack, over $150,000 had been stolen from hundreds of victims.
One of the most severe cases involved Latvian Twitch streamer Raivo “RastalandTV” Plavnieks, who is fighting stage-4 cancer and had been fundraising through his streams to cover treatment costs. After downloading BlockBlasters during a live broadcast, he watched as $32,000 of his supporters’ donations disappeared—funds meant to keep him alive.
Valve removed the game on September 21, almost a month after the malicious update was released—yet by then, damage was done.
Every security breach represents real people suffering genuine losses. For gamers and content creators, staying vigilant online isn’t optional; it’s essential for survival. Even major gaming platforms can deliver malware if nobody’s paying attention, and if you store cryptocurrency or sensitive data on the same PC you game on, you’re basically playing Russian roulette with your finances.
The most unsettling aspect of Silent Hill f? It’s not actually Silent Hill.
Image credits: X (@Silenthilll)
Konami’s Silent Hill ‘f’ feels less like a haunting return and more like an anime-inspired spin-off with a stolen name badge.
It abandons the franchise’s signature psychological horror, complex lore, and eerie otherworldly environments for a story penned by a cosplay-obsessed anime fan, reminiscent of early 2000s schoolyard horror where classmates secretly plot murders.
The “Dark Shrine” nightmare realm is dull and repetitive rather than terrifying; the tiny, uninspired world lacks atmosphere, and untranslated environmental text leaves non-Japanese players at a disadvantage.
Combat feels sluggish, the interface is clunky, and despite a 10-hour playtime with promises of multiple endings, the game fails to evoke the series’ core horror charm. Honestly, the most disturbing thing might be how far Silent Hill ‘f’ strays from the original series.
“Yo, pass the vape—I wanna fire up Doom.”
Source: Aaron Christophel
“If it has a screen, it can run Doom.” An old saying from 1993. I thought getting Doom to run on a pregnancy test was a true achievement, but I was wrong. So naive.
Aaron Christophel, a software developer and hardware hacker, managed to run the classic shooter on the Aspire Pixo Kit. What makes this device unique is its small color display and a 32-bit microcontroller, allowing Doom to run at a choppy 6 FPS on the vape.
It’s not running natively on the vape, though. The game is streamed from a PC to the device via USB. Since the vape has just 64 KB of RAM—nowhere near the 4 MB Doom requires—it can’t run directly. Still, turning a vape into a secondary monitor is a neat trick and a fun proof of concept.
And of course, the inevitable question: Can it run Crysis?
