List of 20 Netflix titles vanishing from app forever in days as millions of subscribers told to try them before they go
Subscribers have been given a 'Last day to play' notice before the titles vanish from the platform in the coming weeks.
2
Netflix Games is removing over 20 games
Credit: Getty
Netflix Games has had a rocky nine months, with executive changes, cancelled projects and soon, the removal of games from both its mobile and TV libraries.
It was recently announced that 22 games - nearly 20 percent of Netflix's mobile game library - will be axed on July 15.
July 14 is subscribers' 'Last day to play'.
Hades, Monument Valley (all three titles), Carmen Sandiego, Ludo King and Rainbow Six: SMOL are among the most popular Netflix games set to be cancelled.
Read more tech news
A full list is available below.
Some of these games are still fairly new - Carmen Sandiego, for example, only joined the platform in January.
Monument Valley 3 launched as a major Netflix exclusive, but is now set to move to other platforms.
Several planned game releases - including Crashlands 2, Tales of the Shire and Don't Starve Together - have also been scrapped.
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The company first started adding video games to its catalogue of streaming TV shows and films in 2021.
Co-CEO Gregory Peters said in April that Netflix Games had made "decent progress" but remained on a "multiyear iterative journey".
Netflix reveal huge list of movies and TV shows being axed next month – with some children's favourites in the mix
It comes as the streaming giant has confirmed plans to launch
Clash of Clans and Clash Royale have dominated
app
stores
for years - with over 65 million and 18 million monthly players respectively.
They will soon be transformed into a television show.
The series is in "early pre-production", but no release date has been given.
Supercell, the Finnish company behind
the games
, is directly involved in the production of the series.
But Clash is not the first animated series to land on Netflix.
The platform already hosts Arcane, based on Riot Games' smash hit League of Legends.
Other popular Netflix animations include Devil May Cry, Blue Eye Samurai, Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous and Sonic Prime.
Netflix is axing over 20 games in July 2025
These games are set to leave:
Battleship
Braid, Anniversary Edition
Carmen Sandiego
CoComelon: Play with JJ
Death's Door
Diner Out: Merge Cafe
Dumb Ways to Die
Ghost Detective
Hades
Katana Zoo
Lego Legacy: Heroes Unboxed
Ludo King
Monument Valley
Monument Valley 2
Monument Valley 3
Rainbow Six: SMOL
Raji: An Ancient Epic
SpongeBob: Bubble Pop F.U.N
TED Tumblewords
The Case of the Golden Idol
The Rise of the Golden Idol
Vineyard Valley
2
Netflix Games has made 'decent progress', said co-CEO Gregory Peters in April
Credit: Getty
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Because if they couldn't be bothered, neither could he. This is known in management circles as 'sending a message,' but in Keane's case, it was likely much less performative in its motive, and just a very practical expression of disgust. Roy Keane as Republican of Ireland manager in 2017. Picture: Niall Carson/PA Wire Another tale recounts Roy sitting in the canteen, glowering into a cup of tea while young professionals crept past like mice in a haunted house. 'Good morning,' they'd squeak, and he'd nod imperceptibly, as if granting them a reprieve from execution. But even Roy must have sensed he was not built for the modern game's mood enhancers and sports psychologists. So, he drifted away from the dugout and into something altogether less obvious: punditry. Roy Keane, the Accidental Comedian The early signs were unpromising. Here was a man so famously laconic he once made Ryan Giggs look like Graham Norton. Surely, he'd be a disaster in front of the cameras. And yet somehow it worked. Because, in an age of bland punditry, Keane was refreshingly honest. He didn't do hyperbole. He didn't do platitudes. He'd watch a half-hearted back-pass, scowl, and pronounce it 'shocking'. Or he'd hear the suggestion that a player needed an arm around the shoulder and look as though he was about to call security. Soon enough, Sky Sports realised they'd struck gold. Keane didn't just provide analysis — he provided theatre. Stick him next to Micah Richards, the permanently giddy labrador of the studio, and you had the perfect double act: Micah cackling, Roy sighing with existential despair. It was like watching an old married couple — if one half of the couple believed the other should be dropped from the squad. One particularly telling moment came when Richards declared that he 'loved football'. Keane responded with an arched eyebrow and the words, 'You love football, yeah? I love winning.' It was the most Keane sentence ever uttered. And yet, paradoxically, the more unimpressed he appeared, the more we loved him for it. Roy Keane, The Redemption In any other sphere of life, this would be called a 'rebrand'. But Keane is too sincere, too committed to his principles to consciously rebrand. What's happened instead is a sort of collective reappraisal. We've all decided that he was right all along, even if we'd never survive 10 minutes in his company. Because the modern footballer — cocooned, pampered, massaged — stands in such contrast to Keane's old-school values that watching him skewer them has become such a cathartic respite from a reality spent surfing LinkedIn, seeing the worst of everybody. He is anti-performative. A Beckettian masterpiece. He doesn't scream 'Look at me/Don't look at me' like so many public-facing narcissistic men often do, instead he says, 'What the fuck are you looking at?' On prime-time TV. In doing so, the man once synonymous with football's darker impulses — rage, spite, retribution — has become the game's conscience. He is the last link to a time when men drank pints after training and tackled as if their mortgage depended on it. He has become, dare I say it, a role model. Just one you cannot turn your back to. Roy Keane, the Meme If you'd told a younger Roy Keane that one day he'd be immortalised in memes, he'd have looked at you with the same expression he reserved for a young Gary Neville. But memes are the currency of modern fame, and, accidentally or otherwise, Roy is minted. There he is, his face contorted in disgust, captioned: 'When someone says they 'gave it 110%.'' Or sitting with his arms folded, the unspoken louder than a vuvuzela: 'Just do your bloody job.' Teenagers who never saw him play nowadays know him only as The Angry Bearded Man. And in a way, that's a triumph. Because if there's one thing Roy would appreciate, it's consistency. Whether he's breaking up play or breaking the nose of a lippy pseudo-hard man in a Cheshire pub, he's never pretended to be anything he's not. Authenticity, that's his superpower. Roy Keane, The Softening You might be tempted to believe, watching Roy gently chuckle at Ian Wright's gags, that he's mellowed. But I suspect he's just found a new outlet. Once, his rage-fuelled tackles. Now, it fuels soundbites and viral clips. And occasionally — only occasionally — he lets the mask slip. You see him talk about Cork, about family, about his dogs. About the things he genuinely hates, like smiling, parties, fireworks, and leaf blowers. Murdo McLeod's 2002 portrait of Roy Keane is one of the artworks featured in the Crawford Art Gallery's 'Now You See It...' exhibition. Picture used with permission from the Crawford Art Gallery And for a fleeting moment, you glimpse a gentler Roy, the man behind the scowl. Then someone suggests a player 'had a good game despite losing 3-0', and the eyebrow shoots back up, the voice goes higher than a Jordan Pickford clearance, and you remember he is a man of standards. He is, and always will be, Roy Keane. Less a pundit than an elemental force, reminding us that standards matter, that excuses are for losers, and that nobody should ever, ever smile when they're 2-0 down. Roy Keane, the (reluctant) National Treasure There's a temptation to assume Roy secretly enjoys all this adulation. The podcasts. The live appearances. An upcoming movie. But it seems more likely that he endures it in the same way he endured team-building exercises: With stoic resignation. And that, really, is the secret of his charm. He hasn't changed as much as the world around him has. We've softened. So has he, but not much. And in our cosseted modernity, he's the last authentic holdout, grumbling from the sofa, refusing to tolerate mediocrity. It's what makes him special. 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