I need to get this off my chest: I love gaming on my Steam Deck, but lately, it feels like every time a major multiplayer blockbuster drops, I’m reminded that the most exciting handheld in years is quietly becoming an afterthought. Not because of horsepower, not because of clunky controls-but because anti-cheat software, and the industry’s indifference to Linux gamers, is locking the doors to some of the biggest games in the world. If you’re a fellow Deck owner, you know exactly how infuriating this is. For me, it’s reached breaking point.
Let me set the stage. I’ve been gaming obsessively since the late ‘90s—PlayStation, Dreamcast, then into the PC world, where tinkering and modding became my bread and butter. When Valve launched the Steam Deck, it felt like a revelation: the library of my dreams, in my hands, on trains, at cafes, with a battery that (mostly) didn’t suck. I’ve logged hundreds of hours on this thing—cozy indie platformers, retro emulation, and yes, plenty of modern games running shockingly well for such a small package. But even with all that, there’s an ugly truth I can’t ignore any longer: the anti-cheat crisis isn’t just a minor annoyance. It’s the Deck’s existential threat, and it’s only getting worse.
I’ve heard it all: “Just wait for the Steam Deck 2!” “Once the chip gets upgraded, every game will be playable!” Sorry, but that’s pure copium. Yes, the original Deck’s AMD chip is showing its age—try running the latest open-world monster like Doom: The Dark Ages and you’ll see what I mean—but no piece of silicon can brute-force its way through a wall of proprietary, kernel-level anti-cheat. This isn’t just about F1 25 or some niche esports title; it’s a long list of games that includes Grand Theft Auto V, Destiny 2, Apex Legends, Rainbow Six Siege, Fortnite. These are household names, and for all practical purposes, they’re dead on arrival on Steam Deck.
The emotional impact is real. When I saw F1 25 hit Steam, my first reaction was pure excitement. I’ve spent years following the sport, and I miss the days I could jump into those races on my own terms. But then the gut punch: EA’s proprietary anti-cheat means it’s a total non-starter on my Deck. It’s like being told I can sit at the table, but I’m not allowed to eat. And every year, it gets worse. Newer games adopt increasingly draconian anti-cheat, making their multiplayer modes—sometimes even single-player campaigns—completely inaccessible to anyone on Linux or SteamOS.
If you haven’t seen Are We Anti-Cheat Yet?, go check it out. It’s a tracker for exactly this issue—painstakingly listing over 1,100 games, breaking down which anti-cheat providers they use, and whether any hope remains for Linux/Steam Deck users. Here’s the headline: 674 games don’t work as intended because of anti-cheat. That’s not a few edge cases. That’s an entire graveyard of games, including some of the most-played, most-loved titles out there.
Here’s what really stings: only 41 games are totally “denied” due to anti-cheat, but a whopping 633 are “broken,” meaning you might be able to launch the thing, but any meaningful online play—sometimes even co-op—is locked behind a door you’ll never open. EA’s anti-cheat? Zero compatibility. Easy Anti-Cheat? A minefield—365 games use it, and most either don’t work or have crippled features. It’s ugly, and it’s getting uglier as more publishers pile on their own proprietary solutions.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “Just dual-boot Windows,” I get it. But that’s missing the point. The Steam Deck’s magic is in its out-of-the-box experience—instant access, a unified frontend, no tedious driver hunts, no Windows bloat. The Linux base is what makes it elegant, customizable, and honestly, fun. It’s not my job as a paying customer to jump through hoops because the industry can’t be bothered to support anything but the Microsoft status quo.
Valve can upgrade the hardware all they want, but unless anti-cheat vendors and publishers step up, the Deck will never be a true “play anything” device. And don’t think Steam Deck 2, 3, or 4 will change that. This is a software wall, not a silicon one. Until kernel-level anti-cheat is designed with Linux in mind, or until game makers see Deck owners as a real market segment worth serving, we’re all just shaking the bars of our own digital jail cell.
The worst part? I’ve changed my gaming habits because of this mess. I used to throw down for every big multiplayer release, but now, if I see Easy Anti-Cheat or (worse) EA’s flavor of the month, I scroll right past—even if it’s a game I’ve been hyped about for years. I’ve even skipped sales because I know the experience on Deck will be broken or missing key features. I’m not alone: friends in my gaming circles have started checking anti-cheat compatibility before they even think about wishlisting a new game.
It’s not just about missing out on trending shooters or mainstream sports titles, either. When you have a device as exciting as the Steam Deck, it’s soul-crushing to realize that “play anything, anywhere” is turning into “play whatever the industry bothers to let you.” That’s the kind of defeatist logic that killed off entire ecosystems before—just ask anyone clinging to a Vita or a Wii U after the party moved on.
Look, I get that anti-cheat is important. Cheating ruins games, especially online. That’s not up for debate. But when the cure is locking out a passionate, growing community of handheld and Linux gamers, the industry needs to take a long, hard look in the mirror. Steam Decks aren’t going away—in fact, SteamOS is expanding to more devices thanks to Valve’s open beta. The user base is only going to get bigger, louder, and more pissed off if nothing changes.
It’s not about “entitlement” or wanting special treatment. It’s about access, inclusion, and pushing gaming forward instead of backwards. We’ve seen how quickly new markets can explode when you support them: look at the indie renaissance on Switch, or how crossplay cracked open walled gardens that once seemed unbreakable. The more the industry treats Linux and Steam Deck like afterthoughts, the more gaming as a whole stagnates.
It’s simple: anti-cheat vendors and publishers need to see Linux (and, by extension, Steam Deck) compatibility as a baseline feature, not an optional luxury. It shouldn’t take grassroots sites, angry Reddit threads, or constant pestering from Valve to make this happen. And yet, here we are, years into the Deck’s life, with the same problems getting worse, not better.
Some companies are moving in the right direction—Epic’s EAC now supports Linux, albeit spottily—but most still treat anything non-Windows as a niche they can safely ignore. If you’re a publisher reading this, let me be clear: you are losing sales, loyalty, and goodwill from people like me. Fixing this isn’t just good for Deck owners; it’s good for gaming, period.
The Steam Deck is the most exciting thing to happen to PC gaming in a decade. But as long as anti-cheat software keeps locking out huge swaths of the world’s best games, it’ll always be a compromised experience. I’m tired of hoping for a fix that never comes—and I know I’m not the only one. Until the powers that be wake up, the Deck will always be stuck at the kiddie table, and that’s a damn shame for anyone who cares about gaming’s future.
So here’s my advice: keep making noise, keep pushing for compatibility, and don’t settle for excuses. We deserve better—and if the industry won’t listen, it’s their loss. Meanwhile, I’ll be over here, taking another lap around the games I can play on my Deck…but always wishing for more.
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