As 2025 winds down and 2026 stares right at us with its mountain of new releases, hype cycles, and the inevitable chaos of gaming discourse, I can't help but think about one thing. We gamers love this medium, but also find all the ways in the world to collectively self-sabotage the joy out of it.

Half of it is the algorithm's fault, but a lot of it is our doing as well. So, instead of pointing fingers around and engaging in gaming discourse in all the wrong ways, let's take stock of a few habits worth leaving behind with this crucial year — habits that have quietly been draining the fun out of the very thing we claim to love, and habits that I myself am guilty of, and can't wait to shed.

Calling games that aren't for them, "trash"

Let's learn to say "this isn't for me"

One of the weirdest patterns in gaming discourse today is how violently allergic people are to the simple idea that not everything is made for them. A game launches, or a trailer drops, and suddenly, social media is filled with critics diagnosing a cultural collapse because something didn't personally and particularly appeal to them. A turn-based RPG, for many, is just a "dead genre." A cozy life-sim appears, and suddenly it's a cash-grab. And don't even get me started on visual novels, which, for some reason, are considered "not real games."

Somewhere along the line, we collectively forgot that art can simply be "not my thing" and still be totally fine, having a right to exist regardless. Games aren't political statements about your identity. They're not moral tests or prophecies about the future of the industry. Sometimes, they're just games, made for someone who has different tastes than you, but still loves this medium of gaming.

If we stopped treating every personal preference as a grand cultural indictment, we'd probably enjoy ourselves more, and let others do the same. The gaming buffet has never been larger, and we don't need to flip the table because we're not in the mood for the sushi platter today.

Complaining about backlog while pouring hours into new games

Why complain when you can just chip away at it?

This is one horrible gaming habit I'm guilty of, too. I have a backlog that could legally be classified as a small town. Black Mesa sits unplayed. Yotei stares at me with judgment. Clair Obscur is still collecting virtual dust in my Game Pass library. My promise to finish Indiana Jones' fantastic DLC is now a joke between me and my calendar. And yet, every single night this week? Arc Raiders, Battlefield 6, and a bout of Fortnite with the boys, without fail.

Backlogs aren't a reflection of poor time management, as much as I'd want that to be the truth. Instead, they're a reflection of our buying habits versus our playing habits. Steam sales hit, and suddenly I'm a millionaire. I might buy like I'm curating a museum, but I play like I'm on a five-item diet.

I guarantee you — every single time I've denied hopping online to play multiplayer and instead chosen to revisit an old single-player game from the backlog that I had left dormant, I've never once regretted it, and it has almost always renewed my interest in that game. In 2026, we shouldn't be cribbing about our backlogs, but ending them.

Downloading new releases out of pure FOMO

Games don't go bad like milk

If you've ever downloaded a new 100GB AAA title at 1AM because Twitter convinced you it's "the moment," you're not alone. Modern gaming FOMO is so real that half of us download games as if we're stocking up for an apocalypse bunker. The algorithm just has to whisper in our ears about how everyone is playing it, reviewers just have to say call a game a GOTY contender, and suddenly, we've bought it. Not because we wanted it, or it was even remotely on our radar, but because the internet decided we should want it. Except, when the dust settles and the hype cycle moves on, we quietly uninstall the untouched game months later, whispering, "Maybe next time."

Games aren't milk, man. They won't spoil or go bad. You can play Baldur's Gate 3 in 2028 for all anyone cares, and you'll still experience it fully. You can skip the viral trends and still remain a gamer "in good standing."

FOMO is inarguably the biggest thief of joy in gaming right now, and if we can collectively detach ourselves from that voice in our head that goes "I must play it right now, or I'm irrelevant." It's different, of course, if you're a streamer, but outside of that, as a regular gamer, you might finally have the space to play games you actually care about. At your own pace. On your own terms.

Deeming anything with female characters or diversity "woke"

It's becoming increasingly tough to stomach live-stream chats

One of the absolute worst habits gaming needs to yeet out of existence is this reflexive labeling of any female protagonist, any brown person, or any queer character as "woke propaganda." It's usually followed by comments from people who very clearly haven't played the game and have zero intention of doing so anyway. It's exhausting is what it is.

I see it in every showcase, every State of Play, every awards ceremony and trailer show — the moment a woman walks on screen, the chat turns into a sewer within seconds. God forbid there's a female character in the trailer for a game, or someone remotely diverse, and it becomes impossible to digest or stomach the barrage of "woke propaganda" and "woke trash" comments that spam the entire live chat screen. We're out here trying to discuss the vibe, the mechanics, the arty style, and the discourse immediately derails into culture-war nonsense from people who seem allergic to storytelling that isn't centered around a sunburned white guy named Jack.

Games today are bigger than ever. Audiences are broader than ever. Characters are more varied because the world is more varied. Let it breathe. Let people have protagonists who look like them. Let characters exist in their own spaces without blowing things out of proportion and trying to denigrate their entire existence down to some "propaganda" checklist.

And for the love of god, let's form our own opinions by actually playing games, not by absorbing YouTube thumbnails screaming in all caps about going broke by going woke. Gah.

Optimizing the fun out of games

Sid Meier really was on to something, wasn't he?

This is another bullet that's got my name on it as well. Arc Raiders had me in a chokehold, and I ruined part of the magic by watching every meta guide, every loot route, and every blueprint farming method. Suddenly, my map wasn't a mysterious world waiting for my exploration. It was just a spreadsheet where I knew everything was.

And this is happening everywhere. We optimize the fun out of games before we even give them a chance to surprise us. We consume review-in-progress videos, Reddit megathreads, tier lists, Twitch routes, build guides, all before even stepping foot into the games we buy. And then we wonder why nothing feels fresh anymore.

Also, while I'm at it, let's stop playing new games 15 hours a day and then complaining about how there's "no content." If we play games like they are full-time jobs, we will get tired of them like they're full-time jobs, too. Maybe 2026 could be the year we reclaim the joy of fumbling, exploring, and finding things organically. Playing games like they're adventures instead of chores to be min-maxed.

Saying "gaming is dead" every two months

It's really not — we just need a break sometimes

Gaming is not dead, guys. It's not dying. It's not even limping. You're just tired. Drink water. Every few months, some combination of bad launches, layoffs, AI nonsense, or industry drama leads to a collective meltdown declaring that gaming is over as a medium. Yet somehow, every quarter, an absolute banger of a game drops, and reminds us why we fell in love with this hobby in the first place.

If you're burned out, that's fine. Step away, play a comfort game, switch mediums, platforms, or genres. Take a break. I've got plenty of ways to fix burnout. But declaring "gaming is dead" every time the algorithm feeds you a doomer headline does nothing except ruin the vibe for everyone else.

The industry is constantly evolving and shifting, and it's doing many things at once, but dying isn't one of them. The creative spark is still alive in so many dev teams across the world who still manage to make magic with impossible deadlines and shrinking budgets. Let's honor that instead of doomscrolling ourselves into despair.

2026 could become a year of significant change for all gamers

Look, at the end of the day, these habits aren't sins to atone for. But they're stress fractures in how we collectively engage with gaming as a medium. It's supposed to be joyful, messy, weird, and surprising. But somewhere along the line, we've let hype cycles and online echo chambers shape our relationship with games more than our own curiosity and excitement.

If 2026 can be the year we slow down, breathe, pick what we love, and ignore what we don't, we could all collectively rediscover the simple pleasure of playing games, and the medium will feel magical again.