It’s been a busy year for games so far. A new Nintendo console just launched. I haven’t yet beaten Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 or Doom: The Dark Ages, despite truly loving what I’ve played, and I’m at least three games behind on the new releases I want to check out. And yet, these past few weeks, whenever I’ve sat down to play a game in my spare time, it’s been 2017’s The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild.
Now, outside of it being my favorite game of all time, it also recently received a big performance upgrade through the Nintendo Switch 2 version, making for an improved experience in the year 2025. Still, I haven’t been able to shake a persistent feeling of guilt each time I paraglide back into Hyrule.
Whenever I’ve fired up Breath of the Wild, a voice in the back of my head screams, “Shouldn’t you play something else? Something new?!” Part of that is thanks to my job as a member of games media, where I feel professionally obligated to stay abreast of the latest releases in any given year. But as I’ve reflected on my complicated feelings surrounding replaying my favorite games, I’ve realized there’s more to it than just my career.
In the age of social media, we are constantly pushed to experience the latest form of entertainment, whether it’s the current blockbuster film, the newest streaming sensation, or, yes, the most recent hit video game. Aside from people obnoxiously telling you, “Well, you should have stayed off social media if you didn’t want to be spoiled,” participating in the discourse surrounding the latest cultural zeitgeist has become an event unto itself. I didn’t see Sinners until a few weeks after it hit theaters, and as a result, I missed out on the most rewarding conversations taking place across the social platforms, and after I finally caught it, I was kicking myself for not seeing it sooner. The fear of missing out is exacerbated when the conversation dominates the platform that serves as the only way you communicate with your long-distance friends.
But it’s even more than that. Maybe it stems from growing up and constantly being told I should be doing something other than playing video games with my spare time, but that same guilt has transferred to whenever I consume entertainment I have before. A few years ago, I rewatched the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe, one of my favorite entertainment franchises ever. That is an absurd amount of time to devote to something I’ve already seen, but when that guilty feeling popped up, I talked myself down from letting it overtake me and dissuade me from my plan.
How did I pull that off? By reminding myself that time spent doing something you love isn’t time wasted. I think we should all travel to places we’ve never been, try foods we’ve never eaten, attempt a new hobby we’ve never done, and maintain a healthy level of physical activity and outdoor time, but if something brings you joy and it’s not hurting anyone, why deny yourself that pleasure? Yes, there’s abundant value in cooking a new cuisine, but sometimes, that same dish you’ve made over the last 15 years just hits right.
Comfort-food gaming has been a staple of my entire life – I’ve replayed Super Mario World, Final Fantasy X, and Pokémon Blue more times than I can count – and I would argue that with the tumult and uncertainty of the 2025 news cycle, we need it now more than ever. If gaming is your most prominent hobby, as it is mine, don’t deny yourself the joy and escapism that re-embarking on your favorite adventure grants you. So, plan that movie-rewatch marathon, fire up Switch Online’s retro libraries, and do your best to not count how many games you bought in the most recent Steam sale that are still sitting at “0 minutes played.” I’ve been trying to treat my hobby more like a hobby rather than a checklist to complete, and I’m getting more enjoyment out of it as a result.
This article originally appeared in issue 370 of Game Informer in July 2025.