
You’ve bought the game. You’ve installed the patch. You’ve sunk five hours in. And something just feels… off.
But everyone says it’s great. “Masterpiece.” “GOTY contender.” “You just have to push through the first 12 hours.” So you keep going. You force the fun. You wait for the spark. But deep down, you already know:
This game isn’t worth your time. And that’s okay.
Here’s how to know for sure—and when to let go before it eats your weekend, wallet, and will to boot up anything else.
If you’re enjoying the *idea* of the game more than the game itself, you’re already halfway out. Are you picturing the trailer while grinding side quests? Are you parroting praise you haven’t felt?
This is the hype hangover. Let it pass. Don’t chase the fun other people had. Find your own—or bounce.
“If you keep explaining why it gets good later, you’re already bored now.” — Cheeks
Not every game needs to be joyful. But if a title starts feeling like work, therapy, or a social contract you didn’t sign, step back. Games that expect you to grind for story beats, lore reveals, or just to “earn” the right to enjoy them? Red flag.
Your time is valuable. You shouldn’t have to unlock fun like it’s behind a boss wall.
If you’re just following quest markers, looting for the dopamine, or opening the map more than looking at the world—it’s not a game anymore. It’s a spreadsheet. A job. A gamified calendar. And if you already have one of those IRL, why simulate another?
Ask yourself: when was the last time you felt anything while playing this?
Great games live rent-free in your head. You daydream combos. Hear the music. Crave the next mission. If you walk away from a session and feel relief, not anticipation—that’s your gut waving a red flag.
Games don’t need to be addictive to be good. But they should invite you back in. If they don’t, listen to that silence.
This is the killer. When playing becomes enduring. When you’re chasing a finish line out of obligation. When you say things like, “I just want to get through the intro,” and you’re 15 hours deep.
If a game’s best defense is “It gets better eventually,” it’s already failed now.
Alt-tabbing to Twitter. Checking Discord mid-cutscene. Watching YouTube during long dialogues. If you’re doing all that, you’ve mentally left the building. This game is no longer your main dish—it’s background noise.
And that’s fine—for chill games. But if the game needs your full attention to land emotionally or mechanically, and you’re drifting? It’s not clicking. Move on.
Gaming shame is real. So are sunken-cost fallacies. You spent $70. You bought the Deluxe Founder’s Pack. Everyone on Reddit says it’s “criminally underrated.”
And yet… you don’t care. You’re playing it like a chore, just to say you did. That’s not fun. That’s Protestant backlog guilt. Press X to skip.
It might. You can always come back. Games aren’t milk—they don’t expire. But neither does your free time. Don’t give it away to obligation disguised as “essential experiences.”
If it’s truly great, it’ll be there when you are ready—not when The Discourse tells you to be.
“Just because it’s a 10/10 for them doesn’t mean it has to be a 7/10 for you.” — FreeBird
If any of that hits: you’re allowed to quit. No shame. No guilt. No essay required. Close the launcher. Move on. Open something that sparks joy. Or turn the damn console off.
Because a game that isn’t worth your time is always skippable. Even if it wins GOTY.

AJ Hanson has been part of games media since 2011, writing, streaming, and ranting about the industry long before it was his job. He runs the Galaxy’s Edge Discord, the go-to community for fans of Disney’s Star Wars parks, and works as Marketing Director for the Virtual Cantina Network, helping produce shows, interviews, and fan events. A lifelong Star Wars fan and unapologetic nerd, AJ’s focus has always been on building spaces where people can connect, argue, and celebrate the things they love without all the corporate gloss.