There are many things in life that can be described as truly satisfying. Graduating from college is one of those things. Moving out of your mom’s house is another. Heck, taking a well-earned number two can be considered truly satisfying in most instances (hey, it’s not gross, it’s nature baby). The list goes on and on, and that list is completely subjective between folks.

I bring this up because I want to share one of the most satisfying events in my life. I experience this event countless times a year, sometimes multiple times in a week…and hey, maybe a few times a day if I’m feeling frisky enough. It’s a satisfaction that I feel rivals the culmination of an academic career. It’s, of course, the feeling I get when I beat a videogame.

If you’re anything like I used to be, that is, letting unplayed or, even worse, unwrapped games sit on the shelf collecting dust, you might understand my current rationale. Seeing those rows and rows of unbeaten games judging me with their resentful eyes made me feel dirty. It made me feel like I was failing at life. “You’re better than that Ryan, don’t let Syphon Filter: Omega Strain beat you,” I used to say. It wasn’t just that dirty feeling that was getting to me, either; the fact that my game experiences were suffering also brought me down. How could I fully appreciate the story arc of a game when I needed to read the cliff notes (game faqs) to get caught back up because it’d been six months since I last popped it in?

These factors forced me to develop a regimen. Like a drill sergeant monitoring his cadets, I managed my videogames individually so I received their maximum effect. At some point during the last generation, I decided I could only play 2-3 story-based games at one time, as well as 1-2 sports/racing games on the side for breathers. I also became more disciplined at just saying “no.” Instead of trying to justify my purchases by suffering through the crap, if a game did little to entertain me I gave it the heave-ho. Soon my stack of 35+ unfinished titles whittled down to 30 … then 20 … then five … and that’s where it has stayed ever since.

I suppose it’s my own fault for letting a hobby bother me, but now that I’ve managed my collection I feel like I’m squeezing the most value out of my games. I’m able to enjoy the experience the developer originally intended for me. That fact alone transcends the importance of a mismanaged collection, since the increase in production values and writing quality has turned games into a more legitimate form of art – an art I love to study and experience. And it’s impossible to study the Mona Lisa looking at only a quarter of the babe’s portrait every six months.