Kotaku: My worst year on earth may well have been 2005. I had gone from a blood-and-guts newspaper writer to headcount hire sitting in a cubicle with nothing to do for weeks on end. I'd once been the coolest guy at the cocktail party, now I was just another stiff with a badge around his neck in the cafeteria. I'd moved from a log cabin in North Carolina to an apartment underneath the flight path of San Jose's airport. I couldn't be in my apartment without headphones on, pumping white noise into my eardrums. I literally went into therapy.
It took a long time to pull out of that funk. I did it with video games. I had a GameFly subscription. There was a GameStop near my work. Sometimes, there'd be a package waiting for me when I got home, postmarked from Denver, with a game sent to me by Brian Crecente, my comrade on the city desk at my old job.
Some were good—many were bad. But they were the games that got me through the worst year of my life.