I only ever play Sly Cooper anymore. It isn’t voluntary, it just kind of…happens. I try to fight it, buy new games with exciting mechanics and shiny next-gen graphics, but I always fall off about halfway through, defeated, and crawl back to Sly Cooper.

Of course I’m being facetious. There are a number of newer games I’ve found the time and dedication to see through to completion, and there are other games from my childhood that still hold occasional allure besides Sly Cooper. But the fact is when I had Doom and Dishonored 2 sitting in front of me this Christmas, both acclaimed games from series and genres I’ve adored in the past, I ultimately spent my holidays huddled under a blanket with a dual-shock 3, running through the HD remaster of Sly 2: band of Thieves.

It could just be nostalgia. The first Sly Cooper was, after all, the first video game I ever played, and the PS2 trilogy was my absolute favorite as a kid. But I still adamantly and abundantly completed new games years after Sly 3 was old news.

Maybe I’m just getting older. As a teenager I had seemingly infinite time to dump into new, untapped games. I was an active hobbyist, devoting every free second to trying the latest additions to the industry. Now that time is just less available, and I’d rather spend what remains on more known quantities.

Or maybe it’s just the best there is for me. The tight platforming, varied gameplay, colorful look and charming writing all built a world I never wanted to leave after entering it as a kid. One by one, all the games I used to love fell softly out of favor, like friends you see less and less, until all that remained was the one friend who always made me smile and never caused me stress.

At the end of the day though, I don’t think it really matters why I keep going back. Around this time of year I tend to get jittery thinking about all the games I didn’t get to play. Game of the year awards remind me that no matter what I do, hundreds of incredible gaming experiences are lost to me. And while that sensation may be strongest in January, it’s a mentality I carry throughout the year.

At some point I think it’s easy for games to become a checklist. We play them because we need to and we need to because they’re good and they’re good because of technical and artistic achievements that are quantified in review scores.

Or, maybe, we just play them because we like them.

The problem with looking at something constantly through an objective critical lens is that it removes the room for subjective enjoyment. I bought Doom because objectively it was supposed to be great, so my gaming experience should be objectively better for playing it. So far I’m enjoying my time with it very much, but that’s not to say it’s superior in some way.

I love the gaming industry, and I love keeping up on what’s new, what’s good, and why the newest craze is so amazing. I also think, however, that in a pastime as linked with debate and critical analysis as gaming, it’s important to take a step back and realize that having fun on a personal level can’t be quantified by a review score or a game of the year award.

There are plenty of reasons I keep going back to Sly Cooper. There are reasonable justification for me putting way more time into a 15 year old series than any of the latest and greatest. But the only justification I really need, even to myself, is that I like it. And that’s enough.