The original Nintendo Entertainment System barreled into my life one Christmas like the Kool-Aid Man. My six-year-old brain was overloaded by the surge of expectant excitement fulfilled. The explosion of ecstasy certainly let my parents know they had nailed their Christmas shopping.

Video games have been a staple for me ever since. Growing up, I relied on my parents to purchase new games or take me to the video store for a rental. Once I started making adult money, which seemingly aligned with endless sales providing massive discounts on delectable titles, my collection bloomed. As with most things, however, there can be “too much”. Making adult money means I had reached adulthood which means I had adult responsibilities. I could have all the games I wanted but the time to only play a few. The flow of new and tempting releases never ebbed. After a short time, I developed the formation familiar to most gamers of a certain age – I had a backlog.

A backlog, as defined by Merriam-Webster, is an accumulation of tasks not performed or materials not processed. Video game backlogs are that and more. They are unfulfilled promises, missed experiences, and wasted money. Backlogs loom over gamers as a weight on their shoulders, always rasping in their ears, “Why are looking at that new game when you have so many of me to play? Remember Killzone 2 from a generation ago? I found it here on your shelf still wearing the plastic wrap. It wants to be free. Free ussssssssss.” Perhaps my backlog is possessed, but regardless, the presence adds stress to an activity that should be an immersive, fun, escape. The time has come to change my situation. I gave the beast life, and I must take it away.

With Backlog BBQ, I intend to be more purposeful in my video game playing. More time will not suddenly appear in my life, so I need to make the most of the time I have. The next generation of consoles looms on the horizon. There can no longer be month-long detours into Destiny or Call of Duty. I have unplayed or partially played games spanning platforms and generations. It is time they received some love. The money spent on their purchase will never be recouped, but the lost experiences can be found while the unfulfilled promise to play can be satisfied. To remain accountable to myself and my library of neglected pixels, I will report on my progress. Playing video games is not a noble pursuit, but for me it is a necessary one.

Marvel’s Spider-Man is first on the grill.