Read those and you'll hear about big budget flops such as The Order: 1886, disappointing performances from online-only shooters such as Evolve, Konami doing its best to destroy the goodwill of its customer base, the sad passing of Nintendo's Satoru Iwata, and - if they're chronically off-message - the disappointing waft of nothing that was Halo 5.
You might also hear less miserable news about a Final Fantasy VII remake, Shenmue 3, the well-received relaunch of Destiny, and the approaching rumble of a 2016 Virtual Reality bandwagon.
Narrow the focus to my own POV, and I had a bit of an awakening in 2015. It was my first full year writing about games in a very long time, and I engaged with the games industry in the way I hadn't for the best part of a decade. What had changed about the industry in the time I was away? Oddly... not a lot. Me, on the other hand... me change much-much.
I spent a lot of the past year whinging about being disappointed by games. Having had a bit of time off to reflect, I think I know why I was left feeling so bereft.
See, I entered 2015 expecting to like the same sorts of things I had always liked in games. And to a point I did. But in much the same way that, as I've gotten older, I've come to crave richer, deeper, more personal connection in my relationships, so too have I found myself seeking the same in video games. And I hadn't been braced for that.
I was left confused when I found it impossible to engage with something like Halo 5 in anything but a superficial way. But then, Halo 5 is all surface - the depth simply isn't there. It's like having a friend who just wants to go out and get drunk and party, rather than sit and talk about stuff that matters to each of you. It's a game that makes a lot of noise without saying anything of consequence.
At some point, living a superficial life ceases to be enough. Don't get me wrong - sometimes all you want to do is blow shit up... but too much of that, and it just gets boring, hollow, repetitious. It doesn't reward the soul.
Something like The Witcher III might've been full of content, but its world, story and characters didn't feel like they had an atom of originality about them. It was trying too hard to be something else, to matter; where Tolkien might've drawn from his own experiences, Witcher III drew from Tolkien. Like sitting in the pub with someone who recycles all their opinions from Dawkins, or Chomsky, or... whomever, without thinking for his or herself, you're not having an authentic experience.
After a lot of this, I started to realise that big budget gaming might not be for me. I appreciate the pyrotechnics that only the big, big games can offer, and Nintendo rarely disappointed - when they deigned to put out a game. But it seems that triple-AAA games can't offer me the depth of idiosyncrasy, individuality, and originality that I seem to need from games these days.
My game of this Christmas - the one that from now on I'll always associate with Christmas 2015 - was Broforce.
I'd missed it upon release - hamstrung by a buggered laptop - but it sort of summed up the way I've increasingly been leaning this year.
It's a game full of those pyrotechnics, but it's also eccentric and singular. You get the sense of a focused vision behind it, rather than a committee. It is exactly what I want; it's authentic.
Her Story, 80 Days, Broken Age, Not a Hero, Lara Croft Go, Downwell, Undertale, The Beginner's Guide... these were my games of this year. Short and sweet for the most part, they evoke the ingenuity that could be found back in the bedroom coder days.
They're the sorts of games which made me first fall in love with games as a kid. When something like Jet Set Willy could only have been the product of a single mind. Games that are individual enough that I could have a connection with them, rather than feel like I was having a conversation with 400 different people at once.
And armed with this knowledge of what I need from video games, I'm entering 2016 with a very different outlook. I'm not always going to blame the big budget games for not giving me what I want: they have a purpose to serve, and it's hardly their fault for not knowing what I need.
Instead, I'll take on the responsibility myself: the industry is now big enough and diverse enough that those singular visions are out there. That there are games with which I can build deeper, more personal, more authentic, relationships. It's up to me to see them out.
FROM THE ARCHIVE:
GAMES OF MY YEARS - The Digitiser Story by Mr Biffo
VIDEO GAMES: A REFLECTION OF TERROR by Mr Biffo
SCAREMONGERING: DOES THE GAMES INDUSTRY BRING IT UPON ITSELF? by Mr Biffo