The Game Boy: Game Endings Aren't Bad – They're Just Misunderstood

Elsewhere, on gaming's less traditional fringes, we find a coin with two incredibly disparate sides: 1) endings that only occur precisely when the player's ready and 2) endings that give the player no control whatsoever. The former happens all the time – though admittedly in all sorts very different forms.
If you've ever unsubscribed from an MMO, for instance, that's about as close to a final act as you're liable to get without a post-credit scene where Samuel L. Jackson asks you to join The Avengers. I mean, when I quit World of Warcraft after years of play to focus on college, I bid farewell to a place, group of people, and portion of my life I'd really come to love. It signaled an end to far more than a simple piece of escapist entertainment for me. Honestly, at that point in my life, it was one of the more intensely personal things I'd ever done.
On a somewhat similar note, I highly recommend that you read the final entry in Brendan Keogh's Toward Dawn Minecraft blog series. After spending more than a year chronicling his adventures in a single Minecraft world, Keogh decided to hang up his pick axe and settle down once and for all. I won't butcher the piece (which, again, I can't recommend enough) here, but the point remains the same: when we find games that really resonate with us on a personal level, they have a way of lingering – clinging to our skin and hair and the undersides of our fingernails until we scrub them away, only to feel oddly naked without them.
The latter of the previous two categories, meanwhile, is still pretty small, but experimental darlings Passage and The Graveyard both focus on death by natural causes. In doing so, both make interesting (if short-lived and minimalistic) points about mortality and the frail nature of relationships, but imagine if that limit were applied to something slightly more robust. Shooter, adventure, MMO, something entirely new – it doesn't matter. In each case, every second would count. Tick-tock-tick-tock. Death's right around the corner.
Games have taught us to treat death as a minor setback, so what happens when it's a foregone conclusion – or rather, the forgone conclusion? Decisions can't be taken back. How do you spend the minutes, hours, months, or even years until your character wastes away? Do you seek out unlimited power, weave your social threads into a comforting social sweater, or explore until your heart's content/has an attack? Do you try to do everything?
I guess what I'm saying is, do you waste your time on web forums complaining about crappy videogame endings? Or do you cherish the great ones and marvel at how lucky you were to get the chance to experience them?