If the games industry has a 'silly season' – the term usually applies to the idle summer months, when newspapers are filled with all manner of vacuous guff because politicians' palms are greased only by sunscreen, meaning very little 'real' news – then it is surely January.
Here, in the cold, lifeless void after Christmas blockbuster season, where there are fewer game releases than pairs of trousers that still fit you, and where major game companies are in 'lockdown', jealously hoarding secrets to be shared at the giant industry showcases of the spring, we are caught in the limbo of 'rumour and speculation'.
And what fun it is. The console business, since the 8-bit innocence of Atari 2600 and Intellivision in the late '70s, has been a cyclical affair – refreshed, renewed, repackaged and resold every few years as an ever-more potent powerhouse of interactive entertainment.
And within each cycle, gamers have boldly pledged allegiances, nailed colours (from a palette of 128 on the 2600!) to the mast, and urged jihad against non-believers – in the process defining ourselves as fanboys of the Sega, Sony, Nintendo – or, god forbid, some other – variety.
It was ever thus. And remains so today, with the weeping and wailing of millions of delicate, entitled console crybabies clogging up internet forums daily, slagging off each other's systems in spittle-flecked, semi-literate fury. Truly, the "paragon of animals" Hamlet described, "noble in reason" and "infinite in faculties".
What's not to love? And if, like me, you are rather partial to the cut-and-thrust of a bitter, bile-strewn flame war, bear this in mind: the next generation is likely to be the last generation of consoles as we know them.
Imagine that for a moment. No more PlayStation or Xbox under your TV. All games in 'the cloud'. No more shelves proudly lined with Wii-white or Xbox-green cases. Every last pixel of every game you own on a hard drive. Probably run by Amazon on the other side of the planet.
It's coming, like it or not. And for us battle-scarred console war veterans, defined as gamers by the consoles we have owned, loved and defended, it will be a bitter pill to swallow.
But, equally, we must wearily accept that, from the perspective of today's freakishly tech-savvy kids, the question: "Why can't I play Mario on Xbox?" is a piercingly fair one. Why not indeed?
And so to this year's silly season, where speculation this week about the next generation of consoles has been as wild as ever, and the response as predictably apoplectic.
When the vaguest of suggestions that PlayStation 4 might be shown at E3 in June is graced with a categorical denial by Mr PlayStation, you know the fun and games have begun.
But it doesn't get much sillier than this morning's effort, claiming one of the major console makers isn't actually making another console. "Chinny reckon", as we used to say at school.
The truth is, whether professional journalist or passionate gamer with a real job, we love to speculate, second-guess and gossip like smart-arsed armchair executives. It's all part of the experience of technology-driven entertainment – particularly in an industry which has evolved at such an astonishing rate over the past four decades.
It will continue to advance, of course, but not at the same rate or in the same way. If, in your lifetime, you can remember when Pong was cutting-edge, then count yourself lucky: you've experienced first-hand the creation and transformation of a new form of entertainment in a way no future generation will. It's a bit like (I can only imagine, alas) growing up with The Beatles.
If you want an idea of how boring it's all going to become, look at the smartphone market, specifically Apple. Gosh, I love my iPhone and my iPad, but I also know, give or take a few months, when the next one is going to arrive. And because – unlike consoles - they're updated every year, there are relatively few giant leaps to be enjoyed.
Games will continue to improve and astound creatively and artistically, of that there is no doubt. But the history of video games to this point is one defined by the (often severe) limits of technology. The more those limits are relaxed, the less everyone will obsess over matters of hardware and horsepower.
A good thing, undoubtedly, that will free up creators to focus on the business of creating - but as a spectator sport it'll be about as exciting as rugby.
So, by all means, be thrilled for the games that lie in the future – but mourn, too, the looming demise of the box under your TV and all that entails. We'll miss them when they're gone.
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