Level 3: Loss, Like in a Country & Western Song
This is the one that really hurts. Not like, "Oh, that sucks, can I make that a venti -- that's the big cup, right?" but the kind of hurt that lingers for years, like when a girlfriend leaves you for another woman. The kind of hurt that makes you hate capitalism. After all, it's usually money (either a lack of it or corporate greed) that snuffs out a developer. Sometimes, developers deserve to go away. Sorry, 3DO, but no one misses crappy Army Men games. That isn't a loss that makes a fist in your gut every time you think of it.
Example: Smilebit
If you ever huffed and puffed and said, "Oh, there are no original ideas in gaming," it's probably because you didn't go out and buy ten copies of Jet Set Radio Future. Had you, then maybe SEGA wouldn't have squashed its best studio and dispersed it into the nether regions to crap out Sonic games.
Ah, but we'll get to the cruel fate of Smilebit soon enough. First, a history lesson. Why did these guys matter? They made games no one else would ever dream up. And, sadly, the poor sales of Smilebit's titles (nothing cracked 500,000, according to my culling through NPD data) proved that publishers were better off farting out carbon copies of games than to take risks on projects that probably frightened the average person. I'm convinced Gunvalkyrie caused at least five gamers to order exorcisms of their Xboxes.

Exhibit B: Panzer Dragoon Orta. The greatest on-rails shooter ever made, this Xbox 1 game is still beautiful. In fact, the next time I see another brown blobby mess of a game, I am going to make the developer play Panzer for 20 minutes so they can see that a game built on ancient technology (I believe the Mayans developed for Xbox 1) outshines their graphical turd.
The old complaint that games are "too short" is disproven with Panzer. Short? Very. You can beat it in two hours (unless you are a certain IGN competitor, who thought the game was way too hard -- not pointing fingers, but hey, if you suck at games, get out of the room already). It's a game with immeasurable replay value, loads of unlockables and that rare "arcade" quality that makes you want to keep plunking in quarters. Except, it's a console game, so the quarters aren't real and therefore your $50 investment makes you look like an economic genius. (Note to young readers: Games used to cost less, but then publishers realized we were idiots and would gladly pay more money to shoot stuff).
Exhibit C: Gunvalkyrie. Might be the hardest game on the original Xbox. But boy was it something special. You had to do these crazy dual-analog moves to boost in the air and then chain those together to properly dodge or get anywhere, really. It was a killer on your thumbs, but it was a good kind of pain. It also has one of the freakiest (and impossible) final bosses of all time. A giant baby head with metal razor wings. Innovation!

The team was transformed into SEGA Sports R&D Department (makers of Mario & Sonic Prove the Olympics are Obsolete) with some members moving to Amusement Vision (creators of the Yakuza series) and others absorbed into Sonic Team (makers of numerous "why the eff don't they make a great Sonic game already" titles). And some disappeared from SEGA altogether. I like to imagine someone at Smilebit tried to correct the mistakes of the past, detonated a nuclear device in the middle of a massive electromagnetic phenomenon and are currently trapped in the '60s. (That's a Lost reference. Get used to 'em. I love that show.)
End result: It does little good to beg, plead or hope for another Jet Set Radio or Panzer game, because the team has been smashed to pieces. Who exactly would make this game? Even Yakuza, which is a pretty good series, is no Jet Set or Panzer. Saying that Smilebit is somehow still around is like saying Little Red Riding Hood is still worth dating after being swallowed by the wolf. Once your girlfriend is in a wolf's digestive tract, it's over.
Losing Smilebit hurt me a lot. It was the final nail in my SEGA fanboy coffin. The kid who loved the Genesis and Dreamcast more than any other systems lost the last remaining SEGA joy he knew. (Yeah, I just went third-person on this piece!)
Smilebit died and so did a small part of gaming's soul.
So to those who were hurt by the death of a studio (maybe you even cried a little), know that others feel your pain. You hurt because you lost something important. Hell, gaming lost something important. I can't answer for you which studio closures reached which level on the grief scale for you, but if you're any kind of gamer, you've experienced all three.
Pour one out for Smilebit. Then pour one for me. It's quittin' time.