My relationship with games has changed many times throughout my life, but one thing has always remained: approaching them from a completeist point of view. From a juvenile age until early adulthood, I was in a situation where I only got a few recent games a year. Since gaming was my passion, I squeezed every ounce of content out of the game to keep it alive. It started with finding every secret or completing every challenge, to the current tradition of trophy hunting and achievements to achieve “official” 100% completion.
Reflecting on my recent years of gaming – especially in 2024 – I realized that this habit diminishes my enjoyment of gaming rather than enhances it. I have no intention of playing less 2025 Olympics; instead, I want to break the habit of being obligated to finish games and let my time spent with them end naturally.
Watered down memories
I never intended to be a completist. It was something I kind of fell into out of necessity when my gaming options were so restricted and I was desperate for more ways to get any value out of the games I had. It took some creativity before I bought the Xbox 360, but after learning about the achievements (and later the PlayStation trophies), I suddenly had clear goals to achieve. At the time, I was elated to receive recognition and feedback for doing whatever the game asked me to do in some documentary. Like many people, getting 100% or a platinum trophy even became an obsession even though they knew it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
My biggest regret is the effort I put into this pursuit – and it’s not just because I can afford recent games whenever I want. It is because I destroy memories of powerful experiences that I would like them to remain more pristine.
A perfect example of this from 2024 is Final Fantasy VII Rebirth. I’m not unique in how crucial his series was in my life or how much I was looking forward to this chapter in the remake series. However, like many others, I was also concerned about how it would handle the open world. To some extent, these reservations were justified. The main plot – like most of the main side quests – is polished and polished, but filled with “work” in the open world. Climbing towers, completing combat challenges, and scanning locations aren’t offensive in themselves, but they don’t add to my enjoyment either. Everyone adds a tablespoon of water to the broth. By the time I did all of them, I had completely weakened my perception of this adventure.
I don’t want to exaggerate and say that side quests and optional challenges ruined the game for me. They didn’t do it. What I will say is that at best they leave no impression on me and just fill my time. That’s not why I play games.
It’s not a demanding and swift rule like few other things are. The perfect counterpoint came last year: Digital Trends’ game of the year, Astrobot. The path to 100% completion wasn’t bogged down with repetitive sanding or monotonous filling. Each additional challenge either added a fresh experience that was as delightful as the main game or created a sense of joy in what I discovered. A gigantic part of this is because the game is so focused on the razor blade, even if you want to do and see everything. The real difference is what is theoretical; my pleasure with Astrobot it only grew the more I did it.
Not all games will fall on either end of this spectrum. I have to learn to be content with putting the game down and trying out its side content as much as I am doing all or nothing. Even abandoning the game before completing the story is fine. Games serve each of us in different ways, but they are never meant to feel like a chore.
I realize how lucky I am that I can put down a game at any time and pick up another one. This luxury gave me a chance to reflect and realize that I placed more importance on preserving the natural gaming experience than on filling my time. Even if I could only play two or three games this year, I would still choose to exercise restraint and let my experience with them end naturally. This may mean doing everything in the file Astrobot or abandoning it after the first level.
A digital trophy means nothing to me because the flash of dopamine disappears as quickly as the notification on the screen. On the other hand, I will always regret, like my memories Revival they are so heavily sanded Chadley’s activities mindlessly listening to a podcast dedicated to emotional hits and resonant topics that I want to take with me. These are the moments I want to better protect in 2025.
