#oneaday Day 916: You Have Earned a Trophy

I go back and forth on whether or not I like Achievements/Trophies/equivalents. Sometimes I like them. In Diablo III, for example, they became an addictive metagame once you’d ploughed your way through the main (rather predictable and marginally disappointing) story. In World of Warcraft, they provide a wide variety of things to do that reward you with tangible things with which to outfit your character. In The Secret World, they’re a handy way of tracking what you have and haven’t done.

But in other cases — typically in story-heavy games — they just make the sense of ludonarrative dissonance even more pronounced than it needs to be. The most egregious example I can think of was Oblivion, in which I raced through the various Guild questlines in order to get all the achievements, then the Shivering Isles expansion, then the main quest. By the end, I had all Oblivion’s achievements, but had completely lost all sense of that thing that made The Elder Scrolls series special — that sense of you being a character and forging your own path in the world as if you “lived” there. Instead, all I had done was follow a checklist. It ruined it. And it soured me on Skyrim somewhat. (Well, that and the realisation that Bethesda RPGs have great worlds but some of the worst characters and storytelling in all of gaming. But that’s another matter altogether.)

At the moment, I’m playing Yakuza 3. The joy of the Yakuza series is, like its spiritual predecessor Shenmue, exploration and discovery giving you a sense of immersion in the game world. What’s down this side alley? Oh, it’s an arcade! I wonder if I can play the arcade machine? Oh, I can! That’s kinda cool. I wonder if the crane game works? Yes it does! Awesome! Oh, hey, there’s an irritable-looking lady, I wonder what’s wrong with her? Oh, she’s had her bag snatched… etc. etc.

Since Yakuza 2, the series has had a “completion” menu that taunts players with how many sidequests they’ve completed, how many cabaret girls they’ve romanced and what foods they’ve eaten in restaurants. After 40 hours of Yakuza 2, I had beaten the main plot but apparently only “beaten” 33% of the game. I didn’t feel short-changed, as a lot of the stuff I’d missed was simply eating as much food as possible and playing some minigames that, while fun, weren’t the reason I was playing Yakuza.

Yakuza 3 compounds this problem with a Trophy list. Not only do you have a “completion” menu now, but you also have an actual checklist of Things to Do. I wouldn’t mind so much if these trophies simply tracked your progress through the game, but when they demand that you spend time playing indecipherable Japanese board, dice and card games in order to score some sort of virtual trophy, that pulls me right out of the experience. It puts me in a quandary while I’m playing — “should I go and do this stuff I don’t really enjoy just to get a trophy?”

The answer, of course, is “no”. There is no sense in playing a game if it’s not enjoyable — unless, of course, it’s something like Pathologic, in which case its sole reason for being is to be less than enjoyable — but I continually see people who insist on “Platinuming” or “1000Ging” their games and feeling like they’ve short-changed themselves if they don’t. That’s fair enough, and of course it’s their call if they choose to do that, but the fact is that in most cases, it becomes abundantly clear that these people are not having any fun. By following these arbitrary checklists, they are voluntarily sucking the fun out of a game that might have been a favourite.

“Oh, but chasing the trophy list is fun in itself,” you might say. And for some people it might be. But for the trophy whores I follow online — who, for all I know, could be in the minority, I’ll admit — pretty much every single one refers to their relentless pursuit of Platinum/1000G as “work”, a “slog”, a “grind”, and they express relief rather than joy when it’s done. That, to me, is just bizarre. Why continue doing something long after it has ceased to be fun in the pursuit of something intangible that, in most cases, doesn’t benefit your in-game experience at all? Are we so vain that we need to brag about the fact that we started ten fights in first-person mode (an actual achievement in Yakuza 3) or that we spent three hours mastering an ultimately-irrelevant darts minigame just so that we could get a “hat trick” (another actual Yakuza 3 achievement)?

Apparently we are. I’m not judging you if you’re one of those people who likes (if that’s the right word) chasing Platinum trophies. I’m saying that I find it completely unfathomable. I have no desire to grind my way through abject tedium purely so I can get a differently-coloured virtual trophy that no-one will look at or care about. I don’t beat a game, look at that trophy list and feel I’ve not had my money’s worth if I haven’t got 100% of the game’s trophies. I beat a game, roll the credits and then, in most cases, move on to any one of the bajillion other titles waiting on my Pile of Shame — which, I have to admit, has only got bigger during the recent Steam summer sale.

It’s easy enough to ignore Achievements and Trophies, I guess, and they certainly don’t hurt anyone. But I kind of resent the “torn” feeling they give me when playing a title like Yakuza 3. I’d much rather they not be there at all than pull me out of the experience by making me wonder whether or not I should be seeking out locker keys, cabaret girls, karaoke bars, dartboards… you get the idea.

My favourite implementation of achievements in a narrative-based game? Deadly Premonition, which rewarded you with one achievement per completed chapter, one for completing 100% of its sidequests and one for completing it on each difficulty level. That’s how it’s done. I don’t need any more incentive than that. Build your reward structure into the game and build the achievements around that — don’t give me a list of arbitrary objectives that don’t actually improve my game experience at all.

Achievement whores, I salute you. I’m a patient sort of guy in most cases, but you guys must be like saints.

#oneaday, Day 320: Achievement Locked

I’ve just done something I haven’t done for a while. I’ve beaten a game with no Achievements. No, I don’t mean that I played the game so terribly that I didn’t get any Achievements (I don’t think there’s a single Achievement-supporting game out there that will allow you to do that)—I mean I started, played, enjoyed and beat a game which did not support Achievements of any kind, be they Steam Achievements, Xbox Achievements, PSN Trophies or a built-in Achievement-like system.

Said game was Recettear: An Item Shop’s Tale, which I enthused about at some length a few days ago. I beat it tonight, but there’s a load of stuff after the ending, too, so this isn’t the end of my time with the game. I am, however, glad that there were no Achievements along the way.

Achievements are generally considered to be a good thing. And for some games, they are. Freeform games like Crackdown use Achievements to encourage players to try crazy things that they might not have thought to do otherwise. Skill-based games like Geometry Wars use Achievements to display player skill. But when you get into the territory of “Fire your gun 500 times”, you know it’s getting a bit silly.

I played Oblivion a while back and greatly enjoyed it. I got all 1250 Achievement points in it. The thing is, though, that wasn’t the whole game. There are tons of sidequests in Oblivion which don’t have associated Achievements. How many people do you think bothered to do them? Not many, I’d wager.

Achievements often direct your experience and encourage you to play in a specific way. For some types of game, that is good. In others, it’s not. Part of the joy of Recettear is the discovery of how different things in the game work. Over time, you naturally figure out which customers you can get away with charging a bit more to, which ones will come in at what times of the day, which products appeal to which people and all manner of other things. Even the adventurer characters you can take into the dungeons have their own individual quirks for you to learn. As soon as you add Achievements like “Sell 20 Baked Yams” to that mix, you start playing differently in order to get that Achievement. You start focusing on becoming the best damn Baked Yams supplier there ever was, to the exclusion of more profitable things like treasure and adventuring equipment.

Achievements are, on balance, a good idea, I think. They provide an additional reward mechanic above and beyond that which the game should be offering anyway. But it’s when they start to take over, to become the most important reward mechanic—more than the inherent rewards built into the game itself—that things aren’t quite right with the world. It’s a fine line, and I don’t think making the support of Achievements mandatory is the correct way to be. Or if there’s no way around that, let’s see more games like DEADLY PREMONITION, which simply has an Achievement for beating each chapter, one for each difficulty level and one for 100%ing the game. Nothing more. Nothing more needed. Even then, I’m pretty sure there will be at least one person out there who will go back and replay the whole game just to get all three difficulty level Achievements. That shouldn’t be why you replay DEADLY PREMONITION. You should replay it because it’s awesome.

So, anyway. Don’t be afraid to pick up a game with no Achievements. You might be surprised. Games can be fun without having to tell you how awesome you are every ten minutes.

On Evil

After completing Fallout 3 recently, I suddenly had a hankering to return to Oblivion, a game I hadn’t played for well over a year. Fallout had tickled my free-roaming Western RPG bone (if there is such a thing, and I don’t invite you to postulate where it might be in the comments) and I wanted more.

Oblivion is one of those RPGs I’ve started at least ten times with different characters to experiment with different things. The thing I’ve really liked about it every time I’ve played it is that each time I emerge from those Imperial sewers I can wander off in a different direction and do something completely different. One time I went straight for the main quest (and didn’t finish it). One time I headed straight for the Arena in the Imperial City to kick some ass (bare-handed on that occasion, that was an entertaining challenge). One time I headed for the Mages’ Guild and took that questline to its conclusion. Yet another time I decided to explore the dungeons scattered around the landscape, simply to acquire as much loot as possible.

But there’s one thing that all these trips into the wilderness had in common – they all involved me being “good”. Not once did I veer towards the dark side, bad Jedi, Renegade, negative reputation, whatever you want to call it. I always do this. In any game that promises “moral choices” I inevitably end up playing the “good guy” because, at heart, despite my grumpy old man persona, I’m a good guy. I even did this in Fallout 3, where it’s kind of “all right” to be a bit of a bastard because, well, everyone else is.

Not this time, though. I decided that this time was going to be the time I went very, very bad in Oblivion.

I started by hunting down the Gray Fox to start the Thieves’ Guild questline, which I promptly made my way through. For those of you unfamiliar with it (and be aware there are spoilers ahead) this sequence of quests takes you from lowly burglar up to an extremely high-profile thief, culminating in you stealing one of the series’ titual Elder Scrolls from the Imperial Palace. By the time you’ve pulled this off, if you’re anything like me, you feel like you’re a badass thief, but you also feel faintly bad for taking advantage of the blind monks you stole it from.

This is nothing – nothing – compared to how sullied you feel after completing the Dark Brotherhood questline, however.

The Dark Brotherhood come to you in your sleep after you commit your first unprovoked murder in the game. In my case, this happened as part of a sidequest I happened to be completing at the time. I had two possible solutions to the quest, which essentially revolved around a captured bandit and his lover having a disagreement. My choices were to either betray the bandit or his lover. I elected to betray his lover, who had put across the impression of being something of a heartless bitch anyway, and after all, honour among thieves and all that.

Actually, “betray” doesn’t quite sum up what I did to her. I broke back into her house while she was sleeping and shot her in the head with a magic arrow, which exploded and sent her flying, smacking straight into her ceiling before collapsing in a crumpled heap in front of her fireplace. This spectacle was faintly amusing, as ragdoll physics deaths are often wont to be, but the ominous words across the top of the screen “Your murder has been witnessed by forces unknown…” sent a slight chill down my spine. Sure, I’d stolen stuff before, but the Thieves’ Guild questline had felt faintly “Robin Hood”-ish. This was getting into full-on evil territory now, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

I also wasn’t sure I liked it when a mysterious robed gentleman visited me while I was sleeping off a level gain and offering me membership in the Dark Brotherhood conditional on my murdering an old, helpless man named Rufio.

In for a penny, in for a pound. I killed Rufio and thus began my run through what many believe to be Oblivion’s best questline. The Dark Brotherhood storyline is a tale of murder, betrayal and vengeance filled with a lot of violence and some excellent plot twists, some of which are left for the player to interpret themselves, which is a touch I really liked. For example, one late quest in the sequence has you picking up a series of “dead drop” orders containing the names and locations of people for you to assassinate. Now, you can blindly continue through this sequence of assassinations by simply following your quest log’s instructions – but if you actually look at the dead drop items in your inventory, you may spot that at a certain point, the “handwriting” that the notes are written in changes. At the time, I simply figured this to be some variation or inconsistency in the presentation but it actually turned out to be an extremely pertinent piece of information.

I had a massive amount of fun with the Dark Brotherhood questline but, as I say, it left me feeling faintly soiled. The experience I had, though, plus the fact that it had an actual emotional impact on me – arguably a more powerful emotional impact than a “good” questline – makes me more inclined to check out more “evil” options in other games from the outset. I know I’m certainly keen to try Fallout again as a more “evil” character in the future, if only because Fallout makes a big deal of the fact that your choices are supposed to have pretty major consequences later in the game. I’m yet to see if this actually is the case, but I’m certainly interested to find out.

Now, of course, my Oblivion character is on a quest for redemption. Wish her luck.