“You can’t win them all” is one of those platitudes we hear numerous times throughout our lives. In childhood, it’s used as a means of attempting to stop the inevitable crying after we lose a game against a sibling or fail to achieve something we really wanted to achieve. And in adulthood, it’s used in circumstances ranging from the loss of a job to the end of a relationship.

And yet I feel it’s a saying that a lot of people these days seem to have forgotten.

Today I’ve been playing a game called Delicious! Pretty Girls Mahjong Solitaire which, as I said in my writeup on MoeGamer earlier, is exactly what it sounds like. I’ve been having a lot of fun with it; mahjong solitaire is one of those simple-but-challenging things that I find enormously addictive, and Delicious! certainly likes to slap you around a bit with its various tile layouts. But that’s all part of the fun, as is the case with pretty much any non-free-to-play-garbage puzzle game produced since the dawn of computing: the fact that victory always seems attainable, yet is often just beyond your grasp is what makes these experiences so enjoyable, exciting and addictive.

And yet, glancing at the Steam reviews and discussion pages, the most common complaint people seem to have about the game is that “it’s too hard”. The timer’s too quick. The game gives you too many “unwinnable” layouts. In other words, it doesn’t let you win every time. (A similar swathe of criticism was levelled at Frontwing’s excellent ecchi puzzler Purino Party.)

“Victory” is something that people the world over seem to think they have become entitled to, with the fact that whenever you’re doing anything competitive, the possibility of losing is what makes it competitive in the first place. You see it everywhere: in the Delicious! forums, where players complain that they have to keep trying levels until they get it right; in Final Fantasy XIV, where people vote to abandon a duty after the first party wipe rather than helping newcomers or people who aren’t as familiar with the fights; in Overwatch, where someone will rant and rave at their team if they lose, completely ignoring the fact that there’s always the possibility that you are, you know, simply outmatched.

It’s hard to say exactly where this attitude comes from, but it seems firmly ingrained in society now, and repeatedly reinforced by lots of things that we do, particularly online with the growth of “gamification”. “Well done!” everything seems to say, showering you with points, levels and achievements and inevitably begging you to “share” everything on social media. “You used this thing for the thing it was designed to do!”

People often joke about school sports days that don’t have winners any more, but I’ve seen it happen: kids getting “participation trophies” even if they did the bare minimum. I’ve also seen “Celebration Assemblies”, in which children get certificates for everything from getting 100% on a spelling test to — I’m not joking about this — sitting still in their chair for a whole lesson. This continues into adult life, too; at work Christmas parties, there’s the inevitable cringeworthy “awards” ceremony, where whatever “lol, so random” douchebag who organised the whole debacle dishes out a series of completely arbitrary awards to ensure that everyone gets recognised for something, even if that thing is “drinking lots of coffee” or “being able to spell”.

Failure is what makes experiences like games fun and exciting. If you win every time, you devalue the concept of winning until it is completely meaningless, and nothing feels worthwhile any more, which means you start to crave — or expect — more and more positive reinforcement with every passing day, and get annoyed or upset when your every whim isn’t catered to, or things don’t go the way you expect them to.

Me, I’ve had my fair share of failure, but every time I get a TIME’S UP or NO MORE PICK [sic] I just hit the Retry button, give it my best shot and eventually I might actually succeed.

Now, if only it were that easy to pick yourself up and start again after a repeated series of failures in life as well as games.