No matter what we play, from realistic military shooters to artsy-farsty indie games, there’s one unifying element to a surprising number of games we enjoy. It’s not the ability to save the world or be heroic. Actually, it’s the opposite: the ability to be a jerk. Sometimes, it’s just the nature of the video game you’re playing, since it will ask you to do things you’d never do in real life. Other times, it’s all on you, the player.

Being rude can be fun if you’re not actually hurting anybody, and especially if you have the confidence of knowing that’s not what you’re really like. Here’s a list of eight games we can’t help but be awful human beings in--you might be surprised to find that things you thought were innocent are terrible if you stop and think about it.

Just because staying in one place to prey on poor, (mostly) innocent folk who sometimes can’t fight back is a valid strategy, doesn’t make you any less of a jerk for doing it. Think about it: Nobody likes it when a cop car hides out of sight, just waiting for speeding cars to pass by. You shouldn’t be speeding, but you should exhibit good sportsmanship while playing a game--else, what is the point? You’ll rack up your kills, but everyone else has less fun for it. Alas, the K/D must be honored above all else. You can’t blame anyone for doing everything in their power to win.

Diablo has a way of making it feel good to perform even the most basic skills. We attribute most of the feeling of gratification to the sound design, which makes everything feel crunchy. It’s done so well that you’ll find yourself destroying everything around you, just to keep experiencing awesome sensations for as long as you can. Barrels? Clay pots? Carefully placed logs? Rocks? Gone, bye-bye. We can’t even say we break everything because there might be something hidden. There’s often nothing there in Diablo III--not that it matters. Actually, sometimes there’s something there trying to hit us back. Hmm...

Some see Skyrim as a playground for fantastical adventure. Others see an endless array of objects that nobody will miss or need. We don’t even need to call it “stealing,” because that sounds too evil. Let’s go with “purloined,” which sounds fancier and more dignified. Robin Hood might even say we’re “liberating” these items. Some people have power fantasies that involve conflict and violence, but there’s also thrill to be found in playing a sneaky kleptomaniac character. Trying to nab as much as you can before a character has you in their field of vision is deliciously tense. Plus, it’s difficult to resist indulging in stealing when it’s so beneficial to you, it’s easy to do, and there are negligible consequences for getting caught--compared to real life, anyway.

We’ve all probably met or heard of that creepy kid that plays with toys in a downright sinister way--like Sid in Toy Story. It’s unsettling because we fear it might reflect something about the person doing it. If you’ve ever played The Sims, it’s likely that you’ve pulled out your inner Sid without realizing it. You have the power of a god who can use and abuse people however you’d like. Who can resist the temptation or locking a digital Lilliputian in a doorless room, with nary a bathroom in sight? It’s like a more advanced way of playing with dolls, only the dolls have an iota of autonomy and you can’t always tell what’s going to happen if you mess with something. Sounds like the perfect premise for malicious fun to us.

So you’ve got an entire city at your disposal, an arsenal of dangerous weapons, and you can steal any vehicle you’d like. What else is there to do but to cause a ridiculous commotion? This is the reason that Grand Theft Auto truly caught on, as it gives people a sandbox in which to let loose in between missions. The possibilities are endless, and the value we see in choice cannot be understated when it comes to games. If that freedom means giving us more options to have cause a mindless ruckus, then all the better: It becomes a matter of seeing how far the game allows you to go in situations you’d never actually be able to experience. Like, you know, firing rockets at police helicopters.

Consider this: A talented creative writer spends hours, days, maybe even weeks, crafting an intricate dialogue tree, one that, in a relatable way, explores the human condition, the depth of emotion, the travails of life. And then you, the player, giving approximately zero damns about any of that noise. In World of Warcraft, you’ll speak to hundreds of characters and just hammer through the quest dialogue, only to run off and kill, what, 10 kobolds?. And then you return, hand outstretched looking for a few XP points and some change. Do you realize what that can do to a poor creative’s sanity? His sense of self-worth? Yes, of course you do. But until games are sophisticated enough to relay a human being in all their complicated, nuanced glory, it’ll be difficult to stop treating these quest-givers like tools.

We’re no strangers to murder in games--violence is an easy conflict for designers to simulate. We’re often given a myriad of ways to kill people in games, because that keeps things interesting. However, few games actively encourage and reward you for being creative in how you dispose of enemies; fewer games ask you to revel in your cruelty. But Bulletstorm flies in the face of all these boring norms. Thanks to its skillshot system, which gives you more points for elaborate kills, you’re practically no different than The Jigsaw Killer from Saw movies. At least he did it to teach people a lesson, not just because of a high score. What Bulletstorm reveals, though, is that we can be manipulated into doing anything if the mechanics are designed in the right way. Scary.

Every new Xbox 360 comes packaged with a controller and a headset, meaning, if you hop online, you have the means to communicate with everyone else. They say that anonymity, distance and lack of consequences can turn anybody into a jerk, but the way gloating and smack talk happens in Halo is special. Players sometimes like to crouch repeatedly on defeated foes--you may know this as "teabagging," but some of us know it as being a real bastard. Teabagging is like the digital equivalent of dancing at the endzone after a touchdown. Sure, it’s more aggressive, but that makes sense: We’re duking it out with guns in Halo, not bodies! Plus, it's difficult not to get sucked into the practice if the people you're playing with like to teabag endlessly. Intense matches can see even the saintliest of players getting down and dirty out of frustration. When teabagging the perfect universal sign for “you suck,” chances are we’ll never stop doing it. But you know what they say, “When in Rome...”

We’d like to believe that most of us are actually well-meaning human beings, but the things we like to do in games doesn’t always reflect that. This is but a small list of things that we do which makes us seem like jerks in games. There’s also stuff like treating companions like pack mules in Fallout New Vegas, practicing eugenics in Pokemon, and probably a million other things we can’t think of without throwing our humanity to the wind. So tell us, dear reader: What are some ways in which you’ve been less than a model citizen in a game? We promise we won’t judge you too hard for it.