Trophy Life
'Achievements'. 'Trophies'. 'Look-at-me coupons'. Call them what you will, optional in-game accolades are here to stay. And my my, are they big business, not just adding new challenges to games, but changing the whole culture of how some of us play them. When dealing with the uninitiated, describing the giddy thrill of unlocking these largely meaningless honours is a lot like trying to tell a blind man which part of the modern art exhibit sucks the least. You really need to experience it for yourself. But there's much more nuance to this stuff than just collecting a bunch of McGuffins or killing a hard thing in Hard mode.
The 'Say No to Multiplayer' guy
Maxing out a game's entire suite of accolades has always been a tall order, but making multiplayer mode compulsory? Now that's just downright sadistic--a bit like filling in a big sticker book, only to be told that the final shiny exists on the moon. Bugger...It goes without saying that some folks simply don't enjoy the juvenile detention centre-theatrics of the online hub, so why force them on there at all? Why, to get more people playing of course--to cajole, kick and prod these smelly, sheltered hermits into enjoying a wide, open world of possibi...and there's absolutely no one else here, is there?
The Easy Hoarder
Despite their immense popularity, top trophy brokers--i.e MS, Sony and Steam--can actually be surprisingly lax at policing their own tasks. While most titles are content to offer a fair spread of challenge, from the 'breathe in easy' to the 'mental breakdown hard', some cheap and cheerless titles will opt instead to offer a whole host of pointless, tacked-on missions. Games like Avatar: The Burning Earth are well known for allowing gamers to accrue an easy 1000G in just over two minutes. Others, including Peter Jackson's King Kong, require only that the player complete the game, effectively giving up the goods faster than a junkie at a police-dog convention.
The Intrepid Collector
"What does it profit a man if he gains many an Achievement, but loses his soul?" Yknow, aside from all of those neat 'paaallop'/ 'schwiiing' sound effects? Shouldn't one tough Trophy outweigh a thousand 'thanks for playing' accolades, or the very mention of a 'Mile High Club' be enough to eat out on? Ahem That's the thinking behind the 'Intrepid Collector', a rare breed of trophy hunter more interested in his or her own glorious, battle-hardened reputation than with a stockpile of points.
The Nearly Man
Have you ever come within spitting distance of success, only to suffer spontaneous dry mouth? Or squished yourself up against gaming's glass ceiling for a good, sad-eyed gander? How about a road race--have you ever, I don't know, come second in one of those? Oh, you have? Then you'll know exactly how this next entrant feels. Contrary to what the title may imply, 'the Nearly Man' is not so much the result of a failed gender experiment as he is a born silver medalist. That is to say, pretty slick by most folks' standards, though not quite Cheerios' box material.
The selfish multiplayer gamer
Don't you just love it when a game's designers choose to include a silly trophy or two? Something asinine or childish. A completely throwaway act, like shooting the moon or hurling yourself off of a 60-story building. Good times. Shame about all the pedestrians though Sadly, this spirit of suicidal amusement doesn't translate all that well online. At least not where the virtual squaddies of the 'single-minded MP player' are concerned.
The Organiser
Everyone has that one smug, ultra-punchable buddy who just lucks his way to tricky achievements. You dominated the race, crushed the competition and laid the smacketh down, but Billy? Billy blew himself up with a stack of semtex and caught Ed Boon and Cliffy B in the blast--so guess who's going home with that uber-rare dev-besting achievement?
The Dead-Inside Grinder
Who'd have thought that a system of optional accolades would prove so darn popular, let alone lead to a crazed competition between players? For some, the thrill of collection can take on a rather obsessive edge, turning fun-filled challenges into obligatory clock-punching chores. It's ironic, really, when you consider just how similar it is to a workplace targets system. Both can be bland, boring and provide little-to-no real benefit to your work. You leave the RL office only to spend the entire evening running errands for a new and virtual boss, named Galgor, or 'Villager 3'. George Orwell would be proud. Or terrified, I forget which.
