It had to happen sooner or later. As of last night, Ray Cox IV, also known as Stallion83 on Xbox Live, became the certified Guardian Spirit of Achievements after hitting exactly 1,000,000 points worth of Gamerscore. People watched it happen live on Twitch, bearing witness to the realization of a goal Cox set for himself eight years ago. And while I'm in awe of his personal achievement, I'm fascinated by what kind of existential crisis Cox could be going through right now.
Since hitting the one-milly mark, Cox's Gamerscore hasn't budged. Of the 1,580 games he played to get there, Cox fully completed a mere 79 percent of them (I'm joking--about the "mere," that is). Cox could ostensibly keep his Guinness World Record tally going, booting up such gems as Zumba Kids, Farming Simulator, or Disney Little Mermaid (all of which are in his play history) to snag even more easy Achievements. But as of this writing, Cox's Gamerscore still sits comfortably at a clean 1,000,000.
Does he dare go on? How could he? Besides making headlines, Cox seems to have nothing to monetarily or physically gain from his accomplishment. Yes, there is the almost transcendent satisfaction of succeeding at something you set out to do eight years ago. But those are eight years you can never get back, and all you have to show for it is a green number on your TV screen. Cox can relish the fact that he is now number one in the world when it comes to Gamerscore--but that supremacy can't last forever.
Unless, that is, Cox devotes even more of his life to staying ahead in the struggle for Gamerscore dominance--user smrnov is hot on his heels with 938,395 points. This would be, objectively, a most depressing waste of a human existence. Where does one stop? Two million Gamerscore? Fifty million? One billion? In that instance, Cox would've sold his soul to the Xbox brand, forced to unendingly dedicate himself to Xbox consoles and games until the day he died a sad, unfulfilled death.
I'm excited to see what's next for the Stallion83 account, because it feels like anything can happen. Cox--and the very concept of Gamerscore that he now stands for--can either ride proudly into the sunset that is retirement, or stagger on like a slave to an all-but-meaningless number. Or perhaps Cox will achieve Internet fame, his Achievement achievement commemorated and his account immortalized through some kind of promotion. When most people take eight years to do something, they have a Master's Degree or a PhD and a stable future to show for it. At the moment, Cox's path forward following his eight year ordeal is enthrallingly unclear.
