My relationship with games has changed many times over my lifetime, but one constant has always been how I approached them from a completionist standpoint. From my younger years all the way through to young adulthood, I have been in a position where I only got a couple of new games a year. Because gaming was my passion, I would squeeze every ounce of content out of a game to make it last. That started out as things like finding every secret or completing every challenge, to the modern tradition of Trophy and Achievement hunting for an “official” 100% completion.
Reflecting on my last few years of gaming — especially in 2024 — I have realized that this habit is diluting my enjoyment with gaming rather than strengthening it. I don’t intend on playing fewer games in 2025; instead I want to break my habit of feeling so obligated to complete games and let my time with them end naturally.
Watered-down memories
I never intended to be a completionist. It was something I sort of fell into out of necessity when my gaming options were so limited and I was desperate for more ways to get any kind of mileage out of the games I had. That took a bit of creativity prior to getting an Xbox 360, but after I was introduced to Achievements (and later Trophies on PlayStation) I suddenly had clear objectives to chase. At the time, I was happy to get some kind of recognition and feedback for doing everything the game asked of me in some kind of record. Like with many people out there, it even became a bit of an obsession to get that 100% or Platinum Trophy, despite knowing it is meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
I mostly regret the effort I put into that pursuit — and it isn’t just because I can afford new games whenever I want. It’s because I am tarnishing the memories of otherwise powerful experiences I wish were left more pristine.
A perfect example of this from 2024 is Final Fantasy VII Rebirth. I am not unique in how important his franchise has been in my life nor how much I was anticipating this chapter in the remake series. However, like many others, I was also concerned about how it would handle its open world. To some extent, those reservations were justified. As polished and well-crafted as the main plot is — as well as most of the main side quests — it’s filled with open-world “busywork.” Climbing towers, completing combat challenges, and scanning locations aren’t offensive on their own, but neither are they additive to my enjoyment. Each one adds a spoonful of water to the broth. By the time I’d done them all, I had completely watered down my perception of the adventure.
I don’t want to be hyperbolic and say that side quests and optional challenges ruined gaming for me. They didn’t. What I will say is that, at best, they don’t leave any impact on me and just fill time. That’s not what I play games for.
This isn’t a strict rule, as few things ever are. The perfect counterpoint came out last year: Digital Trends’ game of the year, Astro Bot. The path to 100% completion wasn’t bogged down in repetitive grinding or monotonous filler. Every extra challenge either added a fresh experience just as delightful as the main game or sparked a sense of joy from what I discovered. A large part of that is due to the game being so razor-focused, even when you aim to do and see it all. The real difference is in the intangible; my enjoyment with Astro Bot only grew the more I did.
Not all games will fall on either end of this spectrum. I have to learn to be satisfied putting a game down only sampling its side content just as much as doing everything or nothing. Even dropping a game before finishing the story is OK. Games serve each of us in different ways, but are never meant to feel like a chore.
I realize how fortunate I am to be in a position where I am free to put a game down at any moment and pick up another. That luxury has afforded me the chance to reflect and realize that I put more value on preserving my natural experience with a game than filling time. Even if I could only get two or three games this year, I would still resolve to practice some self-restraint and let my experience with them end naturally. That could mean doing everything in an Astro Bot or dropping it after the first level.
A digital Trophy doesn’t mean anything to me after that flash of dopamine fades just as quickly as the notification on my screen. On the other hand, I will always regret how my memories of Rebirth are so heavily weighed down with grinding Chadley activities while mindlessly listening to a podcast over the emotional punches and resonating themes that I want to carry with me. Those are the moments I want to better protect in 2025.
