Thoughts on Gamerscore/Trophies

Useless Tallying: A Look At the Broad Implications of Gamerscore/Trophies

In the past one would photograph a screenshot of their high score, or have their friends huddle around the arcade box to verify their achievement. This act, unsurprisingly, served a dualistic purpose: it gave the player a sense of well-defined superiority and achievement (to whatever extend joystick twiddling and button mashing is capable of providing such) in turn; it also provided the arcade industry with additional revenue from those other gamers who now had an impetus to lighten their load of pocket change for a shot at the title. Gamers (or arcade monkeys, or whatever one called them back in the early 90s) effectively paid to maintain an effective form of competition, exempting Seinfeld’s “Frogger” episode, of course.

These days, with most games offering free online leaderboards, and Nintendo, Microsoft, and Sony each offering their own online head-to-head competition services (though with marketedly varying degrees of success), one has to ask why the concept of the Gamerscore/Trophy system exists, just what its actual serviceable function is, and why it has caught on, along with perhaps some darker marketing motives surrounding it. Microsoft? Dark marketing motives? Not possible. The logic behind it is simple: complete a certain act/beat a level, find a hidden item, play the game while telekinetically manipulating the controller with one’s mind, and you’ll be allotted a certain amount of Gamerscore, the amount of which is usually approximate to the difficulty of the task. Beating the single player campaign of a game should “net” one more points than, say, leveling up for the first time. These achievements also extend themselves over to the multiplayer aspects of the game, both online and offline, as well as co-op and competitive modes.

However, there are problems with this seemingly transparent system. To begin with, Gamerscore is a highly problematic method by which to evaluate one’s “abilities.” In an arcade setting, one’s ability could be checked by monitoring how much allowance money was slipped into the coin slot of an incessantly sedentary lifestyle, functioning as a de-facto “handicapping” of sorts. In this day in age, where “gaming get-togethers” are a thing of the past, this system is impossible. I can tell that you’ve managed to beat the seventh level of Turok, but I have no way of telling how many tries it took you, the strategy you used, or if you found outside help in the form of a guide book, GameFAQs, or simply handing over the controller to a more competent friend. If one of your achievements boasts that you managed to beat Prince of Persia, there is no way of telling if it took you twelve hours or twenty-four. If we are to understand Gamerscore as a system for logging personal achievement, without comparison to that of others, perhaps there is some validity to the system. However, this is not how I would argue most gamers see it.

The online component is fraught with even more difficulties. A large amount of achievements are “rigged” via Xbox Live or GameFAQs message boards. A cursory glimpse at any popular game’s board will find dozens of posters begging for other players to help them in picking up some achievements, which otherwise, if faced with a truly competitive opponent, might be a trying experience. Whereas offline/campaign modes were honest, just lacking the specifics of how one went about it, the acquisition of many online achievements has been done in a blatantly dishonest manner, that all we are left with is the lauding of pseudo superiority. Again, this is not to demand something as ridiculous as “gamerscore reform,” but merely to incite one’s pondering on the valuation of such a concept.

Gone are these days...though part of me doesn't miss those annoying grubby little children, peering over your shoulder, trying to instruct one clearly twice their age on how to play Street Fighter 3.

With the competitive/comparative element of Gamerscore dismantled, I turn to the functional element. If we are, quite simply, to view Gamerscore points or trophies as something we are given, the natural inclination is to ask just what we are to do with such. Can a high enough Gamerscore unlock hidden content in a game, induct a gamer into some “Gold level” club of Microsoft, or, quite simply, be used to purchase themes, demos, gamerpics, etc? The answer to all of these is an unequivocal NO. The logic on Microsoft’s part is understandable, though. If I rent or borrow Forza Motorsport 2, and my friend purchases the game at full retail price, Microsoft has no motivation to reward us in an equal fashion. Microsoft is a company, and a company’s job is to reward its consumers/purchasers, those who understand that it is all about the “dolla’ dolla’ bill, y’all.” Now, granted, Microsoft is the sort of company that can afford to take a hit (just look how long it was before the Xbox division’s earnings weren’t drowning in red ink) so perhaps this is excusable. Or, alternately, perhaps copies of games could be registered so that the individual that purchased it would be the one to get the reward. The bottom line is that if Microsoft is/was genuinely concerned with providing some viable reward, they’re going to have to eliminate the “free lunch” that it would currently be promoting, in one method or another.

Aside from the problematic issues of just what Gamerscore can really tell us, and the non-functionality of it promoting any true rewards system, one must evaluate the sociological implications of Gamerscore, how it influences what games we buy, how we play them, and how achievements are incorporated into the game. Whether we like it or not, for many of us, Gamerscore influences the purchases we make. I have friends that don’t play online much, and thusly avoid titles like Halo 3 where a large amount of the achievements surround online play. Others will avoid a game if they hear that the achievements are “stingy” or require a lengthy amount of playthroughs to get the full set. On the opposite end of the spectrum, many people are frequently asking to borrow my copy of Phantasy Star Online, in which one can acquire all 1000 points by simply defeating all of the bosses in the single player campaign. Avatar: The Last Airbender is even easier, with an exploitable glitch that allows one to acquire all 1000 in a matter of mere minutes. While it may not be the main reason why we purchase a game, it can act as a deciding factor for those “on the fence.”

If you want to "finish the [achievement] fight" for Halo 3, you're going to need an online account, and infinite patience for the unmonitored pre-teens whose parents have replaced the babysitter with Xbox Live.

Other friends I know get a list of all of the achievements in a game, and proceed to play according to the list’s demands, while going through a game. It’s like a microcosm of the “walkthrough” or game guide. Instead of telling us where to go, and what to do, it advises or prefers certain play styles, gameplay methods, goals or objectives that would seem contrary to normal play. And while some shape their initial playthrough in this fashion (thereby aiming all who choose to do so towards a fairly unitary gaming experience) for others this is a convenient way to guide one's replay of the title, or, in fact, merit that second playthrough in the first place. Indeed, we must view achievements as "padding" for some developers, an attempt at giving the player that extra "push" to continue playing a game they would otherwise put down. With some games, this is unproblematic, a method for making an amazing game even more so. With less..."notable" titles, forcing the player to amass a profane amount of money, or beat a lackluster title on a half-dozen difficulty settings is indeed "padding." With the cost of launch title next-gen games up 20% from the last generation, and gameplay hours consequently becoming a vaunted measure of success (which is problematic in its own right) padding is necessary, and Gamerscore is an easy way of achieving such.

Equally problematic are developers that handle the Gamerscore system in a detrimental manner that hurts the remainder of the title. For example, some developers leak plot points or bosses on the achievement list. Nothing quite ruins a plot, like discovering that your party member is going to inevitably betray you, when looking up how many points you got for killing 500 enemies. Developers need to list these achievements as "secret" those that will inevitably unlocked throughout the course of the game. Other developers are simply sloppy and assign most of the achievements to online activities, or requiring second or third playthroughs, or playing on mindbendingly hard difficulty levels to achieve them. Again, I'm not saying I support the achievement system outright, but that, if it must be, the implementation is problematic. I shouldn't be given points simply for watching the first cutscene of Prince of Persia, nor should I find two-thirds of an achievement list locked off from me because I don't have a Gold account.

Some achievements require hours and hours of unnecessary work. This one requires pressing "Start" at the menu screen.

What is perhaps the most problematic about Gamerscore/Trophies? They've always induced a certain amount of Pavlovian glee in me whenever that little sound effect goes off, and that small circular box at the bottom of the screen informs me that I've done something "right." I know they're bad for me, that they shape the way I play, the way I buy, the way I think about myself and others as gamers. But some part of me still finds them alluring. They're the "junk food," the Lays of the gaming world...I just can't stop.

This pretty much says everything.