The Completion Of Irrelevance

Acquiring a platinum trophy, as I have discovered to my unbeknownst peril, is not only a provacating test of ones perseverance, patience and determination, but also one thwart with wallowing resentment to other, less determined individuals. Casually observing the wealth of online players, and comparing their auspicious acclamations to my own ambitious undertakings, I have deduced the defining characteristic and the one initially crippling distinction between my own spaciously inept, figurative trophy cabinet, and various other superior competitors; the sheer volume of accumulated trophies. What lucrative acquisitions these little figurative trophies represent, symbolic of the greatness achieved through brutal sacrifice in the face of overwhelming adversity. Until you realise the bulk of the adulations consists of no more than a few humble, relatively easy to acquire silvers and bronze.

“Congratulations, you fired a round from your pistol, here’s your reward, a bronze trophy!” Should you really be rewarded for such easily procured objectives that require little more than a standard 5 minute stroll? Does anyone really care? Or perhaps the more pertinent question is, should you care? There isn’t an enigmatic, demonic weapon of pure destruction to benefit your misadventures, or a furtive beneficial ability that imparts athanasia to your manipulated avatar, so what is the potent incentive to effectuate menial, largely irrelevant tasks?

Many of the targets set for you to achieve these “amicable goals”, are primarily obnoxious trivialities, requiring less formulating plans of intricate persuasions and more about lucky coincidences. Shielded by the anonymity of a loquacious, often absurd pseudonyms that protects your identity from people such as myself is very reassuring; no one is going to know about your lack of enthusiasm for the trophies, or total indifference to the stipulated tasks asked of you, and through my own obsessive experience, its legitimately understandable why no one attempts these stipulated tasks. Attempting to perfect Resident Evil 5 has left me shattered, brittle and more mentally abused than child who’s just caught his dad in the vigorous embrace, of the milkman. I feel broken, weary and at times display a worrying delusional perception of reality, that’s interspersed with psychological degradations, as I physically stop under bridges, peering attentively above to scope for gems hidden deep in the crevices.

The persevering collaboration and mental versatility that’s applied to achieve these ruthless absurdities, is a damaging expenditure of both physical dexterity as well as mental stabilities, with diminutive allowance for the passively inclined, but somehow, its masochisticly compulsive. But my work is not yet completed, and the habitual African setting is alternating in volume, both widening and constricting like an asthmatic python. I can hear the tenuous, though distinguishable sound of a chainsaw rattling in the distance, and the moans and grunts from approaching majini are becoming more distinct. The things I do for metaphoric trophies and recognition!

Have you found the process for gaming supremacy difficult? Or do you pity completionist? Let me know your thoughts.