Funny thing about us humans, we do a lot of things without asking why we do it.  The same goes for continuing to do something without asking ourselves if we should have stopped long, long ago.  For all of the things humanity has studied with great introspection, one thing most people tend to be terrible at is questioning their own actions and adjusting their lives accordingly.

If there's a whirling fan, someone's put their finger close to it.  If it exists in the material world, it's been in someone's mouth.  If you have young children, you learn daily how the simplest task can go horribly awry.  And to the point of this article, if you're a gamer, chances are at least once you've stared at a Game Over screen and wondered why you feel compelled to press a button to continue.



On the surface is an obvious answer; would I suppose I'd still have fun if I keep playing this game right now?  It's a pat answer that doesn't hold as true as we may immediately assume.  Have you died a thousand times on that same level, and is it 'fun' to want to finally complete it?  How about the endless 'grinding' of some RPGs, MMOs, or Free-To-Play games?  How about the quest to do something you do not like in a game just to nab that Achievement/Trophy?  Some gamers could answer yes, that it is a 'type' of fun, or admit that it isn't really the same 'fun' as, say, getting first in Mario Kart or pulling off a risky strategy in StarCraft.  But I'm not arguing about how to classify something as amorphous as 'fun.'  What about the compulsion to continue when we admit we're really not 'into' the game or section of the game we're playing?

If you've played Destiny, you're familiar with the infamous "Loot/Treasure Cave."  Until it was patched out, it was a section of the map where players could camp a short distance away from an enemy spawn point and continue to shoot at low-level baddies as they appeared.  The idea was that this was the simplest method for gaining rare drops from enemies, a quick setup for 'farming' the random number generator to get Legendary gear.  Even by using this method, hours upon hours could be spent without any 'success' in terms of character progression.  This methodology for character advancement is as old as games that allow character progression.  Indeed, for some, learning a way to 'game the system' is more entertaining than the game itself.  But I'm more interested in what compels a player to do this; why do we press play if we're past that 'fun' stage?

In the earliest days of video games, most titles were a competition between two human players.  Tennis for Two, Pong, and the 2600's immortal pack-in Combat were designed around competition between individuals.  In terms of single player focus, the main hooks were the scoreboard and an unspoken but general guarantee that difficulty would increase with advancement.  Mastery was displayed by a numeric value, an easy reference between human or even personal challenge.  The closest a player could get to an 'end' besides losing would usually be a programming limitation such as Pac-Man's infamous kill screen.



Later, as the technology progressed, games like Adventure, Haunted House, and Super Mario Bros. contained a definitive progression arc.  There was a beginning, middle, and end that could be 'completed.'  These games still tended to 'loop,' with tougher designs implemented so players could continue being challenged and have fun after effectively 'finishing' the game, but they could be considered 'beaten' in a way that Space Invaders or Missile Command could not.  Hence early on, game design developed with either the intend for a game to be finite in terms of progression, or the old standby of infinite score-chasing. 

Naturally this continues today; RPGs, cinematic adventure games, and narrative-progression games have a story to complete, and modern takes on shmups, puzzle games, endless-runners, and others continue the fine tradition of a never-ending score hunt.  In the last few decades, a strange hybrid has emerged; games that reward in-game progression but do not really advance the core game.  The Diablo series and the Phantasy Star Online/Universe series, for example, are considered by many to not really 'start' until the main story arc is completed and the end game is endlessly repeated to achieve better gear to continue playing... for better gear and harder difficulty.  The narrative has ended, but the 'fun' is now replaying the same design in hopes of new loot, used to go back and repeat.  The 'score' is not a number in the traditional sense, but a result of a sort of lottery played in-game long enough to achieve desired virtual items.

MMOs use this often addictive hook to keep players long after the bulk of the game's other content is explored.  Other game designs have also adopted this model over the years, perhaps most famously in the Call of Duty's progressive unlocking system for multiplayer.  This system is now so ubiquitous, an FPS rarely releases without such a design model.  It is, like the virtual merit badges of Achievements and Trophies, a staple of modern gaming, and an incredibly successful one at that.


And I'm not here to knock it; many folks spend many, many, many, many, many hours doing this grind.  It's how these games are considered fun.  And I can occasionally get sucked into them too; I'm guilty of putting some time into the ol' Loot Cave.  I have to admit, I personally wasn't really having fun, and I only did it for a short while, with the intent to prepare for latter content to be released for the game instead of 'maxing out' the current content.  It didn't take long for me to decide to move on to other games calling my name.

And that gets me to my ultimate thought on the whole progression/grinding/are-we-having-fun element to video games.  Everyone's going to enjoy games differently for different reasons.  Some have the patience and tenacity for a Dark Souls or Battletoads.  Others whittle away at more Prestige ranks.  I myself have leveled Final Fantasy characters to ridiculous levels.  What's fun for some is terribly boring for others.  But in the end, I want to stay vigilant about how I spend the precious commodity of leisure time.  It can be an easy trap to play long after I'm really enjoying it, when I could pop in something else and have a better time.  That means occasionally unplugging my head from the momentum of gameplay and a game's player expectation, and ask...........Continue?    

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