Obsession with 1uping: My levelling up addiction

I have always been an avid video gamer, ever since sneaking onto my dad’s work computer 20 odd years ago to play Hearts in MS Dos when he wasn’t around (not the card game I might add – a charming 8 bit dwarf character whose mission was to collect all the hearts within a vertical maze without getting squashed by boulders). For the majority of my playing life from then on, I was always fascinated and driven by the various challenges that games present, however at some point along the yellow polygon road I veered into a nightmarish labyrinth of perpetual unsatisfying doom – upgrades.

From Command and Conquer, Final Fantasy VII, Tomb Raider and Metal Gear Solid, through to Fallout 4, The Witcher 3, Bloodbourne and The Last Of Us I have always sought after a few key factors from my games. I like a compelling narrative, a series of increasingly demanding skill-based challenges, thought crunching puzzles and the option to play on very hard difficulty settings. Another thing my favoured titles all had in common is that they are single player – a conquest you must undertake with only yourself to rely on.

Dreams have a nasty habit of going bad

It wasn’t until university that I first strafed into the digital world of online gaming. My housemate purchased a PlayStation 3 on release (a console that despite working while studying I had no chance of affording). While it was housed in his room so I couldn’t take advantage of a new series of single player games, it still had perks – we often camped with a beer playing online together. What’s in the box? Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare.

I was hooked instantly. Not only did I get to frequently spend several hours with my best pal, we used to pass over the controller each time someone died so it had an extra level of competitiveness – we were trying to beat our own best scores, the players online AND each other. What I didn’t realise at the time was there was a dark hidden secret that was unlocked within the depths of my cyber-loving brain. The satisfaction of unlocking new attachments through gameplay and upgrading weapons. After all, what is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets.

While there is a certain element of this during single player games, it isn’t frequent and it usually serves a difficulty increase purpose, such as preparing you for the next boss scenario. It isn’t the never-ending dopamine hit that online games throw at you every time you get a few more headshots. Much like Space Invaders, every time you feel elated at clearing the challenge, it is quickly suppressed by a new set of intruders appearing seemingly from nowhere to seize your short-lived happiness and occupy your brain.

Endure and survive

Strangely enough however, I unintentionally took a long leave of absence from online gaming upon leaving university and returned to my ‘ready player one only’ approach to pixel-based fun. As I got older my style of play changed too, instead of racing to see how quickly I could get through my latest pastime purchase, I moved to ensuring I left no stone unturned in the ever increasing and engrossing open worlds. A shift I believe that was probably down to a growing patience I acquired with every year of age. A trait that would feed badly into levelling up my upgrade addiction later down the line.

Bubbling along in the background, due in part to the rapid advancement in mobile tech, spawned smart phone games. These pocket succubi lured back my lust for upgrades, much to the annoyance of my girlfriend at the time who hated how attached I started to become to my phone. Not to socialise, to message or check Facebook. Instead to log in every 20 minutes to an army strategy game that allowed you to upgrade your troops at regular intervals. The only real skilled required? Commitment.

Luckily, I soon got wise to why I got sucked into various phone games and started to identify my sin quickly – when the point of enjoyment stopped, and the upgrade fiend took over. At which point I’d duly delete the app from my phone to prevent feeling blue from going further down that hedgehog hole.

A man chooses; a slave obeys

However, I was blind to my own weak spot. Where the relentless upgrade culture joined with some of the attributes of games that I love and became a devastating critical hit combo. Oddly it began in a place I didn’t expect – FIFA 18. I hadn’t owned a new football game for almost a decade (it doesn’t fit my criteria, see paragraph 2). I am however a big football fan, and as Tottenham Hotspur had finally started to perform well, I entertained the idea of trying it out again. My girlfriend lovingly obliged, getting it for me as a Christmas gift on the proviso I don’t play it when she is around (as, like many of the games that have these upgrade features inbuilt, they are mind numbingly repetitive to watch). Ona. Quick side note – my girlfriend is a rare gem that enjoys watching games with good narratives. A collectible I don’t ever wish to lose!

For those who don’t know how modern FIFA works, it is basically built on a system that rewards you the more you play. The only way to get the best players is to pay large amounts of ‘coins’ which you accrue by completing more matches (awarding more for performance and wins). Instead of seeing this thinly vailed upgrade trap, my response was let’s a go! It wasn’t too long before I was getting up early for work so I could fit in a few rounds before work all to obtain my footballing heroes.

Thankfully the end of the season brought the end of my interest (realising how the next game would bring exactly the same woe). To start over again would be Psycho Mantis. Nevertheless, it had revived my junkie upgrade habits. My quest was to try and avoid these gaping pitfalls in the future, and I was parrying away all possible incoming strikes. That is until I was dealt a fatality blow – lockdown.

Finish him

The increase in time spent at home that COVID-19 brought was always going to result in more gaming time, this I knew. With The Last Of Us II still months away, and trying to keep the purse strings tight when no one new how long the pandemic would last (or what it could mean to me particularly as a freelancer), without pause for thought I downloaded the new free Call Of Duty: Warzone. Game Over.

With the nostalgia of my first online exploits, added to a vast map with an array of game modes, competitiveness and of course the never-ending upgrades, I was never going to find the safe zone. Instead of doing a quick recon of how the game works to realise it may not be a good idea to press start, I have now spent bountiful hours, nae days, with this first-person shooter, with no real hope of finding a drop (it) zone. My time? Wasted.

Not only that, but it has overflowed into side quests of watching videos online of the best plays, streams of the best players (something I never would watch before) and tips on strategy and loadouts. My upgrade addiction has powered up into a full-blown obsession. Worse yet, it has happened over a game I will never be the best at (when compared to those spending 10-15 hours a day playing), I will never unlock everything for (every 50 days new upgrades are added) and ultimately it is impossible to find full satisfaction with.

In the real world there are no cheat codes to overcome a seemingly insurmountable boss. So for now I’m getting powned like a bot by my addiction to levelling up. All I can hope for is my inner sensibility avatar to evolve, take on my inner child and finish him. Until then I’ll long for the day I can scream “Death has come for you, evildoer – and I am it’s shroud!”.