This is part 4 of an ongoing series of conversations about dubious game achievements, trophies and rewards, with the hopes of unlocking some sort of meaning.

With special guest Michael "ahrezmendi" Stone!

Signposts Along the Way

Achievements that shadow a player's progress through the game proper -- usually a campaign or story mode -- represent the lion's share of Gamerscore or trophy allocation for most titles. They are usually superfluous, heaping praise on the player for doing nothing more than progressing through the game as intended. These kind of 'rewards' are often the focal point of critical attacks on the uselessness or redundancy of achievements in video games.

Level one completed? Here's a prize. Level two completed? Have another! Signpost achievements unlock like clockwork, popping at regular intervals as the player meanders down the breadcrumb trail.

Because the only way to miss one of these achievements is to stop playing the game altogether, they are rather ineffective as a motivational tool (unless, of course, a player is so trophy or achievement-crazed that they feel compelled to push through a game they dislike just for the profile prizes). However, signpost achievements can serve the following purposes:

• They track progress, allowing developers and friends to see the approximate point where the player got bored or super-enraged and traded the game in for $3 in store credit. Signposts achievements can also serve as a meta-roadmap if they aren't hidden, not only highlighting where the player has been but also how much further they have to go.

• They are easily implemented by developers, requiring little thought or creativity. From the player's perspective, they pad out the game's achievement or trophy yield, ensuring that a straightforward playthrough doesn't result in folks finishing with an unsatisfactory 50/1000 Gamerscore.

This is part 3 of an ongoing series of conversations about dubious game achievements, trophies and rewards, with the hopes of unlocking some sort of meaning.

With special guest Brian "Skeletonframes" Murdoch!

Plus Peripheral

Some games are useless without their accompanying peripherals, such as a dance pad for DDR or a tiny gee-tar for Guitar Hero. These devices are highly specialized, although they are often portable within their given genre (the baby guitar, for example, can be used to play a number of similar music games).

Other add-on toys have a far more nebulous and open-ended role, such as the Xbox Live Vision camera. Yep, it's a camera. Nope, I'm not sure what it actually has to do with the games I play. Whatever developers feel like, it seems.

When you introduce a peripheral with questionable inherent value, you get shaky adoption. The device can't factor heavily into gameplay, because not all players will own it. Any game feature that makes use of something like a camera will need to be pushed to the periphery of the player's experience and framed as a bonus: "enhanced customization", perhaps. Put your face on a hockey player!

And what's a good way to direct the scant few players who own both game and optional peripheral to mish-mash them together? An achievement, of course.

This is part 2 of an ongoing series of conversations about dubious game achievements, trophies and rewards, with the hopes of unlocking some sort of meaning.

With special guest Erik "wordsmythe" Hanson!

Invisible Locks

Approaching a secret or hidden achievement is like jabbing a skeleton key into random wall fixtures, hoping to stumble upon the appropriate lock. You can't see it, but you know it exists.

"There's something I'd like you to accomplish," announces the video game. "I can tell you that much, but no more. I'm sure you'll figure it out. Just … y'know, mess around. Experiment a little. Your prize awaits, hapless bungler!"

Sometimes secrecy is warranted to avoid spoiling narrative twists or reveals. Developers still love the whole 'Your best friend is really the final boss' trope, and an achievement that openly references this forthcoming treachery is a big-time spoiler for players just starting the game. It makes sense to hide these challenges, because they are usually unavoidable.

More curious is the practice of obfuscating what would otherwise be a regular old achievement, which sends players scurrying to FAQs to find out just what the hell it is they're supposed to be doing.

This is part 1 of an ongoing series of conversations about dubious game achievements, trophies and rewards, with the hopes of unlocking some sort of meaning.

With special guest Andrew "Minarchist" High!

Into the Grinder

At some point, everyone tumbles into the grinder. "I'll linger here for just a while longer," the gamer thinks, "These baddies are easy, and I just need to kill a few more to unlock the Llama Polymorph spell." Each additional level you grind reduces the possibility of future failure; an attractive proposition.

In most games, grinding only makes sense up to a certain point. The player is systematically forced forward into the plot as their need for growth outstrips the poor output of weaksauce monsters and newbie challenges. Eventually there is a point of no return as the final confrontation looms, where character level no longer matters because the game is pretty much over.

Today we'll be talking about achievements that arbitrarily extend the length of the treadmill: grinding challenges that reward repetition for the sake of repetition, usually to ludicrous magnitudes beyond what is required for basic completion of the game. You may find this to be deliciously self-referential, as achievements and trophies are basically just awards for the sake of awards.