The Worst Kinds of XBox 360 Achievements

Imagine you’re reading a book. You read every word, line, sentence, paragraph, and page, ultimately arriving at the book’s satisfying conclusion. Upon closing the cover and sticking it back on your shelf, you recall the excellent manner in which the author crafted drama, plot, tension, and development into the story. As you pause, staring at the occupied spot on your bookshelf, you quickly decide to take the book back down and meticulously count every usage of the word the in chapter 8. After that, you break for some coffee and return to read the book backwards and upside down while wearing an eye patch and listening to the Jonas Brothers.

It sounds stupid, but I’ve just described XBox 360 achievements. For anyone who doesn’t know what these are, they are the developer’s strategy for keeping gamers playing games long after the sequels have usurped the original’s right to Christmas stockings everywhere. For every XBox 360 game released, there are typically anywhere from 40-60 achievements that accompany it.

It’s almost impossible to get every achievement on an initial play through, unless you are somehow omniscient or know how to use YouTube (please post helpful comments on how to do this below). As a result, a gamer is usually forced to replay certain sections of the game over and over until he or she satisfies some absurd request. Upon doing so, a familiar blip will sound and a message will flash across the screen signifying that another portion of your soul is now forfeit.

What does the gamer get for these achievements? The bad news is that the gamer gets nothing. The good news is that you’re now familiar with the word that will forever describe your ambitions.

Why would a gamer sacrifice so much time and effort for something that ultimately possesses the same amount of impact as a marshmallow hitting the Charmin Labrador? The truth is, XBox 360 achievements are big business. There exist entire websites devoted to strategy guides and videos showing gamers every meticulous step necessary to reap every possible XBox 360 achievement. That’s right, people are paid to tell gamers how to get Xbox 360 achievements.

So, if Xbox 360 achievements amount to nothing, they couldn’t get any worse, right? Well, turns out some games have invented what are essentially the achievement equivalents of negative integers. Achievements such as those that require gamers to…

#1: ABANDON STRATEGY

Guiltiest Games: Borderlands, Gears of War 3.

Both Borderlands and Gears of War 3 have achievements for which there exist no conscious strategies for pursuing them. Most achievements require some level of skill or careful planning to get, but not these. Instead, you must literally join public match after public match until you run across someone who already has the achievement.

Development studios wanted these achievements to act as viruses, beginning with the studio’s employees and ultimately trickling down to everyone who played their games. It sounds like a solid strategy, but it requires players to methodically join and quit public matches, hoping someone they play with is at most six degrees of Kevin Bacon removed from the development team. It’s like if you bought an airplane ticket and then sat in the terminal asking every passenger to sneeze on you as they walked by in an attempt to catch typhoid fever.

#2: TRADE

Guiltiest Games: Fable 2, Fable 3.

I’m just going to come out and say it: trading with other players absolutely sucks. It’s akin to jumping in the pool at a party. It needs to be done in order for it to be a party, but nobody wants to jump first.

Fable 3, in particular, excels at asking players to exhibit the three traits that, when used in tandem, are in complete violation of a large percentage of the gaming community’s personalities: patience, trust, and nobility. There is an achievement in Fable 3 that requires you to collect 50 different weapons. These 50 weapons don’t appear in a single play through, so you’ll have to play the game multiple times to get around 35 of them. This, as you might expect, takes a great deal of patience. In order to get the other 15 or so, you’ll have to trade other players for their weapons.

This sounds easy enough. Unfortunately, the developers of Fable 3 forgot to create that ever-so-important device that allows players to trade items simultaneously. This means that you’ll have to trade an item to another player before he trades one to you, or visa versa. This takes an obscene amount of trust, seeing as “absconding with other player’s hard earned items” is practically a job description for some people who play these types of games. There is absolutely nothing stopping the other player from taking your item, backing out of your game, and sending you a text message equivalent to a dropkick the the groin telling you how stupid you are for trusting other people.

This whole fiasco doesn’t even account for the fact that by trading weapons, you’re essentially throwing dirt into each other’s holes. When the goal is to get every weapon in the game, no ground is made by a one-for-one trade.

Better get cracking, gamers. There are a bounty of life lessons to be learned online, most of which require you to take a kick to the groin smiling.

#3: DO EVERYTHING

Guiltiest Games: Gears of War, any game with a 100% stat completion achievement.

I’ve made note of the flak gamers get for “wasting time” or “being lazy.” These achievements exist to prove correct every stereotype heaped upon the gaming community since we discovered that Rock Stars and Doritos are viable supplements for showers and sanity.

Take Gears of War 2 for example. There is an achievement in Gears of War 2 called Seriously 2.0, the only requirement of which is to kill enemies. At first glance, that sounds right up the game’s alley. I mean, killing enemies is as close to a description of Gears of War as I’ve ever heard. Seeing as you can rack up kills in a variety of game modes (averaging anywhere from 1-50 per public match), an achievement like this should be no problem.

Let’s see, how many kills does this….100,000!!!!!! Crap!!!

If you want a greater perspective on how long something like this actually takes, keep in mind that beating the Gears of War 2 campaign will reap you about 2,000-3,000 kills in exchange for 7-10 hours of work. I’ll let you do the math. Better yet, go out and buy a math book and read it, cover to cover. You may be able to save the margin of your sanity that didn’t already die once you realized the Seven Deadly Sins were authored with this achievement in mind.

To add insult to incredible injury, Seriously 2.0 will only reap you 50 achievement points. That’s out of 1,000. Darn you, Gears of War 2.

#4: DO NOTHING

Guiltiest Games: Deus Ex: Human Revolution, ‘Splosion Man, Prince of Persia.

Quick, what does the word “achievement” bring to mind? Success? Hard work? Accomplishment? How about none of the above? If you chose the latter, you’re familiar with what’s required to get certain achievements in the aforementioned games.

These are achievements which require you to at times, no joke, turn on your game and walk away.

Prince of Persia (the version with all the light seeds in it) is particularly to blame when it comes to achievements like these. Not once, but twice in the campaign you’re required to essentially put down your controller and look at the screen. It’s as if the developers ran out of stuff to challenge gamers with and decided to just start giving away achievements. However, by doing so, they are basically telling gamers to buy games and then not play them.

Eventually, the achievements are just going to come stamped on the outside of the cartridge. That way, you don’t even have to unwrap the plastic to get your $60 worth.

Welcome to corporate America, kids. If you’re not getting what you need inside 10 seconds, you’re playing Gears of War 2.

*******

And now that you’re thoroughly convinced of the utter meaningless of all things achievement, here’s one more:

blip

*ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: READING ALL 30 AFOREMENTIONED USES OF THE WORD ACHIEVEMENT*

You’re welcome.

Why We Hate NPCs

NPCs, or non-player characters, are a game’s attempts to provide real players with a story and reason to keep playing. They are the givers of quests and the instigators of tension and emotion. They are a gamer’s virtual family and friends. They are the damsels in distress and the knights in shining armor. They are the Tanto to a gamer’s Lone Ranger.

Without NPCs, games would be boring and devoid of life. Nevertheless, most gamers can agree on one thing: their mutual hatred for all things NPC.

Why do gamers despise something so crucial, so imperative to the well-being of video games? After all, the whole reason we play video games in the first place is so we can spend hours boosting stats, saving worlds, and dispatching evil minions. These things would be impossible without the influence of NPCs. I mean, imagine World of Warcraft without any quest givers or unliving swine to spam kill. It would just be an online forum for 11 million level 1 avatars to log on and berate each other for trolling. That’s not a video game. That’s hell, people.

Yes, games would suck without NPCs. Regardless, there are many reasons why we believe games would be better without them. Here are just a few.

#1: THEY’RE STUPID

Imagine playing with someone who lacked any semblance of social skill, who whined non-stop, and who would probably die in five minutes if they didn’t have you watching their back every waking moment of the day. Now, times that by a thousand and you have Fable 3. If you haven’t played it, I’ll give you a quick rundown. Fable 3 is a game that demands you scratch every back that needs scratching if you want to get a good ending. To do this, you’ll need to slog through around 20 hours of fulfilling every NPC’s fetish for shiny things and handshakes.

All this would be somewhat bearable if the NPCs didn’t already have the IQ equivalent of pi. I’ve played through Fable 3 and there were several occasions when I dropped my game controller and shook my head at the incredible stupidity of what I witnessed. I know much of it was programmed into the game by developers who wanted the player to laugh at the juvenile antics of the NPCs, but something got lost in the translation between juvenile and infantile.

One example is certainly worth mentioning here. I was questing in the countryside with my avatar when I suddenly noticed a band of innocent civilian NPCs being set upon by a pack of balvarines. Now, balvarines are the equivalent of werewolves on steroids. They are extremely fast, extremely hideous, and extremely dangerous. They were doing what balvarines do best: murdering the everloving crap out of everything they see. Naturally, I sprang to the rescue. I quickly dispatched the balvarines in time to save one NPC. Now, keep in mind that this NPC just witnessed all his friends being slaughtered by ravenous creatures. His response?

“The animals around here are so quiet. You hear them, but you rarely see any.”

#2: THEY’RE DEMANDING

Have you ever tried to convince someone that a cheap knock-off is not the same thing as the real deal? That cereal tastes WAY better from a box than from a bag? Well, congratulations, you’re halfway to completing your resume for “NPC of the Year.”

NPCs have this terribly annoying habit of requesting really specific things. The thing they want will always be 99.87% identical to a hundred other things you’re currently carrying, with the exception of one or two minute details. Never mind that you’ve already spent hours traveling to a remote area of the world to battle giant scarabs in hopes of scrounging a few dried carapaces from the ensuing carnage. The NPC back home is going to want the one with a blue stripe on it.

They will rarely offer you an explanation as to why blue-striped giant scarab carapaces are so important to them, but they’ll be damned if they’re going to give you the key to your imprisoned lover’s dungeon without one. Situations like this are typically made all the worse when it appears your character already has the necessary skills to enter said dungeon. Oftentimes, the only thing standing in your way is a metal door, or a waist-high gate, or an old woman. But all the fire-casting, razor swords, and barbaric shouts in the world aren’t going to get that NPC to open the way for you. So strap on your helmet of disintegration and unstrap your dignity, gamer. You’ve still got another dozen NPC boots to lick before you can claim the extended, after-credits cut scene as your own.

#3: THEY’RE UNREALISTIC

We get that video games aren’t grounded in reality. That’s why they’re fun. But NPCs try their hardest to suck every remnant of fun out of the experience by imposing utterly confounding requests upon the gamer.

There is a perfect example of this concept contained within the masterly crafted N64 game, Ocarina of Time. As part of a side quest, the protagonist, Link, takes it upon himself to find a woman’s lost puppy. Chivalrous, right? At its inception, the request does not sound very difficult. Games back in the golden age of the N64 didn’t have a whole lot of places to hide side quest items. Typically, the item in question is hidden behind a waterfall, a mysteriously cracked, off-color wall or a large neon arrow with complimentary “Look Here” message. How hard could it be to find this poor woman’s white Scottie?

What the woman doesn’t tell you is that the town is populated entirely by Scotties of different color. Seriously, the town looks like a jailbreak at the Beverly Hills pound. If you don’t know which one is hers, you will have to painstakingly lure each Scottie, one by one, to her door. Choose the wrong one and she’ll berate you for your ignorance. It should be also noted that the woman doesn’t tell you what her Scottie looks like. She just assumes you know which one is hers. It’s like if your girlfriend asked you to go pick her favorite color of Converse out of the closet and then berated you for not knowing her favorite color was lavender with shades of mauve and lilac undertones.

#4: THEY HAVE NO MOTOR/REASONING SKILLS

The only thing worse than an NPC who demands you fetch something from the far corners of the earth is one that offers to accompany you while you do it. Anyone who has ever attempted an escort quest knows exactly what I’m talking about. Now, you’re stuck watching their butt in addition to your own. Once the escort quest begins, NPCs typically fall into one of three categories.

First, there’s the invalid. This is the utterly defenseless NPC who runs for the hills at the first sight of danger, all the while demanding that you protect them. No amount of arcane shielding and health potions is going to save this NPC when it’s content to run shrieking away from your protective aura and into the nearest cluster of enemies. Go ahead. Try to save it. You’re likely to get your legs chopped off at the knees by the one enemy who isn’t already using your NPC companion as a pincushion. And don’t think you can just ignore the NPC’s insistent whining either. If it dies, you’ll likely be forced to restart the entire escort quest over with a stern slap on the wrist from the game for being an inconsiderate jerk.

Second, there’s the hero. This NPC is typically worse than the first. This is the NPC that runs charging at the opposition, spewing battle cries like William Wallace. But instead of being armed with a broadsword and more bravado than the entire feudal age combined, this NPC is content to wield a flimsy stick or rusty pipe. Thus, you’ll spend all your magic or stamina healing your overzealous NPC while it chips away 1/13 of an enemy’s health, all the while the other 8 enemies quickly close in for a decisive, crushing victory.

Third, there’s the fly. This is the name I’ve so lovingly bestowed upon the NPC who, try as it may, can never figure out the best way to walk through an open door. These NPCs typically boil down to a glitch in the game, but they are no less infuriating. For example, you’ve successfully traversed a mile of stony labyrinthine corridors and battled countless hordes of enemies only to reach the end and find your NPC companion is no longer with you. Has it died? No, if it had, you’d be doing this whole sequence over again. Quickly, you retrace your steps only to find the NPC back at the beginning of the labyrinth, humping the wall two feet to the left of the entrance. Just like a fly by an open window, the NPC is content to bash its brains against the wall hoping to find a path that doesn’t exist. To provide a more accurate depiction, I’ve included a verbatim discussion between myself and one such NPC.

Me: “What are you doing back here? The exit’s that way.”

NPC: “Wait up! I can’t move as fast as you!”

Me: “You haven’t moved at all!”

NPC: “What about me?! Don’t leave me!”

Me: “I’m two steps to the left and one forward from you! Stop humping the wall! There’s nothing for you there.”

NPC: “Aahhh! They’re killing me!”

Me: “There’s no one here but you and me! And that wall, which most certainly isn’t going to help get out.”

NPC: “Help!”

Me: “Fine! Just stay there and I’ll kick you in the direction of the open door. It’s for your own good!”

NPC: “Help!”

Me: “Holy…my kicks are useless against you! You’re just ghosting through them! Can you use this strange and mysterious new power to ghost through that wall?”

NPC: “The animals around here are so quiet. You hear them, but you rarely see any.”

Me: “….”

Why Guys Love Zombies

There have been a lot of articles hitting the internet recently concerning the ostensibly inexplicable attraction between guys and zombies. And by attraction I’m not talking about that urge you get to type words like “Kate Beckinsale” into Google images. I’m talking about the attraction guys get to pit themselves against shambling, moaning hordes of walking dead and stick them with long, hard and pointy with swords, knives, and other manner of disagreeable item.

I would like to make it known that I am not denying women their share in this strange relationship. It’s just that this conversation has a natural bias towards men. I recall only one woman I’ve ever spoken with who enjoyed playing games like Left 4 Dead, and that’s one more woman than I expected to confess to such an enjoyment. Typically, when I speak to women about zombies, the #1 reply I get is, “I just don’t get them.”

But all you men out there reading this blog, you do get them, don’t you? You do get why there’s rarely a more satisfying pastime than slaying zombies alongside your closest friends.

For those of you who don’t get them, I am going to offer a little insight.

First of all, no one actually wants the zombie apocalypse to happen. Despite any reassurances or reservations you might have about humanity’s ability to survive it, no one wants to put down a walking corpse that somewhat resembles their aunt or next-door neighbor. The psychological ramifications of participating in such activities don’t bear mentioning. However, once these activities hit the big screen or the latest console, they take on entirely new meanings, ones that guys everywhere can get behind. A few of these meanings being…

#1: IT’S ALL ABOUT POWER

Power is attractive to guys. Being able to trump difficult situations through sheer willpower and manliness is the fuel that spurs men to greatness…or to the grave. Regardless of the outcome, witnessing feats of power is synonymous with adrenaline, the kind that releases endorphin into the brain. Endorphin feels good, therefore power feels good.

Power can be destructive (the best kind of power). Unfortunately, power in large, unrestrained amounts is disruptive to society and must be harnessed in more agreeable, manageable forms. Enter the age of zombie video games and movies with loads of safe, explosive power and you have the perfect venue for guys everywhere to satiate their subconscious desire to kick something in the face (or in the case of Dead Island, kick about 10,000 things in the face).

#2: IT’S ALL ABOUT HEROISM

Quick! What’s the one thing every guy ever wants to be at one point in his life? If you said Kate Beckinsale’s husband, you’re probably only half right. If you said a hero, congratulations, you’ve unlocked the secret to every guy’s inner desires. Despite what you might think, being a hero is not synonymous with Batman or Superman. Sure, a lot of guys want to be the Dark Knight or America’s love-child in a red cape. Heck, I spent the better part of yesterday afternoon wondering who Kate Beckinsale would love me more as.

No, despite what you might think, being a hero is much more synonymous with respect. And if there’s one thing a guy loves more than Kate Be…you know what? I’m going to stop now.

Guys love respect. And if respect comes from rescuing small children from being devoured by the undead and valiantly rescuing a bikini-clad damsel from her infected husband (something you do more than once in Dead Island), so be it. The zombie apocalypse sounds intriguing because it gives every man equal chance to step up and become humanity’s last hope for survival. On that note…

#3: IT’S ALL ABOUT SURVIVAL

I’m not a huge camper or outdoorsy type. You know who is though? Every other guy out there. That is, of course, a gross exaggeration, but guys do share an enigmatic love for the rawness of nature. Out there, it’s just you and the elements. You add a few points to your manliness counter every time you can step out of a forest or off a mountain and claim, “I survived.”

Survival is why Bear Grylls has a paycheck. It’s also why the concept of holing up in a shopping mall surrounded by zombies and living off your last supply of rations, ammo, and sanity sounds unnaturally appealing to guys. I’m not saying that purifying toilet bowl water or checking out the local pet store for food sounds fun. However, pitting your wits against insurmountable odds (and potentially succeeding) is what makes the zombie apocalypse a viable subject matter in movies and video games. Survival is the fire that fuels the plot of zombie-related entertainment, without which you’re just left with thousands of gross-looking people. And that’s not even counting the zombies.

#4: IT’S ALL ABOUT TEAMWORK

Sure, it’s fun to be the hero or the sole hope for humanity. But there will come a time when help from your closest companions or even complete strangers is unquestionably needed. It is in these times that proper teamwork becomes your greatest asset. Games like Left 4 Dead exemplified this necessity. I typically prefer to play video games by myself, but I never even attempted to play Left 4 Dead on a higher difficulty than medium by my lonesome. The game is crafted in such a way as to demand that players work together. If you can’t trust your teammates, you’ll probably get devoured pretty quickly.

There is something exhilarating about placing your life in the hands of another person. In a video game where the worst that can happen is that everyone dies and you try again, relying on your teammates becomes a natural part of the experience. Much akin to real-life sports, teamwork paves the road to success. And success that is shared as a result of collective effort tastes all the more sweet in the end.

#5: IT’S ALL ABOUT CARNAGE

Who am I kidding? Killing zombies in bloody fashion is freaking awesome.

How Fable 3 Ruined Me as a Person

I consider myself a decent fellow. I honestly, truly believe in the sanctity of people and the potential for good in all situations. Given a choice between an easy but morally-shaky option and a difficult but morally-sound one, I will attempt to do the latter every time. This personality trait extends even to the realm of video games. I have played several games that give the option of choosing between two definitive good and evil options. Never once have I chosen the evil option, even though it is typically the easier of the two.

That is, until I played Fable 3.

In saying this, I am not suggesting that I chose to be a tyrant. Fable 3 is the sort of game that allows its players literally hundreds of times to choose good over evil, or visa versa. This becomes even more apparent towards the end of the game, when you become either the king or queen of the mythical realm known as Albion. You are given the choice to rule fairly over your subjects at the cost of their physical safety or make their lives miserable in exchange for saving them from impending doom. At least, this is what the game tells you.

However, if you look closely at the list of Xbox 360 achievements for Fable 3, there are two that may catch your attention. One is to rule fairly over your subjects in every instance. The other is to save every person in Albion (a feat that costs no fewer than 6,500,000 gold pieces). It is possible to get both achievements in a single playthrough. I would know. I did it the first time around. However, doing so cost me about 40 hours of my precious life amassing enough gold, all while ruling fairly over my subjects to keep my morality at an optimum level.

Impressive, right? I personally spent hours of my life pouring my soul into a character whose morality held about as much weight as hydrogen in reality. And I did it all for the achievements, for that one chance to say that I went the extra mile and accomplished something.

Now, some of you reading this understand what it means to have those few extra, precious achievement points. For anyone who has ever logged onto achievementhunter.com or spent hours watching youtube videos on where to find elusive collectibles, you’ll know what I mean. Others of you may scoff and disregard me as a wastrel who needs to get his life in order. But hold off your negative stereotypes and comments until the end of this article, because this is where it gets really bad.

Even though I had succeeded in obtaining both aforementioned achievements, there was something still bothering me. There was one achievement I didn’t have. I still needed to obtain every article of clothing in the game in order to receive an achievement worth a paltry 20 points. Not exactly worth it in the long run and certainly not comparable to the 39,000 achievement points I already possessed. But this was an achievement I didn’t have and I was determined to get it, dammit!

With this determination in mind, I started a new character (a female this time) and began expanding my virtual wardrobe. In just under 20 hours, I had once again saved Albion from impending doom, ruled fairly over my subjects as their beloved queen, and kept my morality high and free of guilt (thank you, thank you). On top of this, I collected every article of clothing in Albion.

All but one, that is.

See, as some kind of sick joke on Lionhead’s part, the producers of Fable 3 thought it would be fun to make one article of clothing more difficult to obtain than the Shroud of Turin. In fact, I think more people have claimed to possess the Shroud of Turin than this fictional article of clothing. The article in question is a white cook’s hat. It doesn’t match any other article of clothing contained within the game and it certainly doesn’t have anything to do with the story or one’s ability to complete the game. In fact, the only way to get it is to befriend one of the four or so cooks in the entirety of Albion and convince them to give you presents, one of which will ultimately be the cook’s hat.

After reading up online on how to obtain the cook’s hat, I began the process of befriending every cook in Albion (all of which, strangely enough, live in the same 20′ x 30′ room in the castle). After all, I was the queen of Albion, for crying out loud! How hard could it be to convince one of my adoring subjects to hand over the hat off their head? And yes, every cook in Albion wears the exact same cook’s hat I so desperately needed.

After befriending four different cooks, a process which took about 30 minutes, the presents started rolling in. As the sun rose and set on Albion day after day, the cooks  began lining up to give me their most prized possessions, some of which appeared to be their weekly salary or family heirlooms. Yet, despite the incalculable riches they heaped upon me, none took the appearance of the coveted cook’s hat.

After 2 hours or so of this routine, I began to get a little discouraged. The cooks stopped looking like friends and began looking more and more like everyone I’ve ever hated….wearing white cook’s hats. I decided to take a different route. I had heard that marrying (yes, you can marry) one of the NPCs in Fable 3 caused them to loosen their wallets even further, presumably from all the awesome sex they expected to be getting from your character. Fine, I said, I’ll deal. Within the next hour, I had wooed and married one of the cooks in the most elaborate wedding ceremony Albion could offer, the cost of which was several thousand pieces of gold. My cook husband wore his hat to the wedding, I might add.

With the wedding out of the way, I was given the option to set an upkeep for my new family. Upkeep is money you give to your NPC spouse to keep them happy and in a giving mood. I set my upkeep to 1,000 gold per day, which is the maximum amount you can give without admitting to the world that you’re completely insane.

“Excellent!” I said. “At this rate, I should be receiving golden carriages full of cook’s hats in no time!” Yet, as hours continued to pass, my greedy cook husband became steadily more tight-fisted. It seemed as though he realized he could get whatever he wanted from me by withholding the one trinket I so desperately desired.

The real-world implications of this whole process should start becoming clear any moment now.

I finally came to an utterly dark realization: my cook husband wanted sex. Maybe it was the subtle hints he kept dropping at my character. Hints like, “You’re looking good tonight” or “You know, the one thing missing from this marriage is your body” or “How about a special midday nap?” After exhausting every other possible option, I finally acquiesced. Taking my cook husband up to the royal suite in the royal castle, I gave him the royal night of his life. I should also mention that he wore his hat to bed.

Come morning, my cook husband had a gift for me. I unwrapped it faster and with more anticipation than a child on Christmas morning. Upon opening his elaborately wrapped present, I found…

A chessboard.

I stared at it with more confusion than a child on Christmas morning who just opened his present to find socks (or accidentally opened the present meant “For Daddy’s Eyes Only”). Baffled, I spoke with my cook husband to try and nail down the reason for this obvious mistake.

“Isn’t it great to live in a castle?” he responded. “We have everything we could possibly need right here.”

He was mocking me! All the while, his cook’s hat sat proudly on his head adding insult to injury. After running through every possible reason as to why my cook husband was being such a scrooge, the only explanation I could muster was that last night’s activities weren’t enough to satiate his cook appetite. I petitioned him for another romp in the royal hay, telling myself that no one could possibly resist free sex from someone who lived in a castle, restarted an ailing economy, and saved the world by shooting fire at werewolves.

His response? “I have a bit of a headache…I’m afraid it will last awhile.”

Now I was  pissed. My cook husband was refusing sex with a monarch under the guise of having the world’s most inexplicable and sudden migraine. “Fine,” I thought, “I’ll do something else for a few days and come back later.” I departed back into the Albion wilderness and set a few more werewolves on fire. A couple days passed and I returned to the castle to find my cook husband at his cutting board preparing vegetables for stir fry. Since he obviously had enough energy to prepare lunch for an entire castle’s worth of people, I figured he could use a break in the royal bedroom. I led him by the hand to my luxurious accommodations and petitioned him once again.

His response? “I have a bit of a headache…I’m afraid it will last awhile.”

You can imagine that my response to this latest bit of information was not pleasant. I considered using my werewolf-burning powers to ignite the entire castle in eternal hellfire, but I realized that doing so would probably ruin my perfect morality and destroy all the cook’s hats in the process. So, I took a quick breather and repeated the whole leave-castle-burn-werewolves-petition-for-sex cycle anew.

I’ll skip over the twenty or so times I returned to the castle only to have my cook husband give me the same damn excuse again. By the time he was finally ready to do the dirty a second time, I had put in a good 3 hours trying to get the hat off his head and into my inventory. But every good effort deserves a reward. Sure enough, my cook husband had a gift for me the following morning. I don’t exactly remember what this one was (something like a wash bowl), suffice to say that it was not a cook’s hat.

Fortunately, I had by this point accepted that this was going to be the most difficult, infuriating process in the history of video games. Unfortunately, I realized that I had become what was essentially the video game version of a prostitute. Unlike a prostitute, however, I was paying money to have sex with someone in the vain hope that he would find the compassion to give me clothes.

Through the tears of bitter realization at the monster I’d become, I managed to repeat this hellish process again and again and again. Time after time I’d wake up to discover a present at my side. Time after time it would turn out to be something completely unrelated to a cook’s hat: a chair, a mirror, a magic potion that summons spirits from the netherworld, etc. I had no idea where my cook husband was getting these nonsensical items. Considering I owned everything in Albion, the only explanation I could muster was that he was sneaking off during sex to steal things from my castle and wrap them under the cover of night.

It was about the time I realized that I was involved in what was potentially the most dysfunctional relationship ever crafted that my cook husband finally gave me a cook’s hat. I raised my arms in triumph only to discover that my cook husband was still wearing his hat!

The sniveling cheat had one in his pocket the whole time! Here he stood, thousands of pieces of gold richer, having received more action than utterly necessary, and he couldn’t find the heart to spare a hat that he obviously wasn’t using. At this point, I considered using my queenly influence to decree cooking an illegal profession and have all four chefs in Albion deported. Unfortunately, Fable 3 doesn’t allow for such rash decisions. You can slaughter towns full of innocent civilians and break wind in the face of homeless people, but God forbid you deport your selfish cook husband.

Despite this whole ordeal, I now had my cook’s hat and my 20 achievement points. I logged off my Xbox 360 and onto Facebook. It was then I realized I had lost 20 friends due to lack of social interaction.

I wonder if there’s a way to trade my other 421 friends for 421 achievement points.