Speedrunner or Completionist? Be Honest
Two players start the same game. One reaches the final boss in six hours with a third of the map unvisited. The other is at hour forty, still cross-referencing a checklist, perfectly happy.
Neither is doing it wrong, and most of us are a blend that shifts with mood and with how much we like the game in front of us. These seven questions are about your default, the version of you that turns up when nobody has suggested a way to play. Answer honestly. The checklist people are not in trouble here.
See all the outcomes this quiz can land on, and what each one means →
Nobody agrees what one hundred per cent means
A completion percentage looks like a fact. It is a design decision. Somebody sat down and chose which things count towards it, chests, quests, journal entries, optional bosses, and which things do not, and the same game can present a very different number depending on where that line was drawn. Plenty of titles ship with a counter that reaches full while whole systems remain untouched. Plenty of others include a category almost nobody finishes, deliberately, so that the number stays just out of reach. It is worth remembering the next time a counter refuses to move: the percentage is authored content, no more neutral than a difficulty curve.
The achievement layer changed what finishing feels like
When the major consoles standardised achievements and trophies in the middle of the 2000s, they added something unusual. A second scoreboard now sat on top of every game, run by the platform rather than the studio, visible to your friends and permanent in a way that a save file is not. Designers responded by writing achievements as guidance, nudging players towards the hard mode, the ignored weapon, the route nobody takes, and also, less charmingly, as retention hooks. Play a hundred matches. Log in on separate days.
The more interesting effect is on attention. An achievement list published before you start tells you what the game considers notable, which quietly converts exploration into checking. Some players find that clarifying. Others find that the moment they read the list, the game stops being able to surprise them.
Both habits are really about route knowledge
The player who finishes fastest and the player who finishes fully end up holding the same asset, a detailed mental map of where everything is. They simply built it for opposite reasons: one to skip past, the other to sweep. That is why the two camps argue so much and understand each other so well. It also explains why both groups get faster over repeated playthroughs while a first-time player of the same skill does not: the improvement is stored knowledge about a specific building, not a change in ability.
None of which the quiz above can see. Nothing here is timed, no run is being tracked, and no reflex or reaction is measured anywhere in it. What comes back is a portrait built from seven self-descriptions, and where a heading brandishes a percentage it is doing so for effect rather than because a figure was calculated. Treat the tier as a conversation starter with yourself about how you actually spend the hours.
