There’s something disturbingly satisfying about turning life into a game. Slapping a shiny label on the monotonous grind of daily existence, like “gamification,” makes it all feel a bit more palatable. Setting goals becomes like gathering ridiculous little badges or leveling up in some virtual fantasy. Except in real life (IRL, if you will) instead of saving kingdoms or slaying dragons, you’re trying to adult properly without collapsing into a heap by Wednesday afternoon.
Heck, even I’m a sucker for the idea. Who doesn’t want to feel a smidge of accomplishment from doing the bare minimum? We could all likely benefit from that little dopamine hit when you unlock some digital “achievement” for, say, drinking eight glasses of water a day or maybe just remembering to drink water at all. It can feel like the universe patting you on the back for not completely failing at life. Sure, such accomplishments are about as meaningful as winning a participation trophy, but hey, isn’t that the game we’re all playing at these days?
Anyway, the sad part is, this whole gamification thing often feels more like a bait-and-switch. You’re drawn in with the promise of shiny rewards, only to discover you’re basically playing a rigged game. Sign up, share with all your friends, do a few tasks. Next thing you know, you’re grinding away like a hamster on a wheel, all for a couple of digital crumbs and the hollow satisfaction of having “leveled up” in a game designed to benefit someone else more than you. The irony is thicker than molasses.
I’ve encountered this brand of instant gratification gamification far too often. It’s especially rampant in the writing world. You get all hyped up, thinking you’re on the cusp of something big, only to realize you’re just another cog in the content mill. Most of us are churning out words for the benefit of the platform while collecting little more than a smattering of likes and the occasional comment (even that is usually spam).
So, in the spirit of gamifying my own writing career (and because I refuse to let some User Experience guru dictate my self-worth), I’ve decided to chart my own course—complete with my own “level up” moments. No badges are required.
My first real “level up” moment as a writer was starting my own little corner of the internet. It was a website dedicated to reviewing Magic the Gathering cards. Much of the content is still out there in some form, believe it or not, ancient relics of a passion long since extinguished. But back then, the thrill of having actual people read what I wrote was intoxicating. The constructive feedback didn’t hurt either, like finding a treasure chest filled with insight and a +2 to analytical skills. Sure, the site didn’t catapult me to fame and fortune, but it wasn’t a total flop either.
Another significant “level up” was establishing myself as a freelance writer. My partner at the time and I co-owned a website, which was a big deal considering my previous writing gigs had been the equivalent of playing a mobile game where you grind for hours and earn pennies. Writing independently was a blast, even if the rewards were more like Easter eggs hidden in a vast open world survival adventure game. Maintaining a regularly updated writer profile and a platform for my non-exclusive work felt like equipping myself with a fancy set of armor. It wasn’t just for reputation points, mind you, but as a neat little portfolio of my skills for future quests.
The latest “level up” on my journey was self-publishing my first poetry collection, swiftly followed by a short essay collection. It was sweetly satisfying, crossing that milestone off my bucket list. Sure, neither was a runaway success, but that’s not the point. I did it. In fact, I have more collections in the works, along with the ever-elusive full-length book. That’s my next big “level up”—assuming I don’t get distracted by countless side quests along the way.
So, here’s the takeaway, folks: take a good, hard look at your own career—or life in general—and pinpoint those moments when you made a real accomplishment. Write them down and catalog them like collectibles in your personal game of life. You might just find you’ve leveled up more times than you realize.
Then if we start viewing our goals as opportunities to level up, placing real value on each task we complete, suddenly the grind doesn’t seem so grindy. Instead, it’s just part of the epic journey to become the hero of your own story. That’s even if most days the plot is just about getting through another day without losing your mind.
So, what about you? What are your “level up” moments—whether as a writer or just as a human being slogging through this game of life? Let’s hear it! After all, every level-up deserves a bit of recognition, no matter how trivial it might seem.
~ Amelia Desertsong
