There are many ways to celebrate success in video games. Beat your friends! Get the high score! (If I could have ever just gotten past the final Bowser on 8-4, I would have counted it as ultimate success…)
One way of measuring success in recent years is speed running. A speed run isn’t just successfully completing a game, it’s completing it as fast as humanly possible. (The speed run record for Super Mario Bros. is 4:54.928, a solid 282ms faster than the second play.)
Newer games capitalize on this motivation: one of my son’s favorite games to play is Geometry Dash, which is, as best I can tell, a game whose levels can only be finished as a speed run – you either complete the level perfectly or not at all. It takes a serious amount of drilling practice to train your brain and hands to perform the motions consistently.
I am not personally much of a gamer, but even so, I can’t say that speed running particularly appeals to me. I am more engaged with games that include some exploration, some creativity, and don’t require hours of practice to complete perfectly. (Or perhaps, I don’t respond to games that require perfection to complete at all.)
It’s the same, for me, with music-making. I respect the speed running of musical performances – the drilling it takes to get consistent perfection – but I’m more interested in musical performances that prioritize creativity, real-time decision-making, and the thrill of the moment. If a musical performance has the rote feeling of a successful speed run, I feel as if something vital is missing.