Out of my way! Why companions in games get on my nerves

«Sry pet,» my teammate writes in the chat, while 30 enemies attack us in the dungeon and kill our entire party within seconds. Once again, a hunter’s pet drew the attention of too many mobs and cost us all our lives. Anyone who’s played World of Warcraft even once knows this situation.

Companions, followers, pets, amigos, guns for hire, or whatever they’re called, are annoying.

Shut up, Claptrap!

They stop in doorways and block my way. They ruin our ninja-like stealth gameplay because they don’t hide. They run into battle in an open field, get shot at then call for help. And most annoyingly, they make unfunny remarks with the humour of a secondary school student. All of it grinds my gears.

Instead of driving the story forward, companions too often distract from the core game. For example, they’ll often pursue their own goals. No. I’m this world’s saviour. What do I care about your kidnapped daughter, your vampire-bitten brother, your lost love or your search for an artefact?

On the other side of the spectrum, there are companions who follow me blindly into every adventure – even if this consists of slaughtering an entire village. One moment we’re poisoning a farmer’s family well together, the next the companion tells me his family means the world to him. Right.

When gaming feels like coding

For a menu hater like me, it could be worse. Some games give me the opportunity burden of better equipping my companion, training them, teaching them new skills. All across many menus, mind you. I already hate crafting items for my own character. My companion should make sure their equipment meets our requirements themselves. After all, they’re there to help me, not the other way around.

As you’d expect, my biggest nightmare is the gambit system in Final Fantasy XII, which allows you to give specific instructions to party members. Using if-then commands. It makes me wonder whether I’m in a fantasy game or an introductory course in computer science.

Here to serve

Here’s the only acceptable companion to me: the ones that take on tiresome tasks and make themselves useful. They collect loot from nearby corpses, carry my luggage or heal me in battle. If they take on the role of a servant, I can live with dragging a Robin along with my Batman.

Otherwise, I’ll travel solo whenever possible. Me against the rest of the world. After all, if my plan doesn’t work out and I die, I can only blame one person: myself.