Have a perfect, game-free Christmas

    Traditions are always puzzling to those who don't share them. I'm Jewish, so the idea of a "perfect family Christmas"is foreign to me.
   
    It can make me sad at this time of year to see my friends running themselves ragged to try to give their children the most "perfect" Christmas ever, with celebrity-chef-worthy food, mountains of elegantly matching-wrapped gifts and constant rictus grins. (Of course, my family is exactly the same at Passover, but that's another story.)
We all know that the desire for perfection can get in the way of authenticity and enjoyment; it's the same with games. There's a completist part to many of us that can't rest until we reach the perfect 100% finish point.
I've stayed up late into the night not to finish the main thread of a game but to get that last pesky bit of an accomplishment. I stayed up till 5am a few weeks ago to get all the weapons in very-far-from-hardcore cartoon game Plants Vs Zombies .
It's at this point that gaming starts to seem less like fun and more like an extra, boring job.
A recent Panorama programme about gaming addiction has been rightly called sensationalist – exaggerating the problems suffered by a very few gamers.
But most gamers I know have experienced addiction's little brother: a completist compulsion that can keep you playing a game after it's stopped being fun.
So I say to you Britain: don't aim for perfection. Serve your burnt roast potatoes. Give your wonkily-wrapped gifts. Embrace your family arguments as a sign of how much you trust each other.
And leave your Christmas gaming gifts half-played. Have a half-arsed gaming Christmas.