Let me tell you, fellow gamers, after I've spent what feels like an eternity blasting through a main campaign, there's this weird, almost masochistic itch I get. I just gotta slow down, take a deep breath, and dive headfirst into the glorious, soul-crushing grind of hunting collectibles. It's therapeutic, in a 'poking myself with a stick' kind of way. We all know the drill: it's time-consuming, it's tedious, and sometimes it feels like the developers are just messing with us. But oh man, that sweet, sweet serotonin hit of seeing that 100% completion pop-up? That's the good stuff. Open-world games are the absolute masters of this 'no pain, no gain' philosophy, scattering hundreds of shiny baubles across their digital landscapes like some kind of sadistic Easter egg hunt. But let's be real for a second—some of these collectibles are a straight-up pain in the neck, the gaming equivalent of finding a needle in a haystack... while blindfolded. Here's my personal hall of fame (or shame) for the most frustrating hunts I've endured.

First up, let's talk about a classic that still gives me nightmares. In Grand Theft Auto IV, Rockstar decided that what Liberty City really needed was 200 pigeons to... eliminate. That's right, your mission is to hunt down and splatter these 'flying rats' all over the city. The reward? A helicopter that spawns in a single location. Big whoop. The real kicker? These feathered fiends aren't on your map. Not even a hint. You have to become one with the concrete jungle, scouring every rooftop, alley, and bridge for hours. Talk about a wild goose chase—or should I say, pigeon chase? The only true reward is the 'Flying Rat' trophy and the bragging rights that come with telling your friends you wasted a weekend on digital bird-watching genocide.

Then there's Assassin's Creed II. Ah, Ezio. Such a loving brother. So loving, in fact, that he decides to honor his younger brother Petruccio by collecting 100 tiny feathers scattered across Renaissance Italy. Aww, how touching. Eye roll. Finding these things was an exercise in patience I simply did not possess. You'd parkour across Florence, leap from a tower, and maybe spot a tiny white puff on a windowsill. It was infuriating! Sure, the payoff is a nice cape and a heartwarming cutscene with Mama Auditore, but the journey? Pure agony. I tip my virtual hat to the OG players who found them all without a guide. You have the patience of a saint.

Now, let's move to Gotham. The Riddler Trophies in the Batman: Arkham series. Oh, Edward Nygma, you glorious, green-suited troll. These things are everywhere. And I mean everywhere. They're not just collectibles; they're full-blown environmental puzzles. Some require precise batarang throws, others need you to sequence-break with explosive gel. I remember one particular trophy in Arkham City that had me stumped for hours. The solution? Zoom in with detective mode to detonate the gel markers one by one. The game never tells you this! You just have to figure it out or go mad. It's a love-hate relationship. Solving a tricky one feels amazing, but finding the 400th one hidden behind a gargoyle? That's just Riddler being a jerk.

If you want a true test of your sanity, look no further than Red Dead Redemption 2. Completing the Compendium isn't just a side activity; it's a second full-time job. You need to study and skin 178 different species of animal. Let that sink in. 178. That includes 12—twelve!—different species of snake. You'll spend days tracking a perfect 3-star Western Moose, only to have it bolt into the woods and vanish. The 'Zoologist' and 'Skin Deep' achievements are badges of honor that scream, 'I have no life, and I'm proud of it.' Arthur Morgan was an outlaw, a gunslinger, a tragic hero... and, in my playthrough, also a weirdly dedicated amateur zoologist.

My list of collectible grievances doesn't end there. Here are a few more that had me yelling at my screen:

• Spider-Bots in Marvel's Spider-Man 2: Cool lore reward, but having to web-sling across all of New York without them on the map until you unlock a specific skill? Not cool, Miles. Not cool. Some are hidden in devilish spots that require you to essentially throw yourself off a skyscraper.

• Audio Logs in Watch Dogs: 101 of them. For what? Some background noise? No achievement, just the satisfaction of hearing Aiden Pierce's edgy monologues from every phone in Chicago. Easy to miss, and honestly, who has the time?

• Stones of Barenziah in Skyrim: 24 unmarked, identical stones scattered across the entire province. Miss the one in the Thalmor Embassy during the main quest? Hope you enjoy exploiting glitches to get back in! The reward (Prowler's Profit) is actually amazing—you'll be swimming in gems—but the hunt is a legendary chore.

• Merlin Trials in Hogwarts Legacy: 95 of the same basic environmental puzzles. They give you inventory space, which is crucial, but solving the 50th 'roll these balls into the holes' trial made me feel less like a powerful wizard and more like a glorified groundskeeper.

• Jade Statues in Sleeping Dogs: This one is a special kind of evil. You're told to find these statues to learn new kung-fu moves. So you scour Hong Kong for hours. Then, later in the story, a character just... calls you and puts them all on your map. It's the ultimate 'why did I even bother?' moment. A real slap in the face.

• Inhibitors in Dying Light 2: 126 of these stat-boosting collectibles, and the last two are always, always the worst. One's in a safe you can only open based on a story choice you made 30 hours ago. Another is literally floating in mid-air at a radio tower, easy to completely overlook. Getting stuck at 124/126 is a uniquely frustrating form of gamer purgatory.

So, why do we do it? Why subject ourselves to this digital torture? I think it's because that 100% marker is more than just a number. It's a testament to our dedication, our stubbornness, and our love for these virtual worlds, warts and all. It's about saying, 'I saw everything this game had to offer, even the annoying bits.' It's the journey and the destination, even when the journey involves studying 12 different pixelated snakes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear a pigeon cooing on a rooftop in Liberty City. Old habits die hard.