I love stealth games. Developers, if you let me convincingly pretend to be a ninja, a spy or a laughably inadequate Batman, I'm going to wad $60 up and throw it in your face. Then, while you're distracted, I will steal your game and run away (it's the perfect crime -- nobody ever comes after me, for some reason). So it's too bad that, without exception, I am universally terrible at them. I finally figured out why: To nobody's surprise more than my own and that of the child I am currently kicking, I think I'm terrible at stealth games because I'm simply too good of a person.
Yep. Paragon of virtue over here.
If you're not familiar with the genre, the core of any stealth game is staying unnoticed. Rather than resorting to something as vulgar as slapping helmets on the players and asking them to sprint through a beige war zone full of cinder blocks and exploding minorities, stealth games set players loose in a semi-open environment and let them plan their murders discreetly, like gentlemen. Sometimes one of the murder-dolls will turn out to be an important character, however, or at least be programmed to do something mildly interesting if you let them live, thus giving players some sort of incentive not to kill them (just yet).