I am mourning Destiny.

The next thing from Bungie. That was all I understood as I plugged my info into the sign-up website for the Alpha. It was the summer of 2014. I was 24 years old, a year into the relationship that would eventually evolve into my marriage. I was working as a photo-journalist for a local news station, all while trying (and failing) to complete my broadcasting degree at the same time.

 I had dreams of working for one of the CBS owned gaming websites back then, Giant Bomb or Gamespot, and I figured getting into the Alpha would give me something interesting to write about and build out my portfolio. I had little time. My ‘part-time’ gig at the station had quickly turned into a 40-hour deal. We were understaffed, I was constantly on call, and rarely had two days off in a row. Still, I found the time that June to play the Destiny Alpha.

“That wizard came from the moon.”

 I can’t recall the specifics of my time playing the Alpha. I remember making my character, and being a tad underwhelmed at the options. I remember finally getting into the world and just being enraptured by it. I don’t remember exactly how long I played, but I remember being even more useless than usual the next day at work.

 I also remember what I did next. I spent my meager savings purchasing three copies of the game and PS4s for the woman who is now my wife, and one of my best friends. So desperate was I to share this experience with the people I cared about, that I ate grapes and drank cooler water for lunch for a whole two weeks.

My first Fireteam.

 I was enthralled. It was so weird, so different from Halo, or the earlier Marathon. Peter Dinklage was a Ghost, a disembodied voice who recited exposition with all the enthusiasm of a dentist asking you to open wide. The world was gorgeous, the ruins of a Earth from the near future. Recognizable as humanity, but better. A careful, delicate blend of optimism of what our species could become, and the fear of how delicate it all was. I felt that pang of loss for a world I never knew, and I was eager, maybe even desperate to learn more.

 Then came the beta, then the full release. I had looked so forward to this game. The last time I had been that excited was for Knights of the Old Republic 2, a decade earlier.

 I wish I could pinpoint exactly why I was disappointed. In retrospect, I could not see the vision. I had paid for three copies of this game, and it ended with a robot lady giving me a gun and explaining basically nothing. The lore that I had been so eager to delve into was hidden away in a companion app, one of the worst gaming trends of that decade. I remember feeling vindicated when at the afore mentioned Giant Bomb’s GOTY discussions, they seemed as perplexed by it as I was.

 “The Dark Below“ expansion would release, and so would begin a toxic cycle that has continued to this day, when it could continue no longer. Destiny would release an expansion, I’d tell myself I was over it. No thank you. A month would go by, maybe two. However long it would take for there to be a sale, or for me to see something really cool on Twitter or Youtube about the game. I’m back in. I’d lose a month or three to the game. I’d find something to grouse about, and I’d fall off. I have never been much for group content in a game, so that hamster wheel never appealed to me. I’d play what content I could solo or with my close friends, and I’d watch lore recaps on Youtube as I fell asleep.

 Fast-forward to 2017. My wife and I are now in our first apartment. We have just adopted two black kittens from a rescue in town. I am in an entirely different job, in an entirely different career. Still long hours. Still always on call. Still playing Destiny. Now the sequel. My heart ached as I watched the Tower burn. My spirit soared as I watched the Traveler, this dormant god, wake just long enough to end the Red War. My new kittens made navigating the game impossible, as they batted at the cursor gliding across the big screen HDTV we had just purchased.

My affair continued, like returning to a troublesome ex. I’d break up. It would swear it had changed, that it would be different this time. I’d have a rapturous few weeks, maybe even months, but then the old problems would emerge. “It’s okay,” Destiny would say, “I’ll be here when you come crawling back.”

 I always did. Because there was never anything quite like it. The world felt alive. The Last City changed. The Fallen opened up gizmo shops. The Cabal started patrolling the streets. I was late for work one night so I could watch the Rasputin stop the Almighty in orbit from the walls of the Last City, a once in a lifetime live event that now only lives on in our memories and on Youtube.

 Here we are now. June. 12 years and 11 months and 23 days since I lost a night playing that Alpha. A few weeks ago, after my customary skipping of Renegades (I’ll have you know I bought Final Shape at launch), I was sitting in our game room, and I said to my wife, maybe it’s time to go home. I purchased the recent expansions on Steam, since we now primarily play on PC. KT got her characters linked, and a couple days later as we prepared to launch, I noticed a news update on the Steam page.

Every End is a New Beginning.

 It rang inside me like a hollow bell. This game that I marked time with was finally, and ironically, settling into its final shape. The news that continued to leak made it feel all the more bleak. I felt like the Elves being called to Valinor at the end of the Third Age, summoned to their home shores at the end of the world.

 June 9th they drop their final update. I would be lying if I said I was ready to say goodbye. In the time since that announcement, I have gone back and tried to play Destiny 1 again with friends, just to run into connection issues. Destiny 2 has permanently removed much of it’s content from the early years, one of those terrible choices that always kept me from fully committing to this game.

In my solo time with Destiny Originale, it is nearing on eerie to walk through this frozen world and see this Tower, City, Sol as it was 12 years ago. It is there, just as I left it. The Dink has been replaced, the dialog sharpened and refined, but by and large it hasn’t changed. I can almost convince myself I am 24 again, dreading the sun and the long day ahead, but unable to tear myself away.

 As I sit at my desk playing what I can of the Destiny Part Deux campaign, a single black cat, practically a Guardian himself at this point, lays nearly on my keyboard and watches. He’s a solo act now, his fireteam being one down since last winter. This is the only game he does this with. I sometimes wonder if it takes him back to better days. He keeps returning to defend the Light, same as myself, and so many of us.

 The cadence of regular releases is over. Now when I come back, and I’m sure I will come back, the world will be frozen. The story finally finished, perhaps for good. As long as they’ll let me kill monsters and loot the stars, I’ll be here though. I don’t even know if I have a choice in it anymore.

Eyes up, forever and always.