An Engaging Mess - Destiny
Now, this. . . Is the law of the Jungle. As old and as true, as the sky.
Introduction:
Let’s go on the way back machine, Watch this trailer, and enthuse you in the game that we were definitely supposed to get, something concise, it had thought and might. It was the work of a great mind.
I have wanted to touch upon it in many different ways, I could’ve regurgitated what every single person who has talked about this has done and said, I could’ve gone through every single mission and recollect everything about them and probably regurgitate what they showed and study them, etc.
But in reality, this only needs something that is akin of that of the game that I am speaking about, something simple.
So, I decided I should go upon this on three different topics and sections, Story, Grimoire Cards and Gameplay along with my main issues and consequences with the game.
So, without further ado, let's delve deeper into Destiny:
Short Analysis - Story: So, I wanted to drive this forward here, I like the universe that Destiny is attempting to drive forward with so many issues at hand, it tries and every time it has me on the edge of my seat waiting for that moment that solidifies the universe in my mind.
It just doesn’t happen.
All of the time I’ve spent in this game has shown me little to no reason to really care about this universe, interesting characters that we never get answers for, interesting plot points that never get shown or resolved, possibly due to complexity or a variety of different reasons.
It’s no secret that the game underwent massive rewrites in order to make it a simpler game – something I truly hope is recanted and fixed in the future title Destiny 2. But as of today, I still remain to wait for that moment.
The Warthog Run, The mid-air catch of ammunition that was shot straight at me thanks to a perfectly placed grenade in between enemies, the grand assassination of your enemy, the discovery of a seeding parasite.
All of these things, remain, to this day, shelved in the Destiny universe. There’s no urgency to you as the player, an absolute vicious cycle where you go back to the beginning every single time like nothing has happened.
That’s how Destiny’s story feels to me, and probably to many other people, however, let’s get to the points at hand, as I am running on a tangent here.
What makes a good story?: Well, certainly, a variety of reasons I can assure you, consistency, good writing, well thought out events, character progression, world building, etc. In games it is different to books, vastly, show don’t tell is something that is probably said a lot in the industry, however, this is not a movie.
Video games offer a variety of ways where you can offer a great story, but never show and don’t tell. Show and tell.
But ambiguity is good, certainly, Dark Souls comes to mind in this regard, or Outlast 1 & 2, however, when does ambiguity starts to become a bad thing? Simply put, when you’ve got 42 pages of content in different cards that deliver excerpts of story, some more important than others.
You must let the audience know something, at the very least about the story you want to tell, then leave things to ambiguity, selectively, not leave a collective of information to ambiguity and host it all in a third party location that has absolutely no connection to the game’s immersion whatsoever.
You must constantly step away from the world to seek your answers and that’s not storytelling, that’s a cop out when your game has close to none of this. You aren’t showing, and you aren’t telling either.
However, is Destiny Lore good? yes a vehement yes, it’s deep, concise, well thought out. However, it’s convenient that half of it derives from the work that Staten did for Bungie that was cut early in development. All of it plugged into cards outside the game. Let’s, however, take a step back and look at how they could’ve told some of this into the overall story, let’s go with something that always stood out to me, the very beginning.
Ares One – the mission to Mars.
Ghost Fragment: Human – From the diaries of Commander Jacob Hardy, pilot, Ares One
The mission is a go. Crew of three: Mihaylova, Qiao, myself. Immediate departure at the next Hohmann window to Mars. The MREs and return ships will chase us out. How do I feel? I said at the press conference I felt privileged. Historians will read this diary, but it won’t take their insight to tell the world that I’m terrified. It’s the human reaction.
What I wish I could convey is the – the exhilaration. That’s the biggest thing. I’m not a spiritual man, but I’ve always believed there’s something transcendent about spaceflight. Something pure. We go out there because we can. Because it’s who we are. Now we go because we have to. Because the unknown came to us. In fourteen months we’ll be face to face with it, and by the time we arrive, it should be active again – just like it was active on Jupiter, and Mercury, and Venus.
I wonder what happens if it doesn’t stop at Mars. I wonder if it’ll leave us there in the sand, and come to Earth, and do here what it’s done everywhere else. I hate that we’re carrying weapons. I understand the necessity. But I hold to my belief: there’s something beautiful out there.
It’s up to us to reach it.
Of course, a lot of people wouldn’t know this, it’s never told to us who those people are, what they’re doing, what is the giant ball making rain on Mars.
It’s not even clear what is the purpose of the scene in the first place.
It’s just there with no explanation on sight. But what if they gave it purpose, those lines could’ve been very easily included into the game, the entirety of the ‘Human’ Ghost Fragments could’ve been included in the game in several different cutscenes focusing on Mars, showing us glimpses of the Golden Age and giving us some information about the Traveler.
But, alas, the game is too preoccupied trying to keep information from you that it forget that it needs to show you and tell you something in order for you to even care and be interested.
I believe the only occasion where Destiny’s story truly piqued my interest was in Paradox Daily and Queen's Ransom, and that was fleeting. As we didn’t hear anything about Praedyth ever again after that mission, or anything about time travel after capturing Skolas.
Everything that Destiny picks up, it makes an effort to promptly drop it for the next thing, and so on and so forth.
However, that brings me to my next point - and an excellent segway.
Short Analysis - Grimoire Cards:
It’s no secret that there's a few places that have dedicated themselves to the gathering of these, Ishtar-Collective is one of them, of course.
It is twenty times better than Bungie.net’s choppy and tacked on user-interface used for the grimoire card section makes it feel more like a chore to read, rather than anything else.
I refused to read them until now, of course, because of my belief that they’re a cop out. I could not bring myself to read anything from there provided by Bungie. I think I Hate Everything put it best in one of his videos. And it only lasts a few seconds.
However, I did, for the sake of anyone reading this and for my sake, as the game was driving me closer and closer to the point of insanity as it left me more questions than it actually answered I very much ventured into Ishtar-Collective.net and tackled upon a list of cards that were provided to me. Among others that I read for myself.
Nonetheless, even after reading them, the sour taste in my mouth from the collective mess that Destiny – the game – is, remains, and it was only heightened by these. Let’s take a look at a few that stood out to me, however.
Bannerfall:
Possibly one of the most interesting locations I have ever visited on Destiny and it is only there for one mission and as a multiplayer map.
It is almost unjust how criminally underused this wonderful map is, however, it turns out it certainly has its own story that roots deeply to the New Monarchy – my faction of choosing, which still means nothing because I don't know what benefits they really give you aside of you know having cool red armour – although none of that is heard anywhere in the game. Not even as a fleeting comment from the NPCs.
ARENA DESIGNATION: Bannerfall
LOCATION: The Last City, Earth
Lysander and the Concordat mark the most recent example of a City political factions rising in opposition to the Consensus. This site marks a legendary battle where New Monarchy’s Guardians rose to deliver the final blow to the Concordat, unraveling the war effort Lysander sought to bring against the Vanguard.
Lord Shaxx has commandeered the area not only to commemorate this last stand, but as a reminder of the City’s solidarity against those who seek to undermine the extreme efforts and sacrifice we make together to keep our peace.
Now let’s take a look at a different Grimoire Card, Ghost Fragment: The City Age
“And so it is agreed. The Concordat shall no longer be recognized among the Consensus. We’ll begin the dismantling right away. But what of those Guardians who have pledged to them? We can’t afford any more banishments.”
“I’m sure Zavala can see to their realignment.”
“We’ll do our best. Lysander chose his followers wisely. It may take some time.”
“Lysander will not back down. He’ll continue his crusade from wherever we stuff him.”
“And so we’ll need to find some new ideas to replace his.”
“The Symmetry has been gaining a strong following…”
“Ulan-Tan’s teachings are too dangerous. Too much fear. Who knew he’d be more trouble dead than alive?”
“We’ll need to refocus our collective minds on combat. The Speaker’s anxious to regain ground we lost after the Gap.”
“There is the War Cult.”
“Too secretive. Have you ever tried to talk to one of their ‘soldiers’? Like a child. Answering questions with questions.”
“They are dedicated to the war.”
“Which one?”
“Good question.”
“Zavala?”
“They seem focused. Strong. More interesting than worrisome.”
“Let’s take it to a vote. All in favor of the ascension of the Future War Cult?”
“Unanimous? Good. We’ll grant the Future War Cult access to the Tower and a seat among us. Ghost, please offer the Speaker this proposal.”
“Now onto the next order of business…Shaxx is here with another proposal for his Crucible.”
So, apparently there once were rogue Guardians in the City who weren’t mindless drones and actually had alignments, maybe the political alignments in the game had more power once.
I cannot help but feel saddened however at the lack of interesting concepts such as these in the game, I have always said and continue to say, the past of the Destiny games is more interesting than the present.
This simple card just confirmed to me that we arrived in Destiny in the most uninteresting moment possible.
This is Lady Efrideet, she has a song dedicated to her and she basically controls the Iron Banner. She was once presumed dead. That’s all you’d know about her following the games alone.
Now let’s go through her card.
In the tales of the Iron Lords, Lady Efrideet was one of the most prominent characters. She once threw Saladin like a javelin into a Fallen Walker—a City favourite retold for centuries. How she met her end is less clear, but the tales agreed that Efrideet had long ago died her final death.
Until she returned.
Now Efrideet serves as the new Iron Banner representative while Lord Saladin devotes his attention to the SIVA Crisis. She urges Guardians to see the Banner tournament as a chance to strengthen their Light, for fighting and for more metaphysical purposes. The Vanguard are also intrigued by Efrideet’s accounts of a nonmilitary Guardian community in the deep system, but Efrideet, though happy to talk about the group’s pacifist philosophies, refuses to disclose the settlement’s location at present.
She apparently has done a lot, a lot we don’t actually see or are even told. Hell, something as simple as a discussion about her throwing Saladin like a Javelin against a Fallen Walker.
How do you miss something as awesome as that and don’t let your audience know unless they go out of their way to read these.
Also, do you remember this trailer?
Well, it is canon, however similarly to that of several Halo trailers, the confirmation comes from the Ghost Fragment: Memories 3:
He always survives. Helmet in one hand and torch in the other, Saladin Forge marches through the snow. He can sense the wolves emerge around him; only three of them come into view, but this group has followed him on his patrols since the Devils raided the Plaguelands. He has given up dissuading them. They’re defending their territory, and Saladin can relate to that. But they will not last long. Nothing does. Not the Golden Age. Not the colony ships. Not the impenetrable walls of the Cosmodrome. Not the Iron Lords. He discards his torch, and glances up to see a familiar glow reaching out from the dark. He smirks. A horde of Devil Splicers returns his stare from the wreckage of the wall ahead. The Splicers are doomed. Just as the Iron Lords were, when he and his allies opened that vault. As Fallen continue to pour through the gap in the wall, they remind him of his friends in their final moment: a crimson pulse beats in place of their hearts. SIVA. He puts his helmet on as an Iron battle axe forms in his hand, the air around him bursting into flame. The first wave of dregs approaches. Saladin breaks into a charge, swinging the axe to bear as he smashes into a storm of steel and weapons fire. As his axe bites, again and again, Skorri’s Iron Song haunts him. He calls upon Radegast’s strength. Perun’s sense of purpose. Timur’s questions. Felwinter’s cynicism. Silimar’s persistence. Gheleon’s reasoning. Jolder’s smile. He pounds the last Splicer priest like a burning hammer, blasting a crater into the snow and gravel. Frozen dirt rains down on the spent shells and the mounds of Splicer corpses that surround him. The Warlocks of the City have described meditation to him. He imagines it feels like this. He always survives. When nothing else does. “Lord Saladin? What’s your status?” calls Shiro-4 through his audio feed. “Just— Taking a walk,” he says, staring at the fifteen-foot divide he broke in the earth. He had to meet SIVA again. One last time. “I’ve analyzed the Clovis Bray data.” Timur always said that Clovis Bray was the key. “Can you break the Splicers’ hold over SIVA?” How different would things be, had Saladin listened? “Theoretically. Temporarily.” Would his friends still live? Would he? “It might be enough. Perhaps our Guardian has turned the tide. I’ll be there shortly.” He sees the wolves have formed up around him. Eight of them. He always survives.
I hope my point is coming out crystal clear on these, though, which is, you can not show, nor tell. You must do one or the other if you can’t do both. Apparently, Bungie didn't know how to do either. Unsurprising given Halo: Reach's story exists as both a massive failure and an intended retcon.
Now some honorary mentions of characters who get absolutely no attention in the game:
The Exo Stranger:
Despite being voiced by Lauren Cohan, all we know about her is basically still redundant to nothing. From reports of hallucinations to outright speculation.
Stories of an Exo who walks in the Darkness without a Ghost have long haunted the Tower. Legends say this anomaly dissolves in and out of the world, intangible and elusive as if she is a visitor from somewhere beyond.
Some believe she's the last of an ancient Exo squadron, fighting a long-forgotten war. Others dismiss her as a hallucination caused by exposure to Vex technology. But there are those who maintain that her intervention saved their lives - or averted unspeakable catastrophes.
Reference Links:
Lady Jolder:
Not much is really known about her, despite being kind of a center piece for Rise of Iron, she went by ignored both by the player and Bungie.
She supposedly had a close relationship with Saladin and it is speculated that she was a Striker Titan.
Reference Links:
The Speaker:
There has always been a Speaker, an anonymous high priest with a mysterious and powerful connection to the Traveler and its Ghosts. In all the centuries of the City's history, the Speaker's great work has never changed - to guide new Guardians, heal the Traveler, and raise our crippled protector from its slumber.
Mara Sov:
"I am noble too, oh Lord of Wolves. Starlight was my mother, and my father was the dark."
The Queen of the Awoken is as much an enigma as the Reef she rules. It is said that she won her crown through ruthlessness and that she stands as the master of the Fallen House of Wolves in place of their defeated Kell.
The City's rise spells an end to the Reef's age of isolation. The Queen will surely look to this new era as an opportunity. And the City, in turn, must look to her. The Reefborn Awoken have spent long ages out on the edge of everything, and they may know secrets of terrible weight - the Queen most of all.
Reference Links:
Uldren Sov:
"I will not sacrifice my birthright for the promise of security."
As the Queen's confident, spymaster, and deadliest enforcer, her brother wield enormous power, particularly for a male born in the Reef's matriarchal society. Recent reports suggest he may differ from the Queen on key matters of strategy - but it remains to be seen whether this gap is a source of conflict or part of the reason the Queen values him so highly.
Reference Links:
You - The Guardian:
Not much is really known about you, other than the fact that you are; the elusive do-all-kill-all-go-to guy to run errands of any kinds for the Tower and everyone around you.
It is also a thing that your voice has slowly become more and more obsolete that by the point that you kill Crota your voice is completely gone and it only continues in Destiny 2, going as far as you being unable to make any sort of sounds such as grunts or moans.
You are the hero, but apparently, the hero doesn't have any story or acknowledgement, so by far, the most unused character in either game is definitely you.
And I'm gonna take a moment to pitch in a gripe I had with Destiny 2's beta during the ending of Homecoming, your character sees the Ghost fall several hundred meters from the ship and all he/she does is silently reach out, not even a grunt or a cry in anguish, just reach their hand out in silence.
It was the most idiotic thing I had ever seen in a video game, it's the fact that you go from a mute character like the Rookie to the Guardian who basically contains no emotion. A rock is way more emotive and I can call it David.
And as a last mention to the Grimoire Cards, I want to bring forth, The Last Word's canon story, only seen through reading the Grimoire Cards.
Perhaps the only reason I want to bring a lot of these forth is one: because I love lore, it's a perfect way to create tangible stories, especially when the lore is so in-depth, and two: well, Destiny has amazing lore and an amazing set-up to create amazing stories.
Especially with Destiny 2 coming soon and reportedly having over 50 cutscenes, it remains to be seen whether or not Bungie's worthy of the new universe they created. And if the Beta and Destiny 1 are any indication.
It still doesn't seem so. . .
A Last Word - Yours Not Mine:
I wanted to bring up this story specifically in a fully narrative way, as best as I could connect them as well as using Ishtar's suggested reading placement, mostly because, well, it is interesting and better than anything Destiny has done so far. Far better.
It is a literal testament to the fact that they can do better, but are too lazy or held back to actually doing so.
The Last Word is a romantic weapon, a throwback to simpler times when steady aim and large rounds were enough to dispense justice in the wilds of a lawless frontier. Of course, some might say that time has come again.
TYPE: Transcript.
DESCRIPTION: Conversation.
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Ghost-type, designate [REDACTED] [u.1], One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2]
ASSOCIATIONS: Breaklands; Durga; Dwindler’s Ridge; Last Word; Malphur, Shin; North Channel; Orsa, Zyre [AKA Vale, Dredgen]; Palamon; Thorn; Vale, Dredgen [AKA Orsa, Zyre]; Velor; Ward, Jaren; WoS; Yor, Dredgen; Yor, Shadows of
//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[u.1:0.1] Will you fight them?
[u.2:0.1] The Shadows?
[u.1:0.2] Those who have taken up arms in the name of Yor.
[u.2:0.2] The hope is they are more careful than their inspiration.
[u.1:0.3] Do you believe that will make a difference?
[silence]
[u.2:0.3] No.
[u.1:0.4] Then what will you do?
[u.2:0.4] The Vanguard has an eye on...
[u.1:0.5] The Vanguard have their eyes on many things.
[u.2:0.5] I’m aware.
[u.1:0.6] Then what will you do?
[silence]
[u.2:0.6] What needs to be done.
I'm writing this from memory - some mine, but not all. The facts won't sync with the reality, but they'll be close, and there's no one to say otherwise, so for all intents and purposes, this will be the history of a settlement we called Palamon and the horrors that followed an all too brief peace.
I remember home, and stories of a paradise we'd all get to see some day - of a City, "shining even in the night." Palamon didn't shine, but it was sanctuary, of a sort.
We'd settled in the heart of a range that stretched the horizon. Wooded mountains that shot with purpose toward the sky. Winters were harsh, but the trees and peaks hid us from the world. We talked about moving on, sometimes, striking out for the City. But it was just a longing.
Drifters came and went. On occasion they would stay, but rarely.
We had no real government, but there was rule of law. Basic tenets agreed upon by all and eventually overseen by Magistrate Loken.
And there you have it...no government, until there was. I was young, so I barely understood. I remember Loken as a hardworking man who just became broken. Mostly I think he was sad. Sad and frightened. As his fingers tightened on Palamon, people left. Those who stayed saw our days became grey. Loken's protection - from the Fallen, from ourselves - became dictatorial.
Looking back, I think maybe Loken had just lost too much - of himself, his family. But everyone lost something. And some of us had nothing, to begin with. My only memory of my parents is a haze, like a daydream, and a small light, like the spark of their souls. It's not anything I dwell on. They left me early, taken by Dregs.
Palamon raised me from there. The family I call my own - called my own - cared for me as if I was their natural born son. And life was good. Being the only life I knew, my judgment is skewed, and it wasn't easy - pocked by loss as it was - but I would call it good.
Until, of course, it wasn't.
Until two men entered my world. One a light. The other the darkest shadow I would ever know.
The man I would come to know as Jaren Ward, my third father and quite possibly my closest friend, came to Palamon from the south.
I was just a boy, but I'll never forget his silhouette on the empty trail as he made his slow walk into town.
I'd never seen anything like him. Maybe none of us had. He'd said he was only passing through, and I believed him - still do, but life can get in the way of intent, and often does.
I can picture that day with near perfect clarity. Of all the details though - every nuance, every moment - the memory that sticks in my mind is the iron on Jaren's hip. A cannon that looked both pristine and lived in. Like a relic of every battle he'd ever fought, hung low at his waist - a trophy and a warning.
This man was dangerous, but there was a light about him - a pureness to his weight - that seemed to hint that his ire was something earned, not carelessly given.
I'd been the first to see him as he approached, but soon most of Palamon had turned out to greet him. My father held me back as everyone stood in silence.
Jaren didn't make a sound behind his sleek racer's helmet. He looked just like the heroes in the stories, and to this day I'm not sure one way or the other if the silence between the town's people and the adventurer was born of fear or respect. I like to think the latter, but any truth I try to place on the moment would be of my own making.
As we waited for Magistrate Loken to arrive and make an official greeting, my patience got the best of me. I shook free of my father's heavy hand and made the short sprint across the court, stopping a few paces from where this new curiosity stood - a man unlike any other.
I stared up at him and he lowered his attention to me, his eyes hidden behind the thick tinted visor of his headgear. My sight quickly fell to his sidearm. I was transfixed by it. I imagined all the places that weapon had been. All of the wonders it had seen. The horrors it had endured. My imagination darted from one heroic act to the next.
I barely registered when he began to kneel, holding out the iron as if an offering. But my eyes locked onto the piece, mesmerized.
I recall turning back to my father and seeing the looks on the faces of everyone I knew. There was worry there - my father slowly shaking his head as if pleading with me to ignore the gift.
I turned back to the man I would come to know as Jaren Ward, the finest Hunter this system may ever know and one of the greatest Guardians to ever defend the Traveler's Light...
And I took the weapon in my hand. Carefully. Gently.
Not to use. But to observe. To imagine. To feel its weight and know its truth.
That was the first time I held "Last Word," but, unfortunately, not the last.
Loken's men found Jaren Ward in the courtyard where this had all began.
Nine guns trained on him. Nine cold hearts awaiting the order. Magistrate Loken, standing behind them, looked pleased with himself.
Jaren Ward stood in silence. His Ghost peeked out over his shoulder.
Loken took in the crowd before stepping forward, as if to claim the ground - his ground. "You question me?" There was venom in his words. "This is not your home."
I remember Loken's gestures here. Making a show of it all.
Everyone else was still. Quiet.
I tugged at my father's sleeve, but he just tightened his grip on my shoulder to the point pain. His way of letting me know that this was not the time.
I'd watched Jaren's every move over the past months, mapping his effortless gestures and slight, earned mannerisms. I'd never seen anything like him. He was something I couldn't comprehend, and yet I felt I understood all I needed the moment I'd seen him. He was more than us. Not better. Not superior. Just more.
I wanted father to stop what was happening. Looking back now, I realize that he didn't want to stop it. No one d id.
As Loken belittled Jaren Ward, taunted him, enumerated his crimes and sins, my eyes were stuck on Jaren's pistol, fixed to his hip. His steady hand resting calmly on his belt.
I remembered the pistol's weight. Effortless. And my concern faded. I understood.
"This is our town! My town!" Loken was shouting now. He was going to make a show of Jaren - teach the people of Palamon a lesson in obedience.
Jaren spoke: clear, calm. "Not anymore."
Loken laughed dismissively. He had nine guns on his side. "Those gonna be your last words then, boy?"
The movement was a flash: quick as chain lightning. Jaren Ward spoke as he moved. "Yours. Not mine."
Smoke trailed from Jaren's revolver.
Loken hit the ground. A dark hole in his forehead. Eyes staring into eternity.
Jaren stared down the nine guns trained on him. One by one, they lowered their aim. And the rest of my life began - where, in a few short years, so many others would be ended.
It was the fourth night of the seventh moon.
Nine rises since any sign.
Trail wasn't cold, but lukewarm would've been an exaggeration.
Jaren had us hold by a ravine.
The heavy wood along the cliffs' edge caught the wind, holding back the cold and the rush of water muffled our conversation.
We'd seen dual Skiffs hanging low as they cut through the valley.
Wasn't known Fallen territory, but anymore that's a dangerous assumption.
There were six of us then.
Three less than two moons prior, but still, one more than when we'd first turned our backs to Palamon's ash.
We took a rotation for watch during the night.
Movement was kept to a minimum and communication was down to hand signals and simple gestures.
We could hold our own in a fight, but only the dead went looking for one—a hard truth that cut in direct opposition to our reasons for being so far from anything resembling civilization, much less our safety.
The Skiffs had spooked Kressler and Nada, and, in truth, me as well. But, looking back, I think we were all just grasping for any good reason to turn back.
Not because we would—turn back—but because it seemed to be our only real hope, and I think we all knew it.
Forward. Where we were headed—into the unknown. And following the footsteps we were. It all just started to feel like a never-ending dead end after a while.
Jaren never wavered though. Not once.
At least not to any noticeable degree.
It was his drive, his conviction, that kept us going.
And—it's hard to think on—but if I'm honest, it was his death that rekindled my own fire. A fire that was all but exhausted on that cold night.
He seemed confident we were close.
But more than confident—sure. He seemed sure.
No one else felt it—our own confidence, and any enthusiasm we'd had was set to wither soon as Brevin, Trenn and Mel were gunned down.
The Ghost—Jaren's Ghost—never said a word to any of us. Just hung there. Always alert. Always judging. Not us, per se, but the moment. Any moment.
I never got the sense it thought of us as lesser. More that it was guarded, wary.
We knew it could speak. We'd overheard them a few times. Just brief words and no one ever pressed the subject.
From time to time I caught its gaze lingering on me, but always assumed the attention was a result of the bond Jaren and I had. He was a father to me. At the time I didn't know why he'd singled me out as someone to care for. Someone to protect. After all the loss, I welcomed it, but looking back—taking in the arm's length at which he kept the others—I guess I should've known, or at least suspected there was more to it.
We all woke that night, closer to morning than the previous day.
A crack of gunfire split through the wood. Then more.
Far off, but near enough to pump the blood.
A familiar ring. "Last Word." Jaren's sidearm. His best friend.
Then another. A single shot, an unmistakable echo calling through the night. Hushed, cutting.
One shot, dark and infernal. Followed by silence.
We crouched low and quiet. Listening. Hoping.
Jaren was gone. Off on his own.
Maybe we were closer than we'd allowed ourselves to believe.
Too close.
He'd gone to face death alone.
I couldn't admit it—not at the time—but he thought he was
protecting us.
After such a long road—years on its heels, a trail littered with suffering and fire—maybe he just couldn't take the thought of anymore dead "kids," as he called us.
The echoes faded and we all held still. No way to track the direction. No sense in rushing blind.
What was done was done.
The cadence of the shots fired told a story none of us cared to hear.
"Last Word" it hadn't been. And somewhere in the world, close enough for us to bear absent witness but far enough to be a dream, Jaren Ward lay dead or dying. And there was nothing to be done.
Hours passed. An eternity.
We held our spot, but as the sun rose the others began to fade back into the world. Without Jaren there was nothing holding us together. No driving force. Vengeance had grown stale as a motivator. Fear and a longing to see more suns rise drove a wedge between duty and desire.
By midday I was alone. I couldn't leave. Wouldn't.
Either I would find Jaren and set him at ease, or the other would find me and that would be a fitting end.
Death marching on.
But then, a motion. Quick and darting. My muscles tensed and my hand shot to the grip of my leadslinger.
Then a confirmation of the horrible truth I had already accepted, as Jaren's Ghost came to a halt a few paces in front of me.
I exhaled and slumped forward. Still standing, but broken.
The tiny Light looked me over with a curious tilt to its axis, then shot a beam of light over my body. Scanning me as it had done the very first time we met.
I looked up. Staring into its singular glowing eye.
And it spoke...
TYPE: Transcript.
DESCRIPTION: Conversation.
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Ghost-type, designate [REDACTED] [u.1], One [1] Guardian-type, Class [REDACTED] [u.2]
ASSOCIATIONS: Breaklands; Durga; Dwindler’s Ridge; Last Word; Malphur, Shin; North Channel; Palamon; Thorn; Velor; Ward, Jaren; WoS; Yor, Dredgen;
//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[u.1:0.1] Such Darkness.
[u.2:0.1] Impressed?
[u.1:0.2] Far from it.
[u.2:0.2] To each their own.
[u.1:0.3] His Light is faded.
[u.2:0.3] His Light is gone.
[u.1:0.4] You are an infection.
[u.2:0.4] I am that which will cleanse.
[u.1:0.5] You are a monster.
[u.2:0.5] Heh. An old friend once saw me as the same. He was right, and, had we met earlier, so too would you be.
[u.1:0.6] You’d dare defend yourself – all you’ve done – as anything but monstrous?
[u.2:0.6] No more than a hurricane.
[u.1:0.7] Then you’re a force of nature?
[u.2:0.7] I am all that is right. You may not see it – for lack of looking, or blind ignorance – but I am all that is good.
[u.1:0.8] You’ve just murdered a good man.
[u.2:0.8] He shot first.
[u.1:0.9] Yet you stand.
[u.2:0.9] Guess he missed.
[u.1:1.0] He never misses.
[u.2:1.0] First time for everything.
[silence]
[u.2:1.1] His cannon? Nice piece of hardware.
[u.2:1.2] Well-worn, but clean. Smooth hammer.
[u.1:1.1] It was his prize.
[u.2:1.3] Guess he put too much faith in the wrong steel.
[u.1:1.2] Is that where your faith lies, in steel?
[u.2:1.4] Not for some time. My steel is only an extension. My faith is in the shadow.
[u.1:1.3] Then my Light is an affront to all you are. I am your truest enemy.
[u.2:1.5] One of many.
[u.1:1.4] Would you end me?
[u.2:1.6] Not you. Not now.
[u.1:1.5] The shadow knows mercy.
[u.2:1.7] The shadow knows no such thing.
[u.1:1.6] Then what?
[u.2:1.8] The other.
[u.1:1.7] What other?
[u.2:1.9] The dead man’s charge.
[u.1:1.8] The boy?
[u.1:1.9] You’d end him as well?
[u.2:2.0] If it comes to that... We’ll see.
[u.1:2.0] I won’t let you have the child.
[u.2:2.1] Been long enough now, think maybe he’s a man.
[u.1:2.1] You cannot have him.
[u.2:2.2] Not yet.
[u.1:2.2] I won’t let you.
[u.2:2.3] That you could stop me is an amusing thought.
[silence]
[u.2:2.4] Here.
[silence]
[u.2:2.5] Take it.
[u.1:2.3] Why?
[u.2:2.6] Give the apprentice his master’s “sword.” It is a gift.
[u.1:2.4] You cannot have him.
[u.2:2.7] You fear for his Light?
[u.1:2.5] He...
[u.2:2.8] ...is special.
[u.1:2.6] Yes.
[u.2:2.9] I am aware.
[u.1:2.7] You’re trying to tempt him. You’re feeding his anger.
[u.2:3.0] The gun is a memento, nothing more.
[u.1:2.8] You claim to be a vessel, a hollow shell where once a man stood, but that is just a lie. The man is still in you.
[u.2:3.1] There is no man here, I am now, and for the rest of time, only Dredgen Yor.
[u.1:2.9] “The Eternal Abyss?”
[u.2:3.2] So, not all the forgotten languages are dead.
[u.1:3.0] Hide behind whatever titles you wish, it is all still a façade. No force of nature would play such games.
[u.2:3.3] Games?
[u.1:3.1] The cannon. You wish to tempt the boy. To spur him on and fuel his rage. There is intent there. The actions of a man, monstrous, mad or otherwise... you are nothing more.
[u.2:3.4] And what value does your conclusion bring, flawed as it may be?
[u.1:3.2] That a hurricane can only be weathered, not stopped. Not redirected. A force of nature is uncaring and without intent, but a man...
[u.2:3.5] Yes?
[u.1:3.3] A man is none of those things.
[silence]
[u.1:3.4] A man can be killed.
[silence]
[u.2:3.6] And there it is...
[u.1:3.5] There what is...?
[u.2:3.7] A sliver of hope.
Then.
Palamon was ash.
I was only a boy – my face caked in soot, snot and sorrow.
I’d assumed Jaren, my friend, our Guardian, the savior of Palamon, would always protect us – could always save us...
But I was a fool.
Jaren, and the others, only a handful, but still our best hunters, our hardest hearts, had left three suns prior. Tracking Fallen, after the bandits had caused a stir.
The stranger – the other – arrived the following day.
He rarely spoke. Took a room. Took our hospitality.
I was intrigued by him, as I was Jaren when he’d first arrived.
But the stranger was cold. Distant. Damaged, I thought.
But I wasn’t afraid. Not yet.
Only a child, I knew the monsters of our world to walk like men, but they were not. They were something alien. Four-armed and savage.
The stranger was polite, but solemn.
I took him for a sad, broken man, and he was. Though, at the time, I didn’t understand how that could make one dangerous.
As with Jaren, father made an effort to keep me away from the stranger.
It wouldn’t matter.
As the silhouette approached, fear held tight.
The dark figure towered over me. Looking into me – through me.
He smiled. My knees weak. All lost.
Then, he turned and walked away.
Leaving ruin and a heartbroken, terrified boy in his wake without a second glance.
I’ve been chasing that stranger’s shadow ever since.
Now.
We stood silent, the sun high.
Seconds passed, feeling more like hours.
He looked different.
He seemed, now, to be weightless – effortless in an existence that would crush a man burdened by conscience.
My gaze remained locked as I felt a heat rising inside of me.
The other spoke...
“Been awhile.”
I gave no reply.
“The gunslinger’s sword... his cannon. That was a gift.”
My silence held as my thumb caressed the perfectly worn hammer at my hip.
“An offering from me... to you.”
The heat grew. Centered in my chest.
I felt like a coward the day Jaren Ward died and for many cycles after.
But here, I felt only the fire of my Light.
The other probed...
“Nothing to say?”
He let the words hang.
“I’ve been waiting for you. For this day.”
His attempt at conversation felt mundane when judged against all that had come before.
“Many times I thought you’d faltered. Given up...”
All I’d lost, all who’d suffered, flashed rapid through my mind, intercut with a dark silhouette walking toward a frightened, weak, coward of a boy.
The fire burned in me.
The other continued...
“But here you are. This is truly an end...”
As his tongue slipped between syllables my gun hand moved as if of its own will.
Reflex and purpose merged with anger, clarity and an overwhelming need for just that... an end.
In step with my motion, the fire within burst into focus – through my shoulder, down my arm – as my finger closed on the trigger of my third father’s cannon.
Two shots. Two bullets engulfed in an angry glow.
The other fell.
I walked to his corpse. He never raised his cursed Thorn – the jagged gun with the festering sickness.
I looked down at the dead man who had caused so much death.
My shooter still embraced by the dancing flames of my Light.
A sadness came over me.
I thought back to my earliest days. Of Palamon. Of Jaren.
Leveling my cannon at the dead man’s helm, I paid one final tribute to my mentor, my savior, my father and my friend...
“Yours... Not mine.”
...as I closed my grip, allowing Jaren’s cannon, now my own, to have the last, loud word.
Short Analysis - Gameplay:
Destiny is entirely addicting, where the story fails the gameplay delivers, but, I can be addicted to Cocaine, doesn’t mean that it is good. . .
Time and time again in Destiny I find myself questioning my actions in the middle of a mission, others, raging at the stupid Crucible as every weapon seems to be the literal definition of trash and my enemy always holds the right weapon for the kill, all the time. At least that’s how it is now, being a Y1 player, Crucible is barely tolerable now unless you have the right weapons.
But I find that I have my favourite moments with the gameplay rather than with the story, here’s where I get together with my friends to go kill some aliens and explore.
Pretty much my most offensive moments have been had here coming up with an insurmountable amount of slurs that if my ancestors heard me they’d slap me clean, but that's my definition of fun.
Even the ‘Ratman’ nickname for me surfaced while playing Destiny, especifically while playing it with Wort and Caleb.
But there’s plenty that Bungie needs to fix in this. My favourite missions, raids and strikes, however, that show the variety that Destiny can truly have are
Queen’s Ransom:
By far this mission oozed story, from the implications that Skolas is taking his forces from all throughout time to capturing your enemy.
Hell, first time ever going into up into the Citadel as well. This elusive tower that never did anything before this point. Even though it still does nothing. . .
Blighted Chalice:
Great mini-puzzle style start of the mission, the pacing is great, focuses more on punishing your abilities than punishing you with countless hordes of enemies.
The Wretched Eye:
Environment playing tricks with you, interesting play on the same boss fight we've seen countless times, interesting mission layout and location.
Hell, the entire location is interesting and the fact that the ground before you can fall and be somewhat dynamic - at least until you learn the map.
Vault Of Glass:
We all know what Vault of Glass does, and playing it with some of my best friends makes up a perfect mix.
Prison of Elders:
One thing, Halo 3: ODST's Firefight, this is the closest thing in Destiny. And Firefight is by far my favourite mode to pass the time. From the engaging firefights with the different types of enemies to clutching the objectives that Variks throws at you.
By far the most engaging mode that I only continue to play.
Paradox:
Interesting tone, great ideas, character driven plot, great pacing in the mission, exploration is rewarded.
Praedyth is by far the star of this mission, hearing his dialogue makes you wonder the things Bungie can do with this universe that never really pan out.
Now mix all of this Bungie, I don’t want to see filler, scan and shoot missions when you can surely give me grandiose concepts such as these. And please give stakes to your missions, give them weight, because as it is right now, my journey usually ends, right at the beginning.
Nothing changes and my actions hold no weight.
So every single mission just feels like it ends, in the beginning.
Also, give me more of this, it feels special. Wondrous and interesting, first time I felt it in Destiny was right there when I started the fire to become worthy of my artefact.
Author’s Notes:
And that brings this one to a close, I thought it'd be nice to re-do this article to fit the current time and to fit my new blog site, as well as change that god awful title it had before.
I'll keep the notes' brief for today.
Here I will be giving my Patrons a quick shout out, it's not much, but it is here nonetheless!
- Brendan Lor Tarkam
Love you, bitch, no homo, though. Also for everyone else, feel free to donate to my patreon and help me out throughout the current rough times in my country! It'll help a lot. The link is in the subtitle to the acknowledgments!
Please do better than Destiny 1, though, Bungie. Please.
And as always, live your life, be safe, and play lots of vidya gaems, my dudes.
