Why I stopped playing, why I will never go back, and why never really means never. – By NeoMental
The other day, I realized that this past September marked the ten-year anniversary of Destiny. That got me thinking back to when I first started playing. I had assumed 2024 would be the game’s final year, given Bungie’s ambitious ten-year plan. I wondered how it would all end and what the final story would look like. Then, I remembered that I had started writing an article about why I stopped playing the game I once loved so much. I never finished it. Well, now seems like the perfect time to do so.
In 2013, I walked into a GameStop with my friend to preorder the Xbox One. It was lunchtime, and the store was empty. As we entered, the game adviser shouted, “You’re here to preorder Destiny, RIGHT?!” He was so excited I thought he might jump over the counter. I had never even heard of it before. My friend and I exchanged confused looks and asked, “What the heck is Destiny?”
I’ve been a hardcore gamer since the arcade era, but at the time, life had taken priority over gaming. I had recently gone back to school after years in retail—ironically, at GameStop. I wasn’t “in the loop” anymore. 2013 was a whirlwind year: I got a big promotion at work, got engaged, and moved to New Jersey while still working in New York. My commute went from 15 minutes to 90! On top of that, I was caring for my ailing mother. Suffice it to say, my plate was full.
Back at GameStop, I decided to reserve Destiny—after all, it was made by the team behind Halo. Plus, the adviser’s excitement was infectious. It was only five bucks down and came with an awesome poster. (Now that I think about it, I have no idea where that poster ended up. Man, that’s a bummer.)
The biggest perk? Preordering granted access to the beta.
When the beta dropped in July, I played it non-stop. It was incredible—the atmosphere, the cinematics, the lore, the pacing. I couldn’t get enough. If I had to sum up Destiny in one word, it would be surreal. Seeing random players swoop into public events to help out was wild. The day before the beta ended, Bungie released the first Moon mission. That moment—“We’ve awoken the Hive!”—was legendary. (I might be one of the few who was upset when they redid Ghost’s lines. Dinklage rules!) When I tried to log in on the last day of the beta, it was over. Coincidentally, that day was my birthday. I finally understood why the GameStop adviser was so hyped.
The release date was set, played it, I loved it, and had took a full week off work to dive in on launch day.
Destiny launched on September 9, 2014, and I played non-stop. My brother, some coworkers, and I jumped in together, tackling strikes, missions, and bounties. We had no idea Xûr existed until a month in—yes, we all missed that week-two Gjallarhorn. Don’t feel bad for me, though; I got it soon enough in the Cerberus Vae III strike. I matched into a game right as two random players were about to take down Valus Ta’aurc.
A few love taps to ol’ Val’s beautiful mug, and boom—a shiny new Gjallarhorn. To this day that sticks with me. What an amazing gaming moment.
We eventually attempted the Vault of Glass raid—poorly, but we tried. I was there for the first and second loot caves. I hunted every hidden Ghost. I didn’t mind using the app for lore because Destiny’s world was so deep. I even braved PvP, though I was terrible at it. Still, something about this game made me want to keep improving.
As Destiny evolved, my original group fell off. A new coworker who played on PlayStation had a solid raid team. He encouraged me to join, but that meant starting over. I loved the game enough to pick up a PS4 that Christmas and dive in again. By the time Destiny 2 launched, I had racked up nearly 2,000 hours across three accounts. (I lost access to my original PS account, got it back, and started over again; Yay.)
My now-wife started questioning how I was still playing the same game. I told her, “Bungie has a ten-year plan. I’ll be here for all of it.” She was not thrilled. Meanwhile, Destiny was breaking into mainstream news—Xûr selling Gjallarhorn for the first time since week two was an internet event.
The Taken King was my favorite expansion. (Kingsfall remains the best raid—fight me.) The Eververse store didn’t bother me, but I understood concerns about pay-to-win mechanics. Seasonal events, Sparrow Racing League, secret missions—Bungie was firing on all cylinders. However, a new problem emerged: streamers and hardcore players were consuming content too quickly and complaining about having nothing to do.
The rollout for Rise of Iron was brilliant. Players started noticing strange buffs—glowing particles swirling around their characters. Bungie launched an Owl Sector page where players could track these buffs, sparking Reddit theories. Destiny had built a true community. Good times…
But then Rise of Iron launched, and the servers buckled. For me, this expansion marked the beginning of the end. Wrath of the Machine was my least favorite raid—the only one I never finished. I got to the final boss a few times but never sealed the deal. That stung because Outbreak Prime was one of the best exotic quests, and I nearly had it.
Destiny 2’s opening sequence was a gut punch. The destruction of the Tower, the haunting music—it was masterful. But I never found my rhythm in Destiny 2. The magic was fading. Bungie had overcorrected. (Two tokens and a blue, anyone?) The new raid structure turned me off. Iron Banner became frustrating. I played solo more often as my friends moved on to The Division. The community was splintering.
Now, as I write this, I see a surge of YouTube videos reminiscing about the original Destiny. I’m clearly not the only one feeling sentimental. I fired up the game, and the Tower was still full. Guardians—both new and old—were running public events, raids, and PvP matches. My vault even still had a Tiny Box of Raisins.
One of Bungie’s biggest mistakes, in my opinion, was, making a sequel. From a business perspective, I get it. But from a fan’s perspective, I wish they had gone the World of Warcraft route—evolving the original game rather than starting over. WoW has lasted over 20 years without a reboot. Did Destiny really need one? Maybe there were backend issues, but I suspect financial motivations played a bigger role.
It’s been years since I actively played, while my old fireteam moved on to The Division 2. But that’s a story for another time.
While the current state of Destiny 2 saddens me. I didn’t expect it to be here at the ten-year mark. So despite its struggles, I think that Destiny created a genre-defining experience; Bungie should be proud.
A part of me still wants to return. So, who knows? Maybe never doesn’t really mean never.
Until then, eyes up, Guardians.
( Find more reflections in more of our Hear Me Out segment found here)
