I made a mistake this morning. I turned on my PlayStation 5, scrolled through its deeply cursed library catalogue — seriously, who designed that? — found Destiny 2, and just stared at it. I stared at the 119GB install of the main game. Then I stared at the 150GB install for The Witch Queen. After about a minute of soul-searching, I hit download. I am never going to play Destiny 2 again. Probably. Maybe. We will see.

I should clarify something: I have played roughly 2,300 hours of Destiny. Over 2,000 of those were in the first game. I love Destiny. But for most of that time, I was playing it during what fans now lovingly call the dark times. Content droughts? I lived there. Before Bungie had figured out how to make a fun FPS that was also an MMO? I was there, Guardian. I played when there was usually only one or two viable builds for each activity, and if you did not have Gjallarhorn, you were not being invited to raid. At all. Not even to hold the door.

Around the end of 2017, shortly after Destiny 2 launched, I fell off. I just could not do it anymore. I could not chase the handful of new guns. I was not enjoying the content. The roadmap felt barren. Yes, I was making the numbers go up, but it felt like it was for nothing. Like folding laundry in a hurricane.

Like many other players, I got back on the Destiny train for Forsaken, right before Shadowkeep. I played through the story and the first few weeks of seasonal content. I loved it. The story, the direction, what Bungie was starting to do — all of it. But I just did not have it in me anymore. I was struggling in college. Life was getting on top of me. The last thing I needed was for gaming to feel like a job. So I stopped.

I bought Beyond Light. That is about as far as I got. This is where the real cycle of pain began. I listened to friends telling me how great the game was now. How amazing the new content looked. I got excited. I redownloaded the game. I played the first new mission. Then I looked at the menu — the three tabs, the different types of quests, the feats and titles (a concept I thoroughly did not understand) — and I closed the game. I did this several more times throughout 2020 and 2021. I would hear about a seasonal event. I would see my Twitter mutuals show off the latest raid mechanics or stunning challenge dungeon environments. I would get excited about getting back into it. Then I would get hit with that damn menu.

I know Bungie has done a great job streamlining Destiny 2 for new players. I know there are now countless quality-of-life features to make playing with friends and getting rewarded easier than ever. But despite all that, every time I load up that game again, I feel overwhelmed. Some friends have told me it does not matter what quest or mission or activity I do when I get back in — it will all help me improve my Guardian. That might seem like good news. It must be great for new players. But as someone who spent thousands of hours in the game when there was only one way to play, a handful of meta loadouts worth running, one way worth spending your time — I just constantly feel like I am doing the wrong thing.

I could do anything and have fun when I load up Destiny 2. But I have been trained into a toxic headspace with that game. A headspace where I should not be doing the most fun thing. I should be doing the most productive thing. It is like my brain has a little raid leader screaming at me: 'Why are you exploring? That is not optimal! Where is your loot per minute?'

Going back to Destiny 2 feels like going back to a time in my life where I was so anxious about everything, I could not do anything just for fun. There always had to be a purpose and a goal — in the game and in my life. I am so glad Bungie itself and the wider Destiny community has escaped this toxic headspace and this destructive way to view your hobbies. It took years. But when I look in from the outside now, Destiny is not a game about having the best of every gun, all the titles, all the exotics, a flawless Trials card every week, or beating each new piece of content the day it releases and being done with it. It is a game about having fun, being with friends, and — most of all — self-improvement.

Before writing this, I asked some friends about what it is like playing the game now. Several of them said that when they play Destiny 2, they have a few loose goals in mind. They will complete a quest chain. Finish a raid. Get the right piece of armour to round out a build. But at the end of the day, they can do whatever they feel like in the moment, and it will help. They can have fun. When I load up Destiny and look at that menu, all I can think is: 'What is the optimal thing to do and what is the quickest way to do it?'

I applaud Bungie for not just breaking out of this game design mentality of constantly pitting players in a race for the best stuff, but for being able to wean its community out of that headspace too. Yes, there are still people who will race for world first when a new raid drops. But for the vast majority of Destiny players I see, they are happy to just work away at their own pace, slowly making their character and themselves better. Good for them. Genuinely.

Now, in 2026, Destiny 2 has been through Lightfall, The Final Shape, episodes, and whatever Bungie is calling the current content model this week. The game has changed. The menus have changed. The seasonal model has changed. I have not changed. I still look at that download bar and feel a strange mix of nostalgia, dread, and the urge to look up a build guide for a game I am not even playing yet. That is not healthy. That is not fun. That is just my old Guardian brain trying to optimize a hobby that was never supposed to be a second job.

So here is my final verdict: I am never going to play Destiny 2 again. Until the next ViDoc. Until the next expansion. Until a friend says, 'Hey, they fixed it.' Until I see a cool raid environment on Twitter and think, 'Maybe I will just do the first mission.' And then I will stare at the menu, close the game, and write another article about it. The cycle continues. But at least now I can laugh about it. Mostly.

Maybe that is the real endgame: learning to have fun without turning it into a checklist. If you are still playing Destiny 2 in 2026, I hope you are doing it for the right reasons. I hope you are doing it for fun. And if you are doing it for the loot, well, I hope you get the god roll. Just do not forget to enjoy the view.