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#feedback

Edited by stealth 5823: 10/15/2014 1:42:38 AM
91

Eye-opening biography of Sunsinger exposes deepest hopes and fears, sheds light on VM, Bungie listens, soul searches, Destiny is reborn!

Okay... Let's begin. This is the story of the coming of age of a young warlock. Not yet wise but eager and stoic nonetheless. Our protagonist, Stealth, shares his deepest hopes and fears, and his darkest coveted secrets. First? State of the union: Bungie nerfs best gun in game. Why? Players complain. I had even thought to myself... "Dang!... That vex mythoclast. Won't play against it ". First few times I got killed by it, I flat out left. Time moves on. Stealth learns the ways of the mythoclast, understands its weakness. Knows how to fight it. Knows it is not the weapon that is the enemy. The weapon is a tool. Man, or exo, is the enemy. The gun is the tool. Learn the man, best the man, best the tool. Stealth watches. He learns that the man goes to "C" quite often. He likes to take the stairs around back. Stealth sees a position above the stairs overlooking the man's route. Now, when the man goes to "C", he takes a solar bolt to the face and a 44mag domeside to finish him off. The weapon is not the enemy, the man is the enemy. The man grows smarter. Stealth is ready. He has anticipated all possible outcomes. His patience and poise have carried a calm collective in stressful times. The battlefield is shared by 6 guardians aside. The man comes charging in from another side, a new angle of attack. Stealth is ready. Pack Brother Hikeman is near the alcove on Stealth's left. One judgment is hard enough to survive when eaten forcibly. Judgment VI? The man goes down. The situation is repeated. Sides shift, control points trade places. The battleground rotates and the man rallies teammates, Stealth is ready. The pack is strong. Cover fire, communication. A bond that passes between the fireteam. Deaths are called out and burning guns are marked quickly. The packs knows of the Titan and his shoulder charge down the left alley; they know caution when storming "B"; invective is held by a reclusive man who hides from the daylight and sets fire to the darkness. Do not storm B alone. We run with the pack. The pack is life. Life is glory. The pack is glory. The pack is strong. The cycle doesn't end. New teammates come and go. Stealth watches them all and learns how they wage war, how they stalk prey. Learn the man, destroy the man. Stealth does not live forever. There are too many men. He will die eventually. Now, in this case. One lone round from across the moonbase ends all of it. The only evidence it existed are brains on the sand and the brief purple trace trail it left behind. It won't happen again, he tells himself. A new angle of attack, a surprise, the sniper will die, I will use a - red trace round exits Stealth's head, his body explodes. The enemy has brought his pack. They are strong. War is a deadly thing. The cohesiveness of the team is essential. No one man wins the game. This gun, this tool, this most highly disputed token of achievement... Is not sin. Sin is the absence of communication. The selfishness of a suicadal charge on B. Against the pack, moving in unison, attacking and defending together, even the most well armed team is quickly hamstrung and picked apart. Needless to say, I don't leave when I get killed by a mythoclast anymore. I don't even get upset. I get excited. Just thinking about having a dance party on that highly spec'd out corpse gets my blood pumping, my adrenaline pounding. This is the spirit of destiny. Of problem solving and solutions, the rebound, the thrill of victory and lessons learned in defeat. When did the great artists of old give in to dictators' direction and create "art" in the way they were forced to. The game is no different than a painting. It is a full 3-dimensional recreation of the artist's imagination. Beauty. Why do we force the artist, why do we impose our will on him and beg, nay, demand! That our will be imposed. NERF THIS OR ELSE! This object of affection and malcontent, was put here by the creators. I'd like to know just one thing: When you coded this weapon into the game, when you were done, did you tell yourself that it was wrong? Or did you dare think- "Guys. This... Is amazing. People are going to love this tool. They are going to lust for this gun. When they fire it for the first time, it will have all been worth it. The fighting, the battles, frustration with the cryptarch, the mysterious recurring pain of server connection and hacking attempts. All of the malefecint ramblings, uterred curses and broken hearts... It will all be worth it." I think I know what you thought. I want to know what changed. Where is your vision. Where is your passion. When did angry ramblings rock you to the core and sway you from your path. I finished the raid on hard. Helping a friend with my level 29. Hard work to get there. Venus portal was harder. I got the mythoclast. Joy. Utter joy. Next day, nerfed. Sickness. Not at the game. It was childish of me. It was at you. I see two paths ahead. One is glorious, with all the content and lore you ever dreampt of, there, inside that box. There will be a new mythoclast. There will be more light. The traveler will begin to heal, get stronger, and his guardians will bathe in his light. They will grow stronger. 30 will be the new 20. Stronger enemies will leap from the vast void of the universe with claws extended, to tear down all that shines. The vex mythoclast will be dethroned. New classes of guardians will join the fight. New strategy, new tools to wage war. New weapons will come, and at some time, you may get laughed at for trying to use SUROS Regime in PvP. But will it be because of the story, the lore, the broken hearts and long nights grinding rep, or will it be because you dissuaded yourself into trying to fit "in". Ignore the critics. Do what feels right. After all, it's a videogame. A beautiful thing. A corroboration of many many minds into one vision. If you can't be proud of it, because you know it was the best possible reflection of your creativity and skill, then who can? If you can't tell yourself that you brought your vision to life, that you swayed the hearts and minds of the people who touched your art, even in controversy, then, and only then, did you fail. They talked about it. They loved it. They hated it. They talked talked about it more. But they never forgot it. Just... Be yourselves. The rest will come.

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