(Image through Destiny Planet View)
We have spent a significant chunk of the weekend playing Destiny. Our brain and aesthetic formation frameworks have finally caught up with the twitching of our alien-face-stabbing knuckles, and this is what they have to say:
“The solar system in Destiny is an collection of beautiful dioramas we and our kin cycle through like a pulse of elegant aggression. At constant intervals, we will confront and destroy a cluster of enemies. Perhaps we will do this accompanied by others like us, perhaps alone. Regardless of how many others have joined our fire-team, the general feeling is one of bleak loneliness. We are marooned in a universe sinking into entropy, violence, consumerism (of armaments) and fundamentalist worship; we are the bloodthirsty elite of a humanity that has lost all it had gained, and its history. Perhaps we will push back the tide of the darkness, but deep inside, we wonder, what’s the point? ”
In other words, Destiny is a bit like a faceless techno party, and we like it like that. Also as a Romero style dystopia (the Tower is the mall), as a neo-cyberpunk celebration of militaristic technology, as a perfectly designed device for haptic titillation, and as nihilistic distillation of the hero journey into a collection of tools to exterminate our enemies ever more efficiently.
It is very smooth. Smooth like the exquisite synesthetic transitions between modes and moods in Hiro Kone’s Fallen Angels.
…where minimally architected spaces are traversed with vector machine elegance, fractal patterns bounce of the gunmetal grey of contemplative eyes, nocturnal city-scapes are observed from structures of surgical steel, and the stenographically concealed message in the shifts of their lights are decrypted.
The message is that there is no message, no meaning, only shapes and lights and movement, and flashes of emotion sliding into blue and then darkness, and all of these things are so pretty, just like Destiny.