Destiny 2 and the Chore Model: How Bungie Lost Player Trust

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Introduction

First and foremost, it should be stated that this is a critical view of the situation at Bungie strictly from an observer’s point of view. However, it is due to the encouragement of the community that Bungie created that I write this document, as they feel that my background as a business administration student at the University of the People, a game reviewer of ten years, an independent game designer in my own right, a content creator, and an individual familiar with development practices through global game jams and attendance at game developer conferences in Bergen, Norway, aside from being a prominent member in the Destiny 2 community as an administrator of ninety thousand players from Bungie’s dwindling fanbase, affords me a unique vantage point. I am able to see what I feel are the issues occurring both from a development standpoint and from an administrative standpoint, and how the disconnect between players and the game they love has occurred.

What follows is a breakdown of Bungie’s issues as a live-service company and the constant mismanagement of Destiny 2, which has brought them to the position they are in today. This analysis is backed by research in business psychology, consumer psychology, and academic notions of game design. Decades of behavioral research, beginning with Skinner’s (1938) operant conditioning experiments and later reinforced by studies on reward prediction error (Schultz, 1997), show that dopamine-driven variable rewards are powerful motivators but prone to diminishing returns over time (Koob & Le Moal, 2008). In the context of gaming, healthy engagement emerges not from narrow repetition but from layered motivational systems—gratification, challenge, progression, unpredictability, achievement, and social validation (Hamari & Keronen, 2017; Oliver, 1980). Bungie’s emphasis on player retention above all else has systematically undermined these layers, eroding credibility both as a company and within the Destiny community.

This paper examines how Bungie’s game design and communication strategies have undermined player trust, producing what can be described as the “Chore Model” of live service, which in practice closely mirrors the Skinner Box model of conditioning (Skinner, 1938). By tracing the erosion of motivational systems, the rise of gatekeeping and parasocial tunnel vision (Horton & Wohl, 1956; Tukachinsky & Stever, 2018), and the corporate decisions that prioritized retention over continuity, this analysis situates Destiny 2 as a case study in how live-service design collapses when consumer trust is broken. The result is a void players attempt to fill through disengagement, cheating (Marlowe, 2020), or migration to substitutes such as Destiny Rising.

What this paper seeks to provide is an external view, grounded in vetted academic research, of how Bungie—once a studio celebrated for titles like Halo, Oni, and Destiny—turned its own fans against it. By removing crucial motivational systems that once rewarded curiosity, mastery, and social validation, Bungie fostered an environment of mistrust and disenchantment. This paper argues that Bungie emphatically serves as a case study in consumer betrayal (Grégoire & Fisher, 2008; Topa, Aranda-Carmena, & De-Maria, 2022): what went wrong, how it went wrong, and what any company, regardless of prestige, might face if it sacrifices continuity and fairness for short-sighted retention strategies.

The Chore Model

Studies in consumer psychology consistently show that dopamine-driven reward systems are central to player engagement and satisfaction. Classic behavioral research, from Skinner’s (1938) operant conditioning work on reinforcement schedules to Schultz’s (1997) neuroscience of reward prediction errors, demonstrates that the anticipation of unpredictable rewards produces some of the strongest motivational responses. In the realm of gaming, these insights have been widely applied to Massively Multiplayer Online (MMO) games, with World of Warcraft serving as a frequent subject of academic study (Billieux et al., 2013; Graham & Gosling, 2013).

How developers think players will be motivated
How developers think players will be motivated

What Activision Blizzard achieved with World of Warcraft was often criticized as exploitative—but it was undeniably effective. By layering multiple motivator systems, WoW sustained engagement for decades, increasing not only player motivation but also revenues through expansions and microtransactions. Research shows these motivators fall into six primary categories: player gratification, challenge, progression, unpredictability, achievement, and social validation (Oliver, 1980; Sweeney et al., 1999; Norton et al., 2012; Grégoire & Fisher, 2008).

At one point, these same six motivator systems also existed within Destiny 2 under Activision Blizzard’s oversight—and still persist in the original Destiny on PS3 and Xbox One, where content remains static and permanent. However, following Bungie’s move to independence, many of these systems were dismantled or removed entirely. This shift from a layered motivational design to what can best be described as a “chore model” fundamentally altered player experience, undermining long-term trust and eroding consumer satisfaction (Close et al., 2023).

What are the Six Motivator Systems and Their Function in Player Motivation?

Across both academic research and applied game design, six primary motivator systems consistently drive long-term engagement: player gratification, challenge, progression, unpredictability, achievement, and social validation. Player Gratification provides immediate satisfaction from story payoffs, discovery, and unique experiences. In psychology, this aligns with intrinsic motivation and competence (Oliver, 1980).

The 6 aspects of player motivation
The 6 Aspects of Player Motivation

Challenge sustains players through systems that require mastery and effort, whether through economic optimization or high-difficulty encounters. This reflects reinforcement learning principles (Skinner, 1938).

Progression ties activity to visible advancement — reputation ranks, unlockable gear, and faction allegiances — generating a sense of permanence and identity (Sweeney et al., 1999).

Unpredictability leverages variable-ratio reinforcement schedules: RNG loot, random drops, or hidden events. This produces some of the strongest dopamine spikes by exploiting reward prediction error (Schultz, Dayan, & Montague, 1997).

Achievement gives players meta-goals that outlast the immediate game loop: achievements, titles, collections. This builds permanence and lasting prestige (Norton, Mochon, & Ariely, 2011).

Social Validation connects player identity to recognition by peers through guilds, PvP ranks, or raid prestige. This layer taps into trust and betrayal dynamics in consumer psychology (Grégoire & Fisher, 2008).

Together, these six systems form a layered motivational ecosystem: if one loop falters, others keep players engaged. It was this resilience that sustained World of Warcraft for decades — and which Destiny 2 began to unravel post-Blizzard, collapsing into a brittle “chore model.”

World of Warcraft: A Layered Motivational Model

World of Warcraft has long served as the archetype for layered motivational design, sustaining engagement not only through combat but through a rich network of interconnected systems. Each of the six motivator categories identified in consumer psychology research is represented in WoW’s design, creating multiple pathways for dopamine-driven engagement and long-term player satisfaction:

  • Player Gratification – Questlines, epic story arcs, and exotic-feeling questlines rewarded curiosity and perseverance. Unlocking unique mounts, recipes, or story payoffs created a sense of intrinsic satisfaction that aligned with self-determination theory’s focus on competence and autonomy.
  • Challenge – Professions and economic min-maxing (e.g., crafting, Auction House play) provided constant low-level challenge, while raid bosses required high-level coordination, reinforcing mastery through effort.
  • Progression – Faction and reputation systems offered clear, long-term goals. Exclusive gear, mounts, and cosmetics tied progression to identity, making advancement visible both personally and socially.
  • Unpredictability – RNG loot tables, random boss drops, and rare collectibles created variable-ratio reinforcement schedules (Skinner, 1938), sustaining anticipation and engagement through surprise rewards.
  • Achievement – A formal achievements system, rare titles, and mount collections provided meta-progression goals, allowing players to demonstrate mastery and permanence in their accomplishments (Oliver, 1980).
  • Social Validation – Guild prestige, PvP ranks/titles, and raid “world first” races rewarded cooperative play and offered strong extrinsic validation, tying identity to community recognition (Grégoire & Fisher, 2008).

Together, these systems formed a resilient motivational ecosystem. Even if one loop (e.g., loot RNG) produced diminishing dopamine returns, players remained motivated by other layers (progression, achievement, social recognition). This resilience is what Destiny 2 initially mirrored under Activision Blizzard but later dismantled under Bungie’s seasonal model, leaving players with a narrow, brittle “chore model” that violated consumer expectations and trust.

Destiny 2 (Post Blizzard)

When examined from a consumer perspective, it becomes clear how these systems were altered or removed after Bungie separated from Activision Blizzard and adopted its seasonal business model. While some of these events eventually returned as limited missions in response to player feedback and demand, they did so without their original narrative context, severing the connection players once had to the game’s lore. This mirrors what Expectation–Disconfirmation Theory identifies as a major source of dissatisfaction (Oliver, 1980): players expected permanent access to content they had purchased, only to find those expectations revoked. The resulting loss of value constitutes a psychological contract breach (Luo, 2006), leaving consumers with a sense of betrayal rather than restoration.

Player Gratification

In the original Destiny (PS3/Xbox 360), the game operated as a static product. Once purchased, players had full access to the Red War–equivalent launch campaigns, expansions, and raids from start to finish. Content was permanent, meaning that gratification came from the assurance of ownership: players knew that when they bought something, it remained theirs.

In Destiny 2, Bungie broke from this model by adopting a non-static, seasonal structure. With the removal of the Red War, Curse of Osiris, Warmind, and Forsaken, players not only lost purchased content, but also the ability to pursue exotic quests, storylines, and explorations that once rewarded curiosity. The shift created a rupture in trust: players had paid for permanent access, only for Bungie to later revoke it.

This aligns with a series of well-documented consumer psychology frameworks:

  • Expectation–Disconfirmation Theory (Oliver, 1980): Dissatisfaction arises when consumer expectations (purchased expansions as permanent content) are not met. The removal of paid campaigns was a textbook expectation violation.
  • Perceived Value & Fairness (Sweeney et al., 1999): Players perceived an unfair exchange — they paid full price for content that was later revoked, reducing the product’s long-term value.
  • Psychological Contract Breach (Luo, 2006): By removing purchased storylines, Bungie violated the implicit “contract” of game ownership, undermining loyalty and eroding faith in the developer.
  • Consumer Betrayal Response (Grégoire & Fisher, 2008): Loyal consumers reacted not with mild dissatisfaction, but with betrayal — a stronger emotional backlash that converted fans into vocal critics.
  • Gaming-Specific Monetization Studies (Close et al., 2023): Research into loot box engagement shows how systems that exploit unpredictability, loss aversion, and psychological triggers fuel compulsive behavior and create feelings of manipulation when value is withheld. These findings parallel how Bungie’s seasonal content deletions conditioned players to view campaigns and storylines as temporary and disposable, undermining the sense of permanence that players had originally purchased and expected.

Effect: What was once gratification through ownership, discovery, and permanence (Destiny 1) devolved in Destiny 2 into frustration, betrayal, and distrust. Instead of rewarding curiosity, Bungie trained players to expect content revocation, permanently eroding confidence in the franchise’s value.

Challenge (Destiny 2 Post-Blizzard)

Early Era (Blizzard/Activision oversight)
During the Red War, Curse of Osiris, Warmind, and Forsaken expansions, planetary materials were central to Destiny’s challenge layer. They served multiple purposes:

  • Boosting reputation with local planetary vendors.
  • Acting as material costs for upgrade modules and infusion.
  • Supplementing glimmer, the core in-game currency.

These materials motivated players to explore planets like Titan, Nessus, IO, Mercury, and Mars. Resource hunting created a steady, low-level challenge that rewarded awareness, routing efficiency, and persistence. Even in the post-Blizzard era, Europa introduced Glacial Starwort to sustain this system.

Shift Under Bungie Independence
Bungie gradually removed planetary materials and vendor economies. With their loss, entire destinations became functionally irrelevant. Instead of visiting planets for materials or reputation loops, players only returned for narrow, instanced activities like Legendary or Master Lost Sectors.

Effect on Player Motivation
The challenge of resource mastery — a critical motivator in WoW-like systems — disappeared. Planets shifted from living environments of exploration and resource management into little more than backdrops for instanced grinds. For endgame players, this hollowed out the sense of planetary relevance and removed one of the last non-combat challenge loops Destiny had left.

Progression (Destiny 2 Post-Blizzard)

Early Era (Blizzard/Activision oversight)
For much of Destiny 2’s early life, progression was player-driven. Participating in Vanguard Strikes, Gambit, or Crucible earned players vendor tokens. These tokens created a clear loop:

  • Play activities → rank up vendors → redeem tokens → earn weapons, armor, or gear tied to those vendors.
    This system acted as a faction-style motivator, giving players both intrinsic satisfaction (steady rank growth) and extrinsic rewards (gear).

Shift Under Bungie Independence
Over the years, Bungie gradually dismantled this system:

  • Vendor tokens removed → replaced with reputation ranks.
  • Reputation ranks later replaced by Pathfinder.
  • Eventually, in Edge of Fate, the entire system was removed outright.
    Instead of progression tied to activities, Bungie shifted to allowing players to purchase faction-based gear directly with resources, removing the incentive to actually engage with the core activities.

The Betty Crocker Effect
This change exemplifies what’s known as the Betty Crocker incident:

  • Betty Crocker’s original instant cake mix only required water, but consumers felt it was too easy and lacked satisfaction.
  • When the recipe was changed to require an extra step (adding eggs), sales skyrocketed because players felt their contribution mattered.
  • Likewise, Bungie’s removal of the “work-to-earn” progression loop turned Destiny into a hollow transaction. By oversimplifying progression into resource expenditure, they stripped away the satisfaction that came from participation.
The Chore Model of Destiny 2
The Chore Model of Destiny 2

Effect on Player Motivation
This parallels what consumer psychology calls the IKEA effect (Norton, Mochon, & Ariely, 2011), where even small amounts of labor create disproportionate value in the consumer’s mind. Just as Betty Crocker boosted sales by requiring buyers to add an egg to the mix, Bungie’s early vendor progression systems gave players meaningful effort to invest in. By removing these systems and reducing progression to simple resource purchases, Bungie stripped away the satisfaction born from effort — hollowing out one of Destiny’s strongest motivators.

Unpredictability (Destiny 2 Post-Blizzard)

Early Era (Blizzard/Activision oversight)
Destiny 2’s expansions under Blizzard ownership (Red War, Curse of Osiris, Warmind, Forsaken) embraced unpredictability as a motivator. Hidden quests rewarded curiosity, exploration, and experimentation:

  • Whisper of the Worm (IO): Players who discovered the Taken portal were pulled into a challenging secret mission to earn the exotic sniper rifle. For those who didn’t rely on YouTube or guides, the discovery felt thrilling and unexpected.
  • Outbreak Perfected (Titan & Last City): Sparing Mithrax opened the door to an exotic quest to recover the weapon. The mission blended narrative choice with exploration and rewarded players who experimented and paid attention.

These experiences created watercooler moments — the joy of telling friends “you won’t believe what I found.” The randomness of discovery became a dopamine trigger in itself, layered on top of the reward.

Shift Under Bungie Independence
Once Bungie vaulted these exotic missions, unpredictability vanished. When they later reintroduced Whisper and Outbreak, the sense of discovery was gone. Players weren’t stumbling upon secrets anymore — they were checking boxes on quest logs.

Effect on Player Motivation
What was once a thrill of exploration turned into “just do it if you want it.” The joy of unpredictability was replaced with transactional tasks. Instead of sparking curiosity, Bungie began to dictate rewards through chores, stripping away the very dopamine hit that comes from surprise and wonder.

Achievement (Destiny 2 Post-Blizzard)

Seasonal Triumphs & Time-Gated Seals
With the introduction of the seasonal model, Bungie created Triumph seals that were time-limited. This served as a double-edged sword:

  • Career players (streamers, content creators) had the time to dedicate and earn these seals while they were active.
  • Average players or casuals—who planned their play around clan schedules or limited free time—were often locked out permanently.
    The system rewarded the elite minority while punishing the broader base.

Collections & Vaulting
When Bungie vaulted older expansions (Red War, Curse of Osiris, Warmind, Forsaken), they deleted large sections of player collections:

  • Weapons, armor sets, and destination-specific gear were removed.
  • Players could no longer complete collections, despite having invested in those goals.
  • What was once a self-motivated, long-term pursuit turned into a betrayal of investment, undermining consumer trust.

Effect: Achievement, once a pillar of motivation, became exclusive and fragile. Rather than offering permanence and prestige, Bungie replaced it with FOMO-driven, disposable goals, alienating the very players who valued completion and long-term achievement.

Social Validation (Destiny 2 Post-Blizzard)

Early Era (Blizzard/Activision oversight)
In the launch era of Destiny 2, including Red War, Curse of Osiris, Warmind, and Forsaken, social validation was accessible to all players:

  • Discovering secrets in Curse of Osiris.
  • Climbing escalation protocol difficulties to defend Rasputin.
  • Beating raid bosses aboard the Leviathan or in the Last City.
    These activities were difficult, but they were cooperative and attainable. Any group with coordination and planning could succeed, creating a shared sense of accomplishment across the player base.

Shift Under Bungie Independence
When Bungie began removing raids, and locations adding seasonal side content, the pool of accessible prestige narrowed. By the time only Last Wish, Garden of Salvation, and the Deep Stone Crypt remained, the difficulty spikes made them daunting for average players. “Cheeses” eventually emerged to soften the challenge, but this underscored the gap: raids were no longer inclusive.

The Rise of Gatekeeping & Meta
The social validation that once came from inclusivity now came from exclusivity. Raids demanded extremely high damage output, creating a “meta-game” where only certain subclasses, loadouts, and builds were considered viable. This birthed the infamous KWTD (“know what to do”) culture:

  • Gatekeeping replaced teaching.
  • Fewer veterans were willing to guide casuals.
  • Endgame prestige became locked behind elite communities rather than shared discovery.

Effect: Social validation, once a collective motivator, became a divisive one. Bungie shifted endgame identity from shared success to skill-gated exclusivity, alienating the majority of its players.

Section conclusion

What subsequently remains after these six core motivator systems were removed in the Edge of Fate release is the “Portal” system, which functions as a modern Skinner Box. Like Skinner’s original fixed-ratio experiments (Skinner, 1938), the system reduces player motivation to a cycle of lever presses: repeat the same activity for the chance at incremental power and gear, solely to access endgame content such as raids. Over time, however, this produces diminishing dopamine returns.

The Skinner Box in Destiny 2
The Skinner Box in Destiny 2

Neuroscience research shows that repeated, predictable rewards lead to declining dopamine responses through a process known as reward prediction error (Schultz, Dayan, & Montague, 1997; Glimcher, 2011). As a result, players gradually lose motivation to continue, mirroring the collapse of engagement seen in other reinforcement paradigms.

Previously, players were self-motivated to engage in a broad array of activities because each offered distinct unlocks or prestige—adept weapons from harder Vanguard strikes, higher ranks in Crucible, or unique weapons in Gambit. Post-Edge of Fate, these incentives were replaced by resource exchanges—spending materials gained from dismantling gear. This shift reflects what Kriss (2014) describes as a compulsion loop: repetitive play cycles that sustain behavior but erode intrinsic enjoyment.

In practice, players now optimize their gameplay not for exploration or narrative discovery, but for the fastest dopamine return, which can be seen in Bungie’s own weekly article this week in Destiny, (Bungie, 2025). This results in grinding the same activity—such as Caldera or the K1 Lost Sector—over and over, until the cycle produces diminishing returns and play begins to feel less like fun and more like obligation. The outcome is an anti-reward state, where continued repetition fails to produce satisfaction and instead accelerates disengagement (Koob & Le Moal, 2008; Dresp-Langley, 2023).

New Player Experience

The Bungie Business Model
The Bungie Business Model

When examining game development, few genres hold the same cultural weight as the massively multiplayer online game (MMO) and the role-playing game (RPG). Destiny, first released on the PlayStation 3 in 2014, stood at the crossroads of these two traditions. Players traversed alien landscapes while uncovering a deep, lore-rich narrative about the fall of humanity to the Darkness. Guardians faced time-bending Eliksni (Fallen), battled the robotic Vex, confronted Hive forces who hollowed out Earth’s Moon, resisted the Cabal’s invading armadas, and even wrestled with S.I.V.A—relics of humanity’s own corrupted technological past.

At its core, Destiny invited players to hone their skills in the Crucible (competitive PvP), take on Vanguard Strikes (cooperative PvE), and band together in raids—epic six-player encounters that became cultural touchstones within the community. All of this unfolded under the watch of the Traveler, a mysterious celestial being whose presence symbolized hope as humanity rebuilt beneath its glow. The hunt for loot was central to this experience, with rare weapons like the Gjallarhorn becoming icons not just of power, but of communal memory and trust.

This foundation of shared story, challenge, and reward built immense goodwill between Bungie and its players. Yet, as this paper will demonstrate, the same pillars that once inspired loyalty became the very points where consumer trust eroded—through broken promises, structural changes, and a shift from layered player motivation to what can now be described as the chore model of design.

When Bungie launched Destiny 2, players expected not only the same pivotal design foundations that had defined the original Destiny, but also a world of equal beauty and depth—one that could welcome both returning players and newcomers who had only heard about the franchise but never owned a PlayStation 3 or Xbox. The PC release expanded accessibility and fulfilled part of that promise, delivering a visually stunning and narratively ambitious experience. However, Destiny 2’s initial design fell short in other respects. Compared to the refined systems at the end of Destiny’s lifespan, the sequel launched with simplified mechanics that lacked the same depth of character build crafting, leaving some veteran players feeling that core elements of customization and progression had been stripped away.

While under Activision Blizzard, Bungie made concessions that allowed Destiny 2 to evolve closer to what Destiny 1 had become near the end of its lifespan—expanded weapon systems, more diverse perk rolls, and broader avenues for customization. However, after breaking away from Activision Blizzard, Bungie committed what many players describe as a cardinal sin of storycraft—a decision that has since placed the studio in considerable legal and reputational trouble.

Traditionally, successful storytellers expand their worlds across time, layering mystery, lore, and player-driven experiences. World of Warcraft, for example, has built its identity on continuously adding to its sprawling mythos, while Bungie’s own earlier franchise, Halo, expanded beyond games into novels and television adaptations. In contrast, Bungie chose to remove large portions of Destiny 2’s story content through the Content Vault, erasing not only potential future sales of these campaigns but also the irreplaceable player-driven experiences they contained.

This marked a dramatic pivot in Bungie’s narrative strategy. Instead of a stable foundation of permanent campaigns, Bungie shifted toward a seasonal model supported by microtransactions and annual expansion releases. Expansions became the anchors of storytelling, while seasonal content acted as “filler arcs” to bridge the narrative gaps. These seasons often contained enough material to constitute full expansions on their own, making the removal of prior campaigns all the more controversial. The result was not only a dismantling the continued narrative continuity players invested in, but also a profound breach of consumer trust: players who had purchased campaigns found them suddenly inaccessible, violating their expectations of permanence.

In the early phases of Bungie’s seasonal pass business model, new players were often locked out of seasonal content unless they purchased the pass. This meant that even players who had paid for earlier campaigns found themselves with no meaningful way to progress in Destiny’s story: foundational expansions such as The Red War, Curse of Osiris, Warmind, and Forsaken were removed from the game entirely. What remained for new players was a fragmented experience anchored only by Shadowkeep and the post-Beyond Light seasonal model.

The result was a narrative void. Returning players from the PlayStation 3 and Xbox era were confronted with missing story arcs, while new players entering through Destiny 2’s free-to-play model faced confusing gaps with little context for the larger universe. This was perhaps the largest breach of consumer trust in the franchise’s history: players who had purchased content expecting permanent access suddenly had it revoked, while those who paid in afterward were left wondering why so much of the story was missing.

Player sentiment surrounding this removal has echoed for nearly a decade, with many in the community still expressing resentment toward Bungie’s decision. This negativity has fostered a degree of gatekeeping, as veteran players often warn newcomers away from engaging with Destiny’s ongoing narrative—uncertain themselves which content will remain available and which will be removed next. This is further compounded by Bungie’s history of reversals and backtracking, which has entrenched skepticism toward the company’s promises and direction.

From a consumer psychology perspective, these dynamics reflect Expectation–Disconfirmation Theory, where the gap between what players anticipated (permanent access to purchased content) and what was delivered (content removal and paywalled seasonal arcs) generates dissatisfaction (Oliver, 1980). Similarly, research on psychological contract breach shows that when companies break implicit or explicit agreements, consumer trust erodes dramatically (Luo, 2006). Over time, these betrayals trigger long-term resentment and disengagement, with studies on betrayal response confirming that previously loyal consumers often become a brand’s most vocal critics (Grégoire & Fisher, 2008).

This sentiment is reflected clearly in player population data, particularly through SteamCharts. Over time, a consistent pattern emerged: many players disengaged from seasonal expansions and instead chose to log in only during major expansion releases. These spikes, once robust, progressively shrank with each release as players completed the campaign content and then abandoned the game for months at a time. This behavior highlights a player-driven narrative—a strong preference for lore-rich, expansion-level storytelling—while Bungie’s decision to gate seasonal narratives behind paywalls and time-limited content further alienated the wider community (SteamCharts, 2024; Reddit, 2024).

The release of The Final Shape in 2024 exemplifies this phenomenon. Launch saw a surge of over 314,000 concurrent players, fueled by the collective anticipation of experiencing the conclusion to Bungie’s decade-long saga that began with Destiny on the PS3 and Xbox (GamesRadar, 2024; PC Gamer, 2024). Yet this momentum collapsed rapidly once players realized that the narrative conclusion was time-gated. To see the true ending, players were required to complete Salvation’s Edge, a raid widely regarded as the most difficult in the franchise’s history. For many, this reinforced the perception that Bungie continued to gatekeep meaningful story resolution behind elite, endgame-only activities.

By the close of 2024, the erosion was unmistakable. Average players in December had fallen to around 20,900—down from over 49,000 in December 2023 and as high as 92,000 in December 2019 (SteamCharts, 2024; Reddit, 2024). Such steep declines demonstrate more than seasonal fatigue; they reflect a fundamental erosion of engagement tied to repeated narrative removals, structural breaches, and Bungie’s failure to deliver on consumer expectations. From a consumer psychology perspective, this is consistent with Expectation–Disconfirmation Theory (Oliver, 1980) and betrayal response research (Grégoire & Fisher, 2008), which show that broken promises and revoked value not only reduce satisfaction but drive long-term disengagement.

Gatekeeping

When we think of gatekeeping, we tend to imagine closed-door societies—clans or social structures that exclude outsiders. These same dynamics exist not only across subcultures but also within gaming, and Destiny is no different. As Nahon (2009) explains, gatekeeping functions by allowing dominant groups to control access to resources, information, and participation.

In Destiny’s case, gatekeeping often takes the form of vocal minorities pushing Bungie to prioritize their preferences at the expense of broader accessibility. For example, some players frequently demand that Bungie drop support for older platforms like the PlayStation 4 or Xbox One, citing technical limitations and performance issues. While framed as quality-of-life improvements, such demands ignore both the financial impact on Bungie and the exclusion of entire groups of players still using these systems—an outcome that contradicts the principles of inclusive design emphasized by Cho (2023) and Zheng (2025).

More importantly, Bungie’s tunnel vision in listening to its most active community members—rather than seeking feedback from those who have already left the game—means that the studio often implements changes that inadvertently gatekeep casual and returning players. Instead of addressing the reasons players quit, Bungie has frequently opted to satisfy the loudest voices on Reddit, Twitter, or YouTube. This pattern reflects Oliver’s (1980) Expectation–Disconfirmation Theory and more recent studies on psychological contract breach, which show how unmet expectations erode loyalty and spark consumer retaliation (Topa, Aranda-Carmena, & De-Maria, 2022; Gong & Wang, 2021).

This dynamic is reinforced by parasocial behavior. Influencers and their communities, amplified through Bungie’s summits and social media engagement, act as de facto gatekeepers: shaping design decisions around their own preferences rather than what benefits the long-term health of the franchise. As Horton and Wohl (1956) first outlined, parasocial relationships create a sense of intimacy that skews influence, and subsequent studies confirm their impact on consumer trust and decision-making (Tukachinsky & Stever, 2018; Leite & Baptista, 2022). However, when these relationships sour, they can fuel boycotts and anti-fan behavior (Mardon et al., 2022), amplifying brand damage.

In some cases, this community pressure has even led to accessibility setbacks. For instance, debates around Bungie’s use of Banner Ximmers, a tool that could aid players with disabilities, illustrate how uninformed community backlash shaped Bungie’s approach—despite limited expertise in game design, consumer psychology, or accessibility standards. Research confirms that inclusive design is critical to the long-term health of games (Cho, 2023; Zheng, 2025), and short-sighted gatekeeping decisions risk undermining this balance.

The consequence is erosion of consumer trust and brand retention. What was once marketed as an accessible, inclusive experience in Destiny 1 on the PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 has evolved into a game increasingly designed for veteran elites. For new players, the result is frustration: confusing scaling, inaccessible content, and the perception that Bungie caters only to entrenched veterans. For Bungie, the cost is long-term—short-sighted decisions may placate the most vocal minority, but they undermine sustainable player retention and alienate the broader consumer base. This aligns with Grégoire and Fisher’s (2008) research on betrayal response, which shows that previously loyal consumers often become the most vocal critics. The cycle is further reinforced by Skinner’s (1938) and Schultz et al.’s (1997) reinforcement theories, which demonstrate how inconsistent or withdrawn rewards drive disengagement, and by frameworks like Bartle’s (1996) taxonomy of player types and Hunicke, LeBlanc, and Zubek’s (2004) MDA model, which highlight how narrow design choices fail to meet the motivational needs of diverse audiences.

KWTD, Dungeons and Raids

A core concept of Destiny has always been its emphasis on cooperative fireteams—groups of players working together to accomplish goals. These fireteams were originally central to activities like Vanguard Strikes (3-player PvE), Gambit (4v4 hybrid PvPvE), and the Crucible (6v6 competitive PvP). Over time, however, Bungie expanded this model into more complex endgame activities such as Dungeons (Grasp of Avarice, Ghosts of the Deep, Sundered Doctrine) and six-player Raids (Last Wish, King’s Fall, Salvation’s Edge).

The design of these activities, while rewarding for skilled groups, created significant barriers to entry for casual players. Mechanics were often not explicitly taught but instead learned through trial, error, or community guides. As a result, players who had mastered the content frequently excluded newcomers through the community shorthand KWTD (“Know What To Do”). In practice, this gatekeeping made it nearly impossible for less experienced players to access Raids or Dungeons without outside help, reinforcing inequities between “career gamers” and casual consumers (Nahon, 2009).

Destiny 2's KWTD culture
The gatekeeping aspects of KWTD culture in Destiny 2.

While Bungie eventually introduced the “Fireteam Finder” tool and experimented with dungeon matchmaking in the pre-Edge of Fate event, these fixes arrived late and only partially mitigated the problem. For many casual players, it was the first time they could access activities like Spire of the Watcher or Rite of the Nine without relying on Discord-based LFG groups. Yet because these were time-gated events, access remained fleeting rather than permanent.

From a game design perspective, this reflects a failure of onboarding. The MDA framework (Hunicke, LeBlanc, & Zubek, 2004) shows that mechanics should build into dynamics that create inclusive aesthetics, but Bungie’s design instead emphasized exclusivity. Research on online community structures further demonstrates that such barriers amplify social anxieties, reinforcing exclusion for players less comfortable seeking help (Ducheneaut, Yee, Nickell, & Moore, 2007). The consequence is erosion of consumer trust: activities once marketed as “for all Guardians” became accessible only to a vocal minority, leaving casual players alienated and excluded from core narrative arcs.

Crafting, Weapon Enhancements, and Tiered Gear

When crafting was introduced in Destiny 2: The Witch Queen (2022), the narrative around the Enclave suggested that “darkness remembers all,” implying that any weapon could be crafted. In practice, however, crafting was less about universal accessibility and more about extending seasonal engagement. Bungie introduced “red border” seasonal weapons, which players needed to farm in order to unlock weapon patterns. This system stretched out playtime by requiring multiple drops, effectively turning crafting into a retention mechanic rather than a player empowerment system (Oliver, 1980; Skinner, 1938).

The issues with this design became apparent quickly. While some career players and streamers argued that craftable weapons undermined the looter-shooter identity of Destiny 2 (Tassi, 2023), many casual players valued the system because it gave them control over weapon rolls. Bungie’s decision to scale back support for crafting after The Final Shape—by time-gating red border drops in Episode: Echoes—was seen by endgame players as positive, but by casual players as a step backwards. Instead of fulfilling the original promise of agency, Bungie incentivized crafting primarily through endgame raids, locking meaningful progression behind content that was already inaccessible due to KWTD gatekeeping (Nahon, 2009; Ducheneaut et al., 2007).

The broader consensus among both casual and hardcore players was that crafting itself was not a bad concept—it simply suffered from poor execution. Instead of deep systems that encouraged experimentation, crafting became another grind loop, consistent with the Skinner box model of reinforcement (Skinner, 1938; Schultz, Dayan, & Montague, 1997).

Bungie attempted to course-correct by introducing weapon enhancements, which allowed players to apply stat bonuses or perk improvements. Yet these enhancements were resource-intensive and often not worthwhile, as players knew stronger gear would arrive in the next season. From a design perspective, this reflects a misalignment within the MDA framework (Hunicke, LeBlanc, & Zubek, 2004): the mechanics (enhancement materials, seasonal unlocks) failed to produce dynamics (long-term satisfaction, meaningful progression), instead delivering aesthetics of frustration and fatigue.

This cycle culminated in Destiny 2: The Edge of Fate with the launch of tiered weapons and armor. Tiered weapons offered minor seasonal damage boosts, while armor tiers provided passive defensive bonuses of 1–5% per piece, capping at 15%. However, these bonuses were season-locked: once the season ended, gear often lost relevance. To casual players, this revealed that Bungie prioritized player retention over individual progression. Worse still, higher-tier gear was locked behind high-difficulty activities (Grandmasters, Ultimatum), creating a steep skill and time barrier.

Unlike traditional MMOs, where players are rewarded for steady engagement, Bungie effectively punished casual playstyles by requiring the most challenging content to reach power caps. This design also tied progression to consumer purchases, with permanent tiered boosts (e.g., +2 in the Kepler region of Edge of Fate) locked behind participation in this grind. From a consumer psychology perspective, this reflects a clear psychological contract breach (Topa, Aranda-Carmena, & De-Maria, 2022; Gong & Wang, 2021): players entered crafting, weapon enhancements, and tiered gear systems expecting empowerment and continuity, only to find themselves trapped in a retention-driven chore loop.

Raids

From the original Destiny through Destiny 2’s launch and into Bungie’s era of independence, one of the clearest shifts has been in the design philosophy of raids and dungeons. Difficulty scaling has transformed these activities from broadly accessible challenges into exclusive, high-skill barriers.

In early Destiny raids—such as Vault of Glass, King’s Fall (Crota and Oryx encounters), and the Leviathan raids under Calus—failure was often mitigated by what can be called “soft wipes.” Players could die or fail a mechanic, but the team generally retained progress in the encounter. For example, in Vault of Glass, the Oracle phase allowed for recovery if mistakes were made. In King’s Fall, phases like the two Hive Wizards or even the Oryx fight left windows for regrouping and retrying without a total reset. These designs gave team’s space to learn and adapt, rewarding persistence and cooperation rather than perfection.

By contrast, later raids such as Last Wish and Deep Stone Crypt shifted toward “hard wipe” mechanics—where failing a single step caused the entire fireteam to die and reset. These encounters required precise execution, leaving little room for experimentation or recovery. From a game design perspective, this reflects a move away from flow theory (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990), which suggests optimal engagement occurs when challenge balances with skill, toward exclusionary design that punished mistakes harshly.

The introduction of hard wipes also fueled the rise of KWTD (Know What To Do) gatekeeping. Because encounters demanded perfect execution, veteran players increasingly avoided bringing in newcomers who required teaching. From a purely time-investment perspective, it became more efficient for experienced players to exclude novices rather than risk repeated wipes. This dynamic reinforced a cycle of inaccessibility: new players were locked out of the very activities that were central to Destiny’s endgame identity.

In consumer psychology terms, this represents another expectation–disconfirmation breach. Raids had been marketed since Destiny 1 as community-defining activities that “any fireteam could overcome with coordination.” Instead, the design shift created exclusionary spaces that contradicted Bungie’s own promises of inclusivity. Research on online game communities confirms that such design-induced exclusion amplifies gatekeeping behaviors and discourages casual participation (Ducheneaut, Yee, Nickell, & Moore, 2007). For many players, the move from soft wipes to hard wipes signaled that Bungie’s priorities had shifted away from accessibility toward serving only the most hardcore audience—further eroding long-term trust.

Quality of Life

One of the persistent challenges Bungie has faced since the launch of Destiny 2 has been its approach to quality of life (QoL) design. Up until the release of Edge of Fate, the user interface encouraged exploration of planets and activities, offering players weekly rotators for raids, dungeons, and story missions. These systems helped maintain variety and encouraged player-driven progression. However, with the launch of the Portal, the interface was streamlined to funnel players into a single reward path. While this system might have promised efficiency, players have described the result as turning once-vibrant “world” tab into a “mausoleum”—a hollow structure where older UI pathways have fallen into disrepair.

Compounding this problem is Bungie’s continual reshuffling of pinnacle reward structures. Originally, players earned pinnacles through Vanguard Strikes, Gambit, and Crucible, creating predictable loops of weekly engagement. Later, these were replaced by Pathfinder activities post Final Shape, shifting progression yet again.

Weekly raid and dungeon rotators, previously central motivators, instead, all progression was redirected through the Portal upon the launch of the Edge of Fate. While such systems can be effective in reducing cognitive load, Bungie’s frequent restructuring highlights a prioritization of retention mechanics over enjoyment. Meanwhile, pinnacles tied to raids, dungeons, and weekly missions have been removed entirely. Each change forces players to re-learn what matters in a given season, undermining consistency and creating further friction. From a UX perspective, this contradicts the principle of stable reward feedback loops, which are essential to maintaining engagement (Nacke & Deterding, 2017) and is reflective of research in user experience design, which stresses that consistency and predictability are core factors in user satisfaction (Nacke & Deterding, 2017). Constantly shifting interfaces increase cognitive friction, leading to disengagement.

Visually, this is reflected in the game’s “World Tab”—once a vibrant interface filled with destinations and activity nodes. Now, with progression redirected almost entirely through the Portal, the World Tab functions as little more than visual dead weight. For veteran players, its emptiness underscores how much of the original exploratory MMO identity has been stripped away. For new players, it signals clutter and obsolescence, further reinforcing a sense of disconnection from the broader game world.

The result is twofold. First, current players feel disoriented as Bungie repeatedly redefines what activities matter each season. Second, new players—entering mid-cycle—face a fragmented landscape where older systems have been removed and newer ones are temporary. This compounds the problem of continuity: with four major campaigns and years of seasonal content vaulted, players are often left with seasonal activities (such as Savathûn’s Spire or Expedition) reintroduced in the Portal without their narrative context, reducing them to hollow grind loops. This aligns with research showing that when narrative cohesion is stripped, motivation is reduced to extrinsic “chore loops” rather than intrinsic enjoyment (Oliver, 1980; Hamari & Keronen, 2017).

This disconnect between Bungie’s retention-focused systems and players’ expectations of enjoyment has created visible frustration. Influential streamers, journalists, and content creators frequently report burnout and exhaustion with what they describe as a Skinner box grind. Unlike MMOs such as World of Warcraft, which layer rewards through exploration, factional reputation, and achievements, Destiny 2 increasingly relies on time-gated progression and homogenized reward tiers. In consumer psychology terms, this reflects a psychological contract breach (Topa, Aranda-Carmena, & De-Maria, 2022; Gong & Wang, 2021): players who expect continuity, layered rewards, and a living world instead find themselves subjected to short-term retention levers.

The cumulative effect has been erosion of trust. QoL changes designed to streamline engagement instead gatekeep progression, alienate casual and new players, and reinforce anti-Bungie sentiment. In the long run, this design philosophy risks aligning Bungie’s goals more with corporate retention metrics than with fostering sustainable enjoyment, further widening the gap between company and community.

The Disconnect

Bungie frequently reinforces the message “we’re listening” through official platforms such as Twitter and Reddit, but its absence from Facebook stands out as a major gap. Despite Facebook being the largest social media platform worldwide (Statista, 2025), Bungie has no official Destiny 2 group tied to its corporate or game pages. This leaves the most casual-friendly and demographically broad platform dominated by unofficial, player-run groups—including the Destiny 2 Community & Meme group, which has over 90,000 active members and which I personally manage under the Gamers-Haven brand or my own name, Daniel Clatworthy. To put this in perspective, that group alone represents roughly one-third of the game’s active community as measured on SteamCharts. These spaces are often infiltrated by imitators falsely claiming Bungie affiliation, further exacerbating consumer distrust and reinforcing the perception that Bungie is not actively listening to the largest segment of its player base.

Destiny has no official Facebook group
Destiny has no official Facebook group

The decision not to build or manage a dedicated Bungie-run Facebook group also signals a failure to adapt to evolving social media ecosystems. Research on corporate branding and consumer relationships shows that official, brand-managed spaces not only reduce misinformation but also increase perceived fairness and trust (Sweeney et al., 1999; Luo, 2006). Bungie could, at relatively low cost, staff or contract a community manager to oversee such a group, ensuring that feedback from casual players is collected and responded to in a structured way. By failing to do so, Bungie effectively outsources one of its largest communication channels to fan intermediaries, which dilutes brand authority and fragments community dialogue. Instead of relying solely on the official @Destiny2Team Twitter account, Bungie often uses high-profile community managers such as Cosmo and DMG to engage directly with players. These interactions, framed as personal and informal, blur the line between official communication and individual commentary

Parasocial Behavior

The informal nature of Bungie’s community engagement often elevates certain players or content creators above the broader community, creating a form of player-driven tunnel vision. This occurs because Bungie does not adequately account for the parasocial relationships these figures cultivate with their audiences—relationships that amplify their voices far beyond their individual reach. This parasocial amplification (Horton & Wohl, 1956; Tukachinsky & Stever, 2018) narrows the feedback loop: Bungie hears the loudest voices, not necessarily the most representative ones.

This dynamic is especially evident in the influence of content creators such as Rick Kackis, MyNameIsByf, FalloutPlays, and Aztecross. Their personal opinions and criticisms—whether about loot, balance, or difficulty—are echoed through their communities and then passed upward to Bungie via public channels or through interactions with community managers like Cosmo and DMG. The parasocial bond between creators and their audiences leads fans to internalize and repeat these positions, similar to the echo effects observed in politics and other media ecosystems (see: parasocial echo chambers in social media studies).

Bungie’s communication strategy often privileges a small circle of creators, reinforcing a form of tunnel vision shaped by parasocial influence. Instead of broad community feedback, Bungie elevates select influencers whose voices become amplified both inside the studio and across the wider player base.

For example, Fallout Plays not only regularly discusses Bungie’s decisions on YouTube but also confirmed that he played Edge of Fate early, posting a video titled “I played Edge of Fate early. I have thoughts about it” (Fallout Plays, 2025b). Similarly, iiizwerg published a paid content reveal video for Edge of Fate before its official release (iiizwerg, 2025), demonstrating the preferential early access Bungie grants to influencers. These examples are not isolated—earlier reports noted Bungie invited YouTubers like Myelin Games, Mercules, and others to narrative summits to provide direct feedback on Destiny’s story (Capel, 2018; kaz_phd, 2021).

By spotlighting creators with this level of access, Bungie effectively positions them as community representatives, whether or not they reflect the views of the majority of players. This aligns with Horton & Wohl’s (1956) concept of parasocial relationships: creators become trusted stand-ins for audiences, and their opinions are amplified as if they represent the community at large. Bungie then leverages this influence as a form of free marketing—inviting creators to previews and summits not only to gain feedback but also to generate hype and pre-orders through their platforms.

The outcome is a cycle of tunnel vision. Endgame-focused creators push for harder raids or elite content; Bungie responds with encounters like Salvation’s Edge, widely regarded as the hardest raid in Destiny’s history. Casual players, meanwhile, see their own perspectives sidelined, reinforcing the perception that Bungie listens only to creators elevated by parasocial dynamics rather than the broader player base.

Players demand for Destiny 3
Players demand for Destiny 3 reflecting parasocial behavior.

The problem is that parasocial influence rarely aligns with actual consumer satisfaction. Followers swayed by creators often purchase expansions or content based on echoed promises, only to be disappointed when the broader, systemic issues they hoped would be addressed remain unresolved. As research on parasocial dynamics shows, audiences frequently mistake identification with media figures for genuine representation of their own interests (Tukachinsky & Stever, 2018). This creates a gap between what consumers believe they are “heard” on, and what Bungie actually delivers.

Perhaps the clearest example of this dynamic is the ongoing call for “Destiny 3.” While many creators have floated this sentiment since the Beyond Light era, (Chalk, 2018), the idea remains vague—echoed more as a rallying cry within communities than as a concrete vision for the franchise. It illustrates how parasocial influence can transform uncertain, even ill-defined ideas into widespread community expectations.

The Double Edged Sword

Consequently, this behavior also does not align at times with company motivations as at times these parasocial relationships can be a double-edged sword, such as when Bungie spent years of resources on development for their game marathon, only to be met with harsh criticism from the same community that they hold up on a pedastol when no creator invited to the summit was excited for the game after testing it.

Furthermore, it undermines company performance when those in the employ of Bungie often are seen cutting corners by stealing content created from their community as a means to speed up production, resulting in further damage to consumer trust, such as when bungie was caught stealing artwork from content creators, and artists for various Destiny 2 seasons, and for Marathons development.

These instances serve not only as a means to tunnel vision to what the exclusive few want, but how their echoing can also subsequently damage and undermine trust in a company which further undermines player retention, and potential sales from microtransactions.

Creators, Community Trust, and the Double-Edged Sword of Access

Bungie’s reliance on parasocial feedback infrastructures—particularly through summit invitations and early access for select creators—can backfire. These relationships, built on creator prestige and community reach, sometimes collapse when those honored voices express disappointment with product outcomes. For example, many creators who attended Marathon previews voiced harsh criticism after hands-on testing, despite being involved in early feedback loops (Jenkins, 2025).

Furthermore, Bungie’s credibility has been repeatedly undermined by a series of incidents where the studio was caught using community-created artwork without permission. In 2023, Bungie apologized after fan art was used in a pivotal Destiny 2 cutscene without credit (Good, 2023). The following year, fan artist Tofu Rabbit had their work reproduced on an official Destiny 2 Nerf blaster before Bungie issued compensation and acknowledgment (Hollister, 2024). That same year, another case emerged when art appeared in promotional material for Seasons of the Deep, again traced back to community creators without proper licensing (Wood, 2021).

Most recently, Scottish artist Fern “Antireal” Hook revealed that key imagery from her 2017 piece was lifted into Marathon without permission, sparking widespread coverage from outlets like Polygon, The Verge, and The Washington Post (Burke, 2025; Lowry, 2023; Park, 2025). Bungie admitted fault and promised compensation, but the damage was already done.

Rather than isolated mistakes, these incidents illustrate a pattern: Bungie’s internal processes repeatedly cut corners by leaning on fan-made work. For a company that elevates certain creators at summits and on social media, this hypocrisy further alienates the broader community, undermining trust and reinforcing the perception of tunnel vision

The integrity of community trust erodes even further when Bungie themselves are implicated in content misappropriation. In May 2025, Scottish artist Fern “Antireal” Hook publicized that design elements from her 2017 artwork were used in Marathon without attribution or consent. The Verge detailed side-by-side comparisons that revealed near-identical imagery. Bungie later acknowledged that a former employee included the art without oversight and promised compensation (Lowry, 2025). This controversy followed a 2024 incident involving the unauthorized use of fan art for a Destiny 2-themed Nerf blaster, for which Bungie subsequently credited and compensated the artist (Good, 2024).

Cheating

As Bungie embraced independence and moved away from the six traditional motivator systems that once rewarded player progression—gratification, challenge, progression, unpredictability, achievement, and social validation—it created a power vacuum in player motivation. Where earlier systems had kept players engaged through multiple pathways of reward, their removal left many with only one consistent motivator: social validation. To fill the gap left by these missing systems, some players increasingly turned to cheating as a way to reach otherwise inaccessible rewards (Consalvo, 2007; Griffiths & Nuyens, 2017).

Initially, cheating was most visible in PvP environments such as the Crucible and Trials of Osiris. These modes prioritized skill over long-term progression, and for players lacking the necessary skill or resources, third-party tools such as XIM devices on console or cheat software on PC became shortcuts to victory. Bungie’s independence coincided with an explosion of lawsuits against cheat providers as the studio sought to mitigate these issues, most notably against AimJunkies, where Bungie secured a $4.3 million arbitration award and later a jury verdict awarding damages for copyright infringement (Bungie Inc. v. AimJunkies, 2021; Davis, 2024; Shmatenko, L, 2024).

Cheating, however, was not confined to PvP. It became increasingly noticeable in endgame PvE activities, particularly in high-profile “World’s First” raid and dungeon races. Content creators such as CheezeForever documented exploits such as net limiting to artificially inflate damage output during encounters, which he later apologized for and removed his video showing how the exploit works, (Cheese Forever, 2025). Bungie’s investigation into these practices led to the disqualification of certain “champion” teams, including world-first titles in activities like Vespers Host, (Jawad, 2025). These cases underscore how cheating became a form of compensatory behavior for content that demanded perfection (hard wipes, KWTD culture) while offering fewer alternative motivational loops (Ducheneaut, Yee, Nickell, & Moore, 2007).

From a consumer psychology perspective, this reflects strain theory (Merton, 1938): when legitimate means to achieve desired goals are blocked, individuals turn to alternative—often illegitimate—methods to reach them. In gaming, this mirrors the logic of piracy, where individuals who cannot afford or access legitimate media (DVDs, streaming subscriptions) resort to unauthorized downloads. In Destiny, the unmet motivational needs once provided by the six-layer reward system pushed players toward exploits and cheating to regain that sense of reward (Topa, Aranda-Carmena, & De-Maria, 2022; Gong & Wang, 2021).

Community discussions reflect this perception directly. As one Reddit user bluntly summarized, “90% of players cheat … they wanna feel good. Instead of just enjoying the game. They don’t fix it because more cheaters” (u/anon, 2024a). Others highlight how inconsistent enforcement leads to distrust: “I think I just saw a group of cheaters get banned” (u/anon, 2023), suggesting that bans appear sporadic and unconvincing. The issue is most visible in high-difficulty content, where one Reddit comment observed during Desert Perpetual’s Contest Mode: “There’s always cheaters, they are more visible due to the astronomically high difficulty for this raid” (u/anon, 2024b). These community perspectives reinforce the sense that cheating is not an isolated phenomenon but a normalized response to a hostile design environment.

This dynamic was further highlighted by in-game bugs and exploits celebrated by the community. Examples include the Titan’s infinite airborne Strand melee glitch and the infamous “fun guns” incident, in which a crafting bug allowed players to create overpowered weapons that trivialized endgame content. For a brief period, these exploits fulfilled the dopamine-driven motivations that Bungie’s core design no longer addressed, granting casual and elite players alike the empowerment and satisfaction that had otherwise been lost (Litchfield, 2023; Wood, 2023; Schultz, Dayan, & Montague, 1997).

Section conclusion

Bungie’s reliance on parasocial infrastructures—summits, early previews, and influencer amplification—can be a double-edged sword. These elevated voices often become critics when outcomes disappoint, as seen with Marathon, where invited creators openly voiced dissatisfaction after testing (Jenkins, 2025; Lowry, 2023). The damage compounds when Bungie’s internal practices are implicated in repeated art misappropriation scandals across Destiny 2 and Marathon (Good, 2023; Hollister, 2024; Burke, 2025; Park, 2025; Wood, 2021). For a studio that places creators on pedestals, cutting corners by borrowing from the wider community without credit creates a glaring hypocrisy that further alienates players.

These incidents demonstrate that parasocial ties aren’t only assets—they can quickly become liabilities. When influencers and their communities feel betrayed, they amplify backlash, driving anti-fan behavior, boycotts, and distrust (Mardon et al., 2022). Research shows that breaches of credibility in influencer relationships erode brand trust more severely than product flaws alone (Berry, 2024; Leite & Baptista, 2021). In short, Bungie’s tunnel vision privileges a narrow slice of creator voices while disregarding ethical and community obligations. The result is weakened trust, declining retention, and diminished long-term revenue potential.

Sony Acquisition, Microtransactions, and Justin Truman

Sony’s $3.6 billion acquisition of Bungie in 2022 was positioned as a strategic move to secure Bungie’s expertise in live-service game development, with $1.2 billion reserved for employee retention tied to Destiny 2 and Marathon (Sony Group Corporation, 2022). Yet within a year, Bungie announced layoffs and delayed The Final Shape, despite Sony’s investment, creating external perceptions of corporate mismanagement and instability (Chalk, 2023). Reports surrounding Marathon’s development, including allegations of artwork theft from independent artists, further amplified anti-Bungie sentiment (Warren, 2024).

For many players, these developments were a breaking point. The Bungie Foundation’s charitable initiatives could not outweigh the perception of a studio marked by greed, selfishness, and betrayal. Criticism intensified around CEO Pete Parsons, who was publicly associated with lavish personal spending even as staff faced layoffs. The result was a narrative in the community that Bungie’s leadership had lost touch with both its employees and its players.

By mid-2025, the picture had worsened. Destiny 2: Edge of Fate launched to muted reception, with peak Steam numbers falling below 100,000 concurrent players compared to over 300,000 during The Final Shape (Robinson, 2025). The expansion’s reliance on the new Portal system—widely criticized as one of the most grind-heavy mechanics in the franchise’s history—further alienated the player base. Industry analysis suggests at least 30,000 active players disengaged within weeks, while console populations remain opaque due to lack of transparent reporting.

Amid this downturn, Sony announced the full integration of Bungie, effectively ending the studio’s post-Activision independence (Push Square, 2025). Shortly afterward, Pete Parsons resigned, and Justin Truman, formerly General Manager of Destiny 2, was appointed as Bungie’s new studio head (Warren, 2025). Truman’s rise was met with skepticism. Although his GDC 2022 talk on avoiding “over-delivery” aligns with certain academic principles of expectation management (Oliver, 1980;  Game Developers Conference, 2023), his track record within Destiny 2—from the criticized Red War launch design to repeated system overhauls—has often emphasized player retention mechanics over player enjoyment. This history has made his leadership a focal point for broader debates about Bungie’s direction.

Leadership Philosophy, Change, and Consumer Psychology

In some limited respects, Justin Truman’s caution regarding “over-delivery” in live-service games aligns with established consumer psychology. Research in Expectation–Disconfirmation Theory (Oliver, 1980) shows that when companies set expectations too high, future content is perceived as a disappointment even when objectively comparable. Similarly, studies on consumer betrayal demonstrate that unmet expectations provoke disproportionate negative reactions, particularly among loyal customers (Grégoire & Fisher, 2008). On this narrow point, Truman is correct: unsustainable spikes in content cadence can damage long-term perception.

However, Truman’s broader design philosophy—marked by frequent structural changes and the removal of established systems—has been received almost uniformly negatively. Player data for Destiny 2 demonstrate a long-term decline in active users, with engagement spiking only during major expansion releases and collapsing shortly thereafter (SteamCharts, 2025). While SteamCharts reflects periodic growth during large expansions, these spikes have not translated into sustained player retention. In fact, by the release of Edge of Fate, average player counts had fallen to levels comparable to those seen just before the introduction of sunsetting and the Content Vault prior to Beyond Light.

This pattern aligns with loss aversion (Kahneman & Tversky, 1979): players react more strongly to the removal of content they already own—such as the Red War, Curse of Osiris, Warmind, and Forsaken campaigns—than to the addition of new material. By vaulting previously purchased expansions under the Content Vault initiative (Beyond Light, 2020), Bungie not only triggered status quo bias (Samuelson & Zeckhauser, 1988) but also violated the implicit expectations of its customers, constituting a psychological contract breach (Topa, Aranda-Carmena, & De-Maria, 2022), in which consumers perceive implicit promises to have been broken.

Destiny 2 Average concurrent players
Destiny 2 Average concurrent players after Edge of Fate

The consequences of these decisions became even clearer with the launch of Destiny Rising on mobile. Player counts for Destiny 2 dropped further as users installed emulators such as MuMu to play a licensed third-party entry in the franchise rather than continue investing in Bungie’s version. This migration underscores the cumulative impact of repeated breaches of trust: when faced with instability and the loss of valued content, players actively sought alternatives—even those outside Bungie’s direct control. At the same time, Bungie’s credibility was further eroded by the decision to vault entire expansions, which not only disrupted narrative continuity but also invited legal controversy. In 2023, Bungie was accused in litigation of plagiarizing portions of the Red War campaign (Doe v. Bungie, 2023). Although the case did not result in a finding of plagiarism, the lawsuit itself reinforced the perception that Bungie mismanages intellectual property and repeatedly betrays consumer trust.

Truman’s emphasis on “change for the sake of change” reflects a short-sighted view of live-service design. Academic literature on game engagement emphasizes that stability in reward structures and continuity in world-building are key to sustaining communities (Hamari & Keronen, 2017; Nieborg, 2015). Instead, Bungie has repeatedly restructured systems—such as replacing pinnacle reward pathways with Pathfinder activities, or reintroducing seasonal content stripped of narrative context—forcing players to re-learn mechanics each year. These decisions reduce accessibility for new players, alienate veterans, and exacerbate perceptions of instability.

A useful metaphor is Truman’s own “train station” model, used to describe live-service operations. The problem is not the construction of the station, but the passenger experience within it. By repeatedly shifting the layout—closing familiar routes, rerouting connections, and removing kiosks—players feel disoriented, frustrated, and alienated. Where other MMOs, such as World of Warcraft, maintain continuity while layering new reward systems, Destiny 2’s instability fosters confusion rather than loyalty. As consumer psychology demonstrates, consistency, continuity, and fairness are stronger predictors of satisfaction than novelty for its own sake (Oliver, 1980; Xia, Monroe, & Cox, 2004).

Ultimately, Bungie’s failure lies not in monetization itself but in its inability to build and maintain coherent experiences. When systems are constantly restructured, consumer trust collapses. This reflects not an unavoidable live-service dilemma but a series of poor design decisions rooted in short-term retention goals rather than sustainable engagement.

Full conclusion

Bungie employees have frequently argued that its struggles are “a management issue.” While there is truth to this, research in both game design and consumer psychology indicates that the deeper problem lies in Bungie’s design philosophy itself. By prioritizing player retention metrics over player engagement, Bungie inverted the causal chain. Engagement is what sustains retention; enjoyment provides the intrinsic motivators that lead players to interact not only with the game but also with its community and live-service ecosystem (Deci & Ryan, 1985; Hamari & Keronen, 2017). Without enjoyment, retention collapses, and short-term grinds fail to translate into lasting loyalty.

The systematic removal of enjoyable systems that once sparked engagement has caused not only brand damage but active consumer withdrawal. One illustrative example is the removal of Fishing, a lighthearted seasonal activity that had unexpectedly high engagement. Its elimination gave rise to a community meme: “If it’s fun, Bungie will remove it.” When Destiny Rising launched with fishing as a core feature, the contrast was immediate—players responded positively, framing it as an act of listening to the community where Bungie had failed. Concurrently, Destiny 2’s player counts fell from approximately 36,000 to 13,000 concurrent players, underscoring how even small engagement systems matter in retaining casual and midcore audiences (SteamCharts, 2025).

Destiny 2 player numbers after Destiny Rising launched
Destiny 2 player numbers after Destiny Rising launched

This demonstrates a broader principle: Bungie’s design is the central issue. Where Destiny has excelled in narrative storytelling, it has faltered in embedding meaningful gameplay changes that resonate with players within a live-service model. Removing accessible, intrinsically enjoyable systems erodes flow states (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990), alienates consumers, and fuels the perception of psychological contract breach (Topa, Aranda-Carmena, & De-Maria, 2022). Meanwhile, a licensed spin-off like Destiny Rising—which preserved small-scale motivators—demonstrated stronger early retention than Bungie itself could achieve, despite lacking Bungie’s resources or narrative continuity.

The lingering issue over Bungie is thus twofold: not only management dysfunction, but also design decisions devoid of fun, excitement, and meaningful engagement. By substituting layered motivators with narrow retention mechanics, Bungie has created a game that is simply not enjoyable to play. The result is consumer alienation, migration to alternatives, and declining sales of expansions and microtransactions. Ultimately, these systemic failings explain not only Destiny 2’s dwindling player base, but also the layoffs and organizational instability Bungie faced even before the launch of The Final Shape in 2024.

References

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I’m an autistic gamer with ADHD, studying Business Administration at the University of the People while learning game development. For over 10 years, I’ve reviewed games, collaborated on projects at global game jams, and attended industry conferences. I love growing with others through our shared passion. Always learning, always pushing forward — sometimes you just have to do something crazy.

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