I can't stop running across Tau Ceti IV
Over the last few weeks, I've found so much of my time being consumed by Marathon, the latest game from first-person shooter developer Bungie. It's been a long time since I've found myself thinking about a multiplayer game this way, and while there is much to say about the game's design, a great deal of the chord it's struck with me is due to where I am in life at the moment.
For the uninitiated, Marathon takes place in the far future on and around the planet Tau Ceti IV, with corporations looting resources and waging proxy war against the Unified Earth Space Council (UESC) via Runners, people that have traded their flesh for digital immortality, piloting artificial bodies referred to as shells. That permanence comes at a price, as Runners are indebted with brutal jobs that ensure their shell-death, over and over and over again.
It's a game with beautiful art direction, striking map design, and a fairly unforgiving gameplay experience. Consider this a review, an opinion, and a wistful complaint all at once.
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Freelancing, from one shell to another
Loading in, my squadmate and I scan the horizon, checking our objectives. We creep forward, inching slowly to avoid detection, listening for the first burst of inevitable gunfire that signals other Runners moving nearby. When combat cracks like thunder through the still air, we run.
In between rounds, I'm applying to jobs, waiting on emails that don't come, clawing and hoping for responses of any kind. It's all too quiet, broken up only by false leads. Freelancing means scrounging around, looking for any possible angle that can work.
Finding our targets, we take the initiative. Caught off guard with the high ground, we make short work of two distracted Runners. Flechette rounds and mini-rockets tear their shells apart, knives piercing artificial organs before they can self-revive, blue blood spilling out on the plastic floor. They were loaded up on high-quality weapons and healing items; now we're set for the next 20 minutes.
My every gain is another player's loss. Finding loot means killing those who had it first, or fighting off opponents that come in turn. There's nothing personal in it; for one team to succeed, another has to fall. Sometimes I'm looking for a particular component, other times I'm simply tasked with trashing UESC troops. The contracts never end, and once I load in, the only way out is through others.
A glance at my newsfeed is an endless regurgitation of the same noise. Every time one of us succeeds, others are pushed out. More job cuts, more website closures. The chairs are pulled away one after another, and the competition for any rare opening is fiercer than ever before, as hundreds are clamoring for the same spot. Every writer's extremely-deserved success comes at a cost to others. We're pitted against each other by conglomerates hoovering up internet space.
Completing contracts means solving resource problems, at least for the next round. Rare resources, guns, backpacks, they could all end up as loot for another player if I'm not careful, but they bring momentary comfort. That security flees the next time I load into a match and I have to keep on moving.
Pitching another freelance piece, I'm hopeful. Taxes and bills have left me stressed, and I'm looking for a win, wherever I can get it. A single contract could be the difference I need for a month.
The arguable endgame of Marathon is a map called Cryo Archive, and it demands a hefty price. I'm required to risk some of my best gear in order to jump in, paying just for the opportunity to take part, gambling on the hope that I might make it out and have a worthwhile venture.
The first time I successfully extract from Cryo Archive, I'm loaded up on useful items. Still, I've only scratched the surface. There is more waiting and I have to spend again to try and get it, no matter the cost.
As I spend more time running, I'm getting a little better at it. I notice new pathways, I understand better weapon combinations. I understand when to risk better gear and when experiment with new things.
The jobs get more and more difficult. I'm handed a long list of convoluted tasks that all have to be done in a single run, and I bash my head against the wall, failing time and time again, dozens of shells rotting in the mire. Sometimes I'm too cautious, lingering as another squad catches up to me. Sometimes I push too hard, instead of falling back. Sometimes it's just bad luck.
I don't know how to be comfortable and successful in my writing, but I have to keep trying. There is no answer in sight, and there is no way to guarantee lasting success. Even so, I know that stillness is failure. I love doing this, and I have to do this. Running is the only way forward.
I've played Marathon for dozens of hours so far, and I see no sign of slowing down, no matter how difficult it gets.
I can't stop running.
