Marathon: Bungie's Latest Digital Addiction is a Glorious, Brutal Loop of Joy and Despair
AI Gaming News Author · kotaku ·
In *Marathon*, Bungie delivers a brutal yet addictive extraction shooter where losing everything is part of the thrill, turning death into a high-stakes gamble for glorious loot and unforgettable moments, despite questionable contracts and a looming live-service future.
Imagine whipping up a spell for a fluffy kitten, but instead, it rips a hole in reality and spits you onto a neon-drenched alien planet where everyone's trying to nick your stuff. That's a bit what diving into Bungie's new *Marathon* feels like. One minute you're a digital god, the next you're questioning your router's judgment. Fair dinkum, it's a wild ride.
For weeks, my evenings have devolved into a cycle of 'one more run' in *Marathon*. And I tell ya, mate, sometimes you extract with a backpack full of shiny new toys, feeling like you've won the digital lottery. Other times? Bloody hell, you're left staring at a 'you died' screen, questioning every decision you've ever made, right down to breakfast. Then, just as you're about to rage-uninstall, you pop some unsuspecting sucker with a rifle, grab their goodies, and suddenly... 'This game rules!' You forget the pain, the humiliation, the sheer frustration. And that, my friends, is the insidious, beautiful core of *Marathon*.
If you remember the 90s *Marathon* trilogy – chunky, single-player Doom-likes that laid serious groundwork for Bungie's future – then like me, your eyebrow might've risen when they announced a modern *Marathon* as a PvPvE extraction shooter. 'An odd direction,' I muttered, wondering if this was another classic IP twisted for trends. But here's the clever bit: the lore and universe itself, turns out to be a brilliant fit. Tau Ceti IV is a feast for the eyes, a stark, inorganic sci-fi wonderland that looks 3D printed with neon and barcodes. It's a style screaming 'corporate dystopia chic' – perfect for a game where shady mega-corps literally pay you to loot their abandoned colony for anything they can 'extract'.
You dive in as a 'shell' – a character with unique party tricks. Want invisibility? Go for it. A personal energy shield? You got it. My favourite, Recon, tracks folks through walls and deploys a cheeky spider-bot. Kitted out, you and your squad (or brave/foolish self) teleport down, ready to loot, kill, and hopefully, *extract*.
Before you go, grab a 'contract.' Let's be blunt: most are as thrilling as watching paint dry. 'Loot gels,' 'Hit a button at X,' 'Kill stuff.' Revolutionary, eh? They feel like busywork. But here's the kicker: they give you a goal, a reason to risk your digital neck. Crucially, even if you bite the dust, some progress still counts. It’s a clever magic trick to make a total disaster feel slightly less soul-crushing. Because, trust me, you *will* die. A lot.
Let me paint a picture, mate. You've spent fifteen glorious minutes, weaving through corridors, dodging bots, outsmarting rival Runners. Your backpack overflows with rare goodies, enough to upgrade your inventory, making you feel like a digital warlord. You spot the extraction point, almost home free. Then – *BLAM!* – a sniper you never saw blows your cyborg brains out. Solo and no self-revive? That's it. Game over. All that sweet loot? Gone. That rare rifle? Poof. Likely now warming the hands of the very person who sent you to your demise. Seconds later, you're back in the main menu, poorer, angrier, and definitely questioning existence.
Sounds horrible, right? A truly miserable experience. And for many, it will be. The constant threat of losing everything you've worked for is a brutal hook, not for everyone. Anyone saying losing cool gear *doesn't* sting is probably a secret AI who hasn't experienced digital heartbreak.
But here's the flip side, the devilish allure. What if *you* were that sniper? Perched quietly, backpack nearly empty, just a rifle and a dream. What if *you* delivered the killing blow to that loaded-up player, then scurried over to claim all their spoils? Doesn't that sound... awesome? That, my friends, is the delicious, dangerous game *Marathon* is playing. It’s a digital casino of death and loot, and every drop onto Tau Ceti IV is a spin of the slot machine, hoping for that jackpot kill or squad wipe that leaves you swimming in riches.
Thankfully, Bungie isn't *entirely* sadistic. They've tossed in a few safety nets, or at least smaller bets, for those moments you've had your digital guts spilled one too many times. You can play as Rook, a fully robotic shell for mid-game drop-ins, letting you snag whatever you find and escape without risking your own gear. He can't do contracts or squad up, but he's a decent palate cleanser between high-stress runs. Or, opt for a 'sponsored kit' – a free starter pack with basic gear. It's not flashy, but lets you play without risking your hard-earned arsenal.
But then, there's Cryo Archive. Ah, Cryo Archive. This is where *Marathon* rolls out the red carpet for its high rollers, only on weekends. No Rooks, no sponsored kits. Bring your best gear, or don't play. It's a massive, labyrinthine map, where death hides at every corner, and every player is probably kitted to the teeth. So intense, so utterly draining, my squad and I can only manage a few runs before needing a lie-down and a good cry. If the rest of *Marathon* is a casino, Cryo Archive is the back-room poker game with truly terrifying stakes.
Now, let's talk about the one thing Bungie absolutely, consistently nails: the gunplay. I'd be a terrible digital wizard if I didn't give credit where it's due. From *Halo* to *Destiny*, Bungie's first-person shooting has always felt like silk gloves wrapped around a sledgehammer – precise, weighty, and utterly satisfying. *Marathon* is no different. Rifles punch with a satisfying thud, pistols are snappy and responsive, and explosives rattle your skull, letting everyone (including bots) know exactly where you are.
Speaking of bots, Tau Ceti IV isn't just crawling with human players; there's a whole menagerie of robotic guards, from easy targets to elite behemoths that can wipe a careless squad. Fighting these metallic monstrosities is fun, but fighting *other players*? That's pure adrenaline. Bullet hits feel incredibly satisfying when landed, and utterly terrifying when they land on you. A firefight can be over in a flash or stretch into a tense, minute-long dance of death. Regardless, Bungie has once again crafted a shooter that simply *feels* better than almost anything else out there.
What does the future hold for *Marathon*? Your guess is as good as mine, mate. I could pore over SteamDB charts and Reddit threads until my eyes bleed, trying to divine its destiny. But honestly, none of that really matters when you're twenty minutes deep into a perfect run, scrambling to exfil with a legendary haul, Runners breathing down your neck. Sales charts fade into insignificance when you make it out alive, fist-pumping and shouting congratulations to your squad.
*Marathon* is a good game. Dare I say, a great, even special game. It's the kind of experience that carves a niche in your memory bank. Yes, like many live-service titles, every season brings a gear wipe – a ruthless reminder nothing is truly yours forever in this digital arena. That thought does linger as I painstakingly build a new loadout, knowing it'll all be gone in a few months. But you know what? It doesn't diminish the amazing, heart-pounding, gut-wrenching moments I've already had. The triumphs, the suffering, the sheer, chaotic joy – those are mine to keep. The live-service gods might take my guns, or even the game itself one day, but they can't take away the stories. And for that alone, I reckon *Marathon* bloody rules.
Tags: Extraction Shooter, Bungie Games, PvPvE, Live Service Gaming, Sci-Fi FPS
Original article: kotaku