When I first met my boyfriend in 2016, gaming wasn’t part of my life. Just like so many other people, I’d accepted the idea that games were merely distractions. I’d worked hard to earn myself a seat at the e♉xecutive table at an agency. Gaming was an afterthought relative to spreadsheets, budgets and strategic planning.
My now-partner and I met through work and bonded very quickly. We’d only🔴 been dating for a few months bef♔ore we made the decision to move in together.
Before we decided to move in together, I had some understanding of his background in v🧸ideo games. I♍ knew he’d been a competitive player in his younger day𒁃s, a🥂nd that he’d earned money by playing in tournaments as a teen.
“I just need you to know… I play video 🐷games. But I won’t ever put them before you,” he told me one day via video chat. “I know it sounds weird to have to say that, but that’s apparently a thing that people hav🌠e to explain these days.”
I🌠 laughed before telling him I’d actuall💜y done some video game journalism just a few years before.
From Destiny Blueberry To Vanguard Beast
Due to my role at the agency, I had an endless slate of evening work events, late-night prep sessions and travel. I’d frequently come home to💫 find him playing “that game” on . It was a sci-fi shooter game where characters would fly around in robes, shooting alien beings and collecting emerald-looking packages. I’d joke with him about it — I’d never played a first-person shooter game and initially, I could barely follow what ꩲwas happening.
“But it’s so fun,” he said. “I think you might like it.” He eventually created a character for me on his account. I played for about an hour before I set the controller down. I didn't think about it again for several more monthꦯs.
Sometime in late 2016, he decided it was time to get himself an Xbox One S🌸. This meant he had an old Xbox, which he could have either sold or stashed in a closet somewhere. On a whim, he hooked it up to a monitor on a desk in our living room.
“Just in case you ever want🎐 𝓡to play with me,” he said.
When the holidays rolled around, I found myself with some free time. He asked if I wanted to play Destiny with him and offered to pay the game as a Chrisᩚᩚᩚᩚᩚᩚᩚᩚᩚ𒀱ᩚᩚᩚtmas gift. So, I 💟downloaded it, figuring it could be a good for at least a few hours.
It wasn’t long before I’d racked up nearly 200 hours in that game. I took breaks from Destiny to experiment with other titles such as and . But I always came back to Destiny.
Destinyꦺ became something we could play together. Slowly but surely, I got better at it, and, once again, gaming became part of the identity I left behind several years before. I fell in love with slaughtering Taken and completing activities on the Dreadnaught.
I made fan art for the game. For his birthday, I painted a picture that was inspired by Destiny𝓀 promotional art. Though not my best work — I’ve since then gotten a lot better at painting — it 🀅still hangs on our living room wall.
My experience with Destiny was just enough to prepare me for Destiny 2. Together, we watched videos hyping up what to expect in the ﷽forthcoming rele𝐆ase. With that game, there was no turning back. As a fireteam, we explored planets and lost sectors, defeating the Red Legion and performing our service to the Vanguard.
The Ghosts Of Christmas Past
In 2017, we celebrated Christmas at his family’s home outside of Chicago. I’d had his Christmas present delivered there, and I’d told him repeatedly about how cool I thought it was without ever actually telling him what it was. It was still in a cardboard box with no ওdescription on the outside when he happened to see me pick it up.
“I think I may have🐼 gotten you the same present you got me,” he said.
“No w💧ay. Plus, how could 🐻you even know that?” I asked.
“The gift I got you came in the same size box.”
“Well, what did you get me?”
He paused. “It’s a Destiny ghost ♋shell that connects to our Alexa,” he said.
It still amazes me that of the millions of things e🎃ither of us could have possibly purchased, wꦫe'd chosen the exact same gift to give to the other.
Forsaken, Funerals and Fortnite
With the Forsaken expansion, we mourned the death of . My boyfriend even listened patiently as I daydreamed about how we could put together a fantaಞsy funeral for our favorite character. (There would definitely be involved.)
With his encouragement, I also began to transition back into video game journalism. I found myself writing and gaming all the time. Even when I dipped my toes into , I would always return to play Destiny 2 with him. At one point, one of our clan members suggꦓestꦗed I'd become better than my boyfriend at the game.
By 2019, he wasn’t able to play video games as much anymore due to work obligations and an overall need to take a break. When launched, it usurped my time as I’d started to burn out on Destiny 2 anyway.
Still, that summer, he and I decided we’d celebrate our love of all things Destiny at GuardianCon (now called ). There, we met writers and game developers from the series. I also had the unique pleasure of introducing him to DrLupo, whom I’d recently interviewed as part of a Fortnite p🌼roject for a national magazine. The conference and the pe💫ople energized me, and soon after I returned, I began contributing to TheGamer.
My Vanguard Valentine
Neither of us plays Destiny 2 as much as we used to — I’m not even currently at the game’s maximum light level. But we won’t soon forget the impact that Destiny and Destiny 2 had on our relationship. Without it, he might have been a lost Hunter, and I, a lost Warlock. But years into our relationship, Destiny remains consistent.
Ours is ju🦂st one story among🔯 many. We’re not the first couple, and we won’t be the last couple, who bonded through gaming.
There are countless stories on the internet of gaming causing rifts in peoples' relati🌌onships. But in our case, hundreds of hours of gaming brought us clo🎀ser together.
You could almost say it was… Destiny.