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There's a wonderful moment in Destiny 2, and it happens before the game's even started. A series of loading screens commemorate some of your finest achievements in the first game, collating beautiful ink work that acts as a tribute to you, the player. It's an artful reminder of the magic the original Destiny was able to weave, as well as a personal invitation to reminisce about the delirious fortnight my own band of brothers spent trying and repeatedly failing to smash through the Vault of Glass before Atheon was finally brought to his knees. It's a memory that now seems impossibly distant, forged some three years ago before the fruitless grind and a creeping hollowness that was ushered in with each new update would slowly turn me away from Destiny, all while Bungie was clearly buying time as it toiled away on the sequel. Destiny 2 is a tightly designed follow-up to a notoriously fractured game, a multi-million dollar apology to all the fans that endured the growing pains of the series as well as an attempt to smooth out the rough edges so that more might be ensnared in the pursuit of ever escalating numbers for your own personal space wizard.
It certainly works in bringing Destiny's many charms into closer focus. The merry dance between your chosen class's abilities and Bungie's exquisite gunplay is as dazzling as it ever was, the specials and abilities brought together with a bit more purpose. My own warlock now feels like the support class I was sold but never truly delivered in the first Destiny, with helpful heals and buffs to hand via a vastly simplified skill tree. Loot is more plentiful, more varied and more meaningful, the small open worlds of each planet you explore denser and more detailed.
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