Marathon is facing a significant struggle.

      Since its first announcement, Marathon has been met with skepticism from the gaming community. Initially, I believed this skepticism stemmed from Bungie’s inconsistent management of its flagship live service franchise, Destiny. Decisions like removing older expansions, vaulting weapons, and a higher frequency of disappointing updates compared to positive ones made it easy to understand the wariness regarding the studio's attempt to launch and sustain a second live service game.

      As we draw nearer to its release, the overall sentiment seems to have grown more pessimistic. While there have indeed been troubling controversies that shouldn’t be overlooked, Marathon is also grappling with a broader issue affecting live service games in general, which it must address to thrive.

      Trust has been compromised.

      Live service games are designed to be ongoing, evolving experiences that players revisit over months or years. MMORPGs pioneered this model, but it's now applied across various genres. Despite its fluctuations, Destiny remains the quintessential example of live service games that many aspire to replicate.

      As with any successful concept in the gaming industry, it wasn't long before every significant player sought to capitalize on this trend. The lure of a consistent revenue stream was hard to resist, even though the reality proved more complex. Sony arguably invested the most in this model, at one point having over 12 live service games in development. That figure has since dwindled to possibly just two: Marathon and Fairgames. To discuss the broken trust between gamers and the current slate of live service games, one cannot overlook Concord, though the root issues extend much further back.

      The first game I recall raising significant concerns in the gaming community was Anthem. Even before the internal development issues became public, fans were skeptical about a studio known for RPGs seemingly jumping on the latest trend. Anthem launched to a lukewarm reception and quickly fell into disrepair, failing to meet the expectations of BioWare's core RPG audience or any players transitioning from Destiny due to its lack of a compelling story or engaging endgame grind. Prior to launch, EA released a roadmap outlining three content acts, but when over a year passed without any content beyond Act 1, BioWare promised a major overhaul, unofficially dubbed Anthem 2.0.

      All of these plans were ultimately scrapped.

      Firewalk Studios

      Since then, we've seen numerous major games make grand promises about future content, only to disappoint players after a mediocre—or severely poor—launch. Titles like Redfall, Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League, and, notably, Concord exemplify this trend. The latter is likely what pushed many gamers past their breaking point due to its unprecedented failure. This was a first-party PlayStation title with prominent showcase presence, an ambitious content roadmap, an experimental storytelling approach, and even a connection to a Secret Level episode before its release.

      The failure of that game was unfortunate, but its complete cancellation is disastrous for gamers' trust in PlayStation and live service models overall. We now face the risk of not only games failing to deliver on promises of ongoing support but also having entire experiences taken away. While I don’t believe one game's failures should taint another, I can understand why many may take a cautious “wait-and-see” stance toward new live service titles. If we can't rely on a major name like PlayStation to fulfill its commitments, why should we expect anything different from any other studio?

      Trust is no longer given freely; it must be earned.

      The reactions I’ve seen from both major industry commentators and everyday players regarding Marathon echo the pre-launch sentiment for Concord. The prevailing attitude seems to be that “it's fun to play, but there just isn't enough content right now.” Justified or not, that's a dire situation for a game that depends on a large player base willing to back it in its early, vulnerable stage to help it achieve its full potential.

      Gamers often have long memories, especially when it comes to being let down. A roadmap and a simple “trust us” from the developers are no longer sufficient. Marathon might have the potential to be outstanding, but it needs to start strong to even have a shot at reaching that level. Too many players are unwilling to settle for “good,” and with many content to sit back and observe its success or failure, it could lead to a self-fulfilling prophecy of collapse.

      Bungie should not escape accountability for clear instances of plagiarism or the apparent decline in morale within the studio. Speculation regarding the unrealistic financial expectations for the game's success only complicates matters, but Marathon's outlook wouldn't appear any more hopeful even without those concerns. Until enough live service games can rebuild that trust, each new title faces an increasingly steep uphill battle with every unsuccessful launch.